RECEPTION TO THE TROOPS--THEY RETREAT TO THE BRIDGE--A PRISONER--DEATH
OF DANGERFIELD NEWBY--WILLIAM THOMPSON--THE MOUNTAINS ALIVE--FLAG OF
TRUCE--THE ENGINE HOUSE TAKEN.
It was about twelve o’clock in the day when we were first attacked by
the troops. Prior to that, Capt. Brown, in anticipation of further
trouble, had girded to his side the famous sword taken from Col.
Lewis Washington the night before, and with that memorable weapon, he
commanded his men against General Washington’s own State.
When the Captain received the news that the troops had entered the
bridge from the Maryland side, he, with some of his men, went into the
street, and sent a message to the Arsenal for us to come forth also.
We hastened to the street as ordered, when he said--“The troops are on
the bridge, coming into town; we will give them a warm reception.” He
then walked around amongst us, giving us words of encouragement, in
this wise:--“Men! be cool! Don’t waste your powder and shot! Take aim,
and make every shot count!” “The troops will look for us to retreat on
their first appearance; be careful to shoot first.” Our men were well
supplied with fire-arms, but Capt. Brown had no rifle at that time; his
only weapon was the sword before mentioned.
The troops soon came out of the bridge, and up the street facing us, we
occupying an irregular position. When they got within sixty or seventy
yards, Capt. Brown said, “Let go upon them!” which we did, when several
of them fell. Again and again the dose was repeated.
There was now consternation among the troops. From marching in solid
martial columns, they became scattered. Some hastened to seize upon
and bear up the wounded and dying,--several lay dead upon the ground.
They seemed not to realize, at first, that we would fire upon them, but
evidently expected we would be driven out by them without firing. Capt.
Brown seemed fully to understand the matter, and hence, very properly
and in our defence, undertook to forestall their movements. The
consequence of their unexpected reception was, after leaving several of
their dead on the field, they beat a confused retreat into the bridge,
and there stayed under cover until reinforcements came to the Ferry.
On the retreat of the troops, we were ordered back to our former post.
While going, Dangerfield Newby, one of our colored men, was shot
through the head by a person who took aim at him from a brick store
window, on the opposite side of the street, and who was there for the
purpose of firing upon us. Newby was a brave fellow. He was one of my
comrades at the Arsenal. He fell at my side, and his death was promptly
avenged by Shields Green, the Zouave of the band, who afterwards met
his fate calmly on the gallows, with John Copeland. Newby was shot
twice; at the first fire, he fell on his side and returned it; as he
lay, a second shot was fired, and the ball entered his head. Green
raised his rifle in an instant, and brought down the cowardly murderer,
before the latter could get his gun back through the sash.
There was comparative quiet for a time, except that the citizens seemed
to be wild with terror. Men, women and children forsook the place in
great haste, climbing up hill-sides and scaling the mountains. The
latter seemed to be alive with white fugitives, fleeing from their
doomed city. During this time, Wm. Thompson, who was returning from
his errand to the Kennedy Farm, was surrounded on the bridge by the
railroad men, who next came up, taken a prisoner to the Wager House,
tied hand and foot, and, at a late hour of the afternoon, cruelly
murdered by being riddled with balls, and thrown headlong on the rocks.
Late in the morning, some of his prisoners told Capt. Brown that they
would like to have breakfast, when he sent word forthwith to the
Wager House to that effect, and they were supplied. He did not order
breakfast for himself and men, as was currently but falsely stated at
the time, as he suspected foul play; on the contrary, when solicited to
have breakfast so provided for him, he refused.
Between two and three o’clock in the afternoon, armed men could
be seen coming from every direction; soldiers were marching and
counter-marching; and on the mountains, a host of blood-thirsty
ruffians swarmed, waiting for their opportunity to pounce upon the
little band. The fighting commenced in earnest after the arrival of
fresh troops. Volley upon volley was discharged, and the echoes from
the hills, the shrieks of the townspeople, and the groans of their
wounded and dying, all of which filled the air, were truly frightful.
The Virginians may well conceal their losses, and Southern chivalry may
hide its brazen head, for their boasted bravery was well tested that
day, and in no way to their advantage. It is remarkable, that except
that one foolhardy colored man was reported buried, no other funeral
is mentioned, although the Mayor and other citizens are known to have
fallen. Had they reported the true number, their disgrace would have
been more apparent; so they wisely (?) concluded to be silent.
