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[Illustration: "IF YOU ARE AROUND HERE WHEN WE BEGIN THE JOB, YOU WILL
FIND OUT ALL ABOUT THAT."]
THE BOY SPY
A SUBSTANTIALLY TRUE RECORD OF SECRET SERVICE DURING THE WAR
OF THE REBELLION. A CORRECT ACCOUNT OF EVENTS
WITNESSED BY A SOLDIER ATTACHED TO
HEADQUARTERS
THE ONLY PRACTICAL HISTORY OF WAR TELEGRAPHERS IN THE FIELD--A
FULL ACCOUNT OF THE MYSTERIES OF SIGNALING BY FLAGS,
TORCHES, AND ROCKETS--THRILLING SCENES OF
BATTLES, CAPTURES AND ESCAPES
BY
MAJOR J. O. KERBEY
CHICAGO.
M. A. DONOHUE & CO.
407-429 DEARBORN ST.
COPYRIGHT BY
J. O. KERBEY.
1887-88-89-90.
PREFACE.
The following unpretending narrative of some of the actual experiences
of a boy in the War of the Rebellion is fraternally dedicated to my
comrades of the G. A. R.
Part of these adventures were recorded in the press of the country at
the time of their occurrence, and more recently, in detached and crude
form, in different papers.
Through the kindly interest of many friends, and especially that of my
relative and comrade, Col. J. H. Madden, of Danville, Illinois, the
revised and collated Story is now offered to the public and corrected
from the original notes and MSS.
Yours in F. C. & L.,
THE AUTHOR.
CONTENTS.
[Transcriber's Note: Chapter XVIII was duplicated in the text. The Table
of Contents has been changed to reflect the chapter numbers given in the
text.]
CHAPTER. PAGE
I. Introductory 9
II. On Duty as a Spy at the Rebel Capital, Montgomery, Alabama--Living
in same Hotel with Jeff Davis and His Cabinet--Conspirators from
Washington Interviewed--Bounty Offered by Confederates before a Gun
Was Fired--Fort Sumter and Fort Pickens 19
III. Pensacola, Florida--In Rebel Lines--Fort Pickens--Admiral
Porter and the Navy 28
IV. Crossing the Bay to Fort Pickens, etc. 38
V. Rebel Newspapers--On Admiral Porter's Ship 52
VI. Admiral Porter Saves the Boy's Life--Interview with the Rebel
Flag-of-Truce Officers, Who Claim Him for a Victim--Scenes on Board
a Man-of-War--Return Home by Sea--Reception in New York--Telegraph
Acquaintances--New York Papers Record the Adventure in Full Page 65
VII. Reporting to the Secretary of War, at Washington--Ordered on
Another Scout to Virginia--In Patterson's Army, in Virginia, before
the Battle of Bull Run 80
VIII. A Night's Scout in Johnston's Army--Rebel Signals--Visitors
from the Union Army Headquarters Report to Rebel Headquarters--General
J. E. Johnston's Escape to Beauregard Reported to General
Patterson--Fitz-John Porter Responsible for the First Battle of Bull
Run, as He Was Cashiered for That of the Second Bull Run--An
Important Contribution to the War History of the Time--The Story
since Confirmed by the _Century_ Historians of Lincoln, Secretaries
Nicolay and Hay 94
IX. Reporting to General Bank's Headquarters for Duty--The Life of
Jeff Davis Threatened--Captured at Harper's Ferry--Interesting
Personal Letters Corroborating the Supposed Death of the "Boy Spy" 114
X. At Beauregard's Headquarters--On Duty at Manassas 125
