of corn meal and a teaspoonful of salt to each man, and once in two or
three days a slice of bacon, or a handful of black peas in lieu of the
bacon. This was to last us twenty-four hours. Ought we not to feel
grateful to our Southern brethren for the sumptuous manner in which they
entertained us? We no longer wondered at the starved, cadaverous look of
the old prisoners; we only wondered that they were alive.
Our former prisons had been comfortable, in comparison with this. We
realized that long confinement in this situation meant slow but certain
death by starvation and exposure, and we began to cast about us to see
if there were no hope of speedy release.
An exchange became the topic of conversation. It was last in our
thoughts at night, and first in the morning. Every morsel of news with
reference to it was eagerly discussed and repeated; but with us, as
with the old Libby prisoners, came the conviction that a speedy exchange
was not to be hoped for. We were tauntingly told by Tabb that our
government would not exchange us unless their government would exchange
the negro troops, and that we were thus placed on a level with the
niggers by our own government, and that this was all that stood in the
way of exchange.
I thank God that I can truthfully say, that not a corporal's guard of
these starving men could be found, who did not say that if that were the
case, and we could by our own votes determine the question, rather than
that the government should abandon to their fate any of her soldiers who
had worn the blue and fought under the stars and stripes, be they black
or white, they would stay there and starve.
_Tunneling_
With the death to our hope of exchange, was born the hope of escape.
Various plans were discussed and abandoned. An organization was
attempted to revolt--overpower the guard, and fight our way through to
our lines with such weapons as we could capture from the guards. But
when we came coolly to reflect upon the project, and considered the
desperateness of the attempt on the part of fifteen hundred unarmed,
unorganized men, to overpower about an equal number, well-armed and
supported by a battery, we abandoned the project.
Then we planned to escape by tunneling out. We found that prior to our
arrival a party had been organized for this very purpose, and that a
tunnel had already been started. After considerable finesse, a few of us
were admitted to the confidence of the conspirators, and permitted to
participate in the digging.
The greatest secrecy was observed in this enterprise. Not more than
twenty or thirty of the prisoners knew of the tunnel's existence, and
they were by a solemn oath bound not to reveal their knowledge. One
would suppose that there could have been no danger from the prisoners
themselves; but subsequent events proved that these precautions were
only too necessary.
This tunnel was started in one of the sheds, under a bank, about twenty
feet from the Dead Line, and it had progressed about ten feet when I
first transformed myself into a woodchuck.
Our mining tools consisted of a strap hinge, fastened to a stick about
two feet long, a tin dipper, and some sacks. The manner of digging was
to lie upon the side, and with the hinge work out the hard clay. This
was loaded into the sacks by means of the cup. A confederate, holding a
cord attached to the sack, would draw it back and empty it, and then
crawl back to the digger, who by this time would have another sack of
dirt ready.
After getting about thirty feet from the mouth of the tunnel, the air
became so bad that a candle would not burn for a second, and the number
of diggers who could endure this atmosphere was reduced to two or three.
The sensation on first getting back to the mouth end of the tunnel, was
that of suffocation; the perspiration would start from every pore; but
after a few moments this would partially pass away. It was, however,
nothing unusual for the digger, after his work in the tunnel, to faint
away upon getting to fresh air.
The natural inquiry will arise: What became of the dirt? The negroes
took care of it for us. Every morning the ground in the pen was nicely
swept up, and the dirt hauled away by negroes. We piled up the dirt
taken from the tunnel, and when the negroes came with their cart, they
would take great pains to put the red dirt on the bottom of the cart,
and cover it with the black. They knew what we were doing, by the
appearance of this fresh earth; but when they came to one of our red
piles, it was only by a wink of the eye or a broad grin that they
indicated their knowledge.
We had progressed about ninety feet with our tunnel, and were outside
the guards. We only needed to make thirty feet more to come out behind a
brick wall across the street.
_Betrayed_
We had then been working on it for about a month but at this juncture we
were betrayed by one of our own men, a Lieutenant of a cavalry regiment,
by the name of Silver.