The fight at Harper’s Ferry also disproved the current idea that
slaveholders will lay down their lives for their property. Col.
Washington, the representative of the old hero, stood “blubbering” like
a great calf at supposed danger; while the laboring white classes and
non-slaveholders, with the marines, (mostly gentlemen from “furrin”
parts,) were the men who faced the bullets of John Brown and his men.
Hardly the skin of a slaveholder could be scratched in open fight; the
cowards kept out of the way until danger was passed, sending the poor
whites into the pitfalls, while they were reserved for the bragging,
and to do the safe but cowardly judicial murdering afterwards.
As strangers poured in, the enemy took positions round about, so as to
prevent any escape, within shooting distance of the engine house and
Arsenal. Capt. Brown, seeing their manœuvres, said: “We will hold on to
our three positions, if they are unwilling to come to terms, and die
like men.”
All this time, the fight was progressing; no powder and ball were
wasted. We shot from under cover, and took deadly aim. For an hour
before the flag of truce was sent out, the firing was uninterrupted,
and one and another of the enemy were constantly dropping to the earth.
One of the Captain’s plans was to keep up communication between his
three points. In carrying out this idea, Jerry Anderson went to the
rifle factory, to see Kagi and his men. Kagi, fearing that we would be
overpowered by numbers if the Captain delayed leaving, sent word by
Anderson to advise him to leave the town at once. This word Anderson
communicated to the Captain, and told us also at the Arsenal. The
message sent back to Kagi was, to hold out for a few minutes longer,
when we would all evacuate the place. Those few minutes proved
disastrous, for then it was that the troops before spoken of came
pouring in, increased by crowds of men from the surrounding country.
After an hour’s hard fighting, and when the enemy were blocking up the
avenues of escape, Capt. Brown sent out his son Watson with a flag of
truce, but no respect was paid to it; he was fired upon, and wounded
severely. He returned to the engine house, and fought bravely after
that for fully an hour and a half, when he received a mortal wound,
which he struggled under until the next day. The contemptible and
savage manner in which the flag of truce had been received, induced
severe measures in our defence, in the hour and a half before the next
one was sent out. The effect of our work was, that the troops ceased to
fire at the buildings, as we clearly had the advantage of position.
Capt. A. D. Stevens was next sent out with a flag, with what success
I will presently show. Meantime, Jeremiah Anderson, who had brought
the message from Kagi previously, was sent by Capt. Brown with another
message to John Henrie, but before he got far on the street, he was
fired upon and wounded. He returned at once to the engine house, where
he survived but a short time. The ball, it was found, had entered the
right side in such manner that death necessarily ensued speedily.
Capt. Stevens was fired upon several times while carrying his flag of
truce, and received severe wounds, as I was informed that day, not
being myself in a position to see him after. He was captured, and taken
to the Wager House, where he was kept until the close of the struggle
in the evening, when he was placed with the rest of our party who had
been captured.
After the capture of Stevens, desperate fighting was done by both
sides. The marines forced their way inside the engine-house yard, and
commanded Capt. Brown to surrender, which he refused to do, but said
in reply, that he was willing to fight them, if they would allow him
first to withdraw his men to the second lock on the Maryland side.
As might be expected, the cowardly hordes refused to entertain such
a proposition, but continued their assault, to cut off communication
between our several parties. The men at the Kennedy Farm having
received such a favorable message in the early part of the day,
through Thompson, were ignorant of the disastrous state of affairs
later in the day. Could they have known the truth, and come down in
time, the result would have been very different; we should not have
been captured that day. A handful of determined men, as they were, by
taking a position on the Maryland side, when the troops made their
attack and retreated to the bridge for shelter, would have placed the
enemy between two fires. Thompson’s news prevented them from hurrying
down, as they otherwise would have done, and thus deprived us of able
assistance from Owen Brown, a host in himself, and Tidd, Merriam and
Coppic, the brave fellows composing that band.
The climax of murderous assaults on that memorable day was the final
capture of the engine house, with the old Captain and his handful of
associates. This outrageous burlesque upon civilized warfare must
have a special chapter to itself, as it concentrates more of Southern
littleness and cowardice than is often believed to be true.