A PRISONER OF WAR
We took the first cutter for a landing party, and the second cutter was
manned with an armed crew of six men to take care of our boat while we
were on shore. A small keg, filled with tarred rope yarns and a bottle
of turpentine, was given to me with which to set the schooner on fire. I
told Captain Gregory to send George Brinsmaid along with us to carry the
keg, as he was of no use on the brig, and might be of some use on dry
land. Everybody thought it would be a good joke, so Mr. Brinsmaid was
ordered into the boat, and promoted to the office of bearer of
combustibles. My instructions were plain enough: "To land and set fire
to the schooner and house, and do all the damage possible."[D] In case
we were attacked, we were to get behind the sand dunes and defend
ourselves, while the guns on the brig would shell the rebels.
[D] It was denied afterward that any such order had been given.
All being ready, we started for the shore. Before landing, I had a long
rope attached to the bow of our boat and fastened to the stern of the
second cutter. When we got on shore, the second cutter towed our boat
just clear of the surf, ready for us to get into in a hurry, with the
bow headed towards the sea. George Brinsmaid had the keg to carry, and
was placed in the centre of the party. Then we started for the sand
dunes, intending to carry desolation and dismay into the Southern
Confederacy.
When we got to the sand dunes, indications pointed strongly to the fact
that we had got into a bad scrape. The sand was covered with a large
number of horse tracks, as if a whole regiment of horses had been
tramping around. I had not much time to take in the situation, as the
enemy made a charge between us and the boats. They came in double file;
the left file came for us, the right going for the boats. I looked at
the brig, expecting to see the guns shelling the rebs on the open, but,
much to my surprise, the captain had allowed the brig to swing around
stern to shore, and not a gun could be brought to bear on the enemy.
I told the men to get behind the dunes and fire only at the enemy
nearest to them. We were scattered a few feet apart so as not to be in a
compact body. The first man came into view just in front of me. He was
riding to the top of the dune. Knowing that the rifle would carry high
at such a short distance, I aimed low at his breast. The bullet struck
him square in the forehead and the horse gave a jump and threw him off,
the body rolling down the steep dune to our feet. That checked the enemy
for a few seconds, as they saw that it would be safer to attack us
dismounted. For about five minutes that was a warm place. Buckshot,
bullets, and sand were flying in all directions. The party attacking the
boat were unsuccessful, so they circled around and got in our rear. Then
we were completely surrounded and had to surrender. Two of the
Confederates were killed and several wounded, and besides, they lost
three horses. On our side two were killed, and nearly every one of us
wounded. After we had surrendered, James Pinkham was lying face down on
the ground, a bullet having passed through both of his hips, and,
because he could not get up when ordered to do so, a rebel lieutenant
shot him in the back with his revolver. A young Irishman by the name of
Tobin, belonging to our party, had reloaded his rifle and was standing
close to Pinkham. The rebel lieutenant said, "You ---- Yankee, come here
and give up your arms!" Tobin advanced with both hands stretched out,
the rifle in his left and a boarding-pistol in his right. When he got
within about fifteen feet of the lieutenant, he blazed away at him with
the pistol, dropped it and ran across the salt marsh to the woods, about
half a mile distant. He missed the lieutenant, but killed his horse. A
cavalryman started after Tobin and, when near to him, called him to
halt. Tobin turned around and pointed his rifle at the man. The latter's
gun being empty, he halted, and off went the Irishman again for the
woods. Another man started in pursuit with a loaded rifle, and, when
close enough, he shot Tobin in the leg, and the poor fellow afterwards
died in Andersonville Prison.
The Southerners who did not come until the fight was all over, did all
the blustering and had the most to say. They did certainly call us
anything but gentlemen, and also were very indignant because Brinsmaid
had been taken prisoner. "You Yankee ---- ----, get in line there with
your nigger brother!" was the first order we got. We were taken to the
edge of the woods and everything was confiscated, whether of value or
not. The enemy wrangled considerably among themselves, with the result
that George Brinsmaid was taken to a tree about fifty yards from us, a
horse's halter put around his neck, and he was hanged on one of the
limbs; then two charges of buckshot were fired into his breast. The poor
fellow never spoke a word after leaving the brig. In the fight his left
hand had been shot off by buckshot, but not a groan was heard from him.
Some of the Confederates proposed hanging all of us, on account of
having a "nigger" with us, and, judging from what I had seen of their
actions, I almost came to the conclusion that the proposition would be
carried out. However, in a little while the excitement passed away and
they began to be sociable. The wounded were all examined and wads of raw
cotton put into the wounds. One man came to me with his left hand
bandaged up. He inquired if I was badly hurt.
"Well," says he, "you're in luck to be alive now. I took deliberate aim
at you as you stood with your back towards me while loading your rifle.
My ---- shotgun burst and blowed off three of my fingers, and that is
what saved you."
