Raiding with Morgan
Calhoun took a seat by his side, and the man whispered, “Are you a deserter, and are they after you?”
“Yes,” said Calhoun.
“Where are you going?”
“To Columbus.”
“That is a poor place to go to keep out of the hands of Lincoln’s minions,” answered the man.
“I am not afraid,” said Calhoun. “What I want to know is where I can find friends in Columbus whom I can trust – true, firm friends of the South.”
“My name is Pettis,” replied the man. “I reside in Columbus. Once let me be satisfied as to who you are and what you are wearing that uniform for and I may be able to help you.”
“That is easily answered,” said Calhoun; “but first I must be fully satisfied as to you. Let me prove you, my brother.”
Calhoun found that Mr. Pettis was high up in the order, and was violent in his hatred of the Lincoln government. He could be trusted.
“I am not a Federal soldier,” said Calhoun after he had fully tested him. “I am wearing this uniform as a disguise. I am a Confederate officer.”
“What! escaped from Johnson’s Island?” asked Mr. Pettis, in astonishment.
“No, I am one of Morgan’s officers.”
Mr. Pettis nearly jumped off the seat in surprise.
“Morgan’s officers are all in the penitentiary,” he gasped.
“One is not and never was,” answered Calhoun.
Mr. Pettis regarded him closely, and then said: “It can’t be, but it must be. Is your name Pennington?”
“It is,” replied Calhoun.
“Why, the papers have been full of your escape. But the general opinion seemed to be that you wandered away in a delirium and died.”
“Which you see is not so,” said Calhoun, with a smile.
“How in the world did you get away?”
“That is a secret which I cannot tell even you.”
“Very well; but, Mr. Pennington, you must come home with me. You will find friends in Columbus, many of them, who will be delighted to meet you.”
When Columbus was reached, Calhoun, on advice of Mr. Pettis, bought a suit of citizen’s clothes, for, said he, “We Knights hate the sight of that uniform; it’s the badge of tyranny.”
Calhoun saw that he had found a friend indeed in Mr. Pettis. No Southerner could be more bitter toward the Lincoln government than he. He fairly worshipped Vallandigham, and said if he would only return to Ohio, he would be defended by a hundred thousand men. He was especially indignant over the way Morgan and his officers were treated.
“We have schemed and schemed how to help him,” said he, “but see no way except we storm that cursed penitentiary as the Bastille was stormed. And,” he added, with emphasis, “the day is fast approaching when we will do it.”
For three days Calhoun remained at Mr. Pettis’s, wearying his brain as to how he might help his general, but every plan proposed was rejected as impracticable. On the third morning he happened to pick up a paper, and glancing over its columns, saw an advertisement which caused every nerve in his body to tingle. It was an advertisement for a boy to work in the dining-room and wait on the table at the penitentiary. The advertisement stated that the sole duty of the boy was to wait on the table when the Confederate officers ate, as they objected to being waited upon by convicts. In less than five minutes Calhoun was in his Federal uniform and on his way to the penitentiary to apply for the position.
“You do not look very strong,” said the warden, kindly; “do you think you could fill the bill?”
“I am sure I can,” said Calhoun. “Only try me and see.”
“Well,” replied the warden, “I had rather hire a boy who has served his country, as you have, and I will give you a trial.”
Thus to his great joy Calhoun found himself hired to wait upon his old comrades in arms. With what feelings he commenced his duties can be imagined. Would they recognize him, and in their surprise give him away? No, he thought not. They knew too well how to control themselves for that. It was with a beating heart that Calhoun waited for the time of the first meal. It came, and the Confederate prisoners came marching in. How Calhoun’s heart thrilled at the sight of his old comrades! But if they recognized him they did not show it by look or sign.
When the meal was finished and the prisoners marched out, Calhoun managed to give Morgan a little slip of paper. On it was written: “I am here to help you if I can. Be of good cheer.”
But how could Calhoun help them? Even at meal-time guards stood everywhere watching every move. His duties did not take him out of the dining-room. Calhoun began by making a careful survey of the building in which the prisoners were confined. Fortune favored him. One day he made a remark to one of the employees of the prison that the floor of the building seemed to be remarkably dry and free from damp.
