ter over in the morning; and turned over to finish my interrupted nap.
The morning found Tom still excited and confident about the tunnel, although perfectly sober, with a suspicion of headache about him. He also informed Wallace Randolph, Lieutenant 5th United States Artillery, who, on being told that I was in the secret, came to me, and together we formed a plan for escape, when once through the tunnel.
We, of course, volunteered to assist in digging, which was being conducted with the utmost secrecy, and entirely unknown to all but about thirty officers; but our offer was declined, inasmuch as the work was so arranged, between fourteen of them, that it could be conducted without fear of observation from their neighbors, while our absence, at night, from our places on the floor, would soon excite remark, and lead to discovery. There was every reason for believing that there were spies in our midst, only recognized by us as brother officers, as other plans of escape had been discovered by our jailers, by means unaccountable to us: hence the necessity of great 'caution.
The plan proposed by Randolph and myself was to cross the canal running between the prison and James River, seize one of the abandoned skiffs to be seen lying on the beach, cross the river, strike across the country until we reached the river again below Drury's Bluff, seize another boat—or construct a raft, if no boat could be stolen—and float down, under cover of the darkness, to the picket-boats of our navy, which we knew were stationed not many miles below City Point.
About a week before the attempt was made, Colonel Tilden, 16th Maine Volunteers, communicated to us that he also meant to try the tunnel, and would like to accompany us.
Thus our party was formed, and we made our arrangements for the peri lous business upon which we had entered.
Of clothing we had enough, thanks to kind friends at home, and the Sanitary and Christian Commissions of our army, who had promptly sent to us every thing we needed in that line, in response to our calls.
And in what did this outfit consist, which—to men who for months had been accustomed to exaggerating a double ration of corn-bread into a feast, and an extra fragment of filthy blanket into a luxurious couch—was all-sufficient for our great undertaking? Each man had an entire suit of clothes, a double suit of under-clothes, the pair of boots in which he stood on entering the prison, an overcoat, and a cap. In common, we possessed a coil of rope, a diminutive hatchet, one pint of brandy, halfpint of extract of Jamaica ginger, two days' scant rations of dried meats and hard bread, one pipe, and a bit of tobacco. Thus the plan was made, and each party of two, three, or more, probably made preparations as we did, but all in silence. No one asked his friend, or companion of the mess, "Are you one?" for the secret was as sacred and inviolate as the oath to our country.
When all was prepared, we had but to wait the announcement of the completion of the tunnel. Our friend Tom kept us well informed of the progress of the work, while his hearty confidence and enthusiasm, accompanied by significant winks and growls, served to keep doubt and misgiving in the background. He was to be included among the originators of the scheme, who were to take the first chance of escape.
For a description of the tunnel, I copy from Colonel Carada's interesting book, called "Libby Life "—written in the form of a journal, and describing, with perfect truth and clearness, the important incidents of our prison life:
"Early in January, Colonel Rose or
