AND THE PLACE IT FINDS US.—APPLES TO EAT AND AN OLD COMRADE JOINS
US.—MATTERS GETTING WORSE WITH OCCASIONAL RUMORS OF EXCHANGE, ETC.,
ETC.
Jan. 1, 1864.—A great time this morning wishing one another a Happy
New Year. Robinson bought on the outside a dozen apples and gave us
all a treat. Nothing but corn bread to eat and very poor quality.
Dr. F. L. Lewis, Vet. Surg. 9th Mich. cavalry, came in to-day; was
captured at Dandridge, East Tennessee, where our regiment had a
severe engagement. Tells me all the news. Col. Acker wounded, etc.,
etc. Thinks it a queer New Year trip, but also thinks we will be
exchanged before many weeks.
Jan. 2.—Rebel congress about to meet, and the people of Richmond
demand through the papers that the prisoners confined here be removed
immediately, as there is hardly enough for themselves to eat, aside
from feeding us “Northern Hirelings.” Hear of bread riots and lots of
trouble across the river. A big fire last night in the vicinity of
Libby Prison.
Jan. 3.—Received a letter from Michigan. Not quite so cold, but
disagreeable weather. Nine men bucked and gagged at one time on the
outside, two of them for stealing sour beans from a swill-barrel.
They would get permission to pass through the gate to see the
lieutenant, and instead, would walk around the cook-house to some
barrels containing swill, scoop up their hats full and then run
inside; but they were caught, and are suffering a hard punishment for
it.
Jan. 4.—Some ladies visited the island to see us blue coats,
and laughed very much at our condition; thought it so comical
and ludicrous the way the prisoners crowded the bank next the
cook-house, looking over at the piles of bread, and compared us to
wild men, and hungry dogs. A chicken belonging to the lieutenant flew
up on the bank and was snatched off in short order, and to pay for it
we are not to receive a mouthful of food to-day, making five or six
thousand suffer for one man catching a little chicken.
Jan. 5.—Succeeded in getting Dr. Lewis into our tent; is rather under
the weather, owing to exposure and hardship. Jimmy Devers spends the
evenings with us and we have funny times talking over better days—and
are nearly talked out. I have said all I can think, and am just
beginning to talk it all over again. All our stories have been told
from two, to three or four times, and are getting stale. We offer a
reward for a good new story.
Jan. 6.—Still prisoners of war, without the remotest idea as to
how long we are to remain so. Some of the paroled Yankees on the
outside curse and treat the inside prisoners more cruel (when they
have a chance,) than the rebels themselves. Blass, a Spaniard, who
has been a prisoner over a year and refuses to be exchanged, is the
lieutenant’s right hand man. He tied up a man a few days ago for some
misdemeanor and whipped him. He is afraid to come inside, knowing he
would lose his life in a jiffy. He also raises the rebel flag at the
island mornings, and lowers it at night. It is a dirty rag, and the
appearance of it ought to disgust any sensible person.
Jan. 7.—Rainy, cold and disagreeable weather. Henry Stilson, a fellow
who was captured with me, was carried out dead this morning. He
was diseased when taken, and fell an easy prey to their cruelties.
A good deal of raiding is going on among the men. One Captain
Moseby commands a band of cut-throats who do nearly as they please,
cheating, robbing and knocking down—operating principally upon new
prisoners who are unacquainted with prison life. Moseby is named
after the rebel guerrilla, his real name being something else. He is
from New York City, and is a regular bummer.
Jan. 8.—All taken outside to-day to be squadded over—an all day job,
and nothing to eat. The men being in hundreds and some dying off
every day, leave vacancies in the squads of as many as die out of
them, and in order to keep them filled up have to be squadded over
every few days, thereby saving rations. Richmond papers are much
alarmed for fear of a break among the prisoners confined within the
city. It is said there are six hundred muskets secreted among the
Belle Islanders. The citizens are frightened almost to death, double
guards are placed over us, and very strict orders issued to them.
Jan. 9.—A signal light suspended over the island all last night
for some reason unknown to the men confined here. We are cautioned
against approaching within eight or ten feet from the bank. One of
the raiders went through a man who lay near the bank and started to
run after robbing him. A guard who saw the whole affair shot the
villain dead and was applauded by all who knew of the affair. Fifteen
or twenty carried out this morning dead and thirty or forty nearly so
in blankets.
Jan. 10.—A brass band over to-day giving us a tune. Looks more like a
wandering tribe of vagabonds than musicians. Discoursed sweet music,
such as “Bonnie Blue Flag,” “The Girl I Left Behind Me,” and for
their pains got three groans from their enemies in limbo. Dying off
very fast on the island.