XI. Important Documents Intercepted at Manassas, which Established
the Fact that the Rebel Army had no Intention, and Were not Able to
Advance after Manassas--The Rebel Army Demoralized by Success, and
Twenty-five Per Cent. Absent from Epidemic--On the Field after the
Battle--Observation Inside Rebel Camps--Talking with Richmond by
Wire--Captured by Rebel Picket in Sight of the Signal Lights at
Georgetown College 134
XII. Another Escape, etc. 154
XIII. One More Escape--"Yanking" the Telegraph Wires--"On to
Richmond!"--A Close Shave 166
XIV. On to Richmond--A Night of Terror--A Ghastly Find in the
Woods--Attacked by Bloodhounds--Other Miraculous Escapes--First
Visit to Fredericksburg--A Collection Taken up in a Church in
Virginia for the "Boy Spy"--Arrives in Richmond 178
XV. Sick In Richmond--Concealed by a Colored Boy and Unable to
Move--An Original Cipher Letter Sent Through the Blockade to
Washington that Tells the Whole Story in a Few Words--Meeting
with Maryland Refugees--The "Boy Spy" Serenaded--"Maryland, My
Maryland"--Jeff Davis' Office and Home--A Visit to Union Prisoners
at Libby Prison, etc. 195
XVI. Richmond--Hollywood--Jeff Davis--Breckinridge--Extra Billy
Smith--Mayor, Governor, etc. 214
XVII. Richmond--A Close Shave 227
XVIII. Richmond on an Autumn Morning--A Group of Good Looking
Soldiers--Jeff Davis Passes By--The Battle of Ball's
Bluff--Richmond Newspapers 238
XVIII. A Narrow Escape--Recognized by Texas Friends at a Richmond
Theatre--Personnel of the Maryland Battery--Refugees from
Ireland--Camp Lee, near Richmond--Our Captain--Lieutenant
Claiborne, of Mississippi--Our Section Drills--Horses for Our Use
in Town and Adjoining County--Visits of Ladies--Capitola--Popularity
of Refugees--The Entertainment for Marylanders--Tableau--Jeff
Davis Strikes the Chains from the Enslaved Maryland Beauty 245
XIX. Richmond, Fall 1861--Daily Visits to the War Office, Mechanics
Hall--Evenings Devoted to Visits in Town--Mixed up with Maryland
Ladies--Fort Pickens Opens Fire on Pensacola Batteries--General
Winder, of Maryland--Jeff Davis Inaugurated President--Shake Hands
with Jeff Davis 261
XX. One Sunday in Richmond--Jeff Davis' and General Lee's Homes and
Church--Recognized at Libby Prison--Visit to Texas Camp--A
"Difficulty" Renewed--Thrilling Experience--A Night in Richmond with
Texas Boys 272
XXI. Maryland "Refugees"--Coercing into the Union in East Tennessee
"Refugees"--Parson Brownlow Interviewed--A Happy Experience with
Maggie Craig--The Battle of Mill Spring--First Union Victory as
Seen from Inside the Rebel Army 293
XXII. Cruelty of General Ledbetter--Another Narrow Escape--Ordered
to Cumberland Gap--A Wearisome Journey--Arrived at the Gap--The
Stolen Letter--Alone in the Darkness--The North Star--Day Dawn 314
XXIII. Return Home from Cumberland Gap--Meeting with Parson
Brownlow on His Trip to Washington 339
XXIV. Arrival at Washington--Meets Hon. John Covode--J. W. Forney
and Senators--Testimony Before Committee on the Conduct of the
War--Remarkable Interviews with Secretary Stanton--A Visit to Mr.
