Читать книгу Secrets of the Late Rebellion, Now Revealed for the First Time - Jacob R. Freese - Страница 15

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THE battle of Gettysburg, fought on the 2d and 3d of July, 1863, was one of the most important, if not the most important, battle of the whole war. The conflict had now been going on for over two years with varying success. Each side had used its utmost efforts for success, and to the general public the end seemed no nearer than in the beginning; but those behind the scenes saw things in a different light, and especially was this true of President Davis and his cabinet. While he and they well understood the advantages of keeping up a fair outside show, they knew equally well that the proportion of strength had greatly changed between the North and the South. Commencing with proportions of two to one (20 to 10) they had reached the proportions of three to one (15 to 5), and another such battle as that which had just occurred—in which the losses on both sides were immense, and in which both sides thought themselves defeated, and were making preparations for retreat on the day following—would make the disproportion still greater.

They knew, too, that every day made their situation more and more desperate; that every day increased the effectiveness of the blockade; that food, clothing, and all the necessaries of life were every day becoming scarcer; and while they still had almost any quantity of cotton, they knew the people could not eat that, and unless some new source of nutrition for the Confederacy could be opened, it must soon succumb from mere exhaustion. To add still further to the difficulty, their communication with the North seemed about to be cut off entirely. Up to that time their letters from their Northern sympathizers, from England, and from other parts of the world, had reached them through blockade-runners, mostly by the way of Nassau; but the recent capture of some of these blockade-runners, and the stricter watch now kept by the United States blockading squadron, made this source look more and more doubtful, and certainly less and less reliable.

Mr. Davis, when United States Senator and when Secretary of War, had credit for brains and great shrewdness; but never did he need them so much as now, and as "necessity is the mother of invention," the fact of the need called forth from his fertile brain a plan of domestic diplomacy which would have done credit to Pitt in his palmiest days. However good a conception or plan may be, still it is of no use unless it can be put into execution, and just here was President Davis's greatest trouble. He had scores of officers about him ready to do his slightest bidding, but among them all he could think of no one exactly fitted for the kind of service he then had in view. When in his greatest distress of mind, walking the floor for hours at a time, thinking, thinking, thinking, it happened that Colonel Ralph Abercrombie, who was in command of a Louisiana regiment in General A. P. Hill's corps, came into Richmond, and, as was his custom, called immediately at the executive mansion. The Colonel had been known to Mr. and Mrs. Davis since a boy. Mr. Davis, when Secretary of War, had appointed him to a lieutenancy in the regular army. Both Mr. and Mrs. Davis were on the most intimate terms with his widowed mother, and though the Colonel was now about thirty years of age, they still called him Ralph.

When, on this visit, he observed the President's anxiety, he naturally inquired the cause, and soon learned from Mr. Davis the outlines of his plan. The Colonel at once offered his services to put the President's plan into execution, only suggesting that, instead of opening the route to Washington via Chesapeake Bay and Leonardstown, Md., he would prefer a more northern route, for the reason that he was better acquainted with the Potomac between the Great Falls and Cumberland than with the route proposed by President Davis. When a lad, he had attended St. James' College, near Hagerstown, Md., and, by frequent drives through the country, had learned every foot of ground between that point and Washington city.

Mr. Davis listened attentively, and when the Colonel had finished, he quickly replied that his offer of services had relieved his mind of a great anxiety; that he would accept them most gladly; and that he would agree to any route upon which the Colonel might fix. He told the Colonel, in addition, that he would appoint, to assist him, any one whom he might name, and that in opening and establishing the route he could employ whoever he pleased, and use any amount of funds that might seem necessary, as the project involved millions of money, if not the very life of the Confederacy; and that the few thousands it might cost would only be as dust in the balance, as compared with the advantages to be gained.

