Famous Adventures and Prison Escapes of the Civil War

Part 1

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FAMOUS ADVENTURES AND PRISON ESCAPES OF THE CIVIL WAR

NEW YORK THE CENTURY CO.

1913

Copyright 1885, 1888, 1889, 1890, 1891, 1893, by

THE CENTURY CO.

CONTENTS

PAGE

WAR DIARY OF A UNION WOMAN IN THE SOUTH 1

THE LOCOMOTIVE CHASE IN GEORGIA 83

A ROMANCE OF MORGAN'S ROUGH-RIDERS 116

COLONEL ROSE'S TUNNEL AT LIBBY PRISON 184

A HARD ROAD TO TRAVEL OUT OF DIXIE 243

ESCAPE OF GENERAL BRECKINRIDGE 298

ILLUSTRATIONS

PAGE

QUESTIONING A PRISONER Frontispiece

THE LOCOMOTIVE CHASE 85

GENERAL JOHN H. MORGAN 117

MAP OF THE MORGAN RAID 118

THE FARMER FROM CALFKILLER CREEK 123

GENERAL DUKE TESTS THE PIES 125

HOSPITALITIES OF THE FARM 131

LOOKING FOR THE FOOTPRINTS OF THE VAN 137

CORRIDOR AND CELLS IN THE OHIO STATE PENITENTIARY--CAPTAIN HINES'S CELL 161

EXTERIOR OF THE PRISON--EXIT FROM TUNNEL 163

WITHIN THE WOODEN GATE 167

OVER THE PRISON WALL 171

Part 2

"HURRY UP, MAJOR!" 175

CAPTAIN HINES OBJECTS 178

COLONEL THOMAS E. ROSE 185

A CORNER OF LIBBY PRISON 187

LIBBY PRISON IN 1865 189

MAJOR A.G. HAMILTON 191

LIBBY PRISON IN 1884 197

LIBERTY! 223

FIGHTING THE RATS 230

SECTION OF INTERIOR OF LIBBY PRISON AND TUNNEL 233

GROUND-PLAN OF LIBBY PRISON AND SURROUNDINGS 235

LIEUTENANTS E.E. SILL AND A.T. LAMSON 255

WE ARRIVE AT HEADEN'S 263

THE ESCAPE OF HEADEN 271

GREENVILLE JAIL 277

PINK BISHOP AT THE STILL 283

ARRIVAL HOME OF THE BAPTIST MINISTER 285

SURPRISED AT MRS. KITCHEN'S 291

THE MEETING WITH THE SECOND OHIO HEAVY ARTILLERY 295

SAND AS A DEFENSE AGAINST MOSQUITOS 307

SEARCHING FOR TURTLES' EGGS 310

THROUGH A SHALLOW LAGOON 313

EXCHANGING THE BOAT FOR THE SLOOP 315

OVER A CORAL-REEF 325

A ROUGH NIGHT IN THE GULF STREAM 331

FAMOUS ADVENTURES AND PRISON ESCAPES OF THE CIVIL WAR

WAR DIARY OF A UNION WOMAN IN THE SOUTH

EDITED BY G.W. CABLE

Part 3

The following diary was originally written in lead-pencil and in a book the leaves of which were too soft to take ink legibly. I have it direct from the hands of its writer, a lady whom I have had the honor to know for nearly thirty years. For good reasons the author's name is omitted, and the initials of people and the names of places are sometimes fictitiously given. Many of the persons mentioned were my own acquaintances and friends. When, some twenty years afterward, she first resolved to publish it, she brought me a clear, complete copy in ink. It had cost much trouble, she said; for much of the pencil writing had been made under such disadvantages and was so faint that at times she could decipher it only under direct sunlight. She had succeeded, however, in making a copy, verbatim except for occasional improvement in the grammatical form of a sentence, or now and then the omission, for brevity's sake, of something unessential. The narrative has since been severely abridged to bring it within magazine limits.

In reading this diary one is much charmed with its constant understatement of romantic and perilous incidents and conditions. But the original penciled pages show that, even in copying, the strong bent of the writer to be brief has often led to the exclusion of facts that enhance the interest of exciting situations, and sometimes the omission robs her own heroism of due emphasis. I have restored one example of this in a foot-note following the perilous voyage down the Mississippi.

G.W. CABLE.