Lincoln, at Washington--The Telegraph Corps--Again Ordered to the
Front, at Fredericksburg, Virginia 356
XXV. Geno--Fredericksburg--A Chapter of War History not in
_The Century_ Papers 377
XXVI. A Scout to Richmond Develops Important Information--No
Force in Front of McDowell to Prevent his Co-operating with
McClellan--The Secretary of War Responsible for the Failure of
the Peninsula Campaign--Our Spy as a War Correspondent Antagonizes
the War Department by Criticism in the Papers--Is Arrested on a
Technicality and Sent a Special Prisoner to Old Capitol by the
Secretary of War's Orders 396
XXVII. Old Capitol Prison--Belle Boyd, the Rebel Spy, a Companion
and Friend--A Disguised English Duke--Interesting Scenes and
Experiences in this Famous State Prison--Planning to Escape
Disguised as a Contraband--Released on Parole by Order of the
Secretary of War 412
XXVIII. Fired Out of Old Capitol Prison--"Don't Come Here
Again!"--My Friend the Jew Sutler--Out in a New Rig--At the
Canterbury Theatre 431
XXIX. Life at Headquarters Army of Potomac--Some Startling
Revelations as to the "True Inwardness," not to say Cussedness,
of Our High Union Officials--Interesting Descriptions of Family
Life at Headquarters--"Signals"--Ciphers--Again Volunteering for
Secret Service Inside the Rebel Army--A Remarkable Statement about
Burnside and Hooker--Introduction to General Meade--A Night on the
Rappahannock Interviewing Rebel Pickets 451
XXX. Conspiracies among Union Generals and Northern Politicians--The
Defense of that Unappreciated Army, the Cavalry--Hooker and Dead
Cavalrymen--Stoneman's Celebrated Raid to Richmond Truthfully
Described, and Its Failure to Capture Richmond Accounted for--A
Chapter on the "Secret Service" not Referred to in Official Reports
or Current War History 480
XXXI. Farewell to Fredericksburg--General Pleasonton--Cavalry
Fighting at Brandy and Aldie--Looking after Stuart's Rebel
Cavalry--A Couple of Close Calls--Chased by Mosby's Guerrillas--With
Custer in Frederick, Md., the Day before the Battle, Flirting with
the Girls 510
XXXII. Sent to Find General Buford--A Hasty Ride--The Battle of
Gettysburg--Cemetery Ridge--General Doubleday--General Hancock--The
Second Day of the Battle 519
XXXIII. Closing Chapter 548
ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGE.
"If You are around Here when We Begin the Job, You Will Find out
all about That." _Frontispiece._
A Close Call at Gettysburg 537
"Ah! Sketching, Are You?" 66
An Interview with Parson Brownlow 304
"Are You Union, or Confederate?" 338
"Bill, Ain't He the Fellow?" 282
Cavalry Picket on the Rappahannock 473
"Colonel Mosby's Soldiers, I Reckon, Sir?" 516
Cumberland Gap--This Was Enough for Me 329
Geno Was Not only the Prettiest, but the Sweetest Girl I ever Saw 381
"Get Up Here, You Damned Old Traitor." 316
"Halt!" 150
He seemed to have Forgotten all about Dressing Himself 359
I'd Cut Him and Feed the Pieces to the Sharks 44
I had Stepped onto the Decaying Body of--_a Man_! 181
In an Instant He Put the Point of His Sword against My Breast 347
In Old Capitol Prison--Disguised as a Contraband 427
In Old Capitol Prison--I Admit that I Broke Down Completely 413
I Was Being "Toted" Back to the Rebel Army 158
I Whispered to Him as I Went Past: "Norfolk is Taken." 223
I "Yanked," or by a Dexterous "Twist of the Wrist," I Was Able to
Break the Wire 170
Landing Kerslop over the Side onto the Ground 177
Miss Mamie Wells Ministering to the Wounded [Transcriber's
Note: This illustration is not found in the text.] 400
On a Scout to Richmond 396
Recognized by Texans at Richmond Theatre 248
Refusing in Her very Decided Manner to Walk under "That Flag" 383
Tail Piece--To the Boy Spy 556
Tapping the Telegraph Wire--"Are the Yanks in Fredericksburg?" 493
"Thank God, I'm Safe among my Friends." 121
The Sergeant kindly Gave Him the Steel 441
"To Father: I am Safe; Are All Well at Home?" 352
We hastily Dressed and Ran Back from the Bank 95
You always Say _Down_ Here, and That You're Going to go up Home 197
THE BOY SPY.
CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTORY.
A successful scout, or spy, is like a great poet in one respect: he is
born, not made--subject to the requisition of the military genius of the
time.
That I was not born to be hanged is a self-evident proposition. Whether
I was a successful scout or not, the reader of these pages must
determine.
It was my good fortune to have first seen the light under the shadow of
one of the spurs of the Blue Ridge Mountains, in the beautiful
Cumberland Valley, in the State of Pennsylvania, near Mason and Dixon's
line.
This same locality is distinguished as the birthplace of President James
Buchanan, and also that of Thomas A. Scott, President of the
Pennsylvania Railroad and its system, under whom I served. Mr. Scott
used to say he had leased this position for ninety-nine years with twice
the salary of the president of the United States.
