THE TUNNEL.
A new plan adopted--Nature of the task--In the tunnel--Maj.
M'Donald's adventure--My own disappearance--Given up as
escaped--Fislar's story.
While the party last named were resting, there were others not
inactive. Capt. Clark, of the Seventy-Third Illinois, Maj.
M'Donald, of the One Hundredth Ohio, Capt. Lucas, of the Fifth
Kentucky, Lieut. Fislar, of the Seventh Indiana Battery, and
myself, proposed to the originators of the plan of escape, that
we would commence at some other point, and push on the work till
they were sufficiently recruited to unite with us. This meeting
with their approval, on the following night Maj. M'Donald and Capt.
Clark went down and commenced operations.
The plan was to begin a new tunnel in the cellar on the east side,
near the north-east corner of the building. The first thing to be
done was to make a hole through the brick wall, which they effected
in one day and night. This was done by picking the cement from
between the bricks with a penknife, and then breaking them out
with an old ax. This, of course, made considerable noise, and was
calculated to arrest the attention of the guards; but it happened,
providentially, as it seemed to us, that just at that time the
authorities of the prison determined to place iron grates in all
the windows, to render the escape of the Yankees impossible. This
was accompanied by great noise; and while they were thus engaged
our boys thumped away with a will, and made their way through
the wall without exciting the least suspicion. The night after
the breach was made, Lieut. Fislar and myself went down to work;
but having nothing but a small penknife, our progress was, of
necessity, very slow. In spite of all difficulties, however, we
made an excavation of about two feet, and felt that we were that
much nearer freedom. We remained in the cellar all the next day,
and at night were relieved by two others; and thus the work was
continued from night to night, till its completion. One of our
number remained in the cellar every day to remove all signs of the
previous night's work, and to replace the bricks in the cavity made
in the wall, to avoid discovery, as some of the prison officials
or laborers came into the cellar every day, either bringing in or
taking out forage or commissary stores.
I have been asked a thousand times how we contrived to hide such
a quantity of earth as the digging of a tunnel of that size would
dislodge. There was a large pile of straw stored in the cellar for
hospital use; in this we made a wide and deep opening, extending
to the ground; in this the loose dirt was closely packed, and then
nicely covered with straw.
As the work progressed from night to night, and our hopes increased
with the length of our tunnel, the number of laborers was
increased, till the working party numbered fourteen. This was the
more necessary, as the work of removing the loose dirt increased
with every foot we advanced. I have often been asked how we managed
to get the dirt out of the tunnel, which was too narrow to permit a
man to turn round in it. As the whole process was somewhat novel,
one in all probability never attempted before, I will describe it
for the benefit of the readers.
Our dirt-car was a wooden spittoon, with holes through each end
opposite each other, through which ropes were passed; one of these
ropes was used by the one engaged in digging, to draw the empty
spittoon from the entrance to the place where he was at work; and
when he had loosened earth enough to fill it, he gave a signal to
the one at the mouth of the tunnel by jerking the rope, and he
drew the loaded box out, and the miner recovered it by pulling
the rope attached to the end of the box nearest him; thus it was
kept traveling backward and forward till wagon-loads of earth were
removed. After penetrating some distance the task became very
painful; it was impossible to breathe the air of the tunnel for
many minutes together; the miner, however, would dig as long as
his strength would allow, or till his candle was extinguished by
the foul air; he would then make his way out, and another would
take his place--a place narrow, dark, and damp, and more like a
grave than any place can be short of a man's last narrow home.
As the work approached completion the difficulty of breathing in
the tunnel was greatly increased, and four persons were necessary
to keep the work moving; one would go in and dig awhile, then
when he came out nearly exhausted another would enter and fill
the spittoon, a third would draw it to the mouth of the tunnel, a
fourth would then empty the contents into a large box provided
for the purpose, and when it was full, take it to the straw pile
and carefully conceal it, as before stated. This labor, too, it
must be remembered, was not only extremely difficult in itself,
and especially so when the imperfect tools and means of removing
the earth are taken into the account; but in addition to this
was the constant anxiety lest the attempt we were making should
be discovered. Moreover, the fact that all previous attempts had
failed was calculated at times to fill our minds with fears lest
some unforeseen obstacle should occur to prevent the success
of our enterprise. On the other hand, however, the hard fare
and confinement of our prison, the monotony of which had become
unendurable, and the possibility of escape at last roused us up to
exertions almost superhuman. Under any other circumstances the work
would have been deemed impossible; but there are no impossibilities
to men with liberty as the result of their labors. Before the work
was completed, those who had been engaged in the previous attempt
had recovered from their exhaustion, and were able to take part
in this, which, in the end, proved successful. But what is to be
most regretted is, that though all of them regained the liberty for
which they so patiently toiled, one of them was recaptured--the
one, too, who, of all others, the rest confidently believed would
escape, if escape were in the power of man. What he has since
suffered we can only conjecture; but the disappointment must have
been most sad to his great heart--to have gained the free air, and
almost in sight of the flag of the Union--to be recaptured and
borne back to a captivity more hopeless than before.
I have also been asked frequently since my escape, how it was
possible for a man to be left down in the cellar every day without
being discovered. Such a thing seems strange; but the entire work
was a marvelous one, and this was a necessary part of it; and
though the officers, or other persons employed about the prison,
visited the cellar every day, yet for fifty-one days one or another
of our company was down there without being discovered. The duty
of the one left there was to remove all traces of the work of
the previous night, as soon as it became light enough to do so;
he would then conceal himself for the day in the straw, of which
there was a large quantity there, and but for which our undertaking
must have been discovered nearly as soon as begun. To account for
the absence of those persons required some ingenuity, as two of
our number were sometimes on duty at once in the cellar. This was
managed as follows: the officers were drawn up in four ranks, and
the clerk counted them from right to left; one, two, or three, as
the case might be, would change their places so as to be counted
twice; the number being all right, the clerk was deceived.
