On the 21st of July General Patterson, who had been operating with a large union army watching General Joe Johnston's motions around Winchester, fell back from Charlestown to Harper's Ferry. This was the day on which the first battle of Bull Run was fought in which Johnston took an important part, having given the slip to Patterson, who no doubt, was much surprised afterwards to learn that his antagonist was not still at Winchester on that fatal day. Patterson's army occupied Harper's Ferry for several days and helped themselves to most of what was left by the rebels. Whatever may be said of their exploits on the field of battle their achievements in the foraging line are certainly worthy of mention in this and all other impartial histories of that period. The United States army at that time was composed of "three month's men" and certainly, it must be said that if they were not thieves before their enlistment their proficiency in the art of stealing was extraordinary, considering the short time they were learning this accomplishment so necessary or at least so becoming in a thorough campaigner, especially while in an enemy's country. Hen's teeth are articles the scarcity of which is proverbial in all countries, but it can be safely averred that, when this army left Harper's Ferry, the teeth of those useful fowls were as plentiful at that place as any other part of them, and Saint Columbkill himself could not desire more utter destruction to the race of cocks than was inflicted on them at Harper's Ferry by General Patterson's army. Indeed, every thing movable disappeared before them and, at the risk of not being believed, the author will declare that he learned of their carrying off a tombstone from the Methodist cemetery. What they wanted with it he will not venture to guess, but a regard for the truth of history compels him to relate the fact. It may have been that some company cook wanted it for a hearth-stone or it may have been that some pious warrior desired to set it up in his tent as an aid to his devotions, but certain it is that six or eight soldiers of this army were seen by many of the citizens conveying it between them from the cemetery to their bivouac in the armory yard.
When Patterson's men crossed into Maryland on their way home—their three month's term of service having expired—quiet again, and for a comparatively long time, reigned at Harper's Ferry. At Sandy Hook, however, there was a lively time during the month of August and a part of September. General Nathaniel Banks, of Massachusetts, at one time speaker of the House of Representatives, was sent with a large army to occupy that village and Pleasant Valley, and, for six or seven weeks, those places enjoyed the felicity that had fallen to the lot of Harper's Ferry during the spring and early summer. General Banks earned for himself the reputation of being a thorough gentleman and, although his after career in the war was not signalized by much success, no failure on his part has been sufficient to erase the respect which he earned from people of all shades of political opinion in that region. His army occupied the low grounds between the Blue Ridge and the Chesapeake and Ohio canal, as, also, Pleasant Valley, while the General's headquarters were at the house of Mr. Jacob Miller, near Sandy Hook. The latter place, though a mere hamlet, at once acquired a national importance, but, for some reason, Harper's Ferry was entirely ignored for the time. Indeed it appeared to be an axiom with the officers of both armies that the latter place could not be defended successfully against any considerable force. The first battle of Bull Run or Manassas had been fought July 21st—the day on which General Patterson's army retreated from Charlestown to Harper's Ferry, instead of being engaged with General Joe Johnston's forces, who were that day aiding Beauregard at Manassas, having stolen away from Patterson. General Bank's as well as other commanders of the union army were being re-organized and prepared for future operations, and Sandy Hook for some reason, was assigned as the temporary position of that General. Early in the Fall he moved to Darnestown, twenty miles farther down the river and after a short stay there he moved to Frederick City, where he spent the winter. After the departure of the main army for Darnestown the 13th regiment of Massachusetts Volunteers was left at Sandy Hook as a corps of observation and a guard for the ford at Harper's Ferry. These men were uncommonly zealous in shooting at rebels as long as they—the 13th—were on the Maryland side of the river with the broad Potomac between them and the enemy, or rather between them and Virginia for, now, it rarely happened that a Confederate soldier appeared anywhere within gun shot of them. Crouching under the buttresses of the ruined bridge on the Maryland side of the river in the now dry bed of the canal, or among the thickets and rocks of the Maryland Heights, the gallant 13th kept up a constant fire on the few inhabitants of Harper's Ferry, suspecting or affecting to suspect them of being rebels. Everything that moved about the streets they shot at vindictively. The appearance of even a mullein leaf swaying in the wind elicited a volley from these ever vigilant guardians of the nation, and it was lucky for the place that they were indifferent marksmen, else it would have been wholly depopulated. They had field glasses through which they watched the motions of the inhabitants and there is no exaggeration in saying that they shot at weeds set in motion by the wind, for it frequently occurred that volleys were fired at bushes which in no way could hide an enemy and which were noteworthy only because they were set in motion by the breeze. Sometimes the 13th would send detachments in skiffs across the river and on one or two occasions they were encountered by parties of Confederates who would occasionally lurk in the cemetery and behind the fences on Camp Hill and keep up a scattering fire on the "Yankees" in the town. In one of these skirmishes a rebel soldier named Jones was killed near the graveyard, a bullet having penetrated through the palm of his hand and then into his stomach. In this affair an officer of the 13th, whose name need not be given, very much distinguished himself. At the first fire he jumped into the