THE ESCAPE.
The last night--Farewell to Libby--Sufferings and dangers--The
north star our guide--The faithful negro--A false friend--Almost
retaken--The contrast.
It came at last--the last night, the night of release; and the
working party was assembled in the cellar for the last time. There
was a shade of sadness on many a brow; for we were about to go
forth two by two, to separate to meet again--when? Perhaps never!
The party consisted of
COL. ROSE, 77th Pennsylvania Infantry.
MAJ. FITZSIMMONS, 30th Indiana Infantry.
CAPT. HAMILTON, 12th Kentucky Cavalry.
CAPT. GALLAGHER, 2d Ohio Volunteer Infantry.
CAPT. CLARK, 79th Illinois Vol. Infantry.
CAPT. LUCAS, 5th Kentucky Vol. Infantry.
MAJ. M'DONALD, 100th Ohio Vol. Infantry.
CAPT. RANDELL, 2d Ohio Vol. Infantry.
CAPT. I. N. JOHNSTON, 6th Ky. Vol. Infantry.
LIEUT. FISLAR, 7th Indiana Battery.
LIEUT. SIMPSON, 10th Indiana Infantry.
LIEUT. MITCHELL, 79th Illinois Infantry.
LIEUT. DAVY, 77th Pennsylvania Infantry.
LIEUT. STERLING, 29th Indiana Infantry.
LIEUT. FOSTER, 30th Indiana Infantry.
It was agreed that ten minutes should elapse after the first two
passed out, before the second couple should start. Lieut. Fislar
and myself were the third couple. After emerging from the tunnel
we faced to the right, and passed across the lot to the passage
through the brick building, already described, into the street; and
in doing so we passed within forty feet of the sentinels. We were
not observed, and you may be sure we did not linger, and soon we
were out of sight of the hated place.
One hundred and nine persons thus escaped from eight o'clock at
night to three in the morning, notwithstanding that the night was
clear and beautiful, and all had to pass between two gas lights;
of these, however, only about one half succeeded in reaching the
Federal lines.
As my comrade and myself were passing through the city, two ladies,
who were standing at the gate of a house which stood back from the
street, observed us; one of them remarked to the other that we
looked like Yankees. We did not stop to undeceive them, and met
with no further trouble till the city limits were passed. We then
changed our course and traveled north-east, and soon came to the
rebel camps, which stretched round a great portion of the city. We
were excited, of course, and bewildered for the first hour, not
knowing whether we were in the path of safety or danger. All at
once I became perfectly composed, and told my comrade to follow me
and I would conduct him safe through. I then started due north,
taking the north star for my guide, changing my course only when
we came near any of the camps, sufficiently to avoid them. After
traveling three or four miles we saw another camp ahead, and
thinking that the camps possibly did not connect, we determined to
attempt to pass between them. As we approached, however, we found
out our mistake--the camps were connected by a chain of sentinels,
and this chain must be passed before escape became even probable.
We advanced cautiously, and when we reached a small ravine we could
hear the sentinel, on his beat, on the other side. We saw his fire,
too, which we, of course, avoided; and at one time only a few
small bushes were between us and the guard; the wind, however, was
blowing briskly, causing quite a rustling among the dry leaves, and
we succeeded in getting by safely. We moved on rapidly, and soon
came near the cavalry pickets; these we passed without difficulty.
After continuing our course north for some time, we changed to
north-east, and passed over four lines of the rebel defenses. It
was our intention to strike the Chickahominy above the railroad
bridge; but, to our surprise, we struck the railroad on the
Richmond side.
We then traveled down the road about a mile, and as day began to
dawn we left the road a short distance to find a hiding-place,
expecting that with the coming of light there would be a keen
search made for us. The rebel fortifications were near; in front
of them all the timber had been felled, and among this timber was
our hiding-place the first day--all the safer, too, no doubt, for
being within a few hundred yards of the rebel guns. The weather was
excessively cold; we had walked during the night over bad roads,
through mud and water, and our pantaloons were frozen stiff up to
our knees. We did not dare to make a fire so near the rebel camp,
for fear of discovery; but our suffering was greatly lessened by
the thought that we were free.
As soon as it was light enough to see, we made the rather
unpleasant discovery that there was a picket-guard not more
than one hundred and fifty yards from the place where we had
taken refuge; and soon two working parties came out from the
fortifications, and began to cut cord-wood. These two parties, with
the picket-guard, formed a triangle--the wood-choppers on each
side, the guards in front; so that we were obliged, half frozen
though we were, to lay very close to the ground till kind and
merciful Night, who kindly lends her mantle to escaped prisoners,
should come.
This, the first day of our escape, was a long one, full of anxiety
and fears, lest, after all our toils, we should be retaken and
subjected to a captivity far worse than we had experienced before.