Jan. 11.—A steady rain for twenty-four hours, and have not been dry
during the time. However it is a warm rain and get along very well.
We are still issuing clothing but very slow. About one hundred per
day get partly clothed up. No news of exchange. Abe Lincoln reported
dead. Papers very bitter on Beast Butler, as they call him. Manage
by a good deal of skirmishing to get the papers almost every day
in which we read their rebel lies. A plan afoot for escape, but am
afraid to say anything of the particulars for fear of my diary being
taken away from me. As I came inside to-night with some bread in my
haversack some fellows who were on the watch pitched into me and
gobbled my saved up rations. I don’t care for myself for I have been
to supper, but the boys in the tent will have to go without anything
to eat for this night. It don’t matter much—they are all hungry and
it did them as much good as it would our mess.
Jan. 12.—James River very high. A continual roar in our ears caused
by the water falling over the cataract just above the island. Rebels
fired a large shell over the prison to scare us.
Jan. 15.—Everything runs along about the same. Little excitements
from day to day. The weather is fair, and taken all together thus
far this winter has been very favorable to us as prisoners. Lieut.
Bossieux lost his dog. Some Yanks snatched him into a tent and eat
him up. Bossieux very mad and is anxious to know who the guilty ones
are. All he can do is to keep all our rations from us one day, and he
does it. Seems pretty rough when a man will eat a dog, but such is
the case.
Jan. 18.—Too much exertion to even write in my diary. Talk of getting
away by escaping, but find no feasible plan. Rebs very watchful. Some
mail to-day but nothing for me. Saw some papers, and a new prisoner
brought with him a New York paper, but not a word in it about
“exchange.” Am still outside most every day. Geo. Hendryx at work in
the cook-house cooking rations for the prisoners. Comes down where I
am every day and hands me something to take inside for the boys. He
tells the Lieut. he has a brother inside that he is feeding. Although
it is against orders, Lieut. Bossieux pays no attention to it.
Jan. 20.—Rebel officers over to-day inspecting us Yanks. Some of the
worst looking Arabs in shape of officers I ever saw. Jimmy Devers
comes to our tent every night and sits with us until bed time. Is
a jolly chap and keeps us all in good spirits with his sayings.
Sergt. Robinson, I learned to-day, instead of being a sergeant is a
lieutenant. His whole company being captured, he preferred to go with
them and share their trials, than go with the officers. The men are
very much attached to him and no wonder, as he is a fine fellow. His
home is in Sterling, Whiteside Co., Illinois. Corp. McCartin is, as
his name would indicate, an Irishman, and his home is Louisville,
Ky. Is a shoemaker by trade. He is also a Mason, and I am going to
write down wherein the fact of his being a Mason has brought good
into the camp to-day. The boys feeling rather more hungry than usual
were rather despondent, when the corporal gets up and says: “Boys,
I’ll go and get something to eat.” Went out of the tent and in twenty
minutes came back with three or four pounds of bacon and two loaves
of corn bread. We were surprised and asked how he had performed the
miracle. Told us then that he was a Mason, as also was the lieutenant
in charge, from whom the food came. We decided then and there that
the first opportunity that presented itself we would join the Masons.
Can see the rebels drilling across the river.
Jan. 22.—Cold and clear weather. Nothing to write to-day. It’s a task.
Jan. 24.—We are all troubled with heart-burn, sour stomach, &c. Drink
weak lye made from ashes for it. Every day some new ones come inside,
but they know nothing as to the prospects of our being exchanged.
All are considerably surprised to find themselves in quite so bad
a place, and the subject of prison life begins to interest them.
Good deal of gambling going on among prisoners. Chuck-a-luck is the
favorite game. You lay your ration of bread down on a figure on a
board, and a fellow with a dice-box shakes it up a little, throws out
the dice, and your bread is gone. Don’t understand the game myself.
That’s all I ever saw of the game. Lay down the bread and it’s gone.
Rather a one sided affair. Some men are very filthy, which makes it
disagreeable for those of more cleanly habits. I believe that many,
very many, who now die, would live if they adopted the rules that our
mess has, and lived up to them. It is the only way to get along.
