CONFEDERATE PRISONERS AT MORRIS ISLAND.
[The following article was written in 1901 by Capt. Walter G. McRae, of the 7th North Carolina Infantry, who was one of the prisoners sent to Morris Island. The article was sent to the Veteran by Gen. James I. Metts, commanding North Carolina Division, U. C. V.]
In the month of August, 1864, a report spread among the prisoners of war at Fort Delaware that six hundred of their number were to be sent off and placed under the fire of the Confederate batteries in Charleston Harbor in retaliation for alleged cruelties to Northern soldiers confined in the South.
It was only a few weeks since that about fifty field officers went away under a similar threat, and they had been duly exchanged. We were so certain that this last move was a bluff that every one was anxious to go. Many whose names were not on the list gathered up their poor belongings— watches, rings, a little money, anything and everything of value which had escaped confiscation—and came and _ laid them down at the feet of the elect, if haply they might persuade some one to exchange places. They cared not what was to come. Anything for a change! The list was made up of six from Maryland, one hundred and eighty-six from Virginia, one hundred and eleven from North Carolina, twenty-four from South Carolina, sixty from Georgia, ten from Florida, twenty-six from Alabama, twenty-two from Mississippi, thirty-one from Louisiana, five from Texas, twenty-seven from Arkansas, eight from Missouri, thirtyfive from Kentucky, forty-nine from Tennessee—six hundred in all. Of these, twenty-eight were field officers, one hundred and seventy-two were captains, three hundred and ninety-three were lieutenants, six were enlisted men, and one citizen.
On the 20th of August these formed up and were marched aboard the steamer Crescent, those left behind shouting messages for "Dixie" and wishing the crowd a safe trip. In the hold of the ship rough bunks, four tiers deep, stretched from stem to stern, and into these the men were crowded. Only one hatch was left open, so that the place was very close and dark. The August heat was intense even on deck. Imagine, then, the situation in this foul hold, near the steaming boilers and glowing furnaces, with six hundred seasick men, already enfeebled by close confinement, sweltering and gasping for water, which was doled out hot from the condensers! Every day as we voyaged south the conditions grew more unbearable. Two gunboats, with shotted guns bearing upon the Crescent, acted as escort, and a battalion of infantry patroled the decks and guarded the open hatch. A few of the field officers were permitted to remain in the cabin on deck. It was from them that the tenants of the hold learned what was going on above, and it was clearly understood that if any chance for escape should offer the line officers would risk a rush for the deck and a fight with the guard. Improbable as it seemed, the opportunity came, but was not seized, owing to the treachery of one or more of our own men or the secret
" 'Gonfederate Veteran.
work of spies. It was this way: Just before day one morning when we were off the South Carolina coast there came a sudden jolt and a stoppage of the machinery. Pretty soon word came down from the field officers that the transport had become separated from the gunboats and was ashore | near Cape Romain and that they had summoned the guard to surrender. The captain had asked for a half hour's grace, promising to give up without a fight at the end of that time |: in case the gunboats did not come up. The counsel of. Ahithophel was to take the ship at once and escape to the beach. But some traitor prevailed against this advice. We had promised to be ruled by orders from the cabin. Before | the half hour was out the gunboats were alongside. We heard that the pilot who ran us ashore was a Southern man; |, that he was immediately arrested and later tried for his life; |. but we had no means of verifying this "grapevine telegram."
The Southern soldiers were always cheerful. The greater their trials, the brighter shone this quality. When pushed. to the utmost on forced march, when rations failed, through |. biting blasts or scorching heat, they maintained their good.: humor and took "fortune's buffets and rewards with equal _. thanks," breaking into songs, gibes, and chaffings like Mark |). Tapley under very adverse circumstances.
This happy disposition helped to keep us alive in the Crescent's hold. There were several of Morgan's officers aboard, and, though invisible in the darkness, ygu might hear them calling to one of their mess, a tall cavalry captain, who was a fine story-teller and a clever mimic: "Say, Hammock, tell us about the hair-lipped man. What did he say to Mrs. Gillespie?" etc., and pretty soon would follow shouts of laugh- |) ter as Hammock progressed with his yarns and imitations. Long afterwards, when many had died and all had starved, | and when the scurvy had plowed lines of suffering on every face, when the war in the field was over and we were about | returning to face the more heartless war of Reconstruction, Captain Hammock stood before the poor, emaciated crowd, spread out his legs, and, with arms akimbo, personated the | "Loyal" Irish woman and said: "Now, yez must all go home || and be clever fellies, bekaze the government's trated ye so leniently."
On August 25 the Crescent anchored for a short time at Hilton Head, and during the night two or more prisoners managed to slip overboard, swim ashore, and escape.
On the 7th of September we disembarked at Morris Island, and when we finally came out into the light of day and had |: a look at one another we were astonished to note the ravages made by the terrible heat and the nauseous confinement. One could scarcely recognize his best friends. There were six of us from Wilmington, N. C., all badly damaged. Had we been consigned to any good business man, he would have rejected the cargo and refused to pay the freight.
We were turned into a stockade, built immediately in front of what was formerly Battery Wagner. Our position was such that every shot or shell from the guns of Sumter and |. Moultrie and the other Confederate batteries must either pass close over our heads or right through the pen. Any which fell short or exploded a tenth of a second too soon must strike death and destruction into our crowded ranks.
