ON TO WASHINGTON
The next day the prisoners were put aboard an old freight ship, which steamed down the Rappahannock River, out into the bay, and up the Potomac River to Washington City. Here the officers and men were separated. My brother Bob was very anxious to go with me, but, of course, this was not permissible; and there on the wharf, on the 28th of May, 1864, I parted with him and the other members of Company C, not to meet any of them again until that "cruel war was over," and many of them never again. Some of the company not captured were killed during the last year of the war, and many have died since the war. Some still live. Every now and then I read in the papers of the death of some of them, which always recalls memories of long ago. It will not be many years before the last one of us shall have answered the final roll call. May we all meet again in a better world, where there is no war, is my fervent prayer. War is horrible. General Sherman said, "War is hell." Few, if any, did more than William Tecumseh Sherman to make war hell, and if I had to guess, I should say that ere now Sherman knows all about the horrors of both—war and hell. There may be something in a name after all. "Tecumseh!" The savage.
The enlisted men were sent to Point Lookout, and the officers incarcerated in the old Capitol Prison.
I remember as we entered from the street, when the door closed, the key turned and the bolt went into its place with a grating sound, Captain Horton turned to me and said, "This is the first time the bolts were ever turned on me." So we all could say. There were other prisoners confined here.
While here, we could often see from the windows ambulances moving along the streets filled with wounded Yankee soldiers. When Peter Akers would see these loads of wounded Yanks, he would remark, "There goes more dispatches from General Lee to old Abe."
CHAPTER XVII
To Fort Delaware—Short Rations—Song—Prison
Rules
These officers remained here for about two weeks, when we were taken by boat down the Potomac and Chesapeake Bay, passing out into the ocean between Cape Charles and Cape Henry; thence up the coast into Delaware Bay to Fort Delaware, where we were placed in prison barracks with several thousand other Confederate officers. While at the Old Capitol Prison we were well treated, and the rations were all we could wish. At Fort Delaware it was very different. The rations were badly cooked and scarcely sufficient in quantity to sustain life, besides being very inferior in quality. There were only two meals a day; breakfast at eight A. M., and dinner at four P. M.
We got to Fort Delaware in the afternoon. I was not feeling very well and did not go to dinner. We had some rations brought from Washington. Captain Horton went, and the first thing he said when he came back was, "Take care of that meat, it is as scarce as hen's teeth here." In truth it was very, very scarce.
My brother, J. L. Morgan, who was living in Brooklyn, N. Y., very kindly furnished me with clothes, and supplied me with money with which to supplement the poor and scanty prison fare, saving me from much suffering, and I have but little doubt, saved my life; for many who had to depend alone on what they got in prison died from lack of sufficient and proper food and clothing. My brother also furnished money to Robt. Morgan and W. L. Brown, who was his brother-in-law, and to other Confederate prisoners.
For breakfast, we had a slice of light-bread, about four ounces, and about one and one-half or two ounces of bacon; for dinner the same bread and about two or three ounces of loud-smelling pickled beef—"red horse," as it was called—and a tin cup of miserable stuff, called soup, so mean that I could not swallow it. This was all, day in and day out, week after week, and month after month. Men who lived on these rations were always hungry. Even those who had money did not fare much better, as the prices at the sutlers' were so exorbitant that a dollar did not go far. I shared the money sent me with my bunk-mate, Capt. Thos. B. Horton.
Prison life was hard and very monotonous, though many things were resorted to to while away the tedious hours.
All kinds of games were played, "keno" being the most popular, and much gambling went on. Concerts were given, debating societies formed, and many other things resorted to to kill time. My brother sent me a set of chess-men. There were other sets in the prison, and this game was played a good deal. There were some fine players among the officers; Capt. J. W. Fanning, of Alabama, and Capt. H. C. Hoover, of Staunton, Va., being the champion players.
I here give a song composed and sung by Confederate prisoners at Fort Delaware, at a concert given by the prisoners, for the benefit of the destitute among the 600 Confederate officers, who were put under fire on Morris Island, and afterwards sent to Fort Pulaski and Hilton Head, and confined there during the winter of 1864-65, and who were sent back to Fort Delaware in March, 1865, in a pitiable plight:
"IN THE PRISON OF FORT DELAWARE
(TO THE TUNE OF "LOUISIANA LOWLANDS")
"Come listen to my ditty, it will while away a minute,
And if I didn't think so, I never would begin it;
'Tis 'bout a life in prison, so forward bend your head,
And I'll tell you in a moment how dey treat the poor Confed.