Colonel Abercrombie immediately turned over the command of his regiment to Major Charles Hall (the Lieutenant-Colonel, John H. Black, being on sick leave from a wound received at Gettysburg), and entered upon the duty of opening this new route to Washington. From Richmond to Orange Court-House (General Lee's headquarters) was by rail, and involved no difficulty. From thence to the Rapidan River, on the southerly side of which lay the Confederate army, and on the northerly side the Union army, was easy enough; but from thence, to first get through the Union line of pickets, and then traverse about seventy miles of country, until the Potomac was reached at or near the Great Falls, about twelve miles above Washington, was the tug of war. To establish this latter part of the route involved the employment of about twenty men—some as guides from point to point; some to furnish horses, or other conveyances, to the blockade-runners and their passenger guests; some to entertain and conceal them whenever they came that way; some to be on the constant lookout, and pass the word from post to post, if any danger threatened the blockade-runners or any of their employees; some to row them across the Potomac, and meanwhile keep their boats concealed from the eyes of Union troops and guards; and others to pass them through safely from the Great Falls to Washington and return. The men so employed included planters or farmers, doctors, merchants, and day-laborers, all of whom received pay for their services from the Confederacy, through the hands of Colonel Abercrombie or Colonel Kill-gore. Besides these, the guides had under pay three old negro women, at whose huts they stopped and concealed themselves and guests, whenever occasion required. At Great Falls, Messrs. Garrett & Morse, merchants, were the principal agents. Upon them depended mainly the keeping open of the line from that point to Washington city; the crossing of the Potomac at or near that point; and to see that the guides on the Virginia side of the Potomac were always ready for service. At Washington city the grand depot, or end of the line, was at Ben Beveridge's saloon, and the "Washington House," kept by Ben's mother, at the corner of Third Street and Pennsylvania Avenue. Ben furnished the disguises for both conductors and passengers on this line, and was always ready to lend a helping hand in any way in which his services could be made available. His first advance pay for services was two thousand dollars in gold, to which additions were made from time to time until he received from eight thousand to ten thousand dollars, all in gold. All these men were in entire sympathy with the Southern Confederacy, and nearly all offered their services gratuitously when first spoken to on the subject by Colonel Abercrombie; but his plan was to bind every man to greater faithfulness by having him to accept pay from the Confederacy, and hence he would not accept of gratuitous service from any one. How many thousands or tens of thousands of dollars were distributed by Colonel Abercrombie and Colonel Killgore, for the Confederacy, in this service, we are unable to say, but certainly a good many. It took about six weeks of faithful service for Colonel Abercrombie to open this new line, and, when completed, he returned to Richmond and reported to President Davis that the line was now ready for business.

Mr. Davis approved of all that had been done, and asked Colonel Abercrombie whom he would have as an assistant. The Colonel named his personal friend, Colonel Newton Killgore, who was then on detached service at Charleston, S. C. Killgore was a graduate of West Point, and a Lieutenant in the Topographical Engineer Corps, U. S. A., previous to the breaking out of the war. He was then about twenty-seven years of age, active, energetic, wide-awake, and just the man, as Colonel Abercrombie thought, for such service. Mr. Davis sent for him, and after explaining the kind of service to be done, placed him upon the duty, and directed him to hold himself in constant readiness for orders, which he did from that time forth.

The first service, on this new line, required by President Davis of Colonel Abercrombie, was to carry eleven letters to, and open personal negotiations with, Major Weightman, of Washington; George Thomas, John P. Grundy, Alexander Gibson, of Baltimore; Dr. Charles Howell, C. C. Pollard, George J. Platt, of Philadelphia; Mr. McLane, President of the New York Pacific Mail Steamship Company, Mr. Waddell, of the same company, and John Lamb and Alexander Goldsmith, brokers, of New York city.

