[E]A number of years afterward, I was confined in the prison in Jefferson City, Mo. At that place guards were kept on the walls night and day. Convicts were selected as night watchmen for the different shops. It was my good fortune to be watchman in the saddle-tree shop. At that time Colonel John A. Joyce and General Williams—members of the Whisky Ring during Grant's administration—were serving a sentence of two years each. Joyce was cell-housekeeper in the negroes' building during the daytime, and Williams was storekeeper. Every evening they would come to my shop, and a pot of good coffee would be cooked on the stove. A couple of hours would be pleasantly passed in talking over past events. Generals Grant and Babcock were frequently mentioned in connection with the Whisky Ring. I told them all about Colonel Dent's being confined in the Columbia jail, and asked if they knew anything about the circumstances. Both of them commenced laughing; then the subject was dropped.
[E]A number of years afterward, I was confined in the prison in Jefferson City, Mo. At that place guards were kept on the walls night and day. Convicts were selected as night watchmen for the different shops. It was my good fortune to be watchman in the saddle-tree shop. At that time Colonel John A. Joyce and General Williams—members of the Whisky Ring during Grant's administration—were serving a sentence of two years each. Joyce was cell-housekeeper in the negroes' building during the daytime, and Williams was storekeeper. Every evening they would come to my shop, and a pot of good coffee would be cooked on the stove. A couple of hours would be pleasantly passed in talking over past events. Generals Grant and Babcock were frequently mentioned in connection with the Whisky Ring. I told them all about Colonel Dent's being confined in the Columbia jail, and asked if they knew anything about the circumstances. Both of them commenced laughing; then the subject was dropped.
Squadsof 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 crackin 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 peculiarityof 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 askedhim 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.
[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. Ourhearts 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 aflag 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 rememberme." 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 theirfellow-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.
I tookthe first train for Washington, arriving there late at night. Going to the Metropolitan Hotel, I registered myself as from Columbia, S. C. The clerk looked at me for a moment, and asked if I had any baggage.
"Neither baggage nor money," I replied.
He commenced laughing, and told a bellboy to show me up to a room. I remained in Washington two days. My written report was made out; then I reported in person to Gideon Welles, the Secretary of the Navy. He was a fine old gentleman, and expressed his joy at the exchange being made. I have already narrated the particulars regarding Captain Gregory and his reports. I was instructed to go home, report my arrival, give my address, and await orders. My next visit was to the Fourth Auditor,for some of the back pay due me. In a short time I had some much-needed respectable clothing. As yet I had not fully recovered from the typhoid fever. My hair was dead, and rapidly falling out. A barber was consulted, and he discovered that a new crop had commenced to grow. So the old hair was cut off even with the new. Mrs. Hall's husband was then next in order. Upon inquiry, I found that he was a cheap gambler, and not in town just then, so I left his letter with some of his friends.
I arrived in New York on Sunday morning, and went to my wife's last address. She had changed quarters to another locality. On going there, I was informed that she was in a certain boarding-house in Brooklyn. At that place I was directed to another boarding-house. Finally I found the young lady. Our child had died three months previously. During our conversation I said:
"Why, Annie, I only received two of your letters while I was in prison."
"That is all I wrote to you," she very innocently replied.
Before leaving Boston on the brig Perry, I had made an allotment of fifty dollars per month to her, which she received from a naval agent on the first of each month. Well, that frugal little wife, to use a slang expression, was "dead broke," and in arrears for her board bill. I was happy to be back with her, so I had no fault to find. Theatres and pleasure trips were in order and my past miseries forgotten. In due time I received all my back pay. My clothing had been sent home from the Perry, and a sword and a few other articles were all I had to purchase for my new outfit.
Orders were received for me to report to Commander John C. Hall, for duty on board the United States steamer Nereus, at the Brooklyn Navy Yard. The Nereus was a large screw steamer, with splendid accommodations for sailors and officers. The captain and executive were regulars, the other officers were volunteers. The acting master was a navigating officer. Four ensigns were watch officers. Our quarters consisted of a large ward-room, with state-rooms on each side. The latter werefurnished with single berths, and sets of drawers underneath, a combination dressing-case and desk, and a stationary wash-stand. Coloured ordinary seamen were detailed as ward-room boys, one for each officer. Their duties were to take care of the state-rooms and wait on the table, for which service they received nine dollars per month extra, paid by the officers. The steward and cook were paid as petty officers by the Government. One hundred dollars were paid by each of the officers as initiation fee and mess fund on joining the vessel, and afterward apro rataof the expense was charged to each. There was quite a contrast between the Nereus and the Perry. The ward-room officers consisted of one lieutenant, one master, four ensigns, paymaster, surgeon, and chief engineer. The master's mate and second and third engineers each had separate mess-rooms in the steerage.