My grandfather, who had been an officer in the Royal Navy, of Great
Britain, served in the same ships with Lord Nelson, had after the manner
of his class kept a record of his remarkable and thrilling services in
the British Navy during the wars of that period.
The discovery of this, grandfather's diary--amongst other war
papers--after his death, I may say, here, accounts in a manner for the
spirit of adventure in my disposition. I come by it naturally, and
following the precedent, submit this unpretending narrative, as another
grandfather's diary.
It appears that during the embargo declared during the war between the
United States and England in 1812, my grandfather was caught ashore, as
it were, in America.
His brother, George, was in the service of the East India Company, as a
judge advocate, and lived on the Island of Ceylon at that time.
Desiring to reach this brother, by getting a vessel at New Orleans, he
started to walk overland, through a hostile country, to the headwaters
of the Ohio and Mississippi Valley at Pittsburgh, where he could get a
canoe or boat.
It is a singular coincidence that this young English officer, in his
scouting through an enemy's country, traversed substantially the very
same ground--Winchester, Va., Harper's Ferry, Fredericksburg, etc.--that
I, his youthful grandson, tramped over as a scout in another war half a
century later.
It was while on this journey that he was taken sick, and during a long
illness he was nursed back to life by my grandmother, whom he
subsequently married, and there located as an American citizen.
He became the school-master of the community, and in course of time,
Thomas A. Scott was one of his brightest but most troublesome scholars.
In the process of this evolution, I became a messenger boy and student
of telegraphy in the office of Colonel Thos. A. Scott, who was then
superintendent of railways at Pittsburgh.
In the same office, as a private clerk and telegrapher, was Mr. Andrew
Carnegie, now widely known as a capitalist.
"Andy," as this distinguished philanthropist was then familiarly known,
and myself were "boys together," and the reader is permitted to refer to
him for--as he recently assured me, in his laughing and hearty
manner--that he would give me a good endorsement, as one of his wild
boys.
Under Mr. Andrew Carnegie's instruction I soon became a proficient
operator, and when but a boy very easily read a telegraph instrument by
sound, which in those days was considered an extraordinary acquirement.
Through Mr. Scott's kindly interest in myself, I had been promoted
rapidly in railway work, and before leaving Pittsburgh was chief or
division operator. This gave me very large responsibilities, for a boy
of my age, as the road then had but one track, and close watch had to be
kept of the various trains moving in the same or opposite directions. It
became a habit of Colonel Scott, on receiving news of any accident to a
train or bridge along the road, to have an engine fired up and be off at
once, with me along provided with a pocket instrument and a little coil
of copper wire. It seems now to me that such trips usually began at
night.
Arrived at the place of wreck, I would at once shin up a telegraph pole,
get the wire down, cut it, and establish a "field station" at once, the
nearest rail fence and a convenient bowlder furnishing desk and office
seat, where I worked while Colonel Scott remained in charge of the work.
He was thus at once put in direct communication with every train and
station on the road, and in as full personal control as if in his
comfortable Pittsburgh office. Such work perfected me in
field-telegraphing. At times, when a burned or broken bridge or a
wrecked train delayed traffic, trains would accumulate at the point, and
the noises of escaping steam from the engines, the progressing work, and
the babel of voices about me, made it utterly impossible to hear any
sound from my little magnet, or pocket instrument. I then discovered, by
sheer necessity, that I could read the messages coming, by watching the
movement of the armature of the magnet. The vibrations of a telegraph
armature are so slight as to be scarcely perceptible to the naked eye,
yet a break, or the separating of the points of contact, are necessary
to make the proper signals. Further experiences developed the phenomena
that when sound and sight failed I could read still by the sense of
feeling, by holding my finger-tips gently against the armature and
noting its pulsations. I thus became by practice not only proficient,
but expert in telegraphy. Telegraphers know, though the general public
may not, that messages can be sent by touching together the ends of a
cut telegraph wire, and can be received by holding the ends to the
tongue. My tongue, however, has always been too sensitive to take that
kind of "subtle fluid."