About sundown the working party withdrew, and soon after nightfall
we resumed our journey, again toward the north star. We had
scarcely got fairly started before our ears were saluted by the
tramp of horses and the clank of sabers; we immediately left the
road and lay down behind some brushwood. It proved to be a scouting
party, perhaps in pursuit of us; but we let them pass unchallenged.
We continued our course till we reached the Chickahominy River;
going up the stream a short distance we found a log across it,
passed over and kept our course for several miles, then changed our
course north-east, and traveled till nearly daylight. We camped
for the day by the side of a swamp, under a large pine-tree, near
the foot of which was a thick cedar bush, whose shade we found
most welcome, as it afforded us concealment and shelter from the
bleak wind. The night had been very cold, and having crossed
several swamps in our journey, our feet were wet, and our clothes
frozen, as, indeed, was the case, day and night, till we reached
the Union lines. During the night we were able to keep the blood
in circulation by active exercise; but being compelled to lie
still during the day for fear of discovery, we came very near
perishing from cold. That day I thought our feet certainly would
freeze; and as necessity will often set the wits to work, I fell
upon an expedient which doubtless saved us from such a disaster.
Before leaving the prison I had taken the precaution to put on two
shirts--one of them a woolen one; this I pulled off; and having
taken off our shoes and socks, we lay down close together, and
rolled our feet up in it, and found great relief. About noon some
cows came around us; and as the spot was a sheltered one, they
seemed inclined to remain. Fearing that some one would soon be in
search of them, we got up and drove them away; and very soon a
woman came, evidently looking for them. We lay very close to the
ground as long as she was in sight, and breathed more freely when
she disappeared. A celebrated traveler says that he was invariably
well treated by women in the various countries through which he
traveled; much as we regard the sex, we fear that it would be a
dangerous experiment for an escaped prisoner to trust even the
gentlest and fairest in rebeldom.
On the night of the eleventh we traveled east, and crossed the
railroad about half-past eight o'clock; we also crossed the main
road from Richmond to Williamsburg, and two or three other roads,
all leading into the main road from the Chickahominy, and just
before day went into a hiding-place near one of these roads. As
soon as it was light we saw that our place of rest was not well
chosen; that scouts, or any one in pursuit of us, could come close
upon us before we could see them; we therefore sought another
place, from which we could see to a considerable distance in every
direction. We then pulled off our shoes and socks, and wrapped our
feet up in the flannel shirt, as before, and endeavored to get a
little sleep. It was so cold, however, that we could sleep but
little, and then never both at once; we were still in such danger
that one would watch while the other rested. Sometimes in our night
marches we would become so tired and sleepy that we would throw
ourselves down on the ground and sleep a short time, till awakened
by the excessive cold, and then rise and walk briskly till our
chilled blood began to move faster in its channels.
We were careful to shun every thing in the shape of a man, whether
black or white; but after traveling through swamps and thickets,
on the fourth night we came to a path along which a negro man was
passing; we stopped him and asked a number of questions, and were
convinced, from his answers, that he was a friend, and might be
trusted. We then told him our condition, and asked him if he could
give us something to eat. He said that he was not near home, or he
would do so cheerfully; but pointing to a house in the distance, to
which he said he was going, assured us that friends lived there,
and if we would go with him our wants should be supplied. He said
the people who lived there were Union folks, and that we need not
fear; but we had suffered so much that we did not feel inclined
to trust strangers; however, I asked him to go to the house and
see if any rebel soldiers were there. This he did readily, and
soon returned, telling us to come on, that the way was clear, and
supper, such as they had, would soon be prepared for us. I then
asked him if he would stand guard while we went in, as I was still
fearful of being retaken. He agreed to do so. We then entered the
house, found a good fire, and some friendly faces; and the inmates
set about preparing supper for us with all speed. We happened to
have a little coffee with us, the very thing of which they seemed
most in need. We added this to their store, and soon we had the
first good meal we had taken for months before us, and a cheery
cup of hot coffee, which made it seem a feast. After the meal was
ended, being fully satisfied that the people were friends, and our
black friend outside faithful, we rested awhile, which we certainly
needed, if ever men did, and gave to our kind entertainers all that
we could--our heart-felt thanks. When we were ready to start, the
faithful negro sentinel, who had stood guard for us, offered to
be our guide, and conducted us about four miles on our journey; he
advised us to cross to the north side of the road, as we should
meet with fewer swamps, and consequently make better progress. He
added other directions which we found to be valuable, and we never
shall forget the kindness of the warm heart which beat in that
black man's breast.