Shenandoah to hide behind a stone wall that protects the Winchester and Potomac railroad from the strong current of the river. Although he effectually shielded himself against fire, he was not equally successful against the river which at this place is both deep and rapid and he had much difficulty in saving himself from being drowned. As it was, his fine clothes were much damaged and a red sash, which he wore around him, left a stain on his uniform which could not be removed by any amount of washing. It would appear as if a soldier's uniform eternally blushed for the cowardice of the unworthy wearer. This officer was loaded down with medals and badges of merit which he said himself he had gained in the Crimean campaign, fighting against the Russian Bear. After this skirmish he lost caste in his regiment and soon after he was sentenced by a court martial to a term in Sing-Sing for embezzlement. It is told that when he entered the prison and the principal keeper, with a view of assigning him to some suitable employment, inquired if he had learned a trade of any kind, he answered, that he never had labored any, but that he was a scholar and could talk in seven languages. The keeper on this told him that at Sing-Sing there was but one language spoken and d— little of that, and he immediately set the scholar to work in one of the shops. This was unkind in the keeper but, no doubt, it would be difficult to please all penitentiary prisoners in assigning them employment during their terms of servitude. An Irishman, under similar circumstances, was asked what trade he would have and answered that he always had a liking for the sea, and that he would choose to be a sailor. History does not record what success the Irishman met with in the assignment to work.
Our hero was certainly a poor specimen of the men who fought at Alma and Sebastopol, if, indeed, he ever saw the Crimea, which is very doubtful. In justice it ought to be noted that he was not a Massachusetts man by birth. His men, however, on this occasion showed a good deal of gallantry and, under Lieutenant Brown, of the same company—his name needs no concealment—they stood their ground like good soldiers until the enemy retired. The writer is not prone to saying harsh things, but he cannot forget the many bullets shot at him by the above regiment and that a whole platoon of them once opened fire on him and a young lady in whose company he was at the time, actually cutting off with their balls portions of the lady's headgear. He also remembers a degrading proposition made to him by some of them—that he should inform them as to what rebels in the neighborhood were in good circumstances, with a view of plundering them, the rebels, and dividing the proceeds with the informer. The officer whose conduct in the skirmish was so discreditable would have been left to oblivion, had not his behavior to some ladies of the place been as disgraceful as his cowardice in battle. But, notwithstanding all this, his name is mercifully omitted.
Early in October Mr. A. H. Herr, proprietor of the Island of Virginius and the large flour mill on it, having a large quantity of wheat which he could not grind into flour—his mill having been partially destroyed by some federal troops under Lieutenant Colonel Andrews, brother of the governor of Massachusetts, in order to prevent the confederates from using it—and being a union man at heart, invited the government troops to remove the grain to Maryland. There being no bridge across the Potomac at the time, a large boat was procured and a company of the 3rd Wisconsin regiment impressed the few able-bodied men at the place into the service of the government to take the wheat from the mill to the boat and ferry it across with the aid of the soldiers. The citizens were promised a liberal per diem, but that, like many other good promises and intentions, forms a part of the pavement of a certain region where it never freezes. Even the sacred person of the future historian of the town was not spared, and many a heavy sack did he tote during several days, under the eye of a grim Wisconsin sergeant who appeared to enjoy immensely the author's indignation at his being put to this servile employment. Like the recreant soldier at Sing-Sing, the historian derived no benefit on this occasion from the smattering of different languages with which he is credited, while the sergeant was indifferent as to the tongue in which the writer chose to swear or to the number of anathemas he thought proper to vent against the world in general and soldiers in particular, he took care that the hapless author did his full complement of the work. Suddenly, on the 16th of October—the second anniversary of the Brown raid—while the citizens and soldiers were busy working at the wheat, a report reached them that Colonel Ashby, at the head of the Virginia militia, was approaching from Charlestown to put a stop to their work. The news turned out to be true and Colonel—afterwards General—Geary, at one time governor of the territory of Kansas, and, after the war, chief executive of the State of Pennsylvania, at the head of three companies of the 28th Pennsylvania, three companies of the 13th Massachusetts and the same of the 3rd Wisconsin regiments, crossed the river from Maryland and marched through Harper's Ferry to Bolivar Heights, where the enemy were posted. A very sharp skirmish took place, which is known in history as the battle of Bolivar Heights. Both sides claimed the victory, though both retreated—Geary to Maryland and Ashby up the valley towards Charlestown. Four or five federal soldiers lost their lives in this affair, but the loss of the Confederates is unknown to the writer. It is certain that many of them were wounded severely, but they acknowledged only one death. Many young men of the neighborhood of Harper's Ferry, who were serving in the confederate army, were wounded in this battle, among whom were J. W. Rider and John Yates Beall, the latter of whom was afterwards executed in New York for being engaged in hostile acts within the limits of that state. Colonel Geary succeeded in capturing and taking to Maryland a large cannon belonging to the confederates, but the latter claimed that they had abandoned it as being unserviceable and that there was no honor attached to the possession of it by the union troops.
