Misery acquaints a man with strange bed-fellows.--TEMPEST.
[Sidenote: ASSISTANCE FROM A NEGRO BOY.]
Several days of our confinement in Castle Thunder were spent in a
little cell with burglars, thieves, "bounty-jumpers," and confidence
men. Our association with these strange companions happened in this
wise:
One day we completed an arrangement with a corporal of the guard,
by which, with the aid of four of his men, he was to let us out at
midnight. We had a friend in Richmond, but did not know precisely where
his house was situated. We were very anxious to learn, and fortunately,
on this very day, he sent a meal to a prisoner in our room. Recognizing
the plate, I asked the intelligent young Baltimore negro who brought it:
"Is my friend waiting below?"
"Yes, sir."
"Can't you get me an opportunity to see him for one moment?"
"I think so, sir. Come with me and we will try."
The boy led me through the passages and down the stairs, past four
guards, who supposed that he had been sent by the prison authorities.
As we reached the lower floor, I saw my friend standing in the street
door, with two officers of the prison beside him. By a look I beckoned
him. He walked toward me and I toward him, until we met at the little
railing which separated us. There, over the bayonet of the sentinel,
this whispered conversation followed:
"We hope to get out to-night; can we find refuge in your house?"
"Certainly. At what hour will you come?"
"We hope, between twelve and one o'clock. Where is your place?"
[Sidenote: THE PRISON OFFICERS ENRAGED.]
He told me the street and number. By this time, the Rebel officers,
discovering what was going on, grew indignant and very profane. They
peremptorily ordered my friend into the street. He went out wearing a
look of mild and injured innocence. The negro had shrewdly slipped out
of sight the moment he brought us together, and thus escaped severe
punishment.
The officers ordered me back to my quarters, and as I went up the
stairs, I heard a volley of oaths. They were not especially incensed
at me, recognizing the fact that a prisoner under guard has a right to
do any thing he can; but were indignant and chagrined at that want of
discipline which permitted an inmate of the safest apartment in the
Castle to pass four sentinels to the street door, and converse with an
unauthorized person.
[Sidenote: VISIT FROM A FRIENDLY WOMAN.]
Ten minutes after, a boy came up from the office, with the
message--this time genuine--that another visitor wished to see me. I
went down, and there, immediately beyond the bars through which we
were allowed to communicate with outsiders, I saw a lady who called me
by name. I did not recognize her, but her eyes told me that she was
a friend. A Rebel officer was standing near, to see that no improper
communication passed between us. She conversed upon indifferent
subjects, but soon found opportunity for saying:
"I am the wife of your friend who has just left you. He dared not come
again. I succeeded in obtaining admission. I have a note for you. I
cannot give it to you now, for this officer is looking; but, when I bid
you good-by, I will slip it into your hand."
The letter contained the warmest protestations of friendship, saying:
"We will do any thing in the world for you. You shall have shelter at
our house, or, if you think that too public, at any house you choose
among our friends. We will find you the best pilot in Richmond to take
you through the lines. We will give you clothing, we will give you
money--every thing you need. If you wish, we will send a half dozen
young men to steal up in front of the Castle at midnight; and, for a
moment, to throw a blanket over the head of each of the sentinels who
stand beside the door."
At one o'clock that night, the Rebel corporal came to our door and
said, softly:
"All things are ready; I have my four men at the proper posts; we can
pass you to the street without difficulty. Should you meet any pickets
beyond, the countersign for to-night is 'Shiloh.' I know you all, and
implicitly trust you; but some of my men do not, and before passing out
your party of six, they want to see that you have in your possession
the money you propose to give us" (seventy dollars in United States
currency, together with two gold watches).
This request was reasonable, and Bulkley handed his portion of the
money to the corporal. A moment later he returned with it from the
gas-light, and said:
"There is a mistake about this. Here are five one-dollar notes, not
five-dollar notes."
My friend was very confident there was no error; and we were forced
to the conclusion that the guards designed to obtain our money without
giving us our liberty. So the plan was baffled.
The next morning proved that the corporal was right. My friend _had_
offered him the wrong roll of notes. We hoped very shortly to try
again, but considerable finessing was required to get the right
sentinels upon the right posts. Before it could be done we were placed
in a dungeon, on the charge of attempting to escape. We were kept there
ten days.
[Sidenote: SHUT UP IN A CELL.]
Our fellows in confinement were the burglars and confidence men--"lewd
fellows of the baser sort," without principle or refinement, living
by their wits. They frankly related many of their experiences in
enlisting and re-enlisting for large bounties as substitutes in the
Rebel service; decoying negroes from their masters, and then selling
them; stealing horses, etc. But they treated us with personal courtesy,
and though their own rations were wretchedly short, never molested our
dried beef, hams, and other provisions, which any night they could
safely have purloined.
Small-pox was very prevalent during the winter months. An Illinois
prisoner, named Putman, had a remarkable experience. He was first
vaccinated, and two or three days after, attacked with varioloid. Just
as he recovered from that, he was taken with malignant small-pox, while
the vaccine matter was still working in his arm, which was almost an
unbroken sore from elbow to shoulder. In a few weeks he returned to the
prison with pits all over his face as large as peas. Small-pox patients
were sometimes kept in our close room for two or three days after
the eruptions appeared. One of my own messmates barely survived this
disease.
We were allowed to purchase whatever supplies the Richmond market
afforded, and to have our meals prepared in the prison kitchen, by
paying the old negro who presided there. These were privileges enjoyed
by none of the other inmates. Supplies commanded very high prices; it
was a favorite jest in the city, that the people had to carry money
in their baskets and bring home marketing in their porte-monnaies.
