Capture and Escape: A Narrative of Army and Prison Life

by John Azor Kellogg

I looked the brutes over—sixteen four-legged Confederate soldiers, regularly mustered into the service.

"Well," said I, "you Southerners need not say anything more against the North employing negroes for soldiers, when you use dogs. I had rather fight by the side of a negro than a bloodhound."

"That's jest as a feller is raised," said he. "I think niggers is more ornery than dogs."

A year or two since this negro hunter, Davis, exhibited his pack of bloodhounds in New York City, and among those who attended the exhibition was my friend L. G. Billings. I should have supposed his curiosity would have been gratified in South Carolina. For my own part, although I am fond of dogs and of hunting, I confess that it makes all the difference in the world to me, which end of the dog is toward me when the hunting is being done.

We were taken by the negro hunter back to the camp of the Second South Carolina Cavalry, which was on outpost duty, and were placed in an inclosure that had evidently at one time been a hog pen. There a guard was thrown around us, and we were kept on exhibition until nearly dark. Some spicy, italicised conversation here took place between the prisoners and their captors, which finally resulted in our being removed to a log building used as a medical dispensary. By giving our parole not to attempt to escape during the night, we were relieved from the surveillance of a guard, and furnished with a good supper. Next morning, on extending our parole to our arrival at Charleston, we were escorted to the cars by the First Lieutenant, in whose charge we had been placed, and who finally accompanied us to Charleston.

Confined at Charleston

Upon our arrival in this latter place, we were confined in the Charleston jail and yard. The members of our party were placed in the jail for a few days, as a punishment for attempting to escape, although our right to do so if possible was not seriously questioned. On our release from close confinement we found our old companions in misery, in the jail yard.

This jail was a stone structure, two stories in height, situated very nearly in the centre of the city. On one side was the workhouse, wherein were confined a large number of the prisoners; on the other was the Marine Hospital. The jail yard was in the rear of the building; the fence surrounding it was about sixteen feet in height, and its top bristled with iron spikes. Both outside and inside the walls was stationed a line of sentinels, although for several days after our first introduction to the interior I did not discover the fact that there was a guard outside. Inside the walls was a well, a cistern, and a sink. Six hundred of us were confined here and within the building.

Our situation was not as comfortable as at Macon. The height of the wall prevented a free circulation of air, which circumstance, together with the atmosphere generated by the sink, did not precisely furnish us with the air of Araby the Blest. The water was brackish, and unfit for anything but washing and culinary purposes. The cistern furnished a limited supply to quench our thirst. Taking it altogether, it was neither pleasant nor salubrious.

While a change from the everlasting corn meal, our rations were light, and not the most palatable to Northern stomachs. They consisted of rice and lard. Just what use we were expected to make of the lard, we never found out.