The first intimation we had of our betrayal, was one morning at roll
call. I think it was on the first day of July, after we had been driven
to one end of the pen, after the custom I have described. We saw the
Confederate officer and a guard inspecting the ground in the vicinity of
the tunnel. This they did by stabbing a bayonet into the ground, as no
one could detect the existence of the tunnel by the eye, the mouth being
covered and dirt swept over it, so as to make it resemble the surface.
Imagine our feelings as we saw them approach the mouth of the hole. That
tunnel, to us, was the door to liberty. It was the telescope through
which we could see wife, children, and friends. Men who never prayed
before, prayed now that it might not be discovered.
But alas! these prayers were vain. All our labor and our suffering in
this direction had been for naught, and I am not ashamed to say that
some of us wept like children over our disappointment. We did not then
know by what means the enemy had discovered our plan of escape, for we
could not imagine that we had been betrayed. At first we were disposed
to lay the blame upon ourselves, believing that in some way the guard
had discovered something suspicious from the fact that a day or two
before unusual excitement had, for the following reason been manifested
by those interested in the scheme.
It had been agreed between the parties engaged in digging, that while
engaged in work during the daytime, we would submit to the follow
regulations: Each should perform an equal amount of labor in the tunnel,
and in case the authorities came into the yard, or if from any cause
there should be danger of discovery, the watchman should immediately
_cover the mouth of the tunnel_. The person digging should submit to
this necessity, and take his chance for life. What that chance was, may
readily be inferred, from the fact that with the mouth of the tunnel
open, air of any kind was a scarce commodity, and the quality nothing to
boast of.
It so happened that while I was busily engaged at work in the tunnel
that day, the air was suddenly darkened, and a rattle at the mouth end
notified me that the emergency had arrived, upon which we had agreed to
risk life itself. I was buried alive.
To attempt to describe the sensations of a person at such a moment, is
simply impossible. Within a minute from the time the mouth of the tunnel
was closed, the air was exhausted. And here let me describe the manner
of closing it: First, about four inches from the surface, a flange or
offset received a covering of boards; over this an old shirt was spread,
to prevent the dirt from sifting through the cracks, and over this about
three inches of dirt were placed. Then a few whisks of the brush broom,
and the eye could detect nothing to denote the existence of a cavity
beneath.
It is said that necessity is the mother of invention. I was not ready to
die just then; to live, I must have air. To attempt to get back to the
mouth and open it, even could I succeed in doing so, would betray the
existence of the tunnel, and forfeit a solemn pledge.
All this flashed through my mind with the rapidity of lightning. As by
an inspiration, the means of preserving my life was suggested to me.
Rolling upon my back, I commenced boring for air. Inserting the point of
the hinge in the roof of the tunnel, and turning and pushing it with the
energy of despair, I worked at the hard clay two feet or more above my
head. Slowly but gradually, inch by inch, the improvised drill worked
its way to the air and life. Just as I thought my very last energy
expended, and when the handle of the drill lacked an inch of being
inserted its entire length, the end broke the surface of the ground over
my head, and air, blessed air, came rushing into the aperture.
Withdrawing the drill I placed my mouth to the hole, and breathed. Oh,
the ecstacy, the supreme comfort of that moment is indescribable! I was
saved.
In the meantime, on the outside, I had a friend--not in name only, but a
friend in deed--one of the noblest men the sun ever shone upon: L. G.
Billings, Paymaster in the United States Navy. Billings and I were among
the very few who could bear the bad air in the tunnel. He knew I was in
there when the mouth was closed, and it took the united efforts of the
initiated to keep him away from it. As soon as the investigating
officer had left the yard, he tore open the mouth of the tunnel and
plunged in.
I heard my name called, but I kept quiet, thinking I would see what he
would do. Hearing no response, and believing me dead, I heard him groan,
"My God, he is dead!" and then he commenced crawling to where I was. I
waited until he had nearly reached me, but when I heard him sobbing like
a child, I could hold out no longer.
"Billings, my friend," I said, "I am all right, thank God."