Seven of the officers were ex-prisoners of war. A few months afterward Captain Howell stated that we were the wildest lot he ever commanded; it only took a short time for him to form his opinion, however. The vessel wasordered to the squadron at Cape Haitien, Hayti, West Indies. The Panama steamers had to be convoyed through the Mariguana Passage, thence between Cape Maisi, Cuba, and San Nicolas la Mole, Hayti, to Navassa Island. The rebel steamer Alabama had captured one of the Panama boats, securing eight hundred thousand dollars in gold bullion, and had bonded the steamer for the same amount, to be paid when the Confederacy gained its independence. Fort Fisher was to be attacked, and Captain Howell got permission to join the expedition with his vessel. All of us were pleased with the chance to pay up old scores with the rebels. The corn-meal was still rankling in our systems. Steam was gotten up, and, under charge of a pilot, we started for Sandy Hook. Before we got a hundred yards from the dock the trip very abruptly ended. The pilot ran too close to a large floating buoy, and the result was that one of the propeller blades caught the heavy chain by which the buoy was anchored. The engines were slowly reversed. It was of no use. That chain was there to stay, and wewere securely fastened by the stern. I shall never forget that December night. It was my watch on deck from twelve to four in the morning. The thermometer was twenty-one degrees below zero, and I thought I would freeze to death. The men on deck I sent below out of the cold wind, but I had no place for shelter, as the deck was clear fore and aft.
The next day a submarine diver examined the propeller blade. The chain was jammed in between the stern-post and the centre of the screw. A floating derrick was fastened to our stern, the buoy and anchor were hoisted on it, and our vessel was thus taken into the dry dock. It was quite a job to free the chain. That little mishap detained us one week. We made another start and got to Fortress Monroe. Taking a monitor in tow, we went to Fort Fisher. Nearly all the expedition had arrived, and the bombardment was begun. That expedition was probably the worst "fizzle" of the whole war. There were over sixty ships in the fleet, each carrying from four to forty-four guns, besides several monitors carrying fifteen-inchguns. The total number of guns was about six hundred. The rebels considered Fort Fisher as being impregnable, and it was, beyond all doubt, a strong fort. It was built on a narrow strip of land between Cape Fear River and the ocean. There was an embankment over a mile in length, twenty-five feet thick and twenty feet high. About two thirds of it faced the sea; the other third ran across the strip of land as protection from land attack. Still stronger than these were the traverses, which prevented an enfilading fire. These were hills about forty feet in height, and broad and long in proportion, about twenty of them along the sea face of the fort. Inside of them were the bomb-proofs, large enough to shelter the whole garrison. In front of the works was a strong palisade. Between each of the traverses was mounted one or two large guns, none less than one-hundred-and-fifty pounders, all of the guns of English manufacture. One, in particular, was an enormous Armstrong gun, mounted on a rosewood carriage—a present from Sir William Armstrong, of England.Fort Castle and Fort Anderson also protected the Cape Fear River. The channel was filled with sunken torpedoes. Torpedoes were also buried in the sand in front of Fort Fisher. An immense mound, one hundred feet in height, was erected on the beach and a large gun mounted on the summit.