“It should be,” was the reply; “there is an air chamber under the floor.”
Like a flash there came to Calhoun a plan for escape. If this air chamber could be reached a tunnel might be run out. He took careful note of all the surroundings, and drew a plan of the buildings and surrounding grounds. These he managed to pass to Morgan unobserved. At the next meal-time as Morgan passed him, he said, as if to himself, “No tools.”
This was a difficult matter. Nothing of any size could be passed to them without discovery. But in the hospital Calhoun found some large and finely tempered table-knives. He managed to conceal several of these around his person, and one by one they were given to Morgan.
Calhoun now waited in feverish excitement for the success of the plan. He had done all he could. The rest depended on the prisoners themselves. Through the shrewdness and indomitable energy of Captain Thomas H. Hines the work was carried to a successful termination inside the prison wall.
General Morgan occupied a cell in the second tier, and could do nothing. Only those who occupied cells on the ground floor had any hopes of escaping. Captain Hines, with infinite labor made an opening through the floor of his cell into the air chamber. Once in the air chamber they could work without being discovered. With only the table-knives to work with, these men went through two solid walls, one five feet, and the other six feet in thickness. Not only that, but they went through eleven feet of grouting. Then, working from under, they went through the floors of six cells, leaving only a thin scale of cement, which could be broken through by a pressure from the foot. The work was commenced November 4, and finished November 24. Thus in twenty days seven men, working one at a time, had accomplished what seemed almost impossible.
During these days Calhoun could only wait and hope. As the prisoners passed him in the dining-room, all they could say was “Progressing,” “Not discovered yet,” “All is well so far.” At last, on the 24th, Calhoun heard the welcome words, “Finished. First stormy night.”
Calhoun now examined the time-tables and found that a train left Columbus for Cincinnati at 1:15 A. M.; arriving in Cincinnati before the prisoners were aroused in the morning. So he wrote on a slip of paper: “Escape as soon after midnight as possible.” He believed that train could be taken with safety. The afternoon of November 27, the weather became dark and stormy. At supper-time Calhoun heard the glad word, “To-night.”
As soon as his duties were done he hurried to the home of Mr. Pettis, exchanged his uniform for citizen’s clothes, telling Mr. Pettis his work at the penitentiary was done, and he had decided to leave. “Ask no questions; it is better that you know nothing,” said Calhoun.
Mr. Pettis took his advice, but he was not surprised in the morning when he heard that Morgan had escaped. For General Morgan to escape, it was necessary for him to occupy a lower cell. His brother, Captain Dick Morgan, occupied the cell next to Captain Hines. The Captain, giving up his chance of escaping, effected an exchange of cells with his brother. This was easily accomplished, as they were about of a size, and it was quite dark in the cells when they were locked in.
The General had been allowed to keep his watch. When a few minutes after twelve came, he arose, fixed a dummy in his bed to resemble a man sleeping, and breaking through the thin crust over the opening with his foot, slipped into the air chamber. He gave the signal, and was quickly joined by his companions. Captain Morgan had made a ladder out of strips of bed-clothing, and by the aid of this ladder they hoped to scale two walls, one twenty feet high, which would stand between them and liberty, after they had emerged from the tunnel.
A little before midnight Calhoun made his way as close as he durst to the place where he knew the wall must be scaled. Not three hundred feet away several guards were gathered around a fire. The night was cold, and the guards kept close to the fire. Slowly the minutes passed. The city clocks struck half-past twelve. Would they never come? Had their flight been detected?
Suddenly a dark spot appeared on top of the wall. Then another, and another, until Calhoun counted seven. They were all there. Silently they slid down the rope ladder, the talk and laughter of the guards ringing in their ears. But noiselessly they glided away, and the darkness hid them.
“This way,” whispered Calhoun. When out of hearing of the guards, they stopped for consultation. It would not do to keep together. They decided to go two and two. Calhoun handed each a sum of money. There was a strong clasping of the hands, a whispered farewell, and they who had dared so much separated.