"Thank God!" he rejoined; "but how did you live?"
"Look here," I said, pointing to the hole I had drilled.
Therefore, when our tunnel was discovered we thought that the excitement
caused by my imprisonment in the ground had led to our detection. But
the following morning one of the negroes, while loading the dump cart,
informed us that "Massa Lieutenant Silver told Massa Captain all about
it." We immediately organized ourselves into a detective force for the
purpose of ascertaining the facts, and in a short time became convinced
of the truth of this statement. But while we were contriving ways and
means to procure a rope, the Confederate authorities intervened and took
Silver out of prison, and that is the last we ever saw or heard of him.
What price was paid for his treachery we never knew. We realized only
the fact that we were again hopeless prisoners.
_Prison Life_
By this time our clothing was ragged, and it was only by the greatest
care that it could be kept even tolerably clean.
Our rations I have before described. Oh, ye epicures, think of it! A
pint of corn meal to last you twenty-four hours! As you sit down to your
tables, covered with substantial food, imagine it swept away, and in its
place a pint of mush, or in lieu of that a corn dodger, but little
larger than your two hands, to last you twenty-four hours. There were at
this time about fifteen hundred officers confined in this pen, literally
starving. It was only a question of time. The result was as certain
death, eventually, as it would have been had we been entirely deprived
of food.
One day, by some means, a cat got into the yard, and caught a rat. When
I saw the feline, she had the rat, and the idea immediately struck me
that there was no great difference between a rat and a squirrel. I
remembered also the customs of the antipodal Chinese, as related and
illustrated in old school geographies, and immediately gave chase. As
good fortune would have it, I succeeded in capturing the cat and the rat
before my companions in misery had got the idea through their heads that
rats were fresh meat. Like a fool, I let the cat go, and commenced
skinning the rat.
A hungry officer, looking on, instantly caught the idea, and made for
the cat. Good gracious, how foolish I felt! The cat was so much larger
than the rat, and although poor and skinny was much the more valuable,
for there was more meat there. But I was too late.
I felt fortunate in securing my share of the spoils, and immediately
cast about for the best method of serving my dainty dish, so as to make
it go the furthest. After long consideration I determined to have a
soup. I looked over my stock of peas and found I had about two-thirds of
a cupful. Many of them, probably about a half, were wormy. If I threw
these away, there would not be enough left, so I concluded that if the
worms could stand it I could. I then recollected seeing a beef bone that
had been thrown away by some officer who was so fortunate as to have
enough money to purchase it and had used it once. I picked it up, and
found, on close inspection, that the marrow was still left almost
intact. I washed the bone and cracked it. I also found some dried onion
peelings, and with these, the peas, the bone, and the rat, I made my
soup. Oh, ye gods! How I feasted!
But rats were scarce. We were starving. We must be exchanged, escape, or
die. We had lost all hopes of the first. The most of us did not feel
prepared for the last, and so a few of us concluded to start another
tunnel. This time we decided to limit the membership of the tunneling
party to a select few, and these were sworn to secrecy. We started
operations under the bunk of Colonel O. H. La Grange,[3] and succeeded
in sinking a shaft to a depth of about five feet, whereupon we commenced
tunneling.
FOOTNOTE:
[3] Afterwards General. In after years General La Grange became the
Superintendent of the San Francisco Mint, and died in California in
188-, universally mourned by the community in which he lived, and to
which he had endeared himself by his high character and winning
personality.
_Removed to Charleston_
Before we had progressed more than six feet, we were informed that six
hundred of our number were to be sent to Charleston, to be placed under
the fire of our own guns. This news at once changed our plans of
operations. A secret society was started, called the "Council of Ten,"
the object of which was to capture the train when we arrived at the
Pocotaligo River, and to make our way to our lines at Port Royal.
Our leader was Captain David McKibbin, of the Fourteenth Wisconsin
Infantry, a good, cool-headed man. Although the scheme was a failure, it
was through no fault of his, as subsequent events demonstrated.