The federal soldiers were very much excited on this occasion, in consequence of a malicious report spread among them that some citizens of Bolivar were harboring the enemy in their houses and giving them an opportunity to pick off the unionists from the windows. Mr. Patrick Hagan was arrested on this charge and hurried away to Maryland without his getting time to put on his coat of which he had divested himself for work around his house. This gentleman was one of the most peaceable men of the place, and no citizen of either party in Harper's Ferry or Bolivar believed that he was guilty. Notwithstanding his high character, however, he was taken away in the condition mentioned and kept in confinement for several months in a government fort. This is one of many instances where private malice got in those unhappy times an opportunity for venting its spite under the cloak of patriotism. In a few days after this skirmish a party of confederate cavalry entered the town and burned Mr. Herr's extensive mill, thereby inflicting an irreparable loss on the people of the place. As before noted, Lieutenant Colonel Andrew had partially destroyed it—that is—he broke up a part of the machinery—just enough to render the mill incapable of being worked. This damage could have been easily repaired and, if no further harm had been done to it, the mill could have been put into working order in a few days. The confederates, however, destroyed it completely and the shattered and toppling walls are still to be seen, a monument of vandalism and a reproach to civilized warriors.
From this time the town was visited nightly by scouts from both sides and the citizens were, as the Irishman says, "between the devil and the deep sea." As the nights grew longer and lights became necessary the people felt the inconveniences of their situation the more keenly. The sides of the houses fronting the Maryland Heights were, of necessity, kept in total darkness, else the fire of the unionists was sure to be attracted. The sides fronting the south stood in equal danger from the confederates and, families were obliged to manage so that no lights could be seen by either of the contending forces.
On the 11th of November a party of union men determined to cross the Potomac and throw themselves on the protection of the United States government, as they were threatened with conscription by the Virginians as well as exposed to insult for their opinions. They were, moreover, men in humble circumstances and they wanted employment somewhere. Their interest as well as their sympathies were with the north, or rather with the old government, and they resolved to make a break from the danger and humiliation of a residence in a debatable territory. Six of them, namely: Alexander Kelly, the same who had so narrow an escape from Brown's men; John Kelly, J. Miller Brown, G. S. Collis, Lafayette Davis, and the author of these annals, therefore procured a leaky skiff from "Old Tom Hunter," the Charon of the Potomac and Shenandoah since the destruction of the bridges. Hunter's son ferried them across, just in time to escape a party of confederates then entering the town, to impress them into their service. Joyfully, the refugees approached the Maryland shore after the dangers of their stay at Harper's Ferry and the no small risk they had run of being drowned, as the river was then very high and rapid and the skiff unsound and over-burdened with passengers and baggage. Their disappointment and astonishment were great, therefore, on their being informed that they would not be allowed to land; that their crossing was in violation of the rules established by the officer in command at the post and that they must return to Virginia. This was not to be thought of and, after a long parley, they received an ungracious permission to disembark, when they were immediately made prisoners by order of Major Hector Tyndale, of the 28th Pennsylvania regiment, in command at the place. This potentate was not to be cajoled by their protestations of loyalty to the United States government. In every one of them he saw a rebel spy. He took them separately into a private room, examined their clothes and took possession of every paper found on them. Their baggage was searched thoroughly and several poetical effusions of the author of these pages, addressed to various Dulcineas of Virginia and Maryland on the day of "Good Saint Valentine" some years before—copies of which he had unfortunately retained—excited the wrath of the puritanical Tyndale to a high pitch and brought down on the hapless poet the heaviest denunciations. Mr. Collis, also, fell in for a share of the Major's displeasure. Being a member in good standing of the Independent Order of Odd Fellows, Mr. Collis had obtained a traveling card from Virginia