The next morning there was consternation in the penitentiary at Columbus. The news of Morgan’s escape was flashed over the country. The Federal authorities were astonished, dumbfounded. A reward of five thousand dollars was offered for his recapture. Every house in Columbus was searched, but to no purpose. John Morgan had flown.
CHAPTER XXIII.
THE FLIGHT TO THE SOUTH
The 1:15 train from Columbus to Cincinnati was about to start. “All aboard,” shouted the conductor.
Two gentlemen sauntered into one of the cars, to all appearances the most unconcerned of individuals. They took different seats, the younger just behind the older. General Morgan and Calhoun had reached the train in safety; had purchased tickets, and taken their seats without exciting suspicion. A moment more and they would be on their way South.
A Federal major came hurrying in and seated himself beside Morgan, and the two entered into conversation. On the way out of the city the train had to pass close to the penitentiary. The major, pointing to the grim, dark pile, and thinking he might be imparting some information, said: “There is where they keep the notorious John Morgan.”
“May he always be kept as safe as he is now,” quickly replied the General.
“Oh! they will keep him safe enough,” said the major, complacently stroking his chin. The major better understood the Delphic answer of the General the next morning.
All went well until Dayton was reached, where by some accident the train was held over an hour. It was an anxious hour to Morgan and Calhoun. It meant that the train would be late in Cincinnati, that before they arrived there the Federal authorities of the city might be informed of the escape. It would never do for them to ride clear into the city. As the train slowed up as it entered the suburbs, the General and Calhoun both dropped off without being noticed.
Morgan being well acquainted with the city, they quickly made their way to a ferry, and by the time the escape had been discovered at the penitentiary, Morgan’s feet were pressing the soil of Kentucky. Calhoun’s heart thrilled as he once more breathed the air of his native state. He felt like a new being, yet he knew that it was hundreds of miles to safety. They must steal through the states of Kentucky and Tennessee like hunted beasts, for the enemy was everywhere. But friends there were, too – friends as true as steel. And hardly had they set foot in Kentucky before they found such a friend, one who took them in, fed them, and protected them. He gave them horses, and sent them on their way. Slowly they made their way through the state, travelling all night, sent from the house of one friend to that of another. At last they reached the Cumberland River near Burkesville, where they had crossed it at the beginning of their raid. To Calhoun it seemed that years had passed since then, so much had happened.
On entering Tennessee, their dangers thickened. They did not know friend from foe. On entering a house they did not know whether they would be protected or betrayed. The country was swarming with Federal cavalry. It was rumored that Morgan was in the country making his way south, and every officer was eager to add to his laurels by capturing him. In the mountains Morgan and Calhoun met a party of forty or fifty Confederates who were making their way to the Confederate lines. In the party were a number of Morgan’s old men, who hailed their chief with the wildest delight. Morgan assumed command of them. But few of the party were mounted, consequently their progress was slow and their dangers were augmented.
All went well until the Tennessee River was reached, a few miles below Kingston. The river was high and there was no means of crossing. A rude raft was constructed, and with the horses swimming, they commenced crossing. When about half were across a company of Federal cavalry appeared and attacked those who were still on the northern bank. On the frail raft, Morgan started to push across to their aid.
“Are you crazy, General,” cried Calhoun; “you can do no good, and will only be killed or captured. See, the men have scattered already, and are taking to the woods and mountains.”
It was true, and Morgan reluctantly rode away. He had the satisfaction afterwards of learning that most of the men escaped.
The next day was the last day that Calhoun ever rode with Morgan, but little did he realize it at the time. Along in the afternoon they became aware of the close proximity of a squadron of Federal cavalry. Morgan and those with him took shelter behind a thick growth of cedars, while Calhoun rode ahead to investigate. He discovered no enemy and was coming back when he ran squarely into the Federals. The foremost of them were not ten feet from Morgan, he still being screened from view by the cedars. Without hesitation, Calhoun cried, “This way, Major. Hurry up, they have gone this way,” pointing the way he had come.
The major took Calhoun for a guide, and giving the command, “Forward,” rode rapidly after Calhoun, and Morgan was saved. For half a mile they rode, when a stream was reached, and it was seen no horseman had crossed it. The major drew rein and turned to Calhoun in fury.