We then traveled on till daylight, and stopped, as usual, for the
day; but our clothes were so wet and frozen that we were obliged to
travel on to keep from being perfectly benumbed with cold. We had
not traveled any in the daytime before, and began to think that we
were out of danger; still, we kept a vigilant watch, but met with
no interruption, and we gradually became bolder. About sundown we
saw before us a negro chopping wood; and as he was directly in our
line of march, and our adventure of the previous night had given
us confidence in those having black skins, we walked directly
toward him, intending to inquire about the roads, the position of
the rebel pickets, the movements of scouting parties, and other
matters of interest. Judge of our surprise, however, when we came
within a few paces of him, to find a white man with him, seated at
the foot of a tree! It was too late to change our course, as he
evidently saw us; so we went up to him and inquired how far it was
to Barnesville, a small town we had passed a few miles back. He
answered us civilly, and we asked several other questions, which
he replied to satisfactorily. He gave us to understand, however,
that he recognized us as Union soldiers. We told him that was not
the case, but that we were Confederate scouts in disguise, and
asked him if he had, during the past few days, seen any Yankees in
that vicinity. He said that he had not, and insisted that we were
Federal soldiers ourselves. At length I told him we were, and that
we had escaped from Libby Prison. He protested that he was glad
to see us, had heard of the escape of the Libby prisoners, but
did not credit it--but must believe it now, as he had the living
witnesses before him. He talked freely with us, saying, among other
things, that he was a citizen, and had taken no part whatever in
the war, and even expressed the wish that we might make our escape.
I told him that I expected, as soon as we were gone, that he would
go to the nearest picket-post and inform his rebel friends what
course we had taken. He declared that he had no such intention,
and repeated the wish that we might have a safe journey. I then
asked him if he knew of any pickets near. He replied there were
none nearer than Burnt Ordinary, which was some miles distant, and
that he had not seen a Confederate soldier for three weeks--in
fact, that they seldom came in that direction. The truth was, as
we soon discovered, there was a picket-post not more than half a
mile from the place where we stood. This he well knew, and did his
utmost to betray us into their hands. He advised us to follow a
certain path, by doing which he said we should avoid a swamp that
it was difficult and dangerous to cross, and even went with us a
short distance to see that we did not take the wrong path. I could
not, however, resist the conviction that he was treacherous, and
did all I could to impress him with a salutary fear, telling him
that if he informed on us, there was a certain Gen. Butler, of
whom he had doubtless heard, who had a way of finding such things
out; and if any thing happened to us he would doubtless send out a
detachment that would destroy every thing that he had. If, however,
he conducted himself as a quiet, peaceable citizen, he and his
property would be respected. He assured us that no harm should come
to us through him, shook hands with us, and wished us again a safe
journey.
We had not gone over a hundred yards, when happening to look back,
I saw our friend traveling at a pace quite unnecessary for one so
friendly, and the whole matter flashed on my mind. I turned to my
comrade and said, "We are gone up; that scoundrel, I feel certain,
has gone to report us to the nearest picket-guard!"
So well assured did I feel of his treachery, that I proposed
that we should change our course from south to east, which we
did immediately--and then almost too late. We had not pursued
our new course more than half a mile when we heard voices of men
talking in a low yet earnest tone; we stopped and listened; it
was even as I had suspected--the professed friend, from whom we
had recently parted, had gone to the nearest pickets, informed
the rebels who we were, and how we might be intercepted; and the
officer was now placing his men on the road near where we were
expected to cross, and we were now within fifteen or twenty paces
of them--they, aware of our coming, wary and watchful. It was a
moment of fearful suspense; we were screened from view, however,
by the bushes; and our only chance was to change our course; we
started, but the rustling of the dry leaves beneath our feet
betrayed us, and we were sternly ordered to come out of the brush.
We hesitated, and the order was repeated in fierce, quick tones,
which was accompanied by a volley of musketry. On this we came
out at a double-quick, but in a direction opposite to that which
we were thus rudely invited--in other words, we broke away and
ran for life. With a shout our enemies joined in the pursuit, and
pressed us so closely that I was obliged to throw away my overcoat,
and Lieut. Fislar lost his cap. On came our pursuers, nearer and
nearer, till, at length, in order to save ourselves, we had to take
refuge in a large swamp. Orders were given to surround it, and we
could hear men on every side calling to each other, and giving
direction how to prevent our escape--and all this when liberty
was almost in our grasp; for we were then but three miles from the
Federal lines.
While thus lying concealed in the swamp our reflections were not
of the most agreeable character. We had almost reached the reward
of much toil and suffering; we had even begun to think and talk
of home and the loved ones there; and now, by the baseness of one
of our fellow-beings, to lose the prize almost in our grasp, was
too painful a thought to be calmly endured. We contrasted the
duplicity--nay, almost perjury, of the civilized white man who had
betrayed us into the power of our enemies, with the fidelity of the
African slave who had proved so kind and true, and felt that under
the dark skin beat the nobler heart. The one, of our own race, in
violation of promises the most solemn, would have given us back to
a fate worse than death; the other, of another and despised race,
did all in his power to restore us to freedom and home.