This, however, was suddenly brought to an end. Some of the officers
had succeeded in obtaining citizens' clothes, and passed the
guards without suspicion and escaped; one or two also escaped by
disguising themselves in the Confederate uniform. After this we
were all collected into the two east rooms, and required to answer
to our names.
About the time the change was made Major M'Donald and Lieut. M'Kee
were on duty in the cellar, and failed to answer to their names;
this caused quite a stir, and for some time it was thought that
they had escaped by a trick similar to that of the others. The next
day they were reported by some one as being present--perhaps the
clerk, who knew that the Major, particularly, would bear watching.
The consequence was they were both called down to the office to
render to Maj. Turner the reasons for their absence on the previous
day. The Lieutenant, with an air of perfect innocence, stated that,
feeling quite unwell, he had wrapped himself up in his blanket,
had fallen asleep, did not hear the order for roll-call, and was
overlooked. His excuse was deemed valid, and he was immediately
sent back to his quarters. The Major was not so fortunate; the fact
is, he was regarded as a suspicious character, and in consequence
had a severer ordeal to pass. The question, "Major, your reason for
non-attendance at roll-call yesterday," was put quite laconically.
Said he, "I happened to be in Col. Streight's room, and failed to
get back in time."
"In Col. Streight's room, indeed! How did you get in there, sir?"
That I may be understood better, it is necessary to state that
some time previous some of the officers of Col. Streight's command
had given much trouble to the authorities of the prison, by being
in our room at roll-call; and, in order to prevent a similar
occurrence, had nailed up the door between the rooms occupied by
the Chickamauga officers, and those captured with Col. Streight.
The door had not been nailed up half an hour before some
quick-witted fellow sawed the door completely in two below the
lock, extracted the nails, placed some benches near the door so as
to conceal the crack, and we were thus able to pass in and out at
pleasure. The occupants of the other room took good care that the
traces of the saw should be concealed on their side, and thus free
intercourse was kept between both rooms without being suspected.
The Major, with great seeming candor, explained the trick which
accounted for his presence in the forbidden room; and the next
question was, "How did it happen that the officer of the day
and the clerk did not see you there when they came in to see if
that room was cleared before commencing to call the roll?" This
would have been a poser to many--not so to the Major, who readily
replied, that, being in the wrong room, not wishing to be found
there, and being compelled to disclose the means by which he
entered, he had climbed up on the plate or girder that passed
through the room; "and when the search for me began," said he,
"I laid there close to the timber for ten hours, and would have
melted, drop by drop, before I would discover myself, and subject
the officers in that room to censure, and cause all intercourse
between the two rooms to be cut off."
His questioners seemed rather to doubt his excuse, ingenious though
it was; but as they were ignorant of the true state of the case,
and he reaffirmed his story so positively, he was dismissed to his
quarters with a reprimand and an admonition.
The day after this occurred it was my turn to stand guard in the
cellar. At quite an early hour the roll was called, and there being
no one willing to run the risk of answering for me, my absence was
discovered. There were several, it is true, who would willingly
have answered for me, but they were so well known, and somewhat
suspected, which would have rendered it dangerous to them, and of
no benefit to me. The fact of my absence made it necessary for the
calling of the roll several times in succession; all the officers
were kept in rank, confined in one room, till three o'clock in
the afternoon, and diligent search was made for me in every room
in the building; and it was finally concluded that I had made my
escape. At night, when the working party came down, they informed
me of what had taken place; and upon consultation it was thought
best that I should remain down in the cellar till the tunnel was
completed. To remain in this cold, dark, and loathsome place was
most revolting to my feelings; but the fear of being handcuffed
and put in the dungeon if I returned to my room, and the hope of
gaining my liberty shortly, induced me to stay. After agreeing to
stay down, it was suggested that I might with safety go up to my
quarters after lights were out, and sleep till four o'clock in the
morning, and go down again when the working party came up. I did
so; but the first night I was seen, either by some traitor, or very
careless prisoner, not acquainted with our secret, who stated at
roll-call the next morning, that I was in the house, as he had
seen me go to bed the night before--which was really the case. The
result was that the roll was called several times, and another
careful search for me was instituted. Great excitement prevailed
through the prison; those of our own men who knew nothing of the
plan of escape, and the place of my concealment, thought that I was
hiding in some of the rooms, and thought it very wrong in me to
do so; they even said that I ought to come out of my hiding-place
and give myself up, as they, though innocent, were suffering on my
account. On the contrary, those who knew where I was declared that
it was impossible that I could be in the building, after the strict
search that had been made for me; and as others were known to have
made their escape recently, it was more than likely that I had done
the same.
This was corroborated by Lieut. Fislar, who improvised a
story to fit the case. He said that he was my messmate and
sleeping-companion--which was true; but that I had been missing
from my usual place for some time, and he had no doubt but that I
had escaped. He said, moreover, that two of my cousins were among
our guards--that I had been courting their favor for some time, and
that they had finally furnished me with a rebel uniform--that I had
made a wooden sword, a tin scabbard, and a belt out of a piece of
oil-cloth, and that they had eventually passed me out as a rebel
officer.
This story was taken up and so stoutly confirmed by all who knew
where I was, that the point was yielded by most of the opposite
view, though a few still contended that I must be in the prison
still.
All this was related to me by the working party when they came down
at night, and I then resolved to make my appearance at my quarters
no more. This resolution I have kept faithfully. I never saw my
room again, and never desire to do so, unless it be as the bearer
of freedom to those who are pining there still.