“You have deceived me, you dog!” he cried.
“Yes, I am one of Morgan’s men,” calmly replied Calhoun.
The anger of the major was terrible. He grew purple in the face. “Yes, and you have led me away from Morgan,” he hissed. “You will pay for this.”
Calhoun still remained calm. “That was not Morgan,” he said; “I ought to know Morgan, I have ridden with him for two years.”
“I know better,” roared the Major, thoroughly beside himself; “you are a lying scoundrel; I will fix you.”
“What are you going to do?” asked Calhoun, with apparent calmness, but a great fear coming over him.
“Hang you, you lying devil, as sure as there is a God in heaven! I would not have had Morgan slip through my fingers for ten thousand dollars. It would mean a brigadier generalship for me if I had caught him. String him up, men.”
One of the soldiers coolly took the halter off his horse, fastened it around Calhoun’s neck, threw the other end over the projecting limb of a tree, and stood awaiting orders.
Once more an ignominious death stared Calhoun in the face, and there was no Captain Huffman near to rescue him. It looked as if nothing could save him, but his self-possession did not forsake him.
“Major, before you commit this great outrage – an outrage against all rules of civilized warfare – let me say one word.” Calhoun’s voice did not even tremble as he asked this favor.
“Be quick about it, then, but don’t think you can say anything that will save your cursed neck!”
“Major, if that was General Morgan, as you say, and I have been one of Morgan’s men, as I have confessed, ought I not to be hanged if I had betrayed him into your hands?”
The fire of anger died out of the major’s eyes. He hesitated, and then said: “You are right. If that was General Morgan, and you are one of his men, you should be hanged for betraying him, not for saving him.” Then to his men he said: “Boys, take off that halter; he is too brave and true a man to be hanged.”
Calhoun drew a long breath. He had appealed to the major’s sense of honor, and the appeal had not been made in vain.
The major kept Calhoun for three days, and during that time treated him more like a brother than a prisoner. Calhoun never forgot his kindness. At the end of the three days Calhoun was placed under a strong guard with orders to be taken to Knoxville. He resolved to escape before Knoxville was reached, or die in the attempt. Never would he live to be taken North in irons, as he would be when it became known that he was one of Morgan’s officers.
At the end of the first day’s journey the prisoners, of whom there were several, were placed in the tower room of a deserted house. Three guards with loaded muskets stood in the room, another was just outside the door. Calhoun watched his chance, and when the guards inside the room were not looking, he dashed through the door, closing it after him. The guard outside raised his musket and fired. So close was he that the fire from the muzzle of the gun burned Calhoun’s face, yet he was not touched. Another guard but a few feet away saw him running, and fired. The ball tore its way through the side of his coat. But he was not yet out of danger. He had to pass close to two picket posts, and as he neared them he was saluted with a shower of balls. But he ran on unharmed. One of the pickets with fixed bayonet took after him. He came so close that Calhoun could hear his heavy breathing. Calhoun ran as he had never run before. A turn in the road took him out of sight of his pursuers, and he sprang to one side and began to climb the mountain. A squad of cavalry dashed by in pursuit; they had missed him. With a thankful heart Calhoun saw them disappear.
But darkness came on and he had to feel his way up the mountain on his hands and knees. His progress was so slow that when morning came he had only reached the top of the mountain. He could hear the shouts of the soldiers searching for him. Near him was a growth of high grass. Going into this he lay down; and here he remained all day. At one time the soldiers in search of him came within twenty feet of where he lay.
It was the longest and dreariest day that Calhoun ever spent. Hunger gnawed him, and he was consumed with a fierce thirst. It was midwinter, and the cold crept into his very bones. The warmth of his body thawed the frozen ground until he sank into it. When night came it froze again, and when he tried to rise he found he was frozen fast. It was with difficulty that he released himself without sacrificing his clothing. For the next seven days he hardly remembers how he existed. Travelling by night and hiding by day, begging a morsel of food here and there, he at last reached the Confederate lines near Dalton.
CHAPTER XXIV.
CHIEF OF THE SECRET SERVICE
“Is this General Shackelford?” asked Calhoun of a distinguished-looking Confederate officer.
