CHAPTER VII. EPISODES IN PRISON.-A Council in the Casemates.An Attempt to Escape. July 16.-There has been a commotion in the prisoners' quarters in this fort to-day that so far exceeds the even routine of our days that it is entitled to a separate chapter, and, indeed, to a train of important reflection. It appears that some days ago the Boston Courier had pubiished a certain report that Major Cabot, the commandant here, had punished Confederate prisoners by compelling them to carry billets of wood on the ramparts. The report was untrue. It was contradicted by Major Cabot in the Journal. Thus the affair had passed out of mind when the following extraordinary publication, in the worst Abolition paper in Boston, fell upon us this morning like a bomb. shell: Major S. Cabot: FORT WARREN, July 13, 1864. Dear Sir: We were truly mortified this evening on reading the Boston Journal, that you had been obliged to deny the slanderous attack-evidently intended upon your character-this being the only fort in Boston harbour wherein "Confederate prisoners" are confined. We feel it not only a duty, but as an act of justice to yourself to deny emphatically the truthfulness of the communication which appeared in the Courier of yesterday, over the signature of W. J. F., purporting to be founded "upon the most ample authority." On the contrary, there are a very large number of "Confederate prisoners" who have been under your charge for more than twelve months, and we have always received at your hands nought but kindness and every attention and privilege consistent with the proper duties of your position. I have been requested by the prisoners to state that if you deem it necessary, you are at liberty to publish this letter. In behalf of the prisoners under your charge, I have the honour to be, very respectfully, yours, &c., Prisoner of War. The fact was, that the prisoner who had composed for the Yankee press this compound of very objectionable grammar and gratuitous eulogy had done so on the responsibility of not more than three prisoners in the fort, the remaining hundred or so being entirely ignorant of this preparation of gratuitous incense to our jailours. I have suppressed the name of the author of the communication, from a firm conviction, shared by all the prisoners with whom I have conversed, that he acted contrary to his better nature; that though thougtless, he was a faithful and zealous Confederate; and that he had been misled by interested advice into something worse than a faux pas. The whole day has been one of excited criticism and sage council on this, our unexpected appearance, in Yankee prints. After much consultation, the subjoined letter was prepared for publication in a Boston paper, but was withheld from it, since the writer of the obnoxious piece agreed to disclaim publicly the authority he had assumed, to represent the prisoners in the fort (which he afterwards, I believe, did). While, therefore, it was not deemed necessary to publish in the Boston newspapers the following expression of opinion, yet the prisoners who signed it desired that it should be preserved and placed on appropriate record, as a testimony of their sense of propriety and duty in the general matter of the behaviour, of prisoners. I have, therefore, introduced it here, with the nemes of its subscribers, as a record of Fort Warren that belongs to the Confederacy. A FORT WARREN, Boston HARBOUR July 16, 1864. To the Editor of the Boston Journal: prisoner, Sir: We, the undersigned, Confederate prisoners in Fort Warren, have noticed with great surprise, a statement addressed by &c., to Major Cabot, and published by that officer in the Journal, stating "on behalf of the prisoners," &c., that "we," were "truly mortified" at a certain "slanderous attack" in the Courier, concerning that officer's treatment of prisoners, and proceeding, after these regrets, to contradict the same. In making this statement, Mr. did not consult us; did not inform us; and does not represent us. We, therefore, request that you will grant us the same favour in your columns afforded to Major Cabot, to correct what you have published, and to say that we repudiate the statement Mr. has assumed to make in our behalf. We do this because this statement refers to a matter entirely between Major Cabot and his accuser, with which we have nothing to do; because there is no occasion on our part for explanation-still less for sentiment-in matter for which we are not responsible and with which we have nothing to do; aud because-solely from our self-respect, without reference to the merits or demerits of the case in hand, without design either to cast an injurious reflection upon Major Cabot, or to bestow a eulogy upon him-we are so far sensible of the delicacy of our position as prisoners that we cannot see the propriety of our interfering as volunteers in a newspaper controversy, making ourselves the uncalled for panegyrists of any man, and putting ourselves unnecessarily and indecorously before an invidious public. JOHN