In his eagerness to kill a Yankee, he had put too heavy a charge in his
gun, and it had burst just where he gripped the barrels with his left
hand. My sack coat was cut in several places. One shot struck me in the
arm near the shoulder and went about six inches between the muscles
towards the elbow. That little piece of lead has been my constant
companion for just thirty-four years the 5th of December. I can always
tell when wet weather is coming, by feeling a dull pain in my right arm.
During the general conversation, I found out the cause of so many men
being ready to receive us on shore. It seems that the first shell we had
fired from the brig went very high over the schooner and landed in the
camp in the woods. They were enjoying an after-breakfast smoke when it
fell in their midst. It was laughable to hear them twitting each other
about vacating their quarters. We could not make them believe that it
was a chance shot. They insisted that one of the refugees on our vessel
had pointed out their camp to us. They also believed that they had
killed all the men but one in the boat the day before. Arrants and
myself told them that we were the two officers on shore, but they would
have it that we were both killed. The continual report of our broadside
guns had been heard for quite a distance north and south of Murrell
Inlet. All the rebel pickets thought that a blockade-runner had been
run ashore by the Yankees, so all hastened to the scene of action,
especially as there might be a prospect of looting the vessel if ashore.
When they arrived and found out the true state of affairs they concluded
to remain, in the hope that we would send men ashore to burn the
schooner. There were present two companies of cavalry--one each from the
Fifth and Twenty-first Georgia Regiments and under command of Captains
Bowers and Harrison. There was where Captain Gregory made a blunder in
sending us ashore after cannonading the schooner. Instead of a few men
to contend with, we had a force of one hundred and twenty to give us a
warm reception, which they did in most orthodox style.
If still living, one of those misguided men is telling his grandchildren
how he captured my sword, for which I had paid twenty-five good dollars.
The rifle and the revolver belonged to the Government.
At four o'clock that afternoon we started for Charleston, S. C. Those
who were too badly wounded to walk were put in an old wagon. Our boat's
coxswain had been hit in the head with a number of buckshot. He must
have had a tough skull, as the shot cut furrows in his scalp and removed
some of his hair. The blood flowed very freely. He was compelled to walk
the whole distance. We had a guard of ten men, under command of the
lieutenant that Tobin had tried to kill. Well, that fellow made things
as unpleasant as possible for us, in order to have revenge for the
killing of his horse. The road was composed of white, dry sand, and at
every step we took we would sink to our ankles. The cavalry horses were
fast walkers, and we had to keep up with them. We came to a stream of
cold water, and we were forced to wade through it. There was a
footbridge for pedestrians on one side of the road, but we were not
allowed to go over it. The cavalrymen got on their knees on the saddles,
and their horses, plunging through the water, splashed it over our
heads; consequently, we got a good drenching. Walking was more difficult
for us weighted with water; besides, it was night-time, and in the month
of December--rather late in the season for a cold-water bath.
At nine o'clock in the evening we arrived at our destination, Georgetown
Bay, having walked, or rather been driven, twenty-five miles in five
hours' time. It was all we could do to keep up with the horses. A squad
was in our rear with orders to run us down if we lagged behind. We were
placed in an old log house, the floor being covered to the depth of two
inches with sheep-manure. The wounded were laid in the filth, without
anything being done towards making them comfortable. Two pailfuls of
small, raw sweet potatoes were given us for our supper. That night,
December 5, 1863, will never be erased from my memory; tired and sore in
every limb, my feet badly swollen, the wounded arm hurting, wet and
hungry, I lay down in the manure and tried to sleep, but could not; the
cold and the wet clothes kept me chilled through and through. The poor
fellows who were wounded were continually moaning, but we were powerless
to alleviate their misery.
We had plenty of reason for growling about the quality of our potato
supper, but the following morning's breakfast was omitted altogether.
About nine o'clock we were divided into squads and taken across the bay
in sailboats. Those who were badly wounded were taken to the hospital;
the rest of us were placed in the Georgetown jail, and a dirty room
about twelve feet square was kindly placed at our disposal. At three in
the afternoon we had breakfast, dinner, and supper combined. The menu
consisted only of one dish--a pan of cold boiled rice. With a piece of
stick it was cut into equal shares, and each man took his portion in his
hand and devoured it at his leisure. We remained there five days. The
only event of interest which occurred there was my being taken out to
General Tropier's headquarters. He asked a few questions about the
gunboat which was blockading the entrance to Georgetown Bay. My answers
were rather evasive. Then I did some talking about the treatment we had
received after being taken prisoners. He said that in future we would
not be abused while under his control.
About four o'clock of the fifth day we were taken from the jail, and,
with a cavalry guard, we were started for Charleston, S. C. It was a
triangular journey. Straight down the coast Charleston was distant sixty
miles, but the Yankees had the water routes, and consequently we had to
walk forty-three miles west to King's Tree, the nearest railroad
station. Thence, by railroad, we were taken sixty-five miles southeast
to Charleston. Lieutenant Burroughs was in charge of the party. He
allowed us to walk at an ordinary gait, and was very kind and civil to
us.