The Escape.
Frank, as may be supposed, was not at all pleased with the prospect
before him. He had often heard escaped prisoners relate sad stories of
the treatment they had received while in the hands of the rebels; and,
as he knew that they cherished an especial hatred toward gun-boatmen,
he could not hope to fare very well.
The place where he was confined was in the lower part of the fort,
directly in range of the shells from the iron-clads, and Frank
expected to be struck by them every moment, for the pieces flew about
him in all directions. Oh, how he prayed that the fort might be taken!
He could see that one of their heaviest guns was dismounted, and a
large detail of men was constantly occupied in carrying off the dead
and wounded.
The firing continued until four o'clock in the afternoon, and then
the gun-boats suddenly withdrew. The rebels cheered loudly as they
disappeared around a bend in the river, and Frank gave up all hope:
nothing now remained for him but a long captivity.
That evening, as soon as it was dark, he, with the other prisoners,
was marched on board the General Quitman, a large steamer, lying just
below the fort, and carried to Haines' Bluff, and from thence they
went by rail to Vicksburg. Here Frank was separated from his men, and
confined, for two days, with several army officers, in a small room in
the jail. Early on the third morning he was again taken out, and sent
across the river, into Louisiana, with about three hundred others.
Their destination, he soon learned, was Tyler, a small town in
Texas, where most of the Union prisoners captured in Mississippi were
confined.
They were guarded by a battalion of cavalry, under command of the
notorious Colonel Harrison, who called themselves the "Louisiana
Wild-cats." Frank had never before seen this noted regiment, and he
found that they were very appropriately named; for a more ferocious
looking set of men he had never met. They all wore long hair and
whiskers; and their faces looked as though they had never been
acquainted with soap and water. They were armed with rifles,
Bowie-knives, and revolvers, and seemed to take pleasure in boasting
of the number of women and children and unarmed men they had slain.
They had not made more than a day's march, when Frank found that his
troubles were just commencing. He was not accustomed to marching, and
his feet soon became so swollen that he could scarcely stand on them.
The heat was almost intolerable; the roads were very dusty, and the
places where they were allowed to obtain water were many miles apart.
Besides, as if to add to their sufferings, the rebels were continually
stealing from the prisoners, and, finally, some of them were left with
scarcely any clothing; and if the poor fellows ventured to remonstrate
against such treatment, they were shot or bayoneted on the spot.
On the fourth day of the march, Frank noticed a soldier, just in
advance of him, who was so weak that he could scarcely keep his feet.
He had been wounded in the arm, at the late battle before Vicksburg,
but not the least notice had been taken of it by the rebels, and he
was suffering the most intense agony. Frank, although scarcely able to
sustain himself, owing to the swollen condition of his feet, offered
his assistance, which the poor fellow was glad enough to accept. But
he continued to grow weaker every moment, and, finally, in spite of
Frank's exertions, fell prostrate in the road.
"What's the matter here?" inquired the colonel, who happened to be
riding by.
"This man isn't able to go any further," replied Frank.
"Then he doesn't need any of your help, you young Abolitionist; get
back to your place! Here, Stiles," he continued, beckoning to one of
his men and bending upon him a glance of peculiar meaning, "you stay
here until this man dies."
The colonel rode up to the head of the column again, and Frank was
obliged to move on with the others. But he could not relieve his mind
of a feeling that something more dreadful than any thing he had yet
seen was about to take place. He frequently turned and looked back,
and saw the man lying where he had fallen, and the rebel, who had
dismounted from his horse, standing over him, leaning on his rifle. At
length a bend in the road hid them from sight. In a few moments, Frank
heard the report of a gun, and presently the rebel rode up, with the
coat, pants, and boots which had once belonged to the soldier, hanging
on his arm. Such scenes as this were enacted every day; but, for some
unaccountable reason, Frank was not molested, beyond having his boots
stolen one night while he was asleep. He had made up his mind that he
would escape at the first opportunity; but he was in no condition to
travel, and, besides, the sight of several ferocious blood-hounds,
which accompanied the rebels, was enough to deter him from making the
attempt.
After a march of two weeks, during which he suffered more than he had
thought it possible for him to endure, they arrived at Shreveport.
