THE GREAT TUNNEL AT LIBBY PRISON.
The Libby tunnel was not completed in less than a month, the officers being in constant dread lest it should be discovered. But it was not even suspected, and on a certain morning everything was pronounced ready for the test of its practical availability. Those who had done the most work and been the longest in confinement had precedence. About ten o’clock the prisoners began crawling into the tunnel one by one, while the entire number, including those who had no expectations of freedom, lay anxiously awake, awaiting the result of the undertaking. When daylight came, nearly a hundred and twenty, if I remember rightly, had gotten out; after that hour all further attempt had to be abandoned. A few poor fellows in the mouth of the tunnel were obliged to creep back and surrender the prospect of freedom for which they had so earnestly longed.
At the Libby, as in most prisons, the roll was called and the men counted every morning and evening, for the purpose, of course, of seeing if anybody had escaped. That particular morning at the Libby, the absence of the one hundred and twenty rendered the existence of a tunnel so highly probable that the rebels at once set about finding it, and in less than an hour they succeeded. They were angry enough, especially as one of the missing was Colonel A. D. Streight, who had been captured with a number of his men on a raid into Georgia, and whom the rebels so cordially detested, that they refused to exchange him, or the officers with him, thus interrupting the cartel until nearly the close of the war. I knew Streight very well in captivity,—he fell into the enemy’s hands in Georgia on the same date that I had a similar fortune in front of Vicksburg,—and I was rejoiced at his getting away, because his foes were so anxious to retain him.
The officers who escaped had a very severe experience. Long confinement and wretched food, not to speak of the poisoned air they had breathed, had rendered them weak and incapacitated for exertion. They had not more than seventy-five miles to go to reach our camp, but many of them could not march, others lost their way, and others again lacked the nerve and will to push steadily on. At least half of them were retaken, and those who arrived within our lines were in a pitiable condition. They had suffered from want of food and shelter; were excessively fatigued, and so foot-sore that in numerous instances their toe-nails came off, and they were unable to walk any distance for weeks after.
OUR QUARTERS IN LIBBY PRISON.
The second prison in Richmond to which we were consigned was the notorious Castle Thunder. There was no more opportunity for digging tunnels there than there had been at the Libby; and yet we had, if not expectations of escape, a settled determination to employ every possible means in our power. We plotted and plotted by night and by day; had secret communications with Unionists in Richmond; had rendezvous appointed in the event of our getting out; had the guards bribed; had our programme fully arranged; indeed, had everything complete except our escape. The fault certainly was not ours; for prisoners were never more prudent, never more watchful, never worked harder than we. Fate seemed to be against us. There was always a hitch, a tangle, a broken link, for which we were not in any way responsible. Having three of the guards properly bribed, one of them on the particular night when we intended to get out would inevitably become intoxicated; some agent whom we had trusted for a certain emergency would fall ill; a highly important message would miscarry at the critical moment; and thus were we cheated of our exertion and enterprise so repeatedly that it is singular we did not despair altogether.
HOW PLANS WERE FRUSTRATED.
We were betrayed once by a contemptible Marylander, who, himself a prisoner, and pretending to be excessively loyal, imparted to the authorities what he had suspected, in the hope of gaining their favor. The result was, that we were thrust into a noisome dungeon, and kept there for two weeks, with half a dozen deserters from the rebel army, who had varied their military life by forgery, burglary, and assassination. Having been returned to our old quarters, and having just formed a new project for emancipation, which we felt assured would fulfil its purpose, we were ordered off to Salisbury.