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THE WAR LIBRARY.
t
“My captors had gone on ahead to, finish
their scout, and had left me in the charge of
one of their number in the yard of a desert-
ed farmhouse. .
“It was a daring thing’on the part of the
rebels to venture so near the camp of our
forces, and { longed for some means to make
their presence known to “ the boys in blue,”
so that they might be made to answer for
their boldness. But that was impossible.
They had me fast enough, and now I was
powerless to aid myself, much less to help
my friends.
he man in whose chargeI had been left
was a large, fine-lookivg young fellow of
about twenty, with a frank, open face anda
pleasant, gentlemanly manner. He seemed
to pity me, and exerted himself to make me
comfortable. He brought me an old chair
from the house and some water from the
well.
**I’m sorry for you, captain,” be said, at’
last.. ‘*You’ve got a hard time before you.
When you get to Richmond they’ll send you
to the vilest hole in the country—that infa-
mous Libby Prison, which is disgracing us
and our cause.”’ .
‘But I shall bein the keeping of Southern
soldiers, and they will not permit me to suf-
fer, even though I am an enemy,” I said,
ironically. .
; He tlushed crimson, but replied quickly:
“No,
Southern soldiers. Your. keepers will bea
parcel of skulkers, Who never had the cour-
age to face your men in the field, and who
“are only bold enough to maltreat prison-
”
ers. .
-“ You talk very strangely for arebel,’”’ l
& Virginian, captain,’? he went on,
“and I feel this thing deeply. I don’t care
afig for the Confederacy. Ionly went into
the war because my state was invaded, and
I’m not the man to wink at such tyranny as
racticed at Libby.”
ust then we heard the clatter of hoofs,
and in afew minutes the party that had capt-
ured me returned. I wasordered to mount
my horse and accompany them. A rapid
ride of several hours brought us to a ford of
the river, which we crossed, Once over the
Rappahannock, we were in the Confederate
lines, and our pace became more leisurely.
Iremained with my captors four days be-
fore being sent to Richmond, and during
that time was invariably treated with kind-
ness and consideration by them. They did
not forget that, like themselves, I was a sol-
dier, aud I parted from them with decided
regret.
- At the railroad I met a number of fellow-
prisoners, consisting of officers and privates
recently captured, '
We did what we could to cheer each other
as we jolted over the rough railroad b
which we were conveyed to fhe rebel capi-
tal. Aftera brief interview with the pro-
yost-marshal we were sent off to Libby in
charge of a squad of ragged infantry.
My hoart sunk within me as we camein
sight of the long, dingy pile of bricks that
held captive so many gallant patriots, and
I had not been long in the building before I
had proof that my rebel friend had not ex-
aggerated the delights of my new quarters.
‘An insolent clerk registered my name,
rank and regiment, and I was then made to
disgorge the not very full wallet which con-
tained what was left of my last month’s
pay. .
My watch and a handsome ring were taken
from me, and I wasiuformed witb a signifi-
cant laugh that they would be restored to
me when I[ should be exchanged.
I was then ushered into a large room,
which contained about one huhdred brother
officers. [founda few friends, and many
that I did not know, but from alll hada
warm and sympathizing welcome.
It isnot my intention to relate my expe-
rience in that worse than Bastile in which I
spent six long, weary months, hoping vainly
for an exchange and suffering all the hor-
rors of such an imprisonment. I will pass
over ali this, and come tq the fall of 1863,
which found me still an inmate of Libby.
No change occurred in my condition orin
that of my fellow-prisoners until the month
of October.
It was, I think, on the night of the fifth of
the month that I wasawakened by some one
shaking me. Opening my eyes, I found a
major of an Ohio regiment bending over
me.
“Don't make any noise, Truesdale,” he
sald, softly. ‘“‘Iwant you tohelpme. I’ve
found that one of the planks in the floor is
_ loose, and as it’s wide enough to permit a
msn to pass through into the room below, I
you will not be in the hands of.
want you to help me to find out where it
will lead us. : It may conduct us to freedom.
Who knows?” \
I was on my feet ina minute.
““[’m your man, Collins!” I exclaimed, ex-
citedly. : '
‘Softly,’ said Major Collins, laying bis
hand over my mouth. “If you speak too
loud you'll attract the attention of the
guard or wake some of our. friends. Poor
fellows!’ he murmured, “I wish they could
all go; but as that is impossible, we must be
selfish for once; and try to save ourselves.
ome.’
He led me by the hand to a corner of the
room on the side nearest the river. There
Isaw a wide opening in the floor, and asI
knew that our quarters were just over a
large cellar, Ifelt sure that we had nowa
means of descending to that apartment.
We did not stop to think that we might
be going to our death in entering that dark
and mysterious chamber that opened be-
neath us; indeed, we thought of nothing
save of freedom and home.
Islipped through the opening and swung
myself lightly. down to the ground. The
cellar was quite high, but my fall was brok-
en by a pile of sand, which for scme purpose
had been thrown into the place, and, thanks
to this, I made no noise in my descent.
In a few minutes Majer Collins was by my
side. We grasped each other’s hands and
stood listening anxiously.
Five minutes passed away, but no unusual
sound washeard. Wecrept stealthily to the
door, which was partially open, an
out.
We were on a level with the low street
which borders the city dock, then deserted
by the vessels that had been wont to crowd
it in old times.
The night was calm and still. The stars
were out, clear and sparkling, but they did
not give light enough to enable us to dis-
tinguish objects at a very great distance.
