Our Recapture and Return to Prison.
On Jan. 29, 1864, early in the forenoon, we went to the house
described in the former chapter. It was a bright, sunshiny morning,
and walking around to the east door of the house (which appeared to be
the one most used by the family), I knocked and the proprietor opened
the door. I made known to him our wants, and he replied, saying “We
will give you something to eat,” and invited us in. The door opened to
my left as I passed in. I looked in that direction, and to my horror
saw two Confederate soldiers sitting in that end of the room, one of
whom afterward told me that he was a captain, and they had their side
arms with them. As soon as we were fairly inside the room they smiled,
and one of them said: “Boys, I guess you are our prisoners, as it is
our duty to hold you as such.”
We failed to return the smile which on our part was not very polite,
but under the circumstances I think we were excusable. You can imagine
the state of our minds just at that moment. I felt like sinking
through the floor into the earth and out of sight, and of course poor
Herrick felt likewise. After risking our lives in escaping from the
guards, and facing the dangers of passing through an enemy’s country
until within thirty-five miles of the Union lines, and then to fall
into a trap like that, was almost too much to endure. But what could
we do? We were obliged to submit, and there was no use arguing the
case with them.
[Illustration: Recapture.]
After the excitement abated, the women folks prepared breakfast for
us. As soon as it was ready we were asked to take seats at the table.
Before doing so the host looked at us and said: “Boys, you look
poorly,” seeming to sympathize with us. He handed us a bottle of peach
brandy, saying, “This will be good medicine for you in your weakened
condition.” We each took a few swallows, and it did seem to stimulate
us for the time being. While eating breakfast we had quite a chat with
the men folks, and found them to be gentlemen, and they used us as
well as we could have been used among our own people. We were kept
here until the arrival of some new guards, whom they had sent for.
When dinner time came we were invited to take dinner with the family,
and strange to say we did not refuse. During the forenoon we men folks
went out to the east side of the house, where it was quite
comfortable. The host asked whether we would like to crack some
walnuts. I replied in the affirmative (of course we would not refuse
anything that could be masticated, and would assist in filling us up),
and we sat down on a log together and cracked and ate walnuts. While
engaged in this I happened to be sitting beside the host, the guards
being a short distance away. We became engaged in conversation in
regard to secession, during which he frankly remarked to me that the
State of Virginia did not secede by the voice of the people, but was
forced out by the intrigue of State officials. I believed him to be a
loyal man at heart. He did not tell me so but his actions and
conversation proved it.
The new guard arrived about the middle of the afternoon and we were
soon on our way toward Rocky Mount, where we were placed behind the
bars of a county jail. We had not traveled very far before night
overtook us, and we lodged at a farmhouse that night, where they had
an immensely large dog which was supposed to be a bloodhound. They
cautioned us in regard to it, saying, “Do not venture outside the
house after night as you would be in danger of being attacked by the
dog.” A bed was prepared for us, and we retired soon after supper. The
guard also slept in the house. Herrick and myself talked over the
possibilities of making our escape from that place, but finally
concluded that it would be futile to attempt it on account of our
weakened condition, the danger of being attacked by the large dog and
the house being secured and locked.
We rested quite well until morning, Jan. 30. We were given breakfast
and the guard was soon ready to conduct us on our way to Rocky Mount,
arriving there during the day. On our journey toward that place we
stopped at a farmhouse for the purpose of procuring a drink of water.
The man of the house came out, being a man of perhaps sixty years of
age, and on learning who we were appeared to be terribly enraged. He
called us all sorts of new names not to be found in a dictionary, and
I well remember one thing he said: “You killed my son and you ought to
be killed.” He had a son in the Confederate army who had been killed
in battle, and seemed to blame us for it. The guard looked at us and
smiled, as much as to say, “The old fool, let him talk.” He appeared
as though he would like to give us a good dressing down, as he shook
his fist at us repeatedly, but I was not alarmed; we had seen things
more dangerous than a man’s fist. We arrived at the jail Jan. 30, and
were placed in a room in company with two deserters from the rebel
army. Apparently we were the only inmates of the jail except an insane
man, who was confined in another room. As the saying is, we were now
“behind the iron bars.”
I had now been a tramp, begging for something to eat, and also a
prisoner behind the bars of a county jail. This would have been
disgraceful if I had been myself to blame, but under the circumstances
I did not feel guilty. We were confined in this jail four days and
nights, and our treatment here was at least fifty per cent better than
in the military prison pens, and we therefore voted unanimously in
favor of remaining here, but were counted out.
February 4, in company with the two deserters, we were conducted to
the railroad station some distance away, and were put on board the
cars (cars having seats), and permitted to sit down during the
journey. We were soon on our way, as they told us, toward the prisons
in Richmond. This news had a very depressing effect upon us. The train
moved on in a northeasterly direction, arriving at Lynchburg, Va., in
the evening, nothing of importance transpiring on the way. We were
placed in the guardhouse, where the night and the following day were
spent. While here we discovered that the place was infested with some
of our former prison companions, the graybacks, and as a consequence,
during the night our clothing became inhabited with the insects, which
was to us quite a torment, as we had been clear of them since entering
the convalescent camp at Danville. We were fed on very scant rations
at this place, on account of coming under the prison discipline again.
We remained here until the evening of Feb. 5, and shortly after dark
were called out under a strong guard, when we met a small number of
other prisoners bound for the same place that we were. A line of
guards surrounded us, and as we started for the train the captain of
the guards yelled out: “Guards, shoot the first man who offers to
run.” This expression, of course, was uttered to intimidate us
prisoners. We boarded the train and were soon en route for the city of
Richmond, riding all night and until some time during the day of Feb.
6, when we arrived in the city, and were soon transferred to a prison
called the Pemberton Building. This was a large, four-story brick
building. In it we found confined a large number of Federal prisoners.
The Pemberton Building was located on the opposite side of the street
from Libby Prison, and about one hundred feet farther to the
southeast. The street between Libby and the Pemberton Building
extended southeast and northwest. From the windows of our prison we
had a good view of Libby and its surroundings. I remained in this
prison six days. While there, on the night of Feb. 9, over one hundred
of the officers confined in Libby made their escape through a long
tunnel, which had previously been made by them.
This extended from the cellar under Libby, through under a street at
the east end of the building; its exit being under a one-story wooden
shed, on a vacant lot just across the street from our prison. The
prisoners came out of the tunnel under this shed, and made their
escape under cover of the darkness of the night. The following morning
I saw quite a number of Confederate officers and guards walking about
in the vicinity of Libby apparently more or less excited. We could
look from our windows and see what was going on about the streets. The
news of the escape of the Federal officers soon reached our prison,
which caused no little excitement among us. The Confederates still
continued their search about Libby, but did not seem to discover the
whereabouts of the tunnel until late in the afternoon, when I saw them
digging a hole at the east end of the prison. I supposed they were in
search of the tunnel. Nearly one-half of those who escaped through the
tunnel were recaptured and brought back to prison the following day. I
saw a number of them as they marched back into Libby. Poor fellows,
they seemed to be downcast, and I could sympathize with them, having
just been through a similar experience. We remained in the Pemberton
Building until Feb. 13, when we were transferred to the prison pen on
Belle Island.
[Illustration: Snodgrass House, on Snodgrass Hill, Chickamauga
Battlefield.]