LIBBY PRISON
Squads of naval prisoners frequently passed through Columbia on their
way to Richmond. At last orders were given for us to be ready at four
o'clock the next morning. There was no sleeping that night in our room.
Four of the guards were detailed to escort us to Libby Prison. As we
left the jail, the army officers came to the windows and gave us three
cheers and a "tiger." They little imagined then how soon they would have
their own freedom. It was not long afterward until Sherman's "bummers"
captured the city. The prisoners escaped from the jail before the rebs
could remove them. As our troops entered the city the ex-prisoners found
plenty of willing hands to help them set fire to the jail, city hall,
and treasury buildings.
The first part of our journey was made in passenger coaches. In North
Carolina we were changed to box-cars. When we got to Virginia travelling
became worse; the train had to move very slowly. The Yankee cavalry had
destroyed all the roads as much as possible. At one place, for a
distance of thirty miles, not a house or a fence-rail could be seen.
Twisted railroad iron was quite abundant. The only wood visible was the
stumps of telegraph-poles in the ground. We were eight days in getting
to Richmond, and well tired out with the trip. We were taken to the
provost-marshal's office and thence to Libby Prison. Our squad was the
last to arrive. About seventy-five officers and five hundred sailors and
marines comprised all the Yankee naval prisoners. The sailors were
confined at the extreme end of the building, a brick wall separating us.
We had plenty of room for exercise in that big warehouse. The army
officers had not taken all their companions with them when they went to
Charleston, as we soon found out to our dismay. Every crack in the
floor of that prison was filled with vermin, and the largest and finest
specimens of the pest that could be found in the whole United States. In
Columbia we had not been troubled with vermin, but in Libby it was
impossible to get rid of them. The most of our spare time was devoted to
hunting for game in our clothing, and no one ever complained about
having bad luck. We were expecting almost hourly to be put on a
flag-of-truce boat. Day after day passed, with no signs of our leaving.
An old negro who brought in our rations of corn-bread informed us that
the exchange might not take place, as Ben Butler was doing all he could
to prevent it. General Ben Butler, or "Beast Butler," as he was called
by the rebs, had command of the troops at City Point. Through neglect on
his part to carry out the plan of the campaign he got "bottled up" by
the rebels and probably prolonged the war. We had positive information
that the naval rebel prisoners were on the boat at City Point, but why
Butler should interfere was an enigma to us. It was a peculiarity of
his to be always on the wrong side of the fence.
Master's Mate William Kitching, being desirous of having conversation
with one of the boat's crew, had removed a couple of bricks from the
partitions which separated the officers from the sailors. He told some
of the men to pass the word for all of his men to come to the aperture.
Much to his surprise he was informed that all the men belonging to his
boat had died at Andersonville. Not one of the thirteen sailors were
living. The other officers went to the hole and called for their men
also. Only a very few answered to their names. Out of the sixteen
sailors captured with me only three answered. About seventy-five per
cent of the sailors had died in the different prisons. What puzzled us
all was the fact of there being so many prisoners that none of us could
identify. The men must have had consultation among themselves, as during
the afternoon the situation of affairs was fully explained to us.
Information had been received at the different prisons that the sailors
were to be exchanged. They originated a plan to help all the soldiers
possible. Sailors gave their most intimate friends the names of their
deceased shipmates, the names of the ships, where and when captured, the
names of the officers, and, in fact, all information that would be
useful. The scheme had been successful, so far. They were told to
continue the deception, and the officers would assist them in doing so.
We had been in Libby three weeks and nothing definite was known, and we
might go back South for all we knew.
About nine in the evening the stairs leading to the second floor were
lowered.[F] One officer was called by name and taken into the office,
and when he returned another was called, and so on, until all of us had
been interviewed by the notorious Major Turner. The name of our ship,
where and when captured, how many men we had, and a lot of other
questions were asked. That racket continued until about three o'clock in
the morning. Each of us had asked him about our prospects of being
exchanged. "That is an affair about which I know nothing," was his
answer. Of course, none of us thought about sleeping that night. Walking
the floor and discussing the situation suited us better under the
circumstances. About four o'clock there was more excitement. A day's
ration of food was issued to each one. It consisted of two small pieces
of corn-bread, and of mighty poor quality. At five o'clock that evening,
Major Turner, and his equally notorious clerk, Ross, came to the head of
the stairs. Our names were called, and each one sent down to the hall.
An engineer's name was called, but that gentleman was ordered to stand
by the door. When the list was exhausted the door was locked and the
engineer left in the room. It was afterward learned that he stated to
Turner that he belonged to an army transport. We were formed in line, in
squads of four, facing the door. At six o'clock in the evening the doors
were opened, and the order, "Forward, march," given.
[F] The stairs were hung on heavy hinges, and every night they
would be hoisted up by a pulley, similar to a trap-door.