Here they encamped for the night, with the understanding that they
were to start for Tyler--which was one hundred and ten miles further
on--early the next morning. Frank concluded that he had walked about
far enough. "If I intend to escape," he soliloquized, "I might as well
start from here as from Tyler. I'll play off sick, and see if I can't
get them to leave me here; and then, as soon as I become strong enough
to travel, I'll be missed some fine day."
Accordingly, the next morning, when the prisoners were ordered to
"fall in," Frank did not stir; and, when the sergeant came to arouse
him, he appeared to be in the greatest agony. So well did he play his
part, that the doctor declared that it was impossible for him to go
on; and he was accordingly left behind. As soon as the prisoners
had gone, he was carried to the hospital, which was a large brick
building, standing on the outskirts of the town. The lower floor was
used as a barrack for the soldiers who guarded the building, and the
upper rooms as a hospital and guard-house. Frank found about fifteen
Federal soldiers, and as many rebels, who were confined for various
offenses, principally desertion.
Frank soon became acquainted with his fellow-prisoners, and the
stories they told of their treatment made the cold sweat start out all
over him; but when he spoke of escape, he was surprised to find that
there was not one among them who dared to make the attempt. But this
did not alter his determination. He resolved that, rather than
remain in prison, he would go alone. He grew stronger every day, and
succeeded in securing a pair of shoes, and a compass, for which he
gave the last shirt he had. His determination was to take to the
woods, until he had escaped pursuit, and then strike for Red River.
He knew that this route would bring him out a good distance below
Vicksburg, but still it would be easier and safer than traveling
across the country; and he hoped that the rebel stronghold would be
taken by the time he reached the Mississippi River.
Finally, one dark night--after he had well matured his plans--he
concluded to make the trial. So, waiting until every one in the room
appeared to be asleep--for he had been told that there were some who
must know nothing of his intention--he carefully raised one of the
windows, and looked out. He had made all his observations beforehand,
and knew that the window was about twenty feet above the ground. He
had tried in vain to obtain a rope strong enough to assist him in his
descent; and his only alternative was, to hang by his hands and "drop"
to the ground, where, he hoped, aided by the darkness, to escape the
fire of the guards.
He was crawling noiselessly out of the window, when he was startled by
the creaking of the stairs, as if some one was descending them; and,
at the same time, hasty footsteps sounded under the window. Frank saw
that he had been discovered, and, hastily climbing back into the room,
he closed the window and threw himself on the floor, and appeared to
be fast asleep.
"Very well done!" exclaimed an officer, who suddenly appeared at the
top of the stairs. "Very well done, indeed. Now, you young Yankee,
I don't want to see you try that move again. If you do, I shall be
obliged to shoot you. Do you understand?"
Frank replied in the affirmative; and the officer, after satisfying
himself that the prisoners were all in the room, went below again,
leaving a guard at the head of the stairs, who kept a close watch upon
Frank until morning.
He was a good deal annoyed and perplexed at the unsuccessful
termination of his adventure; but he could not make up his mind what
it was that had led to his discovery. Still, he was not discouraged;
but, in spite of the officer's warning, determined to renew his
attempt at escape, as soon as an opportunity was offered.
The next day, while he was eating his scanty dinner, the lieutenant
in charge of the prisoners came in, and, as was his custom, began to
argue with them as to the probable termination of the war. Frank
had always hoped that he would let him alone, for the lieutenant
invariably became enraged if the prisoners endeavored to uphold their
Government.
"Well, young man," he exclaimed, walking up to Frank, "how do you get
along?"
"As well as can be expected, I suppose," answered Frank.
"How do you relish being a prisoner? Are you not sorry that you ever
took up arms against us?"
"No, I am not," answered Frank, indignantly, "You'll have to fight me
again, as soon as I get out of this scrape."
"What made you come down here to fight us?"
"Because I thought you needed a good drubbing."
"Well, we haven't had it yet;" said the lieutenant, stroking his
moustache. "Why didn't you take Fort Pemberton? You got the worst of
it there. We sunk the Ticonderoga."