Telegraphers have many methods of secret communication with each other:
rattling teaspoons or tapping knives and forks at the table, or the
apparently aimless "Devil's tattoo" of the fingers on the table or
armchair are common methods, and I have heard of one in a tight corner
who _winked_ out a message appealing for help. It might be well to avoid
playing poker at a table where two telegraphers are chums, for it is
possible that one might learn when to stay in a little longer for the
raise and make a pot a little bigger.
When Colonel Thos. A. Scott became Assistant Secretary of War he called
into his service the railroaders and telegraphers whom he knew would be
serviceable and faithful to the government. I record here the statement
that the first to reach Washington upon Secretary Cameron's call, was
Mr. Scott and his Pennsylvania railroaders and telegraphers, who rebuilt
and operated the destroyed Baltimore & Ohio railways and telegraphs,
that enabled the first troops to reach the Capitol.
It was on account of my supposed qualification as a telegrapher that I
was subsequently detailed to enter the rebel lines and intercept their
telegraphic communication at their headquarters.
On one occasion, mentioned further on in this narrative, I was lounging
near the old wooden shanty near General Beauregard's headquarters at
Manassas Junction. I easily read important dispatches to and from
Richmond and elsewhere, and repeated the operation hour after hour,
several days and nights. It was unfortunately the case, however, that I
then had no means of rapid communication with Washington to transmit the
information gained, although in later years of the war it would have
been easy, as I was then a signal officer in the Army of the Potomac,
and might have utilized some retired tree-top and signaled over the
heads of the enemy to our own lines. This is rather anticipating my
story, and, as Uncle Rufus Hatch once said, when I was acting as his
private secretary, and he would become a little mixed in dictating
letters to me, "We must preserve the sequence."
It is more than likely that I was too young in those days to properly
appreciate the advantages of the rapid advancement I had gained in
position and salary, especially as the latter enabled me to make a fool
of myself; and here comes in my "first love story," which I tell,
because it had much to do with the adventures of which this narrative
treats.
"I loved a maid,
And she was wondrous fair to see,"
and I will designate her as No. 1, to distinguish this from numerous
other such affairs--on both sides of the lines. This affair, which
served to further train me for the duties that lay before me, resulted
in a visit, during the winter before the war broke out, to Western
Texas, where a wealthy bachelor uncle had a well-stocked plantation,
between San Antonio and Austin. There I became associated with the young
sons of the best Texas families, and acquired the ability--I had nearly
written agility--to ride a bucking broncho and become an expert shot
with a Colt's revolver.
My experience as a rather fresh young Pennsylvania boy among the young
Southern hot-bloods would make too long a chapter here, but suffice it
to say that a youthful tendency to give my opinion on political
questions, without regard to probable consequences, kept me in constant
hot water after President Lincoln's election.
Among the young men with whom I associated, through my uncle's standing
and influence, was a grandson of the famous Colonel Davy Crockett, with
whom I became involved in a difficulty, and, greatly to the astonishment
of the "boys," I promptly accepted his challenge to a pistol fight. Some
of our older and more sensible friends quickly put an end to the affair.
When my uncle (who was absent at Austin at the time) returned, he
furnished me with a pocketful of gold double-eagles and shipped me off
by stage to Galveston, whence I crossed the Gulf to New Orleans and came
up the Mississippi to my home.
Immediately preceding the inauguration of Mr. Lincoln, following closely
upon my return from Texas, I came on to Washington City. The purpose of
this visit being solely a desire to gratify an aroused curiosity, by
witnessing the sights and incidents consequent upon the impending change
of the administration, about which there was much interest and
excitement. As I had plenty of time, but not much money, to spend, I
looked about for a cheap hotel, and was directed to the St. Charles,
which was then, as now, located on the corner of Third and Pennsylvania
avenues. Here I became domiciled, for the time being, and it so happened
that I was seated at the same table in the hotel with Senator Andy
Johnson, of Tennessee, who was living there, and perhaps through this
accidental circumstance it came about that I was so soon to be engaged
in the government's service.