Jan. 25.—Being in this place brings out a man for just what he is
worth. Those whom we expect the most from in the way of braving
hardships and dangers, prove to be nobody at all. And very often
those whom we expect the least from prove to be heroes every inch
of them. Notably one of these is George Hendryx, who is nothing but
a good looking, effeminate boy, fit, you would say, to be going to
school with a mother to look after him, and for not much else. But
instead, he is brave, cheerful, smart, watching every chance to get
the best of the Johnny Rebs. His position in the cook-house has given
him a chance to feed, I presume, hundreds of men. Near the cook-house
is a store-house, and in it are several hogsheads of hams. These
hams were sent from the Sanitary Commission at the North for Union
prisoners, but they for whom they were intended do not get them, and
they are being eaten up by the rebels. Hendryx has managed to get
up a board in the cook-house floor, where he can crawl fifteen or
twenty feet under the store-house and up through that floor. By this
Yankee trick he has stolen, I presume one hundred hams and gotten
them inside where they belong. This is very risky on his part, for
should he be discovered it would go very hard with him. He is about
as unselfish a fellow as you can well find. This is only one of his
plans to outwit the rebels for our benefit. His head is all the
time, too, planning some way of escape. Well, we all hope he won’t
get caught. All shake in our boots for him. Was on guard last night,
outside, over the clothing. There is so much clothing stole by the
rebels that Bossieux put a guard of two over the boxes through the
night, and if any of the Rebs. come around to steal we are instructed
to wake up the lieutenant, who sleeps near by in a tent. I was on
duty last night with Joe Myers, and Hendryx came where we were and
unfolded a plan for escape which he has been working up. It is a
risky affair, and had best be thought over pretty thorough before
put into execution. Robinson has been found out as a lieutenant,
and taken over to Richmond to be placed with the officers in Libby
Prison. We are sorry that we must lose him.
Jan. 26.—Ninety-two squads of prisoners confined on less than six
acres of ground—one hundred in a squad, making nine thousand and two
hundred altogether. The lice are getting the upper hand of us. The
ground is literally covered with them. Bean soup to-day and is made
from the following recipe, (don’t know from what cook book, some
new edition): Beans are very wormy and musty. Hard work finding a
bean without from one to three bugs in it. They are put into a large
caldron kettle of river water and boiled for a couple of hours. No
seasoning, not even salt put into them. It is then taken out and
brought inside. Six pails full for each squad—about a pint per man,
and not over a pint of beans in each bucket. The water is hardly
colored and I could see clear through to the bottom and count every
bean in the pail. The men drink it because it is warm. There is not
enough strength or substance in it to do any good. We sometimes have
very good bean soup when they have meat to boil with it.
Jan. 27.—More prisoners came to-day and say there is to be no
general exchange during the war, and we are to be sent off into
Georgia immediately. Stormy and disagreeable weather and everybody
down-hearted. Very still among the men, owing to the bad news—hardly
a word spoken by anybody. The least bit off anything encouraging
would change the stillness into a perfect bedlam. I this morning
looked into a tent where there were seventeen men and started back
frightened at the view inside. What a tableau for a New York theatre?
They were all old prisoners nearly naked, very dirty and poor, some
of them sick lying on the cold ground with nothing under or over
them, and no fire; had just been talking over the prospect ahead
and all looked the very picture of dispair, with their hollow eyes,
sunken cheeks and haggard expression. I have before imagined such
scenes but never before realized what they were until now. And such
is but a fair sample of hundreds of men fully as bad.
Jan. 28.—No officers over from Libby for a few days past. Nearly
all the clothing issued. A few days more will close up the clothing
business, and then probably all the outsiders will be sent inside;
and for fear such will be the case we have decided upon to-morrow
night for the escape (which I have not said much about in my diary).
The nights are dark and cloudy. Messrs. Mustard and Hendryx both
sleep outside now, and I must manage to, both to-night and to-morrow
night. I have been two weeks trying to get a map of Virginia, and
have at last succeeded. A negro brought it to me from the city. It
has cost over thirty dollars Confederate money—at the North would
have cost twenty-five cents. I would not take for it, unless I could
get another one, one thousand dollars in gold. We are well rigged,
have some food saved up to take along; in good health and determined
to get away. Lieut. Bossieux suspects, and to-day took the pains to
say in our hearing that he knew an escape among the outsiders was in
view, and as sure as there was a God in heaven if we tried it and got
caught, and we surely would be, he would first shoot all he could
before catching us, and the balance would be tied up and whipped
every day until he got tired, as long as we lived. We must expect
trouble. It does not change us in the least; if anything, makes us
the more determined to get away. To-night we are to start, and I
will write down the plans we have, running the risk of the rebels
getting hold of it. At a few moments past eleven and before midnight
the guard will let us cross his beat and go to the water’s edge.