Now for a description of the whole affair in a plain and truthful manner. I have read many descriptions of the capture of Fort Fisher, and have seen pictures portraying it, but all were exaggerations. An old steamer, the Louisiana, was fitted up in imitation of a blockade-runner, and two hundred and fifteen tons of gunpowder were loaded in the hold. Fuses were connected with an exploding clockwork and the powder. It was supposed that such a quantity of powder exploding so near the fort would do great damage, besides killing all of the garrison. The idea was suggested by Ben Butler. General Grant had given Butler orders to send General Weitzel with five thousand troops for the capture of the fort, and afterward to capture Wilmington,so that Sherman could receive supplies for his army. Butler ignored the orders, and took personal command of the troops, leaving Weitzel at City Point. The squadron was at Fort Fisher on time. Butler with his troops had not arrived. Then began the trouble. Admiral Porter gave orders to explode the powder-boat, and all arrangements were quickly made. The squadron was to steam ten miles out at sea. All safety valves were to be opened, lest the concussion might cause the boilers to explode. Under cover of darkness the powder-boat was towed by the steamer Wilderness close to the fort. The clockwork was set, also a fire was laid in case the clockwork failed. The crew were taken off by the Wilderness. The clock arrangement proved a failure, but the fire, in time, caused an explosion. Not a particle of damage was done to the fort. We afterward learned that most of the Confederates were asleep, and some of them never heard the explosion. The next day Butler arrived with his transports. He was terribly angry about the powder-boat affair. In themeantime the fleet, by divisions, had formed a line of battle. The ironclads were close to the shore. Their fire was to be direct. The other ships were to fire at angles with the fort so as to make an enfilading fire as much as possible. The bombardment from so many guns was terrific. The Confederates were soon driven into the bomb-proofs. During the day nearly all their guns were dismounted. The next day was Christmas, 1864. Early in the morning the landing of the troops began. Every boat in the fleet was brought into requisition. A clear strip of land extended from the fort to the woods, about a mile in length. A spot near the centre of the clear space was selected as the best place for the troops to land. A heavy surf was running on the beach. Every time a boat-load was landed it was necessary for the crew to wade out into the surf with the boat, and, at the proper time, jump in and pull through the first breaker. If not quick enough, the boat would be keeled over and over, high up on the beach. Everything was progressing finely; no one doubted but thatthe fort would be captured before night. All the white troops were on shore. We were busily engaged in landing Butler's pet coloured troops. What was our astonishment on receiving orders to re-embark the troops and bring off the negroes first, and then Ben Butler's transports started immediately for Washington, with that gallant hero on board! A heavy gale of wind set in from the northeast and continued to increase in fury as the night approached; consequently the surf was getting worse and it was very difficult for the boats to get clear of the beach. Those "niggers" would rush for every boat and overload it, with the result that it would be swamped. If ever "niggers" got a cursing, they certainly got it that night. About midnight my boat was swamped three times in succession. I was thoroughly disgusted. The crew and I were well tired out. We had had nothing to eat since morning, our clothing was soaking wet from constantly being in the surf, and the cold wind was chilling our bodies. The boat was lifted up sideways and the water dumped out.Everything was made ready for a new start, but this time I held my revolver in hand:
"Now, the first nigger who attempts to get in my boat will be shot!" and I meant what I said. It was hard work for us to get through the surf, and I felt certain that no more troops could be taken off that night. It was very dark and cloudy. I steered for the lights which were on the Nereus. We had gone about half the distance when the boat suddenly capsized and dumped all hands into the water. What caused that mishap I could never find out; it has always been a puzzle to me. It was lucky that none of us was hurt. Our clothing was very heavy, and made it difficult for us to keep from sinking, especially in such a rough sea. My sword and revolver made additional weight for me. We managed to hold on to the boat occasionally. In a few minutes we heard the splashing of oars in the water, and, by yelling, we attracted the attention of the boat's crew. They carefully approached and pulled us out of the sea. The boat was one of the launches belongingto the frigate Wabash. They took our boat in tow and rowed us to the Nereus. I was the only officer on our vessel who got back with his boat not damaged. The others were all badly disabled, and were left on the beach. About seven hundred of the soldiers were left on shore, and there they had to remain for three days. All night long the division to which the Nereus belonged fired shells into the woods to prevent Confederate troops from Wilmington making any attempt to capture our men. When the gale abated they were embarked. The first attack on Fort Fisher had ended in a grand fizzle, simply because Butler and Porter were at loggerheads. The army transports went back to City Point. The men-of-war weighed anchor and started for Beaufort, S. C. The few guns that still remained mounted at Fort Fisher fired a parting salute, in derision at our departure.
Onour arrival at Beaufort all was bustle and activity. Ammunition and coal were taken on board, the small boats repaired, and everything was made ready for another expedition. Porter was continually sending despatches to Washington. Butler was there in person. Between them there was a lively war of words. The new expedition sailed for Fort Fisher. During our absence the enemy had repaired the fort, and the garrison had been increased from six hundred to a thousand men. General Terry arrived with his transports, having on board five thousand white troops. The fort was bombarded, and the garrison driven into the bomb-proofs. Several of our hundred-pounder rifled guns exploded, doing considerable damage, and that class of guns was notused any more during the action. On the 14th of January the troops were all landed. On the 15th two thousand sailors and marines were also landed, each vessel sending a detachment. The quota from the Nereus was fifty men, Ensign Dayton and myself being in command. We received printed orders from Admiral Porter:
"When you get in the fort, if the rebels refuse to surrender, four seamen must take each rebel and throw him over the ramparts."
"When you get in the fort, if the rebels refuse to surrender, four seamen must take each rebel and throw him over the ramparts."