“It is; what can I do for you, my boy? You look as if you had been seeing hard times.”
“I have,” answered Calhoun; “I have just escaped from the North. I am one of Morgan’s men.”
“Are you one of the officers who escaped with Morgan?” asked the General, with much interest.
“Yes and no. I was not in prison with Morgan, but I escaped South with him.”
“I had a nephew with Morgan,” continued the General. “We have not heard from him since Morgan was captured. The report is that he was killed in the last fight that Morgan had before he was captured. Poor Cal!” and the General sighed.
“Uncle Dick, do you not know me?” asked Calhoun, in a broken voice.
General Shackelford stared at Calhoun in astonishment. “It cannot be, yes, it is Cal!” he exclaimed, and the next moment he had Calhoun by the hand, and was nearly shaking it off.
“And you have been in a Northern prison, have you?” asked the General.
“No, but I was wounded near unto death. Fortunately I fell into kind hands.”
“But your looks, Cal; you are nothing but skin and bones.”
“No wonder. I have not had enough to eat in the last seven days to keep a bird alive. Then I was none too strong when I started on my journey south.”
“Tell me about it some other time,” said the General. “What you want now is rest and something to eat.”
And rest and food Calhoun got.
When he came to tell his story it was listened to with wonder. He was taken to General Joseph E. Johnston, then in command of the Confederate forces around Dalton, and the story was repeated.
“You know, I presume,” said Johnston, “that Morgan escaped, and is now in Richmond.”
“Yes, I long to be with him,” answered Calhoun. “I feel as strong as ever now.”
“Do not be in a hurry to report,” said Johnston. “Wait until you hear from me.”
In a few days Calhoun received a message from General Johnston saying he would like to see him. Calhoun lost no time in obeying the summons. He was received most cordially.
“In the first place, Captain,” said the General, “allow me to present you this,” and he handed him his commission as captain in the Confederate army.
Calhoun choked, he could only stammer his thanks. But what came next astonished him still more. “I now offer you the position of Chief of the Secret Service of my army,” said the General. “After listening to your story, although you are young, I believe there is no officer in the army more capable of filling it.”
Calhoun knew not what to say; it was a place of the greatest honor, but he hated to leave Morgan. “Will you let me consult my uncle before I give an answer?” asked Calhoun.
“Most certainly,” replied the General.
“Accept it, by all means, Cal,” said General Shackelford when Calhoun appealed to him. “In the first place, it is your duty to serve your country in the place where you can do the most good. There is no question but that at the head of the Secret Service you can render the country vastly better service than you can riding with Morgan. In the next place, I fancy it will not be exactly with Morgan as it was before his unfortunate raid. His famous raiders are prisoners, or scattered. It will be impossible for him to gather another such force. They understood him, he understood them. This will not be the case with a new command. Then, this is for your ear alone, Calhoun, the authorities at Richmond are not satisfied with Morgan. In invading the North he disobeyed orders; and this, those high in authority cannot overlook.”
So, with many regrets, Calhoun decided to accept the offer of General Johnston; but for many days his heart was with his old chieftain. The time came when he saw the wisdom of his uncle’s remarks. General Morgan never regained his old prestige. It is true the Confederate government gave him the department of Western Virginia, but they so hampered him with orders that any great success was impossible.
In June, 1864, Morgan made his last raid into Kentucky. At first he was successful, sweeping everything before him. He had the pleasure of taking prisoner General Hobson, the man who had tracked him all through his Northern raid. But at Cynthiana he met with overwhelming defeat, his prisoners being recaptured, and he escaping with only a small remnant of his command.
On the morning of the 4th of September, 1864, the end came. General Morgan was slain in battle at Greenville, East Tennessee. Calhoun mourned him as a father, when he heard of his death. It was long months afterwards before he heard the full particulars, and then they were told him by an officer who was with the General on that fatal morning.
“We marched into Greenville,” said the officer, “and took possession of the place on the afternoon of the 3d. There was a small company of Yankees within four miles of us, but there was no considerable body of Yankees nearer than Bull’s Gap, sixteen miles away. The General established his headquarters at the house of a Mrs. Williams, the finest house in the little city.