Chorus:
"In the prison of Fort Delaware, Delaware, Delaware,
In the prison of Fort Delaware, Del.
"Dey put you in de barrack, de barrack in divisions,
Den dey 'lect a captain who bosses the provisions;
He keeps the money letters, keeps order in the room,
And hollers like the debbil if you upset the spittoon.
Chorus:
"Wheneber dey take de oath, dey put dem near de ribber,
Dey work dem like de debbil, worse dan in de Libby;
Dey shake 'em in de blanket, thow stuff into der eyes,
And parole dem on de island, and call 'em "galvanized."
Chorus:
"Some officers do washing, many makes de fires,
So hot upon a sunny day, dat every one expires;
Some working gutta-percha, some walking in de yard,
Many make dey living by de turning ob de card.
Chorus:
"Dar's tailors and shoemakers, some French and Latin teaching,
Some scratching ob de tiger, while some odders am a-preaching;
Some cooking up de rations, some swapping off dey clothes,
While a crowd of Hilton Headers are a-giving nigger shows.
Chorus:
"Dar's anoder lot ob fellers and cunning dogs dey are,
Dey get an empty barrel and den set up a bar,
Git some vinegar and 'lasses—fer whiskey am too dear—
And mix it wid potato skins and den dey call it beer.
Chorus:
"No matter what you're doin', one thing am very sartin,
Dat ebery one is ready from dis prison to be startin';
De very sad reflection makes eberybody grieve,
For not a single debbil knows when he's gwine to leave.
Chorus:
"Now white folks here's a moral: There's nothin' true below,
This world am but a 'tater patch, de debbil has the hoe;
Ebery one sees trouble here, go you near and far,
But the most unlucky debbil am the prisoner of war."
These lines give in a crude way, a pretty correct account of the doings in the prison barracks.
I preserved a copy of Prison rules, which follows:
PRISON RULES
"Headquarters, Fort Delaware, Del.,
July 8, 1864.
I. Roll call at reveille and retreat.
II. Police call at 7 A. M. and 4 P. M.
III. Breakfast at 8 A. M. Dinner at 4 P. M.
IV. Sergeants in charge of prisoners will exact from them strict compliance with the above calls, which will be regularly enforced, and must promptly report to the officer in charge the number present and absent, sick, etc., and any who are guilty of insubordination or any violation of the Rules of Prison. They must also notify their men that if they do not promptly obey any order given them by a sentinel, officer or man in charge of them, they will be shot.
V. Sergeants in charge will be held responsible for the due execution of these Rules, and for the regular accounting for the full number of their men.
By command of—
Brig.-Genl. A. Schoepf.
Geo. W. Ahl,
Capt. & A. A. A. G."
CHAPTER XVIII
Off for Charleston—Alleged Retaliation—On
Shipboard—Run Aground—Short of
Water—On Morris Island—In Stockade—Under
Fire—Prison Rules
I remained at Fort Delaware until the 20th of August, 1864. Some time previous to this, seventy-five field officers confined at Fort Delaware were selected for retaliation, as the Yankees called it, to be put under fire of the Confederate guns, on Morris Island in Charleston Harbor.
The Confederates had hospitals in one section of the city of Charleston, S. C., with yellow flags flying over them. The Yankees, in shelling the city from their batteries on Morris Island, were in the habit of shelling these hospitals, and were notified that some of their officers, who were held as prisoners of war, would be placed in or near the hospitals. The Yankees did not heed this, but prepared to put Confederate prisoners under fire of Confederate guns, when firing on Yankee batteries on Morris Island.
Firing on hospitals, which were designated by yellow flags, was begun by the Yankees on the 18th of July, 1861, at Blackburn's Ford, and kept up during the war, contrary to the usage of all civilized nations the world over.
These seventy-five field officers were taken to Charleston Harbor, but were not put under fire; instead, they were exchanged for a like number of Yankee officers.
When orders came to Fort Delaware, soon after this exchange, for 600 field and company officers to be put under fire, there was a general desire among the prisoners to be one of the 600, but we had no say-so as to who should go. On the 19th of August, all the prisoners were called out and formed in line, when 600 names were called, and those on the list were notified to be ready to embark the next morning for the trip. Some were so anxious to go that they paid others, whose names had been called, for the privilege of surreptitiously answering to their names. One officer gave a fine gold watch, and after remaining away seven months, and suffering untold privations, was landed back at Fort Delaware.