That is one extract. There was more in the same strain. The men had been notified in advance as to who had been detailed for the assaulting party, but not so the officers. When the men were ready to get into the boats, Dayton and I were called from our gun divisions and received orders to take charge of them.
Our preparations were hastily made; each of us took a ship's cutlass, revolver, and breech-loading carbine, and then filled our pockets with ammunition. The surgeon was on hand with a supply of tourniquets and bandages,which he jammed into our pockets while giving us brief lectures on the compression of arteries. In a short time the sailors were landed; the marines were detailed as sharp-shooters, each one having his knapsack as a portable breastwork. About one o'clock the army was ready for the assault in the rear end of the fort. The marines deployed to their position; the sailors moved up the beach in double column, the ships firing over us.
Some of the enemy came out of their bomb-proofs and kept continually firing into our columns. The beach was perfectly level, with no friendly trees or rocks to afford us any protection. Our destination was the sea face of the fort. To get there it was necessary to march two thirds of a mile parallel with the fort, and within easy range—a few hundred yards. We would willingly have gone a little more to the left if the Atlantic Ocean had permitted. Before getting to our proper position, a signal from the flagship ordered us to lie down on the beach. The shot and shell were whistling over our heads at a terrible rate, and sometimes anover-zealous gunner would make a slight error and drop them among our men instead of into the fort. Some of the enemy also made it interesting from their side of the fence. Quite a number was killed or wounded among our party. The water was splashed up in a lively way by the bullets. Strangely enough, every wounded sailor, if able, would crawl to the water and lie down, so that the surf, as it rolled up the beach, kept his body wet. It was low tide at the time, and, as we lay down on the wet sand, we soon became chilled through. Nearly two hours we remained in that position. A large gun just opposite me, inside the fort, still remained mounted. I noticed that the muzzle was elevated to aim at the fleet, but was gradually being depressed, so that it was in range with our men. The gunners could be seen putting in the powder and two stands of grape-shot. It was left in that position, and the gunners disappeared. One of our iron-clads was close inshore, just opposite the loaded gun. About every ten minutes they would fire a fifteen-inch, with a reduced charge of powder,consequently we could see every shell as it passed over us. They all went about five feet above the gun and exploded in the rear. Why they did not attempt to dismount it I cannot imagine. They certainly must have seen the enemy loading it.
A projectile from a rifled gun in the fleet got to tumbling "end over end" in the air. It landed within six feet of me. The sand flew in every direction, nearly blinding some of the men. For a few seconds we all felt nervous. If it was a percussion fuse shell the danger was past; if a time fuse, it would explode, and the only means of safety was to lie flat on the ground. To attempt to run away would be very dangerous. For a few seconds we all remained quiet. No hissing sound could be heard, and then the missile was examined, and proved to be a solid shot; but we were, for awhile, badly scared.
The soldiers could be seen beginning the attack at the rear of the fort. Then came Admiral Porter's terrible blunder. The signal was given for the fleet to "cease firing," then forthe sailors to advance. We had quite a distance to go up the beach before making a "right face" and rushing into the fort. The Confederates had anticipated that very movement on our part, and were prepared for it. They rushed out of the bomb-proofs, and gave our troops a murderous fire of musketry without our being able to return the fire. Then the big gun was discharged, and it made a terrible gap in our column. The detachment just ahead of ours was almost annihilated as they received the full charge of grape-shot. Some of the men were thrown several feet into the air. Each of the grape-shot weighed three pounds. There must have been nearly a hundred in the charge, as it was a double load from a hundred-and-fifty pounder. About two hundred men near the head of the column had reached some low sand-dunes which protected them, but the men following them became panic-stricken, and fell back upon those in their rear. The whole column was thrown into disorder, and compelled to retreat, the enemy keeping up a heavy fire as we passed down the beach. As badlywhipped as the sailors were, they deserved great credit for one thing: not a wounded shipmate was deserted; all were carried off. The dead were all dragged up above high-water mark, so that the tide would not carry their bodies out to sea. Had we marched up to our proper position, under cover of fire from the fleet, and the attack then been made, results would have been different, but being killed outright, through lack of good judgment, would discourage almost anybody! The plan of the attack was good. With the sailors assaulting the front and the soldiers the rear, the enemy would have been between two fires. Colonel Pennypacker, with his regiment, was inside the fort, the other regiments on the outside of the traverses; they were gradually driving the enemy back. Signals were made to the fleet where to throw their shells so as to avoid hitting our own troops. The sailors were reorganized, and manned the trenches across the open ground, to prevent re-enforcements to the Confederates coming from Wilmington. By that arrangement, a regiment armed with seven-shotrepeating rifles was relieved and added to the assaulting party at the fort.
