I remained at Fort Delaware until the 20th of August, 1864. Some time previous to this, seventy-five field officers confined at Fort Delaware were selected for retaliation, as the Yankees called it, to be put under fire of the Confederate guns, on Morris Island in Charleston Harbor.
The Confederates had hospitals in one section of the city of Charleston, S. C., with yellow flags flying over them. The Yankees, in shelling the city from their batteries on Morris Island, were in the habit of shelling these hospitals, and were notified that some of their officers, who were held as prisoners of war, would be placed in or near the hospitals. The Yankees did not heed this, but prepared to put Confederate prisoners under fire of Confederate guns, when firing on Yankee batteries on Morris Island.
Firing on hospitals, which were designated by yellow flags, was begun by the Yankees on the 18th of July, 1861, at Blackburn's Ford, and kept up during the war, contrary to the usage of all civilized nations the world over.
These seventy-five field officers were taken to Charleston Harbor, but were not put under fire; instead, they were exchanged for a like number of Yankee officers.
When orders came to Fort Delaware, soon after this exchange, for 600 field and company officers to be put under fire, there was a general desire among the prisoners to be one of the 600, but we had no say-so as to who should go. On the 19th of August, all the prisoners were called out and formed in line, when 600 names were called, and those on the list were notified to be ready to embark the next morning for the trip. Some were so anxious to go that they paid others, whose names had been called, for the privilege of surreptitiously answering to their names. One officer gave a fine gold watch, and after remaining away seven months, and suffering untold privations, was landed back at Fort Delaware.
ON SHIPBOARD
At the appointed hour on the 20th of August, 1864, the 600 officers embarked on board the steamer Crescent, which steamed away down the bay, out into the broad Atlantic, and down the coast to Charleston Harbor, where they were landed on the 7th day of September, having been eighteen days aboard ship. Capt. Thos. B. Horton and myself were among the number, also Lieut. Peter B. Akers, of Lynchburg.
It was a nasty trip on board this old freight ship, in the summer-time. The prisoners were on the lower or freight deck, nearly on the water line. Two rows of temporary bunks had been built around the sides of the ship, two tiers high. These bunks were about six feet long and three feet wide, with two men in each bunk; a pretty close fit, especially if both occupants were good-sized men. The bunks did not afford sufficient room for all the prisoners, consequently a good many lay on the floor of the deck between the bunks. Here the prisoners laid and sweltered through eighteen days, the boilers running up through the middle, making it much hotter. I occupied a lower bunk on the inside row with Captain Horton, who was my messmate while a prisoner; a good fellow he was, too, and a good soldier. There was a guard of 150 soldiers on board, who occupied the upper deck. The Crescent was escorted by a gunboat.
RUN AGROUND
Off the coast of South Carolina, before reaching Charleston, one night the pilot, who was a Southern sympathizer, attempted to run the ship under the guns of a Confederate battery on the coast, changing the course of the ship, and heading it for land, but unfortunately ran aground near some low-lying islands near the coast, not far from, but not in sight of the mainland. When it was known at dawn of day that the ship was aground, all hands were aroused. Some of the prisoners who knew the coast, said the pilot had missed the channel by only a narrow margin, which led to the Confederate batteries not far away, but not in sight. Nor was the Yankee gunboat in sight; the pilot had given the escort the slip in the darkness. It was plain to see that the guards were very much excited and scared, for they assembled on the top or hurricane-deck with their guns in their hands. The crew of the Crescent went to work to get the ship off the sand-bar on which it was grounded. The prisoners came on deck at will, the guards abandoning their post at the hatchway, where they had been stationed to keep all the prisoners below, except a certain number, who were allowed to come on deck at intervals. All hands were very anxious. Some of the prisoners consulted and determined to make an effort to capture the ship and guard. Col. Van Manning, of Arkansas, was the leading spirit in the movement. I had just come on deck and was standing right by the colonel while he wrote a note to the Yankee officer who commanded the guard. I think I can give the note verbatim: "Sir—We hereby demand the surrender of your guard and this ship. If you comply, you and your men shall be treated as prisoners of war; if you refuse, you will have to take the consequences." The plan was to make a rush on the guard and overpower them by making the attack with such things as were at hand about the deck, if they refused to surrender. Just as Colonel Manning finished writing this note, some one looked out to sea and there was the old gunboat bearing down upon us, and all hope of the capture of the ship and guard was dashed to the ground. And how quick the demeanor of the guard changed; before the gunboat appeared they were very much frightened, and as before said, were gathered together on the upper deck, taking no control of the prisoners, who came on the deck at will, but now they were insolent and dictatorial, ordering the prisoners to assist the crew, and taking control again. The crew pretty soon worked the ship off the bar and we sailed on down the coast, accompanied by the gunboat. I have often thought what a good joke it would have been on the Yankees if we could have captured the ship and guard and taken them all into port on the coast.