We all have rebel clothing which we are to wear, furnished partly
by a negro, and partly by the guard who helps us off. We take the
quarter-master’s boat, which we unlock, and having been furnished the
countersign give it to the picket who will pretend that he thinks we
are rebel guards going over to the city, in case we are caught, which
will screen him in a measure. Having passed him, we get into the boat
and row across the river, give the countersign to the guards on the
other side of the river, and talk with them a little, being ourselves
posted on general information regarding the place. To quiet their
suspicions if they have any, we then start up into the town and when
out of sight of the guards take a turn to the left, and go straight
to the Richmond jail; taking care to avoid patrols &c. We will then
meet with a negro who will guide us ten miles up the river, and
then leave us in charge of friendly blacks who will keep us through
the next day and at night pilot us farther along toward our lives.
If possible, I shall steal the rebel flag, which is kept nights in
the lieutenant’s tent, and a few other relics, to take along with
me. The big bell in Richmond strikes six, and we close our diary,
hoping never to look upon it again until we return to free our fellow
prisoners, with the glorious army of the North. Now we leave our
diary to finish preparations for the flight for freedom. May God aid
us in this land of tyranny, where we have met nothing but suffering.
Good bye, Belle Isle and Prison. Hail! Freedom, Home, Friends, and
the Grand Army of the Old Flag! What is in store for us in the
future?
Feb. 5.—Have been reading over the last few pages of my diary. It
sounds well, but the rebel flag still floats over Belle Isle. Our
escapade was a grand fizzle, and all hands have been punished in more
ways than one in the last few days. Bossieux suspected something
going on among us and had us secretly watched, and long before we
had made a move toward fulfilling our projected plans we were thrown
into a guard house on the island; next morning taken out of it, and
underwent a severe cross-questioning. He found our rebel clothing,
food we had packed, found the lock to the boat broke, and numerous
other signs of an abandonment. Well, the result has been that we were
bucked and gagged twice a day for an hour each time, and for four
hours each of us carried a big stick of wood up and down in front of
the gate, a guard to prick us with his bayonet if we walked too slow
to suit him. Then Hendryx has been strung up by the thumbs. Nights we
have been thrown into a damp, cold guard house to shiver all night.
Every day now for six days we have walked with our sticks of wood
so many hours per day, and last night were turned inside with all
the prisoners to stay, Bossieux says, till we _rot_, he can place no
dependence in us.
Feb. 6.—We have to laugh over our trials and tribulations. Where we
had plenty a week ago, plenty of exercise, and many favors, we are
now right where we were at first, fareing just as the rest, with no
favors shown us. It’s all right, we can stand it just as well as the
rest. We have never belittled ourselves in the least in our dealings
with the rebels. Bossieux told us himself, as we came inside, that
he didn’t blame us in the least for trying to get away, but he was
obliged to punish us for the attempt. Hendryx says that he will be
out again in three days.
Feb. 8.—Butler reported as commissioner on exchange and the rebels
declare that they would never recognize him and would rather that we
should all die here than negotiate with the Beast. Congress still
in session over in the city and we watch the papers eagerly for
something relative to us. The Holy Sabbath day and the church bells
ringing for morning service. Don’t think I shall attend this morning;
it is such a long walk and then I look so bad; have nothing fit to
wear. A man stabbed a few minutes ago by his tent mate, killing him
instantly. They had all along been the best friends until a dispute
arose, and one of them drew a knife and killed his comrade. Strong
talk of lynching the murderer. Have not heard the particulars. Corp.
McCartin is missing from the island and am confident from what I
have seen that he has escaped and by the help of Lieut. Bossieux. No
endeavors are being made to look him up, still he offers a reward for
his apprehension. They are both members of the secret craft.
Feb. 9.—Great news this morning. A raid is being made on Richmond
by Kilpatrick. Rebels manning their forts in sight of us. All are
at work, women, children, in fact everybody who can shovel. No cars
running over the big bridge. Double guards placed over us and the
greatest activity prevails among them. It is really amusing to see
them flying around and many are the jokes at their expense. All
business is suspended in Richmond; no papers issued, and everybody
with their guns or working utensils. Brass bands are playing their
best to encourage the broken down Confederacy. A portion of the
congress came over this afternoon to take a look at us, among whom
were Davis, Benjamin and Howell Cobb. They are a substantial looking
set of men and of the regular southern cut. The broad brim hats, gold
headed canes and aristocratic toss of the head, alone would tell
who they were. They are a proud, stern set of men and look as if
they would like to brush us out of existence. Still we are not going
to be brushed out so easy and they found men among us who were not
afraid to stare, or hold our heads as high as their lordships. A band
accompanied them and played the Bonnie Blue Flag, which was hissed
and groaned at by the Yankees, and in return a thousand voices sang
Yankee Doodle, very much to their discomfiture.