Night came on and the fight still continued. Signals by light were made to the fleet how to direct their fire. At one o'clock in the morning the battle was ended by the enemy surrendering. The last prop was knocked from under the Confederacy; their great source of supplies was cut off. Blockade-running was ended. General Sherman would have a new base of supplies. Richmond would soon have to be evacuated. The day the fort was captured, Ben Butler was in Washington, demonstrating to the authorities, theoretically, why Fort Fisher was impregnable. Captain Breeze and Lieutenants Cushing, Preston, and Porter, from the flagship Malvern, had command of the sailors. Preston and Porter were fellow-prisoners of mine at Columbia. Both were killed early in the attack, Preston by a shell from the fleet, and Porter by a bullet. Cushing, with all his bravery, was not the last officer of the retreat down the beach—not by long odds. It is now a matter of history thatCaptain Breese with two hundred sailors actually got inside the fort and remained there until nightfall. That is all bosh. The fact is, they were behind the sand-dunes when the panic occurred—it being much safer to remain there than to be running the gauntlet down to the sea. After dark they retreated in good order. If they had really got into the fort, I will guarantee that they would not have remained there very long. The sailor who got closest to the traverses was an ensign from the gunboat Sassacus, and he was killed. Ensign Dayton, my fellow-officer, had not been seen by me since we landed. When I next saw him it was on board the Nereus. He said he had been with Captain Breese. He received some very plain talk from me for not helping to look after our own men. There was enough to be attended to—the wounded to be sent to the vessel, the dead to be identified and buried, and, the most difficult job, to corral the live ones and get them off to the Nereus. They were scattered all over our newly acquired territory. It was not every day they could getashore, and they were certainly making good use of their opportunities.
Early in the morning the dead sailors were laid side by side, forming a long row. Their caps, having the ship's name on in gilt letters, were placed on their breasts, and a slip of paper, giving his full name, was fastened to each man's shirt. It was a weird sight. All of them were fine-looking young men. I had placed the names on the men belonging to the Nereus, and went towards the fort, and as I got near the traverses I was nearly thrown off my feet by a sudden shaking of the ground; then I saw an immense conical-shaped mass of earth and timbers thrown high into the air; then a large circle of dust descended and covered everything in our vicinity. We all looked as if we had been pulled through a chimney. One of the magazines in the fort had blown up. The remnant of a Wisconsin regiment was stationed in the fort after its surrender, and the explosion killed nearly all.
Quite a number of us assisted in getting the dead and wounded from the ruins. Atfirst it was supposed that a torpedo connected by wires with Fort Anderson had caused the disaster, but it was afterward decided that it had been an accident. The Confederate prisoners were then furnished with shovels, and forced to dig up a number of torpedoes that had been buried on the outside of the fortification.
No wonder our troops had hard work to capture that place, for, by the peculiar construction of the interior defences, it was easy to repel the attacking forces. Towards evening I succeeded in getting the survivors of our detachment on board the Nereus, and was very particular about having our quota of small-arms sent with them—carbines, revolvers, and cutlasses, fifty-two of each. No questions were asked about their being the same ones we took ashore with us. The gunner's report was "All arms returned," and nothing more was necessary. The fact that Dayton brought his extra equipments unknown to me was not commented on.
My report, accounting for all the men, wasgiven to the executive officer, and then I had something to eat. I went to bed, having had no sleep for thirty-six hours, but I had enough glory to last me for a long time. The next night the rebels blew up Forts Caswell and Anderson, and beat a hasty retreat for Wilmington. General Terry soon after captured the latter place. The hospital transport came alongside the Nereus and took off our wounded men, and I have never seen or heard of one of them since. Our anchor was weighed and we returned to Beaufort for a supply of ammunition and coal, and as soon as possible started for the West Indies to join our squadron.
About eight days after our departure from Beaufort we sighted Turks Island, and, going through the Mariguana Passage, we soon had a view of the high mountains of the Island of Haiti. The weather was fine and quite a contrast to that of New York. The awnings were spread to protect us from the hot sun, and heavy clothing was discarded.
Cape Haitienis a queer little town built on the shore of a bay at the foot of a very high mountain. When the French possessed the place it was called "La petite Paris," but an earthquake tumbled all the buildings, and generally wrecked the whole place. A great many of the ruins still remain. Some of the stone was utilized for new habitations, but most of it was left where it had fallen.