SECESSION

New Orleans, Dec. 1, 1860.--I understand it now. Keeping journals is for those who cannot, or dare not, speak out. So I shall set up a journal, being only a rather lonely young girl in a very small and hated minority. On my return here in November, after a foreign voyage and absence of many months, I found myself behind in knowledge of the political conflict, but heard the dread sounds of disunion and war muttered in threatening tones. Surely no native-born woman loves her country better than I love America. The blood of one of its Revolutionary patriots flows in my veins, and it is the Union for which he pledged his "life, fortune, and sacred honor" that I love, not any divided or special section of it. So I have been reading attentively and seeking light from foreigners and natives on all questions at issue. Living from birth in slave countries, both foreign and American, and passing through one slave insurrection in early childhood, the saddest and also the pleasantest features of slavery have been familiar. If the South goes to war for slavery, slavery is doomed in this country. To say so is like opposing one drop to a roaring torrent.

Sunday, Dec. ----, 1860.--In this season for peace I had hoped for a lull in the excitement, yet this day has been full of bitterness. "Come, G.," said Mrs. ---- at breakfast, "leave your church for to-day and come with us to hear Dr. ---- on the situation. He will convince you." "It is good to be convinced," I said; "I will go." The church was crowded to suffocation with the elite of New Orleans. The preacher's text was, "Shall we have fellowship with the stool of iniquity which frameth mischief as a law?" ... The sermon was over at last, and then followed a prayer.... Forever blessed be the fathers of the Episcopal Church for giving us a fixed liturgy! When we met at dinner Mrs. F. exclaimed, "Now, G., you heard him prove from the Bible that slavery is right and that therefore secession is. Were you not convinced?" I said, "I was so busy thinking how completely it proved too that Brigham Young is right about polygamy that it quite weakened the force of the argument for me." This raised a laugh, and covered my retreat.

Jan. 26, 1861.--The solemn boom of cannon to-day announced that the convention have passed the ordinance of secession. We must take a reef in our patriotism and narrow it down to State limits. Mine still sticks out all around the borders of the State. It will be bad if New Orleans should secede from Louisiana and set up for herself. Then indeed I would be "cabined, cribbed, confined." The faces in the house are jubilant to-day. Why is it so easy for them and not for me to "ring out the old, ring in the new"? I am out of place.

Jan. 28, Monday.--Sunday has now got to be a day of special excitement. The gentlemen save all the sensational papers to regale us with at the late Sunday breakfast. Rob opened the battle yesterday morning by saying to me in his most aggressive manner, "G., I believe these are your sentiments"; and then he read aloud an article from the "Journal des Debats" expressing in rather contemptuous terms the fact that France will follow the policy of non-intervention. When I answered, "Well, what do you expect? This is not their quarrel," he raved at me, ending by a declaration that he would willingly pay my passage to foreign parts if I would like to go. "Rob," said his father, "keep cool; don't let that threat excite you. Cotton is king. Just wait till they feel the pinch a little; their tone will change." I went to Trinity Church. Some Union people who are not Episcopalians go there now because the pastor has not so much chance to rail at the Lord when things are not going to suit. But yesterday was a marked Sunday. The usual prayer for the President and Congress was changed to the "governor and people of this commonwealth and their representatives in convention assembled."

The city was very lively and noisy this evening with rockets and lights in honor of secession. Mrs. F., in common with the neighbors, illuminated. We walked out to see the houses of others gleaming amid the dark shrubbery like a fairy scene. The perfect stillness added to the effect, while the moon rose slowly with calm splendor. We hastened home to dress for a soiree but on the stairs Edith said, "G., first come and help me dress Phoebe and Chloe [the negro servants]. There is a ball to-night in aristocratic colored society. This is Chloe's first introduction to New Orleans circles, and Henry Judson, Phoebe's husband, gave five dollars for a ticket for her." Chloe is a recent purchase from Georgia. We superintended their very stylish toilets, and Edith said, "G., run into your room, please, and write a pass for Henry. Put Mr. D.'s name to it." "Why, Henry is free," I said. "That makes no difference; all colored people must have a pass if out late. They choose a master for protection, and always carry his pass. Henry chose Mr. D., but he's lost the pass he had."

THE VOLUNTEERS--FORT SUMTER

Feb. 24, 1861.--The toil of the week is ended. Nearly a month has passed since I wrote here. Events have crowded upon one another. On the 4th the cannon boomed in honor of Jefferson Davis's election, and day before yesterday Washington's birthday was made the occasion of another grand display and illumination, in honor of the birth of a new nation and the breaking of that Union which he labored to cement. We drove to the race-course to see the review of troops. A flag was presented to the Washington Artillery by ladies. Senator Judah Benjamin made an impassioned speech. The banner was orange satin on one side, crimson silk on the other, the pelican and brood embroidered in pale green and gold. Silver crossed cannon surmounted it, orange-colored fringe surrounded it, and crimson tassels drooped from it. It was a brilliant, unreal scene; with military bands clashing triumphant music, elegant vehicles, high-stepping horses, and lovely women richly appareled.

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