Mr. Johnson, it will be remembered, had obtained some distinction by his
vigorous defense of the Union, in the Senate, at a time when nearly all
the rest of the Southern Senators were either openly or secretly
plotting treason. In my youthful enthusiasm for the cause of the Union,
which had become strengthened by the Southern associations of the
preceding months, I naturally gave to Mr. Johnson my earliest admiration
and sympathy. One day, while walking up Pennsylvania avenue, I was
surprised to see standing in front of Brown's, now the Metropolitan
Hotel, a certain gentleman, earnestly engaged in conversation with
Senator Wigfall, whom I had known in Texas as one of the prominent State
officials under the then existing administration of Governor Sam.
Houston. This gentleman, whose name I withhold, because he is living
to-day and is well-known throughout Texas, was also at that time a
business associate and a personal friend of the Texas uncle before
referred to.
I was pleasantly recognized, and at once introduced to Senator Wigfall
as the "nephew of my uncle." Mr. Wigfall's dogmatic manner impressed me
unfavorably, being so unlike that of Mr. Johnson.
I spent a great many evenings at Brown's Hotel, in the rooms of my Texas
friend, where were congregated every night, and late into the mornings,
too, nearly all of the Texas people who were at that time in the city.
In this way, without seeking their confidence, I became a silent and
attentive listener to the many schemes and plans that were brewing for
the overthrow of the government.
Among the frequent visitors were Wigfall and Hon. John C. Breckinridge,
of Kentucky, both of whom are now dead; but there are yet among the
living certain distinguished Congressmen, at present in Washington, who
were of that treasonable gang, who will not, I apprehend, deny the truth
of the facts I here state.
This gentleman's mission in Washington, as I learned incidentally during
his interviews with Senator Wigfall and others, was to secure the
passage through Congress of some appropriation bill of a special
character, for the benefit of Texas, which, if I rightly remember,
referred to lands or school funds, the object being to secure the
benefit of the act before that State should pass the secession
ordinance. It was understood and admitted during these talks of the
plotting traitors that Texas should, as a matter of course, secede, but
they must first take with them all they could obtain from the general
government, the delay in passing the ordinance being caused only by the
desire to first secure this money, which this agent had been sent here
to press through Wigfall and others in Congress, and upon the advices of
their success being reported to Texas, the act of secession would
promptly follow this twin robbery and conspiracy.
I happened to be present, in the crowded gallery of the Senate, when
Senator Wigfall, of Texas, during a speech in reply to Johnson, in an
indirect and insinuating way, while glancing significantly toward
Senator Johnson, quoted the celebrated words of Marmion: "Lord Angus,
thou has lied." This incident being discussed at our table one day, at
which Senator Johnson occupied the post of honor, I took a favorable
opportunity to intimate to him that I was in possession of facts that
would show Mr. Wigfall to be not only a traitor, but that he was then
scheming to first rob the government he had sworn to protect, and
afterward intended to destroy, and in my boyish way suggested that the
Senator should hurl the epithets back at him.
I did not for a moment consider that I was betraying any confidence in
thus telling of the traitorous schemes to which I had been an unwilling
listener.
Mr. Johnson seemed to be impressed with my statements, and for a while
lost interest in his dinner. In his free and kindly way he was easily
able to "draw me out" to his entire satisfaction, and secured from me
the story with the necessary "authorities and references." As he rose
from the table he walked around to my seat, shaking my hand cordially,
while he invited me to his room for a further conference.
After that day, while I remained in Washington City, during the time
preceding the inauguration of Mr. Lincoln, and for some weeks following,
I became a welcome visitor at the Senator's room, oscillating between
the headquarters of the rebel conspirators at Brown's and the private
rooms of the leader of the Union cause, and thus was begun my first
secret-service work.
I had brought with me to Washington some letters from Mr. Scott and
other railroad friends, and also enjoyed through this connection a
personal acquaintance with "Old Glory to God," as the Hon. John Covode
was called during the war. This name originated from a telegram which
Mr. Covode wrote to a friend, in which he intended to convey the
intelligence of a great Union victory; but in the excitement of his big,
honest, loyal heart over a Union success, which in the early days was a
rarity, he neglected to mention the important fact of the victory, and
the telegram as received in Philadelphia simply read:
"TO JOHN W. FORNEY:
* * * * "Glory to God. "JOHN COVODE."