Lodge, No. 1, of that society at Harper's Ferry, to which he belonged. This card he had, or thought he had, put away safely in his vest pocket which he had pinned securely for the safety of its contents. Major Tyndale felt the pocket and demanded to know what was in it. Mr. Collis replied that it was his "traveling card." The major insisted on seeing it and, lo, when Mr. Collis showed the package and opened it, instead of an Odd Fellow's card, it turned out to be a daguerreotype likeness of one of that gentleman's lady friends which, through some inadvertence, Mr. Collis had substituted for what he had intended to guard with so much care. The Major taking this mistake for a wilful personal insult, stormed wildly and remanded the six prisoners for further trial, when they were confined with other captives in Eader's hotel at Sandy Hook. It will be believed that, under the circumstances, they were a gloomy party and, in view of the probability that things would grow worse as the night advanced, the author uttered a pious ejaculation, expressing a wish that he had the freedom of Sandy Hook for half an hour to improve the commissariat of the prisoners which was rather scant and entirely wanting in that article so indispensable to people in trouble and to many under any circumstances—whiskey. As luck would have it, the prayer reached the ear of the sentinel at the prison door, who was a six-foot representative of that beautiful island which is so touchingly described by one of its inspired sons as:
"Poor, dear, ould Ireland, that illigent place
Where whiskey's for nothing and a beating for less."
The word "whiskey" was the sesame to the sentinel's heart. He looked around cautiously to see if the officer of the guard was near and, the coast being clear, he opened the door and, in a confidential way, remarked that he supposed the speaker was a dacent boy who would do the clane thing and that he—the sentinel—would run the risk of letting him out on parole of honor for half an hour. The offer was accepted joyfully and, in an incredibly short time, the author, who in those days, "knew all the ropes," returned with a load of crackers, cheese and sausages, pipes and tobacco, and the main desideratum, a very corpulent bottle of "tangle foot," a very appropriate name for the particular brand of Sandy Hook whiskey. With these refreshments and a greasy pack of cards, the night wore away pleasantly and, before morning, the Irish sentinel was the jolliest man of the party for, on every passage of the bottle, his services were gratefully remembered and rewarded with a jorum. When the time came for relieving the guard the sentinel was too drunk to stand upright and present arms and the sergeant who, too, was a good fellow or who was, perhaps, himself drunk, did not change the guard. Anyway, the jolly Irishman was left at the post 'till morning and he did not complain of the hardship of losing his sleep. The greater number of his prisoners were too top-heavy to make their escape, even if they were inclined to play false with their indulgent keeper. Next day they were examined again and subjected to various sentences according to their supposed delinquencies or their ability to do mischief. The hapless author was condemned to banishment to a distance of at least ten miles from the lines of the army for his unholy poetry and—as Major Tyndale actually expressed it—because the expression of his eye was unprepossessing. Mr. Collis was permitted to stay at Sandy Hook, but he was obliged to report every morning at 10 o'clock at the major's office. Many and various were the adventures of this as well as of other parties of Harper's Ferry people who were scattered about by the chances of the times. A narrative of them would fill a very large volume, if not a fair-sized library, and it may be that some of them will appear in future biographical sketches.
On the 7th of February, 1862, two parties of hostile scouts encountered each other at Harper's Ferry. The federal spies had spent the most of the night of the 6th at the place and about dawn on the 7th had entered a skiff to return to Maryland, when they were fired on by some confederates who were watching for them, and one of them, named Rohr, was killed. Another, named Rice, threw himself into the river and, by his dexterity in swimming and by keeping under cover of the skiff, managed to save his life and escape to Maryland. The confederate scouts were of Captain Baylor's company, who kept Harper's Ferry in a state of terror all the winter, entering the town every few nights and doing many harsh things, without the order or approval of their captain, who, however, was held responsible for their acts and was treated with a great deal of unjust severity when in the course of events he became a prisoner of war.