Feb. 10.—The hospital signal lights suspended over the island all
night in order to direct the batteries where to aim their pieces
in case of an outbreak which is greatly feared. Rockets sent up at
intervals during the night over Richmond. Reported that there are six
hundred muskets secreted among the prisoners and citizens very much
alarmed and afraid of us. I hope there is but cannot believe it. It
is impossible for me to sleep and I lay awake thinking how we are
situated and wondering how long the play is to last.
Feb. 11.—Cold and pleasant. A good deal of fighting going on among
us—a discontented set of beings; just like so many hungry wolves
penned up together. Rebels still at work fortifying all around
Richmond. A number of Yankees have been taken out on parole of
honor to work building breastworks etc., but a very few will go and
it is considered a great crime among us to work for them. Have
they forgotten our existence at the North? It seems as if we were
neglected by our government but will not judge them hastily until we
know more. There are perhaps sufficient reasons for our remaining
here. Very strongly guarded, nevertheless we talk of escape and are
all the while building air castles.
Feb. 12.—Lieut. Bossieux has sent a squad of men from the island
composed of runaways over to Castle Thunder to remain during the war
as hostages, among whom were our friends Myers and Mustard. I never
expect to see them again.
Feb. 13.—Very cold. The rebels are again settling down and getting
over their scare. Not much to eat now and the men more disheartened
than ever. A rebel preacher delivered us a sermon of two hours
length from a dry goods box. He was listened to attentively and made
the remark before closing that he didn’t know as he was doing any
good talking to us. It was like casting pearls before swine and he
would close his remarks, to which a Yankee told him he might have
stopped long ago if he had wanted to; no one would have made any
objections. Was told that six hundred are to start for Georgia to-day
and subsequently six hundred every day until all are removed from
Richmond. Lieut. Bossieux says it is so but there is going to be an
exchange of sick in a few days and all outside hands shall be sent
north with them.
Feb. 14.—Had quite an adventure last night with the raiders. One of
Capt. Moseby’s robbers was trying to steal a blanket from our tent
by reaching through the tent opening when Dad (E. P. Sanders), who
is always awake, threw a brick hitting him on the arm, breaking the
brick, and as he jumped, halloed to us, “Come boys, let’s catch the
rascal,” and out of the door he went. Dr. and myself nobly rushed to
the rescue and reached the door just in time to see Dad turn a short
corner way up the street and close on to the heels of Mr. Robber,
but he slipped and fell and the thief got away. Were soon snugly
ensconced in bed once more congratulating ourselves on losing nothing
as we thought. But on getting up this morning I found my shoes gone
and am barefoot in the middle of winter. However I can get more and
have no fear on that score. Six hundred sent away to-day, some say
to our lines while others think to Georgia. Rebels say to our lines,
and that a general exchange has been agreed upon. Great excitement
among the men. Evening.—Lieut. Bossieux called me outside just before
night and told me he was called upon to furnish some hostages to be
sent to Charleston to be kept during the war, and had decided to
send Hendryx and myself, with some others. Said it was better to
send those who were always trying to get away. Have succeeded in
buying a pair of shoes, which, although about four sizes too large,
are much better than none. Thanks to the Sanitary Commission I have
good woolen stockings, under clothing complete, and am otherwise well
dressed. Six hundred sent away this afternoon under a very strong
guard, which does not look like an exchange.
Feb. 17.—Still on the island. Another squad taken out yesterday. It
will not be our turn to go for some days, even if six hundred are
taken out every day. Have not been sent for as hostages yet. Hendryx
and myself have decided to flank out and go with the next that go, no
matter where their destination may be. If we don’t get away, with a
ghost of a chance, then it will be funny.
Feb. 20.—All sorts of rumors afloat, but still we stay here. Strange
officers come over and look at us. Bossieux away considerable, and
something evidently up. Anything for a change. My health is good, and
tough as a bear.
Feb. 23.—None have been taken away from the island for a number of
days. Have heard that a box came for me, and is over in Richmond.
Hope the rebel that eats the contents of that box will get choked
to death. I wrote to the Governor of Michigan, Austin Blair, who is
in Washington, D. C., some weeks ago. He has known me from boyhood.
Always lived in the neighborhood at Jackson, Mich. Asked him to
notify my father and brothers of my whereabouts. To-day I received a
letter from him saying that he had done as requested, also that the
Sanitary Commission had sent me some eatables. This is undoubtedly
the box which I have heard from and is over in Richmond. Rebels are
trying to get recruits from among us for their one-horse Confederacy.
Believe that one or two have deserted our ranks and gone over. Bad
luck to them.