With Major Weightman Mr. Davis had been on most intimate terms of friendship for many years. Both were Mississippians, both had been in the Mexican war, where Major Weightman gained considerable notoriety, was badly wounded, returned home, married a rich lady at Jackson, Miss, (a Miss Willowby), resigned his commission in the regular army, removed to Washington, and from thenceforth lived a quiet, retired life in that city. When the war broke out between the North and South, Major Weightman still continued his residence in Washington city, and soon became on most intimate terms with Secretary Seward and President Lincoln. When rallied about his position, he always replied that he was "a Union man," and there left it. His word was regarded as law, and no one questioned him further. Meanwhile, however, all his sympathies were with the South, and he was in almost constant communication with Mr. Davis. Through him Mr. Davis first learned of these other gentlemen to whom he now wrote, and with some of whom he had, after learning of them, kept up a correspondence. Mr. Davis now wanted arms, provisions, clothing, while these gentlemen, he knew, wanted cotton, and the object of the present letters and negotiations was to exchange the one for the other—to the great advantage of the Confederacy, and with immense profit to those who might take part in the speculation. The Confederacy had taken in exchange for bonds, had taken for taxes, and had otherwise become in possession of millions upon millions of dollars' worth of cotton. The gentlemen to whom these letters were addressed possessed, or could control, millions upon millions of dollars in money, and with this money could purchase what the South then stood so much in need of—arms, food, and clothing. The cotton was greatly needed by American and English manufacturers, and could be sold at a price five times greater than Mr. Davis would sell it to them for. On the goods which they would exchange for the cotton, immense profits could be made. The only difficulty was in getting the cotton out of the Confederacy, or in securing it from destruction while it had to remain there. To effect this they must either run the blockade, or so cajole President Lincoln, his cabinet, and his generals in the field as to secure the cotton whenever the Union armies reached the places where the cotton was deposited. The risk in all this was considerable, but the immense profits to be gained far more than overbalanced the risks.

On reaching Washington, Colonel Abercrombie went directly to the house of Major Weightman. The two soon after met at Ben Beveridge's, and then and there negotiated for a suite of rooms in the "Washington House," to be all the time kept for the agents of, and all the while paid for by, the Southern Confederacy. An order for two thousand dollars in gold was handed Ben Beveridge at once, as an earnest of what he might expect if he proved faithful and true. Three days after, Major Weightman and Colonel Abercrombie went to Baltimore to call upon Mr. George Thomas. After the delivery of President Davis's letter, and a general talk over the matters to which the letter referred, Mr. Thomas concluded to call together a few well known Southern sympathizers at a dinner-party next day, when and where the whole subject could be thoroughly canvassed. The dinner came off next day, as proposed, and around the table were gathered the following well-known gentlemen: Mr. George Thomas, John P. Grundy, Dr. Leslie Buckler, Alexander R. Gibson, Major Weightman, Colonel Abercrombie, James Wilson, J. W. Jenkins. The result of this conference was entirely in favor of President Davis's wishes.

Next day Major Weightman and Colonel Abercrombie, accompanied by Mr. James Wilson, went to Philadelphia, and called at once upon Dr. Charles Howell, then living on Rittenhouse Square. After delivery of letters and talking over matters somewhat, Dr. Howell, like Mr. Thomas, decided to call together at a dinner-party next day a few well known Southern sympathizers, when and where the whole subject could be thoroughly discussed. This was done, and the following gentlemen were present: Dr. Charles Howell, C. C. Pollard, George J. Platt, Philip Swift, Charles H. Mason, Jacob Florence, Major Weightman, Colonel Abercrombie, and Messrs McLane, Lamb, and Waddell, of the New York Pacific Mail Steamship Co., who had been invited by telegraph. Here, too, the result of the conference was entirely favorable to Mr. Davis's wishes; but, before a final conclusion of the negotiations, it was deemed best that Messrs Lamb and Waddell should accompany Colonel Abercrombie back to Richmond, see President Davis personally, take a general trip through the Confederate States, and, on their return, report to an adjourned meeting. Meanwhile, whatever funds Mr. Davis might need should be furnished Major Weightman, to be deposited by him with Mr. Riggs, the banker at Washington, to the credit of the Southern Confederacy.

