63. An Escape from Prison
THE possibility of escape was a subject of thought and conversation among us quite early in our imprisonment. After Henry's departure, I made up my mind to try the
experiment as soon as matters seemed ripe for it. The reports of exchange just at hand, which coaxed us into hope from week to week, for
four months, no longer tantalized us. I was exceedingly restless and impatient. There was scarcely a day of which I did not spend more than one hour in thinking of the
possibilities and probabilities of the attempt; and many a night did my bedfellow and I lie awake after others had gone to sleep, and discuss the merits of 'various plans. I
used to pace our empty front-room, and think of the sluggish wretchedness of our life here, and the joy of freedom gained by our own efforts,—the same round of thought
over and over again,— until I was half wild with the sense of restraint and of suffocation.
Our plan, as finally agreed upon, was simple. Twice during the day we were allowed half an hour in the yard for exercise; being counted when we came in, or soon after,
to assure the sergeant of the guard that we were all present. In this yard was a small brick building consisting of two rooms used as kitchens,— one by ourselves, the other
by the naval officers. The latter of these had a window opening into a woodshed; from which, part of the side being torn away, there was access to a narrow space between
another small building and the jail-fence. Our intention was to enter this kitchen during our halfhour of liberty, as we were frequently in the habit of doing; to talk with
those who were on duty for the day; remain there after the cooks had gone in, leaving lay-figures to be counted in our stead by the sergeant; thence through the woodshed,
and, by removing a board of the high fence already loosened for the purpose, into the adjoining premises, from which we could easily gain the street. The latter part of the
movement— all of it, indeed, except the entrance into the kitchen, where we were to remain
quiet for several hours-was to be executed after dark.
The street once gained, my comrade and I intended to take the railroad running northward along the banks of the Broad River, follow it during the first night, while our
escape was still undiscovered, then strike as direct a course as possible for the North-Carolina line. Through the latter State, we hoped to make our way westward across
the mountains, where we should find friends as well as enemies, ultimately reaching Burnside's lines in East Tennessee. The distance to be passed over we estimated at
about three hundred miles; the time which it would occupy, at from twenty to thirty days. The difficulties in our way were very great, the chances for and against us we
considered certainly no better than equal.
Our preparations for such a trip were, of necessity, few. We manufactured a couple of stout cloth haversacks, in which, though hardly as large as the army pattern, we
were to carry ten days' provision,— each of us two dozen hard-boiled eggs, and about six quarts of corn parched and ground. Besides a rubber blanket to each, we
concluded, for the sake of light traveling, to carry but a single woolen one. This, with one or two other articles of some bulk, we placed in a wash-tub and covered with
soiled clothes, in order to convey them, without exciting suspicion, to the kitchen. My baggage, for the journey, besides what has already been referred to, consisted of an
extra pair of cotton socks, a comb, toothbrush, and piece of soap, needle and thread, a piece of stout cloth, a flask about one-third full of excellent brandy, a piece of lard, a
paper of salt, pencil and paper, and my home-photographs.
Two dummies, or lay-figures, were to be made. The first was a mere pile of blankets; but its position in the second story of our double-tier bedstead protected it from close
observation. For the second, I borrowed a pair of pants, and for one foot found a cast-off shoe. The upper part of the figure was covered with a blanket; and the face, with a
silk handkerchief: attitude was carefully attended to. I flattered myself that the man was enough of a man for pretty sharp eyes, and was satisfied when Lieutenant Bliss
came in, and unsuspectingly addressed him by the name of the officer whose pants he wore.
After the last thing was done which could be done in the way of preparation, time passed very slowly. I was impatiently nervous, and spent the hours in pacing the rooms
and watching the sluggish clockhands. The excitement of anticipation was hardly less than that which I have felt before an expected fight. The personal stake at issue was
little different.
