About nine in the evening the stairs leading to the second floor were lowered.[F] One officer was called by name and taken into the office, and when he returned another was called, and so on, until all of us had been interviewed by the notorious Major Turner. The name of our ship, where and when captured, how many men we had, and a lot of other questions were asked. That racket continued until about three o'clock in the morning. Each of us had asked him about our prospects of being exchanged. "That is an affair about which I know nothing," was his answer. Of course, none of us thought about sleeping that night. Walking the floor and discussing the situation suited us better under the circumstances. About four o'clock there was more excitement. A day's ration of food was issued to each one. It consisted of two small pieces of corn-bread, and of mighty poor quality. At five o'clock that evening, Major Turner, and his equally notorious clerk, Ross, came to the head of the stairs. Our names were called, and each one sent down to the hall. An engineer's name was called, but that gentleman was ordered to stand by the door. When the list was exhausted the door was locked and the engineer left in the room. It was afterward learned that he stated to Turner that he belonged to an army transport. We were formed in line, in squads of four, facing the door. At six o'clock in the evening the doors were opened, and the order, "Forward, march," given.
[F] The stairs were hung on heavy hinges, and every night they would be hoisted up by a pulley, similar to a trap-door.
Outside was a strong escort of rebels. Our hearts were fairly in our mouths for a short time. If we turned for the left it would be for the flag-of-truce boat; if to the right, it meant an indefinite stay in prison. It was the "left," and all doubts were removed—we were going home! The sailors were brought out and followed in our rear. It was an interesting trip down the James River. We had a fine view of the rebel batteries. Three iron-clads were passed, and several pontoon bridges across the river had to be opened on our approach. The most interesting thing was the sunken obstructions, with the secret channels. Considerable skill was required to get the boat through them. The guns from Grant's and Lee's batteries could be plainly heard. Next in view were the rebel shells exploding high in air over Dutch Gap, Ben Butler's celebrated canal. Finally we espied some Yankee pickets, then came Aiken's Landing. The boat was fastened to the dock, and all went on shore and waited for the Commissioners of Exchanges to receive us. In a short time Major Mumford arrived. He was on horseback, and a flag of truce was stuck in his boot-leg. His salutation was:
"Boys, the ambulance will be here in a few minutes with the Confederates. You can either ride or walk, but get over to our boat as soon as you can, as the exchange may yet fall through."
As soon as the rebel prisoners came in sight we started off. Walking was good enough for us. What a contrast between the two parties! The rebel officers were all dressed in new Confederate uniforms—probably furnished by rebel sympathizers in the North—and the sailors all had good clothing, and were healthy in appearance. They also seemed happy about going home, even if they were bidding good-bye to coffee and tea. The least said about our party the better. We were only sorry that we had not time to catch a few pecks of vermin for the others to take back to the Confederate States of America.
On the rebel boat there was a brass band, and, as a parting compliment, they regaled us with the old familiar tune, "Then you'll remember me." There was a large bend in the river below Aiken's Landing, and our boat was quite a distance around the bend. We walked about a mile and a half across the strip of land, many of the disabled sailors following us in ambulances. On the dock were a large number of trunks, with a sentry guarding them. We were told that it was the baggage belonging to the rebel officers. Quite a number of our party made a rush for the trunks, with the intention of dumping them into the river. The guard said, "Go ahead, boys, I won't stop you," but Major Mumford advised them not to do it, as it might cause serious trouble. Then all went on board our boat, the Martha Washington. Several barrels of steaming hot coffee were ready.
"Boys, help yourselves. Crackers and cheese in the boxes!"
In a short time the Sanitary Commission boat came alongside. Clothing was furnished to all, and anything that could be done for the men was done cheerfully. Nothing was too good for the ex-prisoners. Surgeons were busy attending to the sick.
Scurvy and bowel complaints were the most common trouble. The officers were assigned to the after cabin, and the men were all given comfortable beds. From Libby to the Martha Washington made a wonderful change in our spirits. No one, to see us then, would recognise us as the miserable set of beings of a few hours past. In the cabin we had a fine dinner set before us, and bottles of whisky galore.
"Gentlemen, drink plenty of whisky while eating," were the orders from the surgeon.