When the overcrowded train of open freight cars and one or two passenger coaches cautiously crawled over the big trestle-work bridges, constructed by details of soldiers, between Falmouth, on the opposite side of the river from Fredericksburg, and reached "You-be-dam" Station, near Aquia Creek, though only twelve or fourteen miles, it was late in the day. There was a long temporary pier at Aquia Creek, and a number of rough board-sheds had been erected for the accommodation of the Quartermaster, commissary and other officers at this base of supplies. Among these offices was located the railroad telegraph offices, which were then in charge of Mr. Wm. Emerick, at the present time the efficient manager of the Gold and Stock Telegraph Company in New York City. In the management of the business in hand, it so happened that my Captain was obliged to call in a business way upon the Quartermaster, stationed here, to secure the required transportation for his party, on the boat up to Washington City; and while he was showing his papers and explaining his errand, I occupied a seat that I discovered to be convenient to the telegraph office, or desk, which was located in the same room. Mr. Emerick did not at that time suspect that I was an operator, neither did he know that I was under arrest; so, when the attention of the Captain was drawn, Mr. Emerick was eating his lunch outside, I sat on the edge of the rough table that was used for the telegraph instruments. Without speaking a word and apparently intent on watching the Captain's business, as my face was toward him, quietly, with one hand I touched the telegraph key, and deftly making use of my education as an operator, I signaled for attention. Quickly, and as all operators will readily understand, in shorter time than it takes me to tell it on paper, I was recognized by the answer, I, I, g-a., which means, Yes, go ahead. I sent a few words nervously to my brother operator, in effect for Mr. "John Covode—Call at Old Capitol Prison to see me," and signed my name.
This was all done so quickly, and so quietly and effectively, that not one person present suspected that I was occupied in anything of the sort.
Lest I should be suspected, I left the telegraph desk abruptly, but I had the satisfaction of hearing the acknowledgment of my dispatch, in the familiar telegraph sound: "O. K."
In the year following, I rode in an ambulance one day with Mr. Emerick from Aldie to Washington during the Gettysburg campaign, and was amused beyond my power of description to hear Mr. Emerick detail the trick that a Rebel Spy had played on him at Aquia Creek. He did not detect, in my hearty laugh at his recital of the story, that I was in any way an interested party because, at that time, I was on the Headquarters Cavalry Corps, Army of the Potomac Staff, and wore the blue uniform.
At the regular hour for the daily boats to leave Aquia Creek for Washington, we—the Captain, Lieutenant and myself—were aboard and comfortably seated in arm-chairs on the hurricane deck.
About 6 P. M. we ran up past the Arsenal and finally fastened to the wharf. Here I realized fully, for the first time, that the Captain and Lieutenant were both strictly attentive to me, insisting on giving me a helping hand to almost every step through the crowds that were then rushing off the boats as soon as they touched the landings. I realized, with a sickening sensation at my heart, that I was not now free to go as I pleased, as had been my habit on many former trips up the river to Washington.
The officer in charge, not knowing the location of the Old Capitol Prison, in Washington, it became my duty to pilot my guard to my own prison. I believe we went along Maryland avenue, or, at least, to the south side of Washington, on what was known as "the Island"—below the canal—and got up through one of the stone-yards that then surrounded the unfinished Capitol.
In 1862 there were no beautiful Capitol Grounds to the north and south of the building, but, instead, the whole country thereabout was occupied by the gang of stone-cutters and their piles of marble or stone debris, similar to that which surrounded the Washington Monument within the last few years.
I steered the way in a direct course to the Old Capitol. When we got there, we were stopped by an armed sentry on the pavement, who called an officer that escorted us inside the hallway.
Here we were again detained, to wait until the Commandant had been heard from. After a most unhappy wait of half an hour we were ordered to the "office." Here, for the first time, I saw Colonel W. P. Woods, who is, I understand, a resident of Washington. Colonel Woods was rather a young, sharp-looking man, if I remember correctly, with side-whiskers, or, as we term them, short Presbyterians.