Avenging justice on the murderer’s track
Follows to claim her due.”
It is with a loathing, sickening sensation, similar to that with which men regard the bloated toad or slimy reptile, that I view the Yankee officials who come round daily, often with no other object but to tantalize the prisoners. The idea that their treasonable invasion of the just rights of the South has placed me in my present position, sends the warm blood rushing to my heart and brain—my shattered nerves resume their elasticity, and feel as if they were suddenly transformed to steel. More than once I have clenched my hands with nervous impatience, till the nails almost cut the flesh, for the Yankees, from their very nature, seem to feel an almost inhuman joy in contemplating our imprisonment; and what is more calculated to vex? We were allowed to go a swimming this evening. Saw two young ladies—nearer than I have seen a lady for two months, for they passed directly by us. They were, indeed, fair and good-looking, but as they did not condescend to notice me:
“Why should I, wasting in despair,
Die because a woman’s fair;
What care I how fair she be,
If she be not fair to me.”
It was told us on Friday that we would certainly be sent to Dixie to-day, but to-day they say we are not to go until Monday. I believe the sole delight of the Yankee authorities here is to tantalize us as much as they can. I read somewhere that the word tantalize thus originated—a man named Tantalus had been found guilty of a crime in Germany, and as a punishment for the same he was denied water for a certain length of time, although water, by machinery, passed nearer every moment to his parched lips—every moment the cooling draught suddenly swept by him in pipes, and became more and more close to his mouth, but yet never near enough for him to quench his thirst. Afterwards whenever a man had expectations of a flattering nature held out to him and was frustrated, he was said to be tantalized. Truly, the Yankees are fond of tantalizing—they like to deceive and tyrannize over those in their power. All cowards are prone to do the same.
On the 15th of July, Sergeant J. J. Cox, first battalion Louisiana volunteers, and John A. Toole, 9th Virginia cavalry, made their escape from Fort Delaware under the following circumstances: At 8 o’clock, P.M., when the sergeants were calling the roll in the enclosure, they a squeezed out of the apertures left for the passage of air throughout the quarters, and concealed themselves in the long grass outside the barracks. They now had about ten paces to crawl in order to reach the path on which the sentry walked, and they passed this point in safety and unobserved by the sentinel, with their knives between their teeth, ready to use at any moment. They then crossed the moat and embankment in safety. It was now seventy-five yards to the river. On the way there they discovered a board on which they tied their clothes. As they were about to get into the water, they saw a boat full (as they supposed) of soldiers rowing towards the shore, and in about ten minutes another came. This delayed them an hour, when they leaped into the water, and swam half way across the river. Here a government transport passed so close to them that they could discern every rope on board. Having eluded this boat they had no further trouble, and reached the shore between Delaware City and New Castle on the marsh, after being five or six hours in the water, and having swam a distance of three and a half miles on a board! They remained on the marsh until the night of the 16th, when they started on their journey South—paused the town of St. George, Delaware, the same night. They went to Baltimore and Washington to look round, and from the latter they made their way to Dixie, easy enough, in the character of stock buyers.
July 28th. This day has been spent in reading the “life of Washington,” loaned me by a fellow-prisoner. The war for independence has always been considered the heroic age in American history, and while many despaired of peace ever again smiling upon the land, Washington placed his confidence in God, and overcame all difficulties. In September, 1775, Washington wrote in relation to a proposed attack upon the enemy at Boston and Roxbury: “The success of such an enterprise, I well know, depends on the All-wise disposer of events, and it is not within the reach of human wisdom to foretell the result, &c.” In January, 1776, he wrote: “For more than two months I have scarcely emerged from one difficulty before I have plunged into another. How it will end God in his great goodness will direct.” Those who fight the battles of a country may derive their loftiest inspirations from trust in providence. In July, 1775, Washington said in an order to the troops: “The fate of unborn millions will now depend, under God, on the courage and conduct of this army. Let us rely upon the goodness of the cause, and the aid of the Supreme Being, in whose hands victory is.”