While we were perfecting our plans for the capture of the train, and
awaiting the order for our removal, time, which waits for no man, again
brought around the anniversary of our National Independence. The Fourth
day of July, 1864, is a day that will never be forgotten by the inmates
of that prison yard.
The sun rose that morning, clear and bright. The leaves on the forest
trees that lined our prison were sparkling with bright dewdrops, which,
shaken by the morning breeze and falling to earth, seemed weeping over
our misfortunes. The air resounded with the musical voices of feathered
songsters, vying with each other in chanting their morning hymns of
praise to the Great Giver of all Good. In imagination we could hear the
church bells pealing at the North, calling the people as of yore, to
celebrate the Nation's natal day. Suddenly the prison gates were thrown
open, and the voice of a Confederate officer rudely awakened us from our
pleasing day dreams, with "Turn out, Yanks, for the roll call!"
As we passed through the line of our jailors, we discovered a group of
officers, seemingly a good deal excited. Upon approaching them we
discovered that one had constructed a miniature national flag. It was
only about four by six inches, but it was the stars and stripes, the
national emblem. How dear that old flag is to every man who deserves to
be called an American, can only be appreciated by one deprived of its
protection. How the eye of a traveler in a foreign land will sparkle and
his bosom heave, when the stars and stripes unexpectedly meet his eye,
flaunting proudly to the breeze! To the soldier and sailor, that flag is
the representative of his and his country's honor. On the battle field
he will defend it with his life. When defeated and flying, at the sight
of his ragged colors he will rally, and under its folds do and dare all,
and even die for its protection.
To us that little flag was the emblem of the cause for which we were
then suffering imprisonment and facing death, and for which our comrades
were then struggling on the field of battle; and for which so many poor
fellows had already rendered up their lives. As one by one we gathered
around it, manly tears were dropped from eyes unused to the melting
mood. With hands clasped we sang the "Star-spangled Banner," and then
one of our number (a chaplain) raised his voice in prayer. A stillness,
like that of the grave, settled down on the whole vast assemblage,
broken only by the voice of the man of God, asking Heaven's blessing
upon us and the flag.
When he had finished his prayer, all joined in singing "Rally 'round the
Flag," ending with three times three cheers for the Union and the
President of the United States. Speakers were called out and responded,
and better speeches I never heard in my life.
The excitement became intense. The Confederates, alarmed by the unusual
stir, doubled the guard, manned two pieces of artillery bearing upon the
camp, and then advised us to desist from further demonstrations. But
notwithstanding this order, we kept up our celebration until nearly
dark, and as we composed ourselves to sleep that night, it was with
intensified feelings of loyalty to our country.
A few days later six hundred of our number were selected to be sent to
Charleston. Afterwards, all the Macon prisoners, myself included, were
added to the number. It was amusing to see the anxiety displayed by the
prisoners to go to Charleston, for the purpose for which we were sent
was well understood. Any onlooker might have supposed from the eagerness
exhibited by the prisoners, that they expected to be exchanged at once,
rather than to become targets for our own gunners to shoot at. Yet in
this anxiety I fully shared; not that I was particularly anxious to be
shot, but because I had made up my mind that we would capture the train.
I had full faith in our ability to do so; and still believe that we
should have succeeded, had not our plans been suspected by or become
positively known to our captors.
The plan was this: The means of transportation used, was common freight
cars. From sixty to seventy of us were loaded into each. There were
usually four guards stationed inside, and about five on the top of each
car. We had it so arranged that from eight to ten of the Council of Ten
should be apportioned to each car, under the command of an officer
selected by ourselves. When the designated point should be reached, at
a signal from Captain McKibbin, who was in the first car in the rear of
the tender, we were to seize, gag, and bind the guard on the inside,
while the party in the Captain's car would stave a hole through the end
and uncouple it. When the train stopped, we were to rush from the train
and overpower the guards on top of the cars, and with muskets force our
way to the coast. But
"The best laid schemes o' mice an' men
Gang aft agley."
