THE INGENIOUS DEVICE OF A WOMAN—DESPATCHES CONCEALED UNDER THE HIDE OF A DOG—"DEAF BURKE," THE MAN OF MANY DISGUISES—FREQUENT COMMUNICATIONS BETWEEN THE LINES—BISCUIT A MEDIUM OF CORRESPONDENCE—DEATH OF COON HARRIS AT SHILOH—A BOLD UNION SPY—AN EXECUTION AT FRANKLIN, TENN.
The secret service or "spy" system of the South did not differ greatly from that of the North. There may have been in that section a lack of available gold with which to pay expenses when desirable information was required, but there was certainly no absence of courage or patriotism on the part of those who were willing to risk their lives or imprisonment in the event of capture. This was especially true of Southern women; and those who are familiar with their achievements in this field of war will bear witness to the shrewdness, persistence, and fidelity with which they often pursued their dangerous investigations.
One or two incidents will illustrate. It was of the utmost importance to General Beauregard, in 1862, to learn the strength of McClellan's army and whatever facts might relate to his suspected designs on Centreville, Va. For this mission a woman was chosen. She was a young widow whose husband had been killed at the second battle of Manassas; a Virginian of gentle birth; prior to the war a resident of Washington, and a frequent visitor in the society circles of Baltimore, Philadelphia, and New York. Making her way across the lines, she promptly entered upon her task, and through trusty agents was soon enabled to obtain a complete roster of the Federal army, together with much valuable information concerning its probable movements. She was absent two months.
Returning at the end of this time, she crossed the Potomac opposite Dumfries, Va., an outpost then under the command of Col. (afterward Gen.) Wade Hampton, and the fair spy was promptly forwarded to the Confederate headquarters at Centreville. Her baggage consisted of a small grip-sack and a tiny Scotch terrier. Warmly welcomed by Beauregard, she proceeded with true womanly volubility to entertain him with a description of her adventures and their result. The general patiently permitted the lingual freshet to flow on without interruption, supposing that when she got tired she would produce the expected despatches from other secret agents in the North. But the little woman's tongue seemed to be hung in the middle and to wag at both ends; moreover, she was too pretty to be abruptly silenced by the polite creole commander.
Finally, unable to restrain his anxiety any longer, he said, "Well, Mrs. M., I shall be glad to see your papers."—"I didn't dare to bring them on my person," was the reply; "it was unsafe. In fact, I have been suspected and searched already, and so I familiarized myself with their contents. You see it is fortunate that I have a good memory." At this remark, Beauregard showed his chagrin, and frankly told the lady he could place but little reliance on her memory of so many figures and details, and therefore that her mission had proved of little use.
Listening to his scolding with a demure air, and looking at him with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, she called her dog: "Here, Floy!" The Skye terrier jumped in her lap. "General, have you a knife about you?" The knife was produced. Then she turned the animal over on its back, and, to the amazement of Beauregard, deliberately proceeded to rip him open. In less time than it takes to tell the story, she held in one hand the precious papers and in the other the skin of the Skye terrier, while prancing about the floor was a diminutive black-and-tan pup overjoyed at his relief from an extra cuticle.
The shrewd woman had sewed the despatches between the two skins in a manner that defied detection, and under the very noses of the Federal outposts had brought through the lines some of the most important information transmitted during the war. It is needless to say that Beauregard was delighted, and it was but a little while after this incident that McClellan advanced on Centreville only to find deserted camps, batteries of "Quaker guns," and the Confederate army falling back toward Richmond and Yorktown.
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Combining in his person the qualities of scout, sharp-shooter, dare-devil, and spy, a Texan known as "Deaf Burke" made himself famous among the higher officers of Longstreet's corps during the early part of the war. Like Terry of Texas, afterward notorious in California, Adams of Mississippi, Mason of Virginia (brother of the United States senator who with Slidell of Louisiana, became the subject of international complications with England), and many other daring spirits, he was at first merely a volunteer or independent fighter subject to no orders; but his temerity in passing the lines, mingling in disguise with Union officers and soldiers, and his adroitness in securing valuable information quickly brought him to the notice of Lee and Longstreet. He was about forty-five years of age, a natural mimic and dialectician—could talk to you like a simpleton from the backwoods, or a thoroughbred gentleman—and he never lost his nerve. Not far from the Potomac, the writer met him in the garb of a Quaker, but only recognized him at night when incidentally he became a tent mate. Then it was learned that he had just returned from Washington, where during the preceding three weeks he had mingled among Southern sympathizers and secured the information for which he had been sent. Prior to this, disguised as an old farmer living in Fairfax County, Va., he had driven a load of wood across the Federal lines. In one of the logs were concealed the despatches intended for headquarters. Later in the war, when transferred to the West, he distinguished himself as one of twelve sharp-shooters chosen to handle as many Whitworth rifles that had been imported; and still later was killed in battle among the Texans, of whom it was his pride to be considered one.
The comparative ease with which communications were established between the lines is further illustrated by an incident. General Rosecrans and a portion of his staff, when in Tennessee, occupied a mansion not far from the outposts of the two armies. The hostess, Mrs. Thomas, was the wife of a Confederate colonel whose regiment was but a few miles distant. Her negro cook made excellent biscuit, which had become the subject of frequent comment at the table, the general being especially pleased. Mrs. Thomas taking advantage of this circumstance, and her acquaintance with him, suggested the propriety of sending some of the warm breakfast to their mutual friend—her husband. Rosecrans readily agreed, and under his own flag of truce, and through one of his own orderlies, a package of biscuit was duly forwarded to Colonel Thomas with an open letter from his wife. Two hours later, the Confederate officer was in possession of all the available secrets at Federal headquarters, and for weeks afterward the bake oven was the mute agent of communications, some of which proved important to the Southern commanders. The housewife had enclosed her tissue-written missives in the pastry, and the ruse was not discovered until after the war, when the story was told to mutual friends.