As soon as the Federals got us "fixed" to their notion, they opened fire right over our heads upon the Confederate positions. They may have counted on receiving no reply, as our men knew we were in front of Wagner, and I think the, Southern artillerists were slow about taking the challenge. Perhaps they were selecting their best gunners, Any way,
"ne fine morning when the Yankees opened up and were vetting "gay" we saw a puff of smoke blow out from Fort foultrie, and almost immediately heard the rush of a fine, targe shell. It passed howling over our heads and smashed cato the nearest embrasure, where it exploded with much savoc. We noted signs of great excitement within the batvery, and an ambulance dashed from the rear to the scene and look away the wounded. Our officers fervently shook hands vith each other, and not one lifted up a voice of lamentation. It was a good shot.
\ At night, when the firing was going on, the burning fuse 'vas plainly visible, and one could mark the flight of the "hells from the moment they left Moultrie until they burst "ear us. Always some fellow would shout a warning: "Here "he comes! Here she comes! Grab a root!" Albeit there »rere no roots to grab on that bald sand beach. Very few of 'ur men were killed or wounded, and we had reason to thank "zod and give praise to the good Southern gunners who 'ighted so true. It is certain our enemies made every pro'ision for our annihilation.
' The rations consisted of sour corn meal which would stand lone when the barrel was knocked from it, stuff, as we were aformed, which had been condemned by the Union commisaries as wholly unfit for their troops. Occasionally we re'eived a piece of hog meat about one inch square and, say, "alf an inch thick, with as many pickles, put up in something ear akin to vitriol, as we wanted. Of the rotten meal we "eceived daily six or eight ounces.
'Some of the prisoners, for the sake of the record, comjlained to the colonel. He replied that it was all right; here was meat enough in the meal, bugs and worms, and that _£ he had his own way he would be only too glad to feed us (0 greasy rags. This man, it was said, commanded a Massa,husetts negro regiment and was not a veteran. We heard ater that some of his own men killed him. But perhaps the ish was father to the rumor.
» In striking contrast to this vile treatment was the conduct o£ Col. P. P. Brown, of the 157th New York, who, when the orisoners were sent to Fort Pulaski on October 24, treated 'hem with great courtesy and respect and did everything possible for their comfort. He had met the Southerners on the ine of battle, where he was doubtless worth a regiment of jhe other kind. But the government was determined, as Capjain Hammock said, to be "lenient" with us, so they at once gemoved Colonel Brown, who was a gentleman and therefore yinfit for the work, and substituted another. The truth is that wherever we came in contact with veterans we received only cindness.
1 It is always the noncombatants who are the most venomous. +t was one of this kidney, a certain Douglas, of an Ohio regiPaent, who murdered Col. E. P. Jones, of Virginia. The olonel, a wounded officer, was not walking fast enough to i uit the cowardly sentinel, who ordered him to get a better snove on him, and when the prisoner turned to explain the lifficulty the fellow heartlessly shot him to death and vhreatened a like fate to some brother officers who wanted 0 take up the body.
' The United States government termed this treatment of (southern officers retaliation, but retaliation implies the paying cack in one's own coin. And that is what we have never!dmitted. No rumors, reports, affidavits, no exhibitions of -ick and disabled prisoners, no judicial hangings could then }¥ ever since convince us that Davis, Stephens, Robert E.
Lee, Stonewall Jackson, or any other of the great and good men of the South would have maltreated unarmed prisoners of war. Did not Jackson say while he lay mortally wounded at Chancellorsville when the physicians wished to send him off the field less he should fall into the hands of the enemy, "And if the enemy does come, I am not afraid of them; I have always been kind to their wounded, and I am sure they will be kind to me." And any of our leaders might have said the same.
It is well known that supplies and medicines and clothing were not always to be had for our own soldiers at the front. We know that a large part of the army had been more than a day without food when they fought the battle of Sharpsburg and that the thin gray line in front of Petersburg never knew a full ration, and we know that because of all this our leaders exhausted every. effort to exchange prisoners, offering several for one, but without avail. So we resolved to take what came with a good courage, knowing that to us was not the shame. And this resolve was kept by many unto death. A few, as many perhaps as might be counted upon the fingers, worn out with exposure, scurvy, and starvation, "fell away to the Chaldeans."
But ail of these things and much more—the many attempts at escape, always betrayed, the sickness, the wounds, the deaths, the organized efforts for mutual help, though there was little to give except sympathy and literally a cup of cold water for His sake, the names, rank, command, and native States of all the six hundred—are they not written and minutely set forth in Col. John L. Cantwell's book of statistics and notes which he began to collect from the start and which, with untiring zeal and great patience, he continued to enlarge and perfect on the spot and down even to the present day and which he preserved, Heaven knows how, amid all the chances and changes of our prison life, so that it furnishes the only authentic statement of those trying times which is now extant, though I believe he has permitted the authorities at Washington to copy the list of names and deaths, and several other copies have appeared in the South without the proper credit? Glancing over this little book, the eye rests on this pathetic sentence: "Was not allowed to mark the graves of brother officers at Fort Pulaski, though headboards were prepared (by the prisoners) for all the dead." What need of any further comment?
On March 4, 1865, we left Fort Pulaski, and on April 26 Colonel Cantwell, Capt. John T. Rankin, John Cowan, and other Wilmingtonians left for the South. To Capt. Thomas
C. Lewis the writer is indebted for his notes of prison life which have been followed in this account. It would require a book to tell the whole story.
When Queen Anne told Dr. South that his sermon had only one fault, that of being too short, he replied that he would have made it shorter if he had had more time.
I have purposely refrained from details, since we have settled down to the arts of peace and are trying to forget the hate and bitterness of the past. One may see now the smoke of thousands of factories and furnaces where grimvisaged war left a waste. The South has risen as if by a. miracle. The government and the Morris Island man could maltreat us, but some of his prisoners have attained to national fame; all have done well, and their land God himself blessed it, and neither Baalam nor his ass can curse it.
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