He spelled God with a little g, Philadelphia with an F, but he got there
just the same.
My days in the Capitol at that time were usually spent in the gallery of
the Senate, where were to be seen and heard the great leaders on both
sides. Some of the Southern Senators were making their farewell
speeches, the words of which I, in my youthful innocence, tried vainly
to reconcile with their action, as well as with the proceedings of a
peace Congress, which was being held at Willard's old hall on F street.
The evenings of these days I devoted to the observation of the
operations of the Southern conspirators at the hotel, and watched with
concern the preparations for the inauguration of Mr. Lincoln, who had
secretly arrived in the city.
In the course of my amateur work among the Southern leaders, it so
happened that Mr. Covode and Senator Johnson had been brought together,
and they became mutually interested in my services.
One day Mr. Covode said to me: "See here, young feller, you might do
some good for the government in this way. I've talked with Johnson about
you, and he says he'll help to get you fixed up by the War Department."
When I expressed a willingness to do anything, the old man said, in his
blunt, outspoken way:
"Hold on now till I tell you about this thing first." Then proceeding to
explain in his homely, honest words:
"There is a lot of money appropriated for secret service, and if you get
onto that your pay will be mighty good; but," he added, "it's damned
dangerous; for as sure as them fellers ketch you once they will hang
you, that's sure as your born."
When I observed that I wasn't born to be hanged, he said further, as he
fumbled over some papers in his hand:
"I don't know about that either, because Scott writes me a letter here
that says, 'you are smart enough, but you have,'" reading from the letter
to refresh his memory, "'unbounded but not well directed energy'." Which
I didn't know whether to consider complimentary or otherwise.
It was arranged that we should visit the Secretary of War together, to
consult in regard to this future service. We called on General Cameron,
the Secretary, one morning, to whom I was introduced by Mr. Covode, who
explained to the Secretary in a few words, in an undertone, what he
deemed to be my qualifications and advantages for employment in the
secret service.
There were no civil-service rules in force at that time. The Secretary's
office was crowded with persons waiting an opportunity to present to him
their claims. After looking around the room, the Secretary suggested
that, as this was a matter he would like to talk over when he was not so
busy, we had better call again.
In a few days afterward I went alone to the old War Department Building,
where I stood about for an hour or two, watching the crowd of
office-seekers, anxious to serve their country under the new
administration, but without getting an opportunity to get anywhere near
the Secretary's door.
This same operation became with me a daily duty for quite a while. One
morning I went earlier than usual, and met the Secretary as he passed
along the corridor to his office, and bluntly accosted him, handing him
some letters. I followed him into the room, and stood by the altar, or
desk, with a couple of other penitents who were on the anxious bench,
while he put on his spectacles and began to read the papers I had handed
him. Turning to me, he said: "Now I'm too busy to attend to this matter.
I intend to do something in this direction, but I've not had a chance to
look it up; suppose you come--" Here I interrupted him and said: "I'd
like to go down to Montgomery and see what's going on there." This
seemed to open a way out of a difficulty for the Secretary, and he at
once said:
"That's all right; you just do that, and let's see what you can do, and
I'll fix your matter up with Covode." Then turning to his desk he wrote
something on the back of one of my papers in a handwriting which, to say
the least, was mighty peculiar; something which I have never been able
to decipher; it was, however, an endorsement from the Secretary of War.
When I showed the Secretary's penmanship to Mr. Scott, suggesting to him
that I thought it was a request for him to furnish me with passes to
Montgomery, Alabama, and return, Scott appreciated the joke, and
promptly furnished me the necessary documents, saying, laughingly: "You
needn't be afraid to carry that paper along with you anywhere; there
isn't anybody that will be able to call it an incendiary document."
I transferred myself at once to the field of my observations from the
United States Capital at Washington to that of the Confederate States of
America, then forming at Montgomery, Alabama, traveling via Louisville,
stopping a day to see the wonders of the Mammoth Cave; thence, via
Chattanooga, Tennessee, and Augusta, Georgia, arriving late one night in
Montgomery.