Just before we reached the designated point, the guards were all
withdrawn from inside the cars, and about thirty of them placed upon the
top of the Captain's car, with instructions, at any unusual noise, to
fire through the roof. By this arrangement we were deprived of the
chance to capture four muskets inside each car, and besides incurred the
certainty of having many men killed or wounded by the guards on top.
Under these circumstances, our leader became convinced that the attempt
would be a failure, and did not give the signal.
_Escape from the Train_
As soon as we became assured that our plan had failed, six of us
determined to attempt to escape by leaping from the train. It required
but a few moments to perfect our arrangements. The night was not quite
so dark as we could have wished, there being a bright moon, only
occasionally obscured by a passing cloud. But, waiting until the train
was running on a down grade, at its maximum speed, we sprang from the
car.
As good fortune would have it, we struck in a soft sand bank. The train
passed on without our being observed by the guard, and none of us were
injured. The place was near Adam's Run, about twelve or thirteen miles
from Charleston. We were without compass or map. A council was called,
and all the pros and cons of the situation discussed. We concluded that
by traveling east, we would, at all events, strike the coast, and if we
failed in finding our troops, we might possibly run across one of our
vessels.
Calculating our direction by the moon and stars, as near as we could, we
left the railroad and plunged into a South Carolina swamp. Of all the
doleful places on the face of God's green earth, I do not think there is
another so hideous. The timber is a species of cypress, from which hangs
a gray moss, from three to twenty feet in length. When it is high tide,
the water is from two to six feet deep. At low tide the surface has the
appearance of solid earth; but in fact there are only a few inches of
soil, supported by the cypress roots, which spread over, or rather just
under the surface, and form a network, through which the unwary traveler
is liable to break at any moment, and find himself unceremoniously
seated on a root with his feet hanging either in water, or in space
below, as the case may be. Every few rods there is a bayou, or slough,
frequented by alligators. All kinds of vines and hanging plants
interlace the spaces between the trees, and render it tiresome and
difficult to penetrate. Several kinds of birds with mournful cries, and
myriads of frogs, make night hideous, while the air is fairly alive with
mosquitoes and gnats, and every tussock of grass seems tenanted by the
poisonous moccasin snake. Occasionally a huge alligator will flop into
a neighboring slough with a splash, and the snap of his hungry jaws can
be heard for rods.
Altogether, the traveling is neither pleasant nor swift; but through it
all we toiled on. Starvation and imprisonment were behind us, and
liberty and the dear old home to the front. Our progress was necessarily
slow, and before we were fairly started, the sun began to gild the east
with his rosy beams. As nearly as we could calculate, we had traveled in
the neighborhood of five miles since leaving the railroad. By the rise
and the fall of the tide, we knew that we could not be far from the
coast. We had no provisions; we must either reach the shore or starve.
Safety dictated that we should seek a thicket and hide during the
daytime, but necessity commanded us to travel while we had strength, and
so we toiled on.
At length we came to a ridge running through the swamp, at about a right
angle to our line of march. While crossing it we suddenly saw two
horsemen moving leisurely along over what we discovered to be a
well-traveled road. Fortunately seeing them before they saw us, we threw
ourselves on the ground among the scrub pines. They proved to be a
Confederate officer and his negro servant, and passed within perhaps
three or four rods without discovering us. It was a narrow escape. We
carefully reconnoitered the ground, crossed the road, and again plunged
into the swamp.
After traveling a mile or two farther, we again met with an obstruction
that compelled us to come to a halt. We had reached an outpost of the
enemy. Peering through the underbrush we reconnoitered the ground.
Before us, in a ridge running through the swamp, was a squadron of
Confederate cavalry. There was but one thing for us to do, and that was
to keep quiet until night.
Throughout the whole long summer afternoon we lay in a thicket, within a
quarter of a mile of the enemy's cavalry. Occasionally the
long-drawn-out note of a horn was heard, followed by the baying of
hounds. We had read of the famous "negro dogs," and had been told by
friends who had escaped and been recaptured, that they were used by our
enemies to hunt down fugitives, so that these sounds did not serve to
lessen our disquietude, or to render our situation more pleasant.