The negroes had no ambition to restore the place to its former grandeur, and only a few white men were to be found among its inhabitants. Mahogany, logwood, and coffee were the only exports, and those only in small quantities. We had arrived on a Sunday afternoon, and several of us went on shore to visit the American consul, as an act of courtesy, andthen strolled through the town. Whisky was not allowed on board a man-of-war, and it was quite natural for us to want a drink on our arrival in a foreign country. Stopping at the only hotel, we ordered a "brandy smash," and it nearly paralyzed the whole crowd. The atmosphere was quite warm, and so was the brandy and water. There was no ice in the whole town, and of all the mixed drinks I ever had that was the worst. We had received some gold money from the paymaster, and a five-dollar piece was given in payment for the aforesaid drinks. Well, the change that was returned almost finished what the "smash" had not quite done, for about sixty-four one-dollar bills were counted out, each printed on bright yellow paper, about five by seven inches in size. "Une Gourde"—meaning "one dollar"—was printed in large and small letters all over the face of the note, and then, in French, something about its redemption at a certain period.
The landlord was a Frenchman and had learned to speak English while on board anAmerican whaling vessel. He gave us considerable information about the town, and also advised us to have our gold exchanged for his Haitien currency, so we each got five dollars' worth from him. The "gourdes" were at a discount of ninety-three per cent, making each one worth seven cents in gold. Such a roll of bills as we received! The bundles had to be put in our coat-tail pockets, no other place being large enough to hold them. The only amusement in town that would take place that night was a masquerade ball. Each of our drinks came to one "gourde," rather cheap for brandy. We bade our host adieu until evening and returned to the Nereus. Lieutenant Mullen, the surgeon, paymaster, three ensigns, and three engineers made up a party to "take in" the masquerade.
Special permit was required to be absent after sundown, as we were under war regulations. No time was lost in getting to the hotel. The landlord piloted us to the ballroom. Two "gourdes" were charged each for admission. A large store with a brick floorwas the extemporized ballroom. In one corner, on a platform, was the orchestra, and four "niggers" with clarionets composed it. In another end of the room was the office, with a window opening into the store-room, that place being transformed into a temporary barroom, the window-sill being the bar over which the drinks were served. Lieutenant Mullen belonged in Baltimore, Md., and he had no use for "niggers" under any circumstances, but he did like liquor, and it seemed to have very little effect on him. When the music struck up we all chose partners, with the exception of Mullen, that gentleman selecting one side of the window-sill and keeping it all night. My partner was neatly dressed and genteel in appearance, and, as she was closely masked, I could not tell whether she was pretty or not. She wore white kid gloves, and, as part of her wrists was exposed, I could see by the smooth skin that she was young, and probably a quadroon. That girl had the advantage of me, as I had no mask, and she knew with whom she was dancing while I did not. However, bothof us seemed satisfied, for we were partners in every waltz.
About two in the morning we had to leave our coloured partners, for the boat was to be at the landing for us at that hour. In the streets there were no lamps. A light, drizzling rain made the darkness more intense. Our most direct route was by a street facing the beach. A number of warehouses had large quantities of logwood piled in front, and the pieces were very crooked and lying in all positions. The doctor and I were walking together. His vision was concentrated on the logwood, and finally he expressed himself:
"Say, Thompson, did you ever see so many anchors piled up in a street before?"
Of course Cape Haitien had a military dock for the men-of-war boats to land at. On the shore end was a small guard-house, and as we passed it I noticed a light through the open doorway. Looking inside, I saw several Haitien soldiers sleeping soundly. In one corner of the shanty was a most primitive lamp—a glass tumbler partly filled with water, and asmall quantity of oil on the top of it with a lighted wax taper floating in it. Here was an opportunity to make myself a benefactor to my fellow-officers. Without any hesitation I stole the lamp.
"Hello, gentlemen, allow me to carry a light down the wharf for you!"
Just then an engineer named Patterson gave my hand a knock, and away went the whole illuminating apparatus. My eyes were blinded by the sudden change from light to darkness. I walked about three steps, and off the dock I went head first into the water. The unexpected immersion improved my eyesight wonderfully, and when I got back on the dock I could walk without a light. Patterson thought the whole affair a huge joke. When we reached the Nereus it came my turn to laugh. Naval etiquette requires officers to go up the companion-ladder according to rank—the seniors first. Mr. Patterson, being lowest in grade, was to go up last, and by some means he lost balance and fell out of the boat; when he came to the surface of the water, some ofthe sailors pulled him into the boat. He was not at all funny when he reached the deck.
Grasping his hand, I said, "Shipmate, I feel sorry for you."