Our mess consisted of the four correspondents and Mr. Charles
Thompson, a citizen of Connecticut, whose Democratic proclivities,
age, and gravity, invariably elected him spokesman when we wished to
communicate with the prison authorities. As they regarded us with
special hostility, we kept in the back-ground; but Mr. Thompson's quiet
tenacity, which no refusal could dishearten, and the "greenbacks" which
no _attaché_ could resist, secured us many favors.
[Sidenote: STEALING FROM FLAG-OF-TRUCE LETTERS.]
Northern letters from our own families reached us with considerable
regularity. Those sent by other persons were mostly withheld. Robert
Ould, the Rebel Commissioner of Exchange, with petty malignity, never
permitted one of the many written from _The Tribune_ office to reach
us. All inclosures, excepting money, and sometimes including it,
were stolen with uniform consistency. I finally wrote upon one of my
missives, which was to go North:
"Will the person who systematically abstracts newspaper
slips, babies' pictures, and postage-stamps from my letters,
permit the inclosed little poem to reach its destination,
unless entirely certain that it is contraband and dangerous
to the public service?"
Apparently a little ashamed, the Rebel censor thereafter ceased his
peculations.
For a time, boxes of supplies from the North were forwarded to us with
fidelity and promptness. Supposing that this could not last long, we
determined to make hay while the sun shone. One day, dining from the
contents of a home box, in cutting through the butter, my knife struck
something hard. We sounded, and brought to the surface a little phial,
hermetically sealed. We opened it, and there found "greenbacks!"
Upon that hint we acted. While it was impossible to obtain letters from
the North, we could always smuggle them thither by exchanged prisoners,
who would sew them up in their clothing, or in some other manner
conceal them. We immediately began to send many orders for boxes; all
but two or three came safely to hand, and "brought forth butter in a
lordly dish." Treasury notes were also sent bound in covers of books
so deftly as to defy detection. One of my messmates thus received two
hundred and fifty dollars in a single Bible. The supplies of money,
obtained in this manner, lasted through nearly all our remaining
imprisonment, and were of infinite service.
[Sidenote: PAROLES REPUDIATED BY THE REBELS.]
All the prisoners who were taken to Richmond with us had received
identically the same paroles. In every case, except ours, the Rebels
recognized the paroles, and sent the persons holding them through the
lines. But they utterly disregarded ours. We felt it a sort of duty to
keep them occasionally reminded of their solemn, deliberate, written
obligation to us. We first did this through our attorney, General
Humphrey Marshall, of Kentucky. His relations with Robert Ould were
very close. Upon receiving heavy fees in United States currency, he
had secured the release of several citizens, after all other endeavors
failed. The prisoners believed that Ould shared the fees.
General Marshall made a strong statement of our case in writing, adding
to the application for release:
"I am instructed by these gentlemen not to ask any favors at
your hands, but to enforce their clear, legal, unquestionable
rights under this parole."
Commissioner Ould indorsed upon this application that he repudiated the
parole altogether. In reporting to us, General Marshall said:
"I don't feel at liberty to accept a fee from you, because I consider
your case hopeless."
[Sidenote: SENTENCED TO THE SALISBURY PRISON.]
Early in the new year, we addressed a memorial to Mr. Seddon, the
Rebel Secretary of War, in which we attempted to argue the case upon
its legal merits, and to prove what a flagrant, atrocious violation of
official faith was involved in our detention. We plumed ourselves a
good deal on our legal logic, but Mr. Seddon returned a very convincing
refutation of our argument. He simply wrote an order that we be sent to
the Rebel penitentiary at Salisbury, North Carolina, to be held until
the end of the war, as hostages for Rebel citizens confined in the
North, and for the general good conduct of our Government toward them!
Like the historic Roman, content to be refuted by an emperor who was
master of fifty legions, we yielded gracefully to the argument of the
Secretary who had the whole Confederate army at his back; and thus we
were sent to Salisbury.
[Sidenote: "ABOLITIONISTS BEFORE THE WAR."]
On the night before our departure, the warden, a Maryland refugee,
named Wiley, ordered us below into a very filthy apartment, to be ready
for the morning train. We appealed to Captain Richardson, Commandant of
the Castle, who, countermanding the order, permitted us to remain in
our own more comfortable quarters during the night. Ten minutes after,
one of the little negroes came to our room, and, beckoning me to bend
down, he whispered:
"What do you think Mr. Wiley says about Captain Richardson's letting
you stay here to-night? As soon as the Captain went out, he said: 'It's
a shame for Richardson and Browne to receive so many more favors than
the other prisoners. Why, ---- them, they were Abolitionists before
the war!'"
On the way to Salisbury we were very closely guarded, but there were
many times during the night when we might easily have jumped from the
car window.
At Raleigh, a pleasant little city of five thousand people, named in
honor of the great Sir Walter, the temptation was very strong. In
the confusion and darkness through which we passed from one train to
another, we might easily have eluded the guards; but we were feeble,
a long distance from our army lines, and quite unfamiliar with the
country. It was a golden opportunity neglected; for it is always
comparatively easy for captives to escape while _in transitu_, and very
difficult when once within the walls of a military prison.
On the evening of February 3d we reached Salisbury, and were taken
to the Confederate States Penitentiary. It was a brick structure, one
hundred feet by forty, four stories in hight, originally erected for
a cotton-factory. In addition to the main building, there were six
smaller ones of brick, which had formerly been tenement houses; and a
new frame hospital, with clean hay mattresses for forty patients. The
buildings, which would hold about five hundred prisoners, were all
filled. Confederate convicts, Yankee deserters, about twenty enlisted
men of our navy and three United States officers confined as hostages,
one hundred and fifty Southern Unionists, and fifty northern citizens,
composed the inmates.