"Oh, yes," answered Frank, with a sneer, "no doubt of it. But, on the
whole, I think you had better tell that to the marines."
"You don't believe it, then! Well, how do you think this war is going
to end?"
"Now, see here," said Frank, "I wish you would travel on, and let
me alone. I am a prisoner, and in your power; and I don't want to be
abused for speaking my mind; for, if I answer your questions at all, I
shall say just what I think."
"That is what I like," said the lieutenant. "You need not be afraid to
speak your mind freely. Now, tell me, how do you think this struggle
will end?"
"There is only one way for it to end, and that is in your
subjugation."
"But what is your object in fighting us?"
"To preserve the Union!"
"You're a liar!" shouted the lieutenant. "You're fighting to free the
niggers."
"Well, have it your own way," answered Frank. "But, if I'm a liar,
you're a gentleman, so take it and go on. You need not ask me any more
questions, for I shan't answer them."
The lieutenant muttered something about hanging every Yankee he could
catch if he could have his own way, and moved away; and Frank was left
to finish his dinner in peace.
That afternoon, a soldier, whose name was Cabot, came and sat down
beside Frank, and inquired:
"Didn't you try to escape last night?"
"Yes, but I was discovered."
"You would not have been, if one of our own men hadn't split on you."
"What!" exclaimed Frank, "you don't pretend to say that a Federal
soldier was mean enough to inform against me?"
"Yes, I do; and there he stands now." And, as Cabot spoke, he pointed
to a tall, hard-featured man standing by the window, looking out
into the street. "I slept at the head of the stairs last night, and
distinctly heard him tell the guards that you were intending to leave.
His name is Bishop, and he belongs to the Thirtieth Maine Regiment. He
has for some time past been trying to be allowed to take the oath of
allegiance to the South." [Footnote: A fact.]
"What will he do then?" inquired Frank; "go into the rebel army?"
"No, but he could be employed here in the arsenal, making bullets to
kill our own men with."
"The scoundrel!" exclaimed Frank, indignantly; "I didn't suppose there
was a man from my own State who could be guilty of such meanness."
"He is mean enough for any thing. Haven't you noticed that every night
he comes around through our quarters with a candle?"
"Yes; but I don't know what he does it for."
"Well, he counts us every night before he goes to sleep, and, in fact,
comes through our room two or three times in the night, to see that
none of us have escaped. He hopes in that manner to gain favor with
the rebels. I have told you this, in order that you may look out for
him the next time you try to escape."
Frank was astounded at this intelligence, and, at first, he did not
believe it. But that evening, about nine o'clock, Bishop came in, as
usual, with his candle, and Frank inquired:
"What made you tell the guard that I was going to escape last night?"
The question was asked so suddenly--and in a manner which showed
Bishop that Frank was well acquainted with his treachery--that he
dared not deny the charge, and he answered:
"Because, when any of our boys escape, the guards are awful hard on
those of us that are left."
"That's no excuse at all," answered Frank. "If you were a man, you
would have endeavored to escape long ago, instead of staying here
and trying to make friends with the enemies of your country. You're
a black-hearted scoundrel and traitor! and I tell you, once for all,
that if you ever come into my quarters again after dark, you'll never
go out alive. We all know about your operations here."
Bishop made no reply, but turned to walk on, when Frank rose to his
feet, and exclaimed:
"Hold on, here! you are not going through this room with that candle.
Go back instantly where you belong, and don't show your face in here
again."
Bishop saw that Frank was in earnest, and, without saying a word, he
turned and walked into his quarters.
Frank had a twofold object in talking to him as he did. He wanted to
let him know that his fellow-prisoners all knew what he had done, and
he wished, also, to deter him from coming into that room again, as he
had determined to make another attempt at escape that very night. The
traitor had no sooner disappeared than Frank descended the stairs that
led down into the hall, at the foot of which there were two guards
posted.
"Hallo, Yank!" said one of them, as Frank came down, "I reckon as
how you had better travel right back up sta'rs agin, 'cause it's agin
orders to 'low you fellers to come down here a'ter dark."
"I know it is," answered Frank; "but it is so awful hot up stairs that
I can't stand it. You'll let me stay down here long enough to cool off
a little, won't you?"
