IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY.

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to our satisfaction, when, hearing the sound of rowlocks, we knew the enemy must be out in small boats to capture the survivors of our ill-fated expedition. Consequently we left our bales, and floated, nothing but our faces out of the water, believing that by so doing, we should remain unnoticed. We had not floated quite a minute before a yawl, filled with armed men, was rowed up to us, and we were seized and drawn into the boat, with the remark from a rebel captain, "We will get you d-d Yankees once in a while."

We did not like our capture, but we took it good-naturedly, though it seemed rather hard that, after escaping shot, shell, steam, fire, and water, we should have the bad luck to fall into the enemy's hands.

The old pilot had proved a prophet. There was not a single Yankee left to tell the tale. The expedition was reported a total loss, with all on board, and some of us had the pleasure, long after, of reading our own obituaries in the northern journals. They were very kind; so kind, indeed, that we had some hesitation in declaring ourselves alive, lest, when we should really shuffle off this mortal coil, we might not be spoken of so generously. General Sherman, who then had, and may still have, a tender affection for war journalists, expressed his sympathy that night with our reported death by saying, "We shall have despatches from h-1 now before breakfast."

Even we correspondents, who had had glowing visions of the highly rhetorical accounts that we had intended to furnish to the New York journals, were deprived of the privilege of putting a word on paper. Our career of imprisonment began, and a very dreary career it was. We were thrust into two places of incarceration in Vicksburg; were then transferred to Jackson; then to Selma; then to Atlanta; then to Richmond, and finally to Salisbury; having in that time been the inmates, as I have said, of eight different prisons, each one of which was, if possible, more repulsive than that immediately preceding.

At the famous Libby Prison we made our earliest efforts to

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PLANS FOR ESCAPING.

escape; for at the other places we had not remained long enough to perfect any plans for freedom. We all had more faith in tunnelling than in anything else; but being kept on the upper floors of the old tobacco house in Richmond, we had no opportunity to put our faith into the form of works. If we could only have tunnelled the air, we should have come out in the camp of the army of the Potomac before we had spent a month in the Libby.

Numerous efforts were made by the Union officers, while we were with them, to have their quarters changed to the ground floor, on the score of comfort; but their southern keepers were too shrewd to put them there, knowing full well that the prospect of escape by tunnelling would be vastly increased. The northern invaders, as they were denominated, could get down to one of the lower floors, a few at a time; but these were not enough to do the digging, and the other hard work required, within any safe period. They did not, however, surrender their plans, and frequently at night we used to discuss at length the most available means for secur ing our freedom.

Months after, when one of my fellow-scribes and myself (the second had been duly exchanged at Richmond) had been sent farther south as "hostages for the good conduct of the Washington government," we were delighted to learn that the gallant officers we had left behind in Libby had at last succeeded in digging the long-contemplated tunnel, and, what was better, getting their liberty once more.

The ground floor in the most western of the three adjoining warehouses composing the Libby Prison was devoted, during the winter of 1863-4, to storage and lumber, and was seldom visited by the rebel officials. This was very fortunate for the Yankees, who had been prevented before from commencing operations in that quarter, in consequence of the occupation of the floor by some of the southern subordinates. As soon as the prisoners learned that they could operate to advantage, they sawed a hole through the floor of the second story, carefully concealing it by the piece of plank they had sawed out.

WORKING IN A TUNNEL.

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This story was part of their quarters, and they could readily determine when the coast was clear, and let down some of their number, who were not long in removing enough of the first floor to begin their digging. They worked like beavers, relieving each other every two hours, and performing all their labor at night. They began their tunnel just inside of the outer wall, went below the foundation of the building, and then dug laterally to a point where they deemed it safe to come up.

I have had so much experience in tunnels that I regard myself as an authority thereon. They are generally only large enough to admit the body of a good-sized man, who creeps into them, and, lying nearly flat, digs as hard as he can with any instrument he may procure. After the tunnel has been extended thirty or forty feet, lack of ventilation prevents the burning of lights, and anything like freedom of breathing. The Libby tunnel was some seventy feet long; and to remedy this defect, the officers made a large pair of bellows, much resembling those used by blacksmiths, with tacks, blankets, and boards. With this rude but ingenious instrument, they supplied with oxygen the two men employed in the tunnel, one in advance digging, and the other behind, carrying out, or rather backing out, with the dirt in a haversack. Progress, under such adverse circumstances, is necessarily slow, the digging generally being done with a pocket or case knife. Sometimes not more than two feet is made by twelve hours of hard labor, and no one works more than an hour at a time, as the foul air is very exhausting.

The Libby tunnel was not completed in less than a month, the officers being in constant dread lest it should be dis covered. 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

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THE GREAT TUNNEL AT LIBBY PRISON.

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 seventyfive 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.

The second prison in Richmond to which we were consigned was the notorious Castle Thunder. There was no more oppor tunity for digging tunnels there than there had been at the