My comrade in this venturesome move was Captain Chamberlain, of the 7th Connecticut. He was well-informed, an ex-editor, plucky, and of excellent physique, well
calculated to endure hardship, and a good swimmer. He was that day on duty in the kitchen. At four P.M. we went out as usual for exercise. Entering the kitchen a few
minutes before our halfhour had expired, I concealed myself in a snug corner, before which one or two towels, a huge tin boiler, and other convenient articles, were so
disposed as to render the shelter complete should so unusual an event occur as a visit from the guard after that hour.
It was but a few minutes before the corporal, acting for the day as sergeant, was seen to enter the room to which all but the cooks and myself had returned.
Our confidence that all would go well was based in great measure upon his stupidity; and it was with greatly increased apprehensions that I heard that he was accompanied
to-night by Captain Senn.
Rather than pass the ordeal of a visit from him, had we anticipated it, we should probably have deferred our attempt another day, even at the risk of losing our chance
altogether. He opened the door and went in. I waited anxiously to hear what would follow. He seemed to stay longer than usual. Was there anything wrong? Suspense
lengthened the minutes; but it was of no use to question those who could see, while the door remained closed, no more than myself. Presently I was told that the door was
open; he was coming out; there seemed to be no alarm; he was stepping briskly toward the yard. We breathed more freely. A moment more, and he was going back,
evidently dissatisfied with something. He re-entered the room. "It's all up,"said my reporter. I thought myself that there was little doubt of it, and prepared, the moment
any sign of alarm appeared, to come from my retreat, which I preferred to leave voluntarily rather than with the assistance of a file of men. Too bad to be caught at the
very outset, without so much as a whiff of the air of freedom to compensate us for the results of detection! But no: Captain Senn comes quietly out, walks leisurely
through the hall; and his pipe is lit,—best evidence in the world that all is tranquil, his mind undisturbed by anything startling or unexpected.
But it was too soon to exult: congratulations were cut short by sudden silence on the part of my friends. I listened: it was broken by a step on the threshold,
and the voice of the captain close beside me. I didn't hold my breath according to the established precedent in all such cases ; but I sat for a little while as still as I did the
first time that ever my daguerreotype was taken; then, cautiously moving my head, I caught a view of the visitor as he stood hardly more than at arm's-length from me. He
was merely on a tour of inspection; asked a few unimportant questions of the cooks, and, after a brief call, took his leave. It was with more than mere physical relief that I
stretched myself, and took a new position in my somewhat cramped quarters. Immediate danger was over: we had nothing more to fear until the cooks went in. We
listened anxiously, until it seemed certain that all danger from another visit and the discovery of Captain Chamberlain's absence was over; then sat down to wait for a later
hour.
After perhaps an hour of quiet, we set about what little was to be done before we were ready to leave the building,— the rolling of our blankets, not yet taken from the tub
in which they had been brought out, the filling of our haversacks, etc. To do this in perfect silence was no easy task. Any noise made was easily audible outside: the
window looking toward the jail had no sash, and the blinds which closed it failed to meet in the center. A sentry stood not far distant. More than once, startled by the loud
rattling of the paper which we were unwrapping from our provisions, or the clatter of some dish inadvertently touched in the darkness, we paused, and anxiously peeped
through the blinds to see if the sentry had noticed it. The possibility of any one's being in the kitchen at that hour was probably the last thought to enter his mind. Many
times
we carefully felt our way around the room,— stockingfoot and tip-toe,—searching for some article laid down perhaps but a moment before, lost, without the aid of eyesight
to recover it, until at length we thought ourselves ready to pass into the adjoining room, whose window opened upon the woodshed.
The only communication between these rooms was by a small hole broken through the chimney-back, scarcely large enough to admit the body, and with the passage
further embarrassed by the stoves on either side, so placed that it was necessary to lie down, and move serpent-wise for a considerable distance. Captain Chamberlain
made the first attempt, and discovered that the door of the stove on the opposite side had been left open, and wedged in that position by the wood, crowded in for the
morning's fire; so that the passage was effectually obstructed. The hole had to be enlarged by the tearing-away of more bricks, which, as fast as removed, he handed to me
to be laid on one side. Patient labor at length made a sufficient opening, and he passed through. I handed to him the blankets, haversacks, and shoes, and with some
difficulty followed.