These arrangements were all satisfactory to Colonel Abercrombie except the piloting of Messrs. Lamb and Waddell through the Union lines to Richmond. This, he feared, would be a difficult, if not an impossible, task.

While he recognized the fact that both these gentlemen might sit in their Wall Street banking-offices with all the dignity of a Sir Josiah Child, or grace a lady's parlor with all the urbanity of a Lord Chesterfield, yet he feared that when disguised as farmers or day-laborers, when required to tug along on foot for several miles at a time, and then ride, pell-mell, on horseback for a score of miles at a time; when compelled to sleep in garrets or in the loft of a negro-hut; when required to prevaricate, or even to lie, in order to get by a Union sentinel, they might not be quite equal to the occasion. The Colonel tried to persuade them to go by the way of Nassau, and from there run the blockade into Charleston, as he himself had done when he first entered the Confederate States; but the more he tried to persuade them to this course, the more determined they were to go with him. Over the difficulties and hardships mentioned by the Colonel, they only laughed, said they could stand it all, that it would be as holiday-sport to them, and that, in a day or two, both would meet the Colonel at Ben Beveridge's, in Washington, and from thence make their way with him to Richmond.

The third day after, Messrs. Lamb and Waddell were in Washington, and that night, between eleven and twelve o'clock, left Beveridge's, en route for Richmond. Ben and Weightman accompanied them to a Mr. Thecker's house, in Georgetown, where the disguises were to be put on. Lamb first placed himself in the hands of the manipulators. He had been wearing long chin whiskers; these Ben cut off at one fell swoop, leaving his face as bare as a child's. Next, his hair was nicked and chopped over, as if done with a pair of sheep-shears, in the hands of a country bumpkin, instead of by a Broadway barber. Then he was stripped of his latest-fashioned coat, vest, and pants, and in their place was supplied with a suit which would have done credit to an ox-team driver. Waddell came next. His magnificent beard, covering his entire face, was cut clean off, and, in place thereof, two false "mutton-chop" side whiskers and a false moustache, both butternut-color, were put on his face. Next, Ben applied the shears to Waddell's head, and pretty soon his hair presented the appearance of a country ox driver's. Then he, too, was stripped of his Broadway suit, and in a few minutes transmogrified into a fat, jolly farmer, or a Conestoga team-driver. The Colonel was already in disguise, and had been ever since he left his uniform at Mr. Joseph Mix's, about eleven miles within the Confederate lines, and now it only required a little touching up, which the Colonel did for himself while the others were laughing over their own outlandish appearance.

About one o'clock in the morning all were ready for a start. Ben consented to go along until the first guard was passed—Major Weightman to wait at Thecker's until Ben returned. It was the latter part of August, 1863, and the nights, just then, were not only very warm, but very dark. Ben led the way, Lamb and Waddell followed, and the Colonel served as rear-guard. When Ben, who was several hundred yards in advance, reached the canal-lock, near which a guard was stationed, he played the drunkard, and cursed the lock-tender loud enough for the guard to hear. The lock-tender was one of the Colonel's men, and in the pay of the Confederacy. He knew Ben's voice, and knew, too, that the Colonel was not far off Ben told the lock-tender, in a voice loud enough for the guard to hear, that he had plenty of whiskey and plenty of cigars in his pockets, and wondered if the guard would n't like some. The lock-tender thought it probable, whereupon Ben staggered off towards the guard, flourishing a bottle of whiskey as he went, and crying out to the guard, "Don't shoot! Don't shoot!" The bait took. The guard gave no challenge—allowed Ben to approach him—took a good swig of whiskey from Ben's bottle—lit a cigar which Ben had handed him—entered into a rip-raving-swearing conversation with Ben; and, while all this was going on, the Colonel and his guests slipped quietly by, and were a good half-mile beyond the guard before Ben bade him good-night.