In and Out of Rebel Prisons

by A. Cooper

This they cheerfully promised, and also agreed to assist him to the utmost of their ability. They kept him at their house two or three days, until they could exchange his officer’s uniform for that of a private, and then procured him a pass, as their brother, to visit Sullivan’s Island, which was opposite Morris Island, and at one place was only separated from it by about three hundred yards.

This Island was reached by steamer and was strongly fortified. The bay between there and Morris Island was full of torpedoes to prevent attack by water.

He roamed about the Island all day, trying to find some means of crossing, but could discover no boat, not even a plank that would sustain his weight.

He staid on the Island all night and tried again the next day to find some means to get across the short belt of water to Morris Island. He could not swim, and not a board was to be found that would assist him in his extremity.

He was without food and was now taken ill, and was finally obliged to go back to Charleston, and give himself up, when he was placed in the hospital, and after his recovery, sent back to prison.

September 26th, we were told that if we would give our parole not to attempt to escape, good quarters would be furnished us, and as escape from here seemed impossible, we gladly accepted the proposition.

Upon giving our parole eighty of us were sent to a house on Broad Street, which looked out on the bay. It was a three story, white house, with wide piazzas facing the water, and just across the street were bath houses, that we were permitted to use whenever we pleased. Here for the first time since we were placed in the pen at Macon, we had the facilities for cleanliness so necessary to insure good health. Then in the evening we could sit out on the piazza, and, looking down the bay, see the flash of the guns five miles away, anon hearing sharp quick reports, and then watch the course of the shell by the trail of fire, as it pursued its course into the city, while we amused ourselves by singing and commenting upon the bombardment.

We were visited almost daily by the Sisters of Mercy—God bless these brave, noble women—who brought in delicacies for the sick, and tobacco for those that used it, which they gave freely to those without means to buy, or sold to those who were able to pay. They also traded Confederate money for our greenbacks, giving us better rates than we could get elsewhere. Then they would take the greenbacks to the reb prisoners on Morris Island, for they had free access through both lines in prosecuting their christian duty, and they were worthy of the confidence of both governments, as they never acted the part of spy for either. Braving every danger, and only intent on doing service for the Master, and relieving suffering wherever they could find it. How many of our poor boys, who were brought there from Andersonville, and were suffering from disease and starvation, were soothed, nursed and comforted by those noble women. May God reward them for all their self sacrifice, all their tedious pilgrimages, from one camp to another, all their weary watching beside the squalid pallets of the wretched suffering heroes, despite the hurtling missiles of death, that were flying in every direction about the city; nothing daunted or deterred them from making their regular daily visits, though I know of one instance, (and it was probably only one of many,) where a shell struck and burst only a few feet in front of the carriage that was bringing them to our quarters.

They were frightened badly, and what woman would not be, but this did not deter them from making their daily visits to the sick and suffering soldiers of both armies, and doing all in their power to alleviate distress, feeding the hungry, and watching by the bedside of the dying, administering the consolation of Christian faith and hope to those who were passing away, their only reward the consciousness of a duty well performed. “Verily they shall have their reward.”

On the 5th of October we were again on board a train, and this time our destination was Columbia, the capital of South Carolina. We were placed in box cars, with two guards at each door, some of the same men who had been guarding us while in Charleston, and with whom we had been on terms of intimacy, we having been allowed many privileges while on parole, and had not been under as strict surveillance as heretofore, being permitted to go in and out during the day, whenever we pleased, and had gained the confidence of our guardians to such an extent, that they did not think it necessary to watch us very closely. This we thought would be a good chance to escape. It was agreed between us that Captains Cady, Hock and Eastmond and Lieut. Masters should jump from the car, which was running only about ten or twelve miles an hour, and I was to go on to Columbia with our baggage, of which we had considerable, so that in case of recapture, they would not lose all of this, to us, valuable property, but would again be in condition to commence housekeeping. Cady and Masters sat in the door with their legs hanging out, and I sat beside the guard, and after dark got into conversation with him. I had a pine stick which I was whittling, and as he would frequently bring his gun to an order beside me, I managed to remove the cap from his gun, and insert this pine stick into the tube.