We could see the dock, and beyond it the
river lying cold and brilliantin the starlight,
and hear the heavy roar of the distant falls.
, A few lights glittered in the small portion
of the city that we could see to our right,
and at alittle less than a mile to our left
shone the lanterns in the rigging of the
rebel gunboats at Rocketts.
Around the prison everything was dark
and gloomy.
We could hear the measured tread of the
sentinels on the beats on Cary and Twen-
tieth streets and at the lower end of the
building, but on the water side there seem-
ed to be no sentry, or if there was he was
either asleep or off his post. .
here were usually two sentinels. on this
side, and I could not imagine why they were
not there that night.
A closer inspection, however, revealed
two men standing at the upper end of the
building, and from the low sounds that came
gazed
to our eager ears We judged that. the. men
were conversing. ;
- Not a moment was to be lost.
They would soon resume their walking,
and then we would be less likely to escape
their notice.
Removing our shoes, we crouched close to
the ground and crept softly out of the cellar
and across the street to the edge of the
ock.
A short distance below the prison wasan
old shed which had been used in peace as a
protection for the cargoes of vessels loading
and unloading there.
If we could but reach this unobserved, I
thought we would be safe, as its shade
would enable us to pass out of sight of the
sentinels. :
As we reached the edge of the dock we lay
flat down on the stone wall that sustained
the wharf. .
Averything was quite still.
Creeping stealthily on our hands and
knees, and frequently pausing and lying
down to listen, we neared the shed.
In ten minutes after gaining the street we
reached it.
Just then we beard the negligent sentinels
resurce their walking.
3 we entered the shed we rose to our
feet.
We were out of the prison at last, but how
long we would remain so was another ques~-
tion, and we at once commenced to con-
sider the situation and think what was best
to be done. .
Woe were total strangers to the city. We
did not know where to go or what dangers
surrounded us. - .
Atlast Major Collins proposed that we
should separate and each try for himself, so
that one might not endanger the safety of —
the other. . we
This seemed the best plan, and after. a
hearty “Godspeed”? and a° warm grasp of
the hand, we turned about in different direc-
tions and left the shed.
he major succeeded, after ten days of
thrilling adventure and suffering, in reach-
our lines. :
WhenlI left the shed I struck directly
across the street, and entered what had once °
been arailroad depot, but which did not seem
to be used at that time. :
Passing hastily through it and climbing a
steep gravel-cliff, I found myself in the
lower part of the city and at the foot of
Church Hill. ;
AsI came within the line of
and saw myself by their glare, a
alarm stole over me. .
I wasin a hostile city, without knowing
which direction to take, and was clad in my
Federal uniform, if the rags which covered
me could be dignified by sucha title. What
should I do? °
I simply knew that I was inthe lower
part of the city, and that the eminence
above me was Church Hill, but how to
get out of the city was something that be-
wildered me, .
Afterafew moments of reflection, I re-
membered that the country occupied by our
forces under McClellan in 1862 lay below the
city, and that our lines at the present time
extended some distance up the Peninsula. I
resolved to cut across the city and try to
make my way to the Chickahominy, but
my ignorance of the country made it very
doubtful as to whether I would reach it.
At last I bethought me of another plan. I
would go back to the depot [ had just left
and follow the railroad out of the city. This
road, I knew, would lead me to the hite
House, from which point I could easily
make my way to Williamsburg, where [
would find the Union outposts.
While engaged in thinking of these things
Ihad gone some distance up Church Hill,
and I now turned to go back.
As I did so I heard a distant bell strike the | ~
hour of two. .
It was later than I thought, and I had
very little time to lose. I had onlya few
hours more of darkness. I must pass the
fortifications before daylight or I would be
ost.
Iwas turning into Main street, and was.
passing under the blaze of astreet lamp,
when I encountered a man coming rapidly
from the opposite direction. .
‘ He brushed by me and turned carelessly -
to look at me. :
I was in the full glare of the light, and as
he saw me hestopped short.
“Tt’s a Yankee, by George!” he exclaimed.
Ipretended not to notice him, and was.
passing on when he exclaimed, sternly.
“Halt! If you attempt to escape, I'll give
the alarm and you'll be shot down by the
atrol,’’ .
p “What do
facing him.
I was so much disheartened by this mishap
that I would have surrendered to a child.
the light of the gas I saw that my com-
panion was 2. Confederate soldier, and I
thought there was something familiar in his.
appearance. .
“T want to know,” he replied, ‘‘ what you
are doing here in that uniform? . But stop,”’
he added, “I think I know you. You are
Captain Truesdale, of a New York cavalry
/regiment. You were captured last spring
by a party of Stuart’s cavalry. m I
right?’ .
“You are,” I said; ‘but who are you?”
“Never mind my name,” he said. “Iam
the man that was left in charge of you at
the farmhouse the day you were captured.
I recognized you at once.” :
new hope sprung up within me, and I
determined to appeal to the man’s gener-"
osity.
wy have been a prisoner,” I said, “ever
since then. I have just made my escape,
and I ask you, as a soldier, to let me pass on
and get away if I can.” i
He hesitated a moment, and then spoke
slowly: ~
‘Been in prison since April, have you?
Well, that’s long enough.”
He paused abruptly, and then spoke up
uickly: :
“T think I can help you.”
He drew off a heavy gray overcoat and
handed it to me.
“ Put this on quickly. That coat of yours
is of n dangerous color for this locality.”
Iput on the coat, and he passed his arm
through mine and led me away with him,
zas-lamps
eeling of
you want with me?” I asked,