Outside was a strong escort of rebels. Our hearts were fairly in our
mouths for a short time. If we turned for the left it would be for the
flag-of-truce boat; if to the right, it meant an indefinite stay in
prison. It was the "left," and all doubts were removed--we were going
home! The sailors were brought out and followed in our rear. It was an
interesting trip down the James River. We had a fine view of the rebel
batteries. Three iron-clads were passed, and several pontoon bridges
across the river had to be opened on our approach. The most interesting
thing was the sunken obstructions, with the secret channels.
Considerable skill was required to get the boat through them. The guns
from Grant's and Lee's batteries could be plainly heard. Next in view
were the rebel shells exploding high in air over Dutch Gap, Ben Butler's
celebrated canal. Finally we espied some Yankee pickets, then came
Aiken's Landing. The boat was fastened to the dock, and all went on
shore and waited for the Commissioners of Exchanges to receive us. In a
short time Major Mumford arrived. He was on horseback, and a flag of
truce was stuck in his boot-leg. His salutation was:
"Boys, the ambulance will be here in a few minutes with the
Confederates. You can either ride or walk, but get over to our boat as
soon as you can, as the exchange may yet fall through."
As soon as the rebel prisoners came in sight we started off. Walking was
good enough for us. What a contrast between the two parties! The rebel
officers were all dressed in new Confederate uniforms--probably
furnished by rebel sympathizers in the North--and the sailors all had
good clothing, and were healthy in appearance. They also seemed happy
about going home, even if they were bidding good-bye to coffee and tea.
The least said about our party the better. We were only sorry that we
had not time to catch a few pecks of vermin for the others to take back
to the Confederate States of America.
On the rebel boat there was a brass band, and, as a parting compliment,
they regaled us with the old familiar tune, "Then you'll remember me."
There was a large bend in the river below Aiken's Landing, and our boat
was quite a distance around the bend. We walked about a mile and a half
across the strip of land, many of the disabled sailors following us in
ambulances. On the dock were a large number of trunks, with a sentry
guarding them. We were told that it was the baggage belonging to the
rebel officers. Quite a number of our party made a rush for the trunks,
with the intention of dumping them into the river. The guard said, "Go
ahead, boys, I won't stop you," but Major Mumford advised them not to do
it, as it might cause serious trouble. Then all went on board our boat,
the Martha Washington. Several barrels of steaming hot coffee were
ready.
"Boys, help yourselves. Crackers and cheese in the boxes!"
In a short time the Sanitary Commission boat came alongside. Clothing
was furnished to all, and anything that could be done for the men was
done cheerfully. Nothing was too good for the ex-prisoners. Surgeons
were busy attending to the sick.
Scurvy and bowel complaints were the most common trouble. The officers
were assigned to the after cabin, and the men were all given comfortable
beds. From Libby to the Martha Washington made a wonderful change in our
spirits. No one, to see us then, would recognise us as the miserable set
of beings of a few hours past. In the cabin we had a fine dinner set
before us, and bottles of whisky galore.
"Gentlemen, drink plenty of whisky while eating," were the orders from
the surgeon.
The captain apologized for the lack of some extras that had been
intended for us. The rebels had been on the boat for nearly three weeks,
luxuriating on our provisions while we were enjoying ourselves in Libby.
Secretary of War Stanton and "Beast Butler" brought about the event,
they being opposed to the exchange. In the afternoon we steamed down the
river. I had an interview with Major Mumford, and told him briefly about
Colonel Dent.
"Yes, the colonel is a prisoner in the South. He is also Grant's
brother-in-law."
"Well, I have a packet of letters from him to General Grant. How can I
deliver them to him?"
"Give them to me. Grant is now at City Point. The boat will stop there,
and I will see that he gets them," he replied.
I then handed him the package. He never asked me a single question in
regard to Colonel Dent, and he did not give me a chance to ask him any
questions. That ended the affair as far as I was concerned.
We stopped at City Point for half an hour on our way to Fortress Monroe.
During the trip I had conversations with many of the sailors. They had
suffered terribly during their imprisonment. Insufficient food and
exposure had caused much sickness. Some of them had slept on the bare
ground for months without any shelter. Nearly all had the scurvy. That
any of them had lives to be exchanged was a miracle. The soldiers were
very exultant at the success of their ruse in getting through the lines,
and well they might be, for to-day there are seventeen thousand graves
of their fellow-prisoners at Andersonville. Quite a number of sick men
were also on the boat, having been sent from different hospitals in the
South. The rebs thought that was the easiest way to get rid of them. We
stopped at Fortress Monroe for a short time, and then proceeded to
Annapolis, Md., and early next morning we were landed at the Naval
Academy wharf. Sixteen men had died on that short trip from Aiken's
Landing.
The sailors were cared for by the proper officials, and the officers
were given transportation to Washington. Then I was a free man, after
having been a prisoner of war for three hundred and eleven days.