That was our only night on shore. Captain Howell was of the opinion that we could have pleasure enough during the daylight in the future. Hardly a day passed that some of us was not raising "Old Ned." After supper we would sit in the ward-room and relate our adventures, and some of them were comical. By no means could we get into high society in that town. We were politely referred to as persons of unfortunate colour. That was the only country I ever visited where a white man, if he behaved himself, was not as good as a "nigger." The east half of the island is the Republic of Haiti, formerly belonging to France, and the language spoken is French.
The western part is the Republic of San Domingo, formerly belonging to Spain, and the language spoken is Spanish. The whole island had, at one time, been very prosperous, but the slaves had formed a conspiracy, and in one nighthad massacred all the whites and gained their independence, France and Spain never being able to reconquer them. The negroes became quite indolent. Very little clothing is needed in that warm climate, and fruit, growing with little cultivation, provides them with food. Revolutions are of frequent occurrence. On the 1st, 11th, and 21st of each month two of our ships would sail from Cape Haitien to meet the California mail steamers, one going north to Turks Island, the other south to Navassa Island. Our first trip was to the latter place. The island was about three miles in circumference and almost inaccessible. It was the breeding-place of sea-birds. A company belonging to Baltimore, Md., had possession, and were shipping the guano to different parts of Europe. We arrived some hours before the mail steamer was due.
A kedge anchor was fastened to a heavy rope and dropped overboard, fish-lines were brought into service, and the sport began. The only question with us was, What kind of fish will the next be? Such a variety I neversaw in my life in any part of the world—all different sorts, sizes, and shapes were landed on deck. The steamer came in sight and our anchor was pulled up. When the steamer came close by, a boat was sent to her with mail from our fleet, two cakes of ice were presented to us, and the vessel started for the passage. Before the mail steamer, being much the faster boat, was out of sight, it being of no use to convoy a vessel we could not see, we did the next best thing—returned to Cape Haitien. The steamer at Turks Island adopted the same tactics, with the exception of receiving the mail instead of sending it.
The Neptune, Galatea, Proteus, and Nereus certainly had an easy time on convoy duty.
Aboutthe 1st of April I sent in my resignation. I had become tired of sailor life, the war was nearly ended, and the fact that I was married made me desirous to make a living on dry land. It was a foolish whim of mine to throw away such a good opportunity, especially after having advanced so far in my chosen profession. A fresh supply of naval stores was needed on the Nereus, and for that reason we were ordered to Key West, then to return to Cape Haitien. We went first to Navassa and met the mail steamer, and the letter containing my resignation went in that mail pouch. We then steered for Cape Mayzi, at the eastern end of Cuba, and, going around the cape, we sailed west along the coast. Morro Castle was sighted, and we entered the harbour of Havana.I was well acquainted with the city, but everything appeared different to me then. The United States naval uniform allowed me to visit places where formerly, in common seaman's garb, I should have been denied.
The lottery-ticket venders were as busy as of yore, but, somehow, I did not feel like patronizing them. I drew the shares of only one prize in my life, but plenty of blanks. A drawing took place while I was in the city, and a number of us went to see it. The drawing was in a building like a theatre. Prizes ranging from two hundred and fifty thousand dollars down to one hundred dollars were in the wheel. The numbers of the tickets were in another. A remarkable audience was in the seats; rich and poor, black and white, and of all nationalities. Great excitement prevailed until the numbers of all the great prizes were called out. Then the crowd began to leave. Such low prizes as twenty thousand and ten thousand dollars interested no one.
We remained one week in Havana and then sailed for Key West, eighty miles distant; wewere only a few hours at sea, and then our anchor was dropped in Key West harbour. That place had changed wonderfully since my last visit. From an indolent little fishing village and the home of the "wreckers" it had become a lively little town. The army and navy were well represented, and there was hustle and hurry everywhere. Wine and beer were the only liquors allowed on the island, and the beer cost fifty cents a bottle, so there must have been quite a profit for somebody. Our stores had been placed on board, then the coal was received, and when the bunkers were nearly filled it was discovered that some of the lower deck beams were getting out of place. An order was given to have the Nereus examined, and a report was given of her condition. The news of the surrender of Lee was received, and quite a celebration of the event took place. Next came the news of the assassination of President Lincoln.