"Wal," answered the guard, who really seemed to be a kind-hearted
fellow, "I reckon as how you mought stay here a minit; but you mustn't
stay no longer."
"All right," answered Frank; and he seated himself on the lower step,
and talked with the guards until he was informed that it was high time
he was "travelin' back up sta'rs."
"Very well," answered Frank, rising to his feet, and stretching
himself, "I'll go, if you want me to."
And he _did_ go. With one bound he dashed by the astonished guards,
and, before they could fire a shot, he had disappeared in the
darkness.
His escape had been accomplished much easier than he had anticipated.
He had expected at least a shot from the guards, and, perhaps, a
struggle with them; for, when he left his quarters, he had determined
to escape, or die in the attempt. In a few moments he reached the
bushes that lined the road on both sides, and threw himself flat among
them, and determined to wait until his pursuers had passed on, so that
he would be on their trail, instead of having them on his. It was well
that he had adopted this precaution, for he had scarcely concealed
himself before the roll of a drum announced that the guards were being
aroused, and that the pursuit was about to commence; and presently a
squad of cavalry dashed rapidly by, and a crashing in the bushes told
him that a party of men were searching the woods for him. As soon
as his pursuers were out of hearing, Frank rose to his feet, and ran
along the road, close to the bushes, so that, if he heard any one
approaching, he would have a place of concealment close at hand. He
had made, perhaps, half a mile in this way, when he discovered a man
pacing up and down the road, with a musket on his shoulder. He was
evidently a picket; and Frank, knowing that his comrades were not far
off, drew back into the bushes, out of sight. Which way should he go
now? This was a question which he could not answer satisfactorily.
There was, doubtless, another picket-post not far off, and if, in
going through the woods, he should stumble upon it, he would be shot
down before he had a chance for flight. Should he attempt to pass the
sentinel by strategy? This seemed to be the most feasible plan, for he
would have a much better chance to escape in running by one man, than
risking the shots of half a dozen. Besides, he had no weapon whatever,
and he resolved to secure the picket's gun, if possible; so, waiting
until his back was turned, he came out of his place of concealment,
and approached him.
"Who comes there?" shouted the picket.
"A friend," answered Frank.
"Advance, friend, and give the countersign."
"Never mind the countersign," answered Frank; "I haven't got it. Have
you seen any thing of an escaped Yankee prisoner out here?"
"No," answered the rebel, lowering his gun, which he had held at a
charge bayonet. "He didn't come around here. But a company of cavalry
went by just now, and my relief went with them."
"And left you here alone?" said Frank, who had continued to approach
the picket, until he was now within arm's length of him.
"Yes," answered the rebel; "and I think it is a pretty way to do
business, for it is time I was"--
He never finished the sentence; for Frank sprang upon him like a
tiger, and seizing his throat, with a powerful gripe, threw him to the
ground; and, hastily catching up the musket which had fallen from his
enemy's hand, dealt him a severe blow on the head. The muscles of
the rebel instantly relaxed; and Frank--after unbuckling his
cartridge-box, and fastening it to his own waist--shouldered his
musket, and ran boldly along the road. He traveled until almost
daylight, without seeing any one, and then turned off into the woods.
About noon, he came to a road, and, as he was crossing it, a bullet
whistled past him, and, the next moment, a party of rebels, whom he
had not noticed, dashed down the road in pursuit. Frank returned the
shot, and then started for the woods, loading his musket as he went.
He soon had the satisfaction of seeing that he was gaining on his
pursuers, and, although the bullets whizzed by his head in unpleasant
proximity, he escaped unhurt. The rebels, however, were not so
fortunate; for Frank fired as fast as he could load his gun, and at
every shot a rebel measured his length on the ground.
For almost two hours his pursuers remained within gun-shot; but
finding it impossible to capture him, or, perhaps, struck with terror
at his skill as a marksman, they abandoned the pursuit. This was a
lucky circumstance for Frank, for, to his astonishment and terror, he
discovered that his last cartridge had been expended. But still, he
was rejoicing over his escape, when a man rose out of the bushes,
close at his side, and seized him by the collar.