The Nereus was condemned as "unfit for service," and orders were given for us to return to New York. About the 10th of May theNereus arrived at the Brooklyn Navy Yard, and her career as a man-of-war was ended. The paymaster received notice from the Fourth Auditor at Washington that my resignation had been accepted on the 17th day of April, and he said that he would have my account made out at once. I informed the gentleman that he would do no such thing, and that when I should receive notice through Captain Howell that my resignation had been accepted I should be released from service, and not before then. Captain Howell decided that I was right. The acceptance had been sent to Cape Haitien, and I was in New York. The Nereus was put out of commission and the crew discharged. All the officers, except myself, were "detached" and granted two months' leave of absence. I was placed on waiting orders. The Neptune, Proteus, and Galatea had also arrived from Cape Haitien. My discharge should have been on one of those vessels, but no one knew anything about the missing document.
Our vessel had left Cape Haitien just in time to miss exciting scenes. A revolution hadtaken place, and it was the city against the whole republic. The English gunboat got mixed up in the mêlée and bombarded the city. The women took refuge on the men-of-war during the bombardment. The man-of-war Bulldog ran on a reef in the harbour and became a wreck. The English Government dismissed the captain for acting without authority, and the sailing-master met the same fate for losing the vessel. After waiting a reasonable time, I wrote to the Secretary of the Navy as to how I was situated, but received no reply. Captain Howell was in Washington, so I sent him a letter about my circumstances. He attended to the case personally, and in a few days I received a copy of the acceptance of my resignation on April 17, 1865. The copy was dated June 14th, and I received my pay to that date. I then got a position as watchman in the Brooklyn Navy Yard at sixty dollars a month. Renting a suite of rooms, I furnished them nicely and settled down to life on shore with my wife. A child was soon born to comfort our household.
I was finally, at my own request, transferred to the harbour patrol boat. There were nine of us, divided into three crews, twelve hours on duty and twenty-four hours off. River pirates and deserters were our special game.
The war was ended, and that stopped desertion. The purchased gunboats were sold at auction, and then there was nothing left for the river pirates to plunder. Alas! our services were no longer needed, and we were all discharged. Next I got a situation in the navy yard machine-shops, for I was ambitious to become a first-class machinist. Busy times were over, and men returning from the war overstocked the labour market. A great reduction was ordered in all the navy yard machine-shops, and, of course I, being a late arrival, had to be discharged with the first lot. Gradually what money I had saved up was used for necessary living expenses. Rent and provisions were still at war prices, consequently I soon found myself dead broke, and with no prospects of obtaining employment.
I came to the conclusion that there was nohope of obtaining employment in New York. Selling part of my furniture, I raised a few dollars; then taking Horace Greeley's advice—"Go West, young man, go West!"—I left New York, and have been away just thirty-two years—1898.
The manuscript breaks off abruptly at the time when Thompson moved West. Almost from that change began his criminal career. It is known that he served two terms in the penitentiary at Joliet, Ill., the last one being for a period of twelve years. Both sentences were for burglary. In his manuscript he refers to an experience in the prison at Jefferson City, Mo., and it is also known that he died in prison in another State.
In the last writing of Thompson, he solemnly affirmed his belief in a "just and merciful God." To that divine justice and mercy let us, having learned our own lesson from his life, leave him, judging not, lest we be judged.
Deep-Sea Plunderings.
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Commodore Paul Jones.
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In three volumes, the new volume containing an Account of the Navy since the Civil War, with a history of the Spanish-American War revised to the date of this edition, and an Account of naval operations in the Philippines, etc. Technical Revision of the first two volumes by LieutenantRoy C. Smith, U. S. N. Illustrated. 8vo. Cloth, $3.00 net per volume; postage, 26 cents per volume additional.
In the new edition of Vol. III, which is now ready for publication, the author brings his History of the Navy down to the present time. In the prefaces of the volumes of this history the author has expressed and emphasized his desire for suggestions, new information, and corrections which might be utilized in perfecting his work. He has, therefore, carefully studied the evidence brought out at the recent Schley Court of Inquiry, and while the findings of that Court were for the most part in accordance with the results of his own historical investigations, he has modified certain portions of his narrative. Whatever opinions may be held regarding any phases of our recent naval history, the fact remains that the industry, care, and thoroughness, which were unanimously praised by newspaper reviewers and experts in the case of the first two volumes, have been sedulously applied to the preparation of this new edition of the third volume.
A History of American Privateers.
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After several years of research the distinguished historian of American sea power presents the first comprehensive account of one of the most picturesque and absorbing phases of our maritime warfare. The importance of the theme is indicated by the fact that the value of prizes and cargoes taken by privateers in the Revolution was three times that of the prizes and cargoes taken by naval vessels, while in the War of 1812 we had 517 privateers and only 23 vessels in our navy. Mr. Maclay's romantic tale is accompanied by reproductions of contemporary pictures, portraits, and documents, and also by illustrations by Mr. George Gibbs.
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