W. CABEY, C. S. N. S. F. MARSHALL. A, H. B., c. 8. A. W. D. ARCHER, C. 8. A. CHAS. W. DELOUR, C. §. A. D. W. S. KNIGHT. JAMES MCLEOD, C. §. A., ROBERT HUNT. A. STEWART. Jos. M. HERTWOOD, C. S. N. JOSEPH LEACH, New Orleans, La. EDW'D A. POLLARD, G. H. ARLIDGE, LIEUT. C. S. N. W. B. MICON, ASST. PAY'R, C. S. N. E. H. BROWNE, C. S. N. J. A. G. WILLIAMSON, C. S. N. THOS. B. TRAVERS, C. 3. N. R. H. GAYLE, C. S. N. J. M. VERNON. THOMAS MARRS, Mobile, Ala.' The unpleasant occurrences of to-day have recalled some questions which have frequently been present to my mind, with respect to the proper behaviour of men who occupy the unfortunate, and in many senses, trying and delicate position of prisoners of war. It is certainly just and becoming that prisoners should recognize the kindness and courtesy of those who keep them; but this must be done in a proper way, and on a proper occasion, certainly not by the disgusting methods of a puff, or for the selfish and contemptible gain of the enemy's favour. Justice can be done even to an enemy, and it is only a base spirit that has recourse to falsehood and libel for its miserable revenge. I think it is Rousseau, in his "Confessions," who tells of some person who, after breaking with a friend, went through the community, announcing: "Listen neither, to this person nor myself, when speaking of each other; for we are no longer friends." The Frenchman exclaims this as magnanimous. Not so. A candid and honourable person can fulfil exactly and severely the truth to all men, and the confession that he and his enemy are equally disreputable in their statements, lowers him to the standard of that enemy, whatever it may be. In these pages, I have made it a point to recognize whatever kindness has been shown me, although I have had no occasion to intrude such things inte Yankee newspapers. My own conception of the proper behaviour of one in the condition of a prisoner of war is, that he should consult the dignity of his country, keep aloof from all unnecessary conversation or contact with his enemy, and preserve & simple severity of manner, which, while guarding against any appearance of subserviency, equally avoids the imputation of an unmannerly insolence. For I have perceived that there are two extremes to be shunned in the behaviour of prisoners. One is toadyism. The other, and not less contemptible, is that braggadocio or swagger which affects to be patriotic spirit; but, in the condition of a prisoner, and under the protection which that affords, is really nothing more than a display of venturesome cowardice and native vulgarity. It is not necessary, for a prisoner to show his "Southern spirit," that he should quarrel with corporals and orderlies, and make insolent speeches to the officers who are put over him. Such a course invites insult and betrays the qualities which pocket it with indifference. In medio tutissimus ibis. The prisoner of war must recognize himself as in the temporary power of his enemy, and make a becoming submission. But on the other hand, he must never omit to be sensible of the dignity of his country and himself, or forget to moderate his civility with the considerations of selfrespect and propriety. July 18.We had in Fort Warren a very remarkable young prisoner, a boy, named McBlair, not more than fifteen years old, belonging to the crew of the illfated Atlanta. He certainly had a streak of romance in his composition, and Captain Webb, his commander, said that he noticed that the lad found an unfailing consolation in the casemates in reading Monte Christo, and devouring every book of adventure he could possibly obtain. The little fellow had often struck me by his modest and taciturn manner; but he had the spirit of a lion in him; and he has shown a fortitude I could scarcely have imagined in one of his years. . He made three attempts to escape. Once he had gained the parapet where one of the guards discovered him concealed behind a gun. At another time, he found in a nest of rags about the fort some old garments, in which he disguised himself, and boldly joining the gang of labourers who pass every evening out of the fort, had passed the sally-port, got down to the Boston boat, and had his foot on the plank, when one of the guards suspiciously noticing his fresh face, halted him, and carried him to headquarters. "So you were trying to escape, were you?" said Major Cabot. "I was doing my best, Sir," said the little fellow. The third attempt of our persevering little friend was made a few nights ago and came near proving a fearful romance. By feigning sickness, he had obtained admission into the hospital, and, as his only implements of escape had, by some mysterious management, secured a slight bed-cord and a life preserver. The night he chose for his attempt was dark, tempestuous, and as cold as some of our winter nights in Virginia. He had managed, by what must have been a difficult process, to squeeze through the narrow casement, and then had crawled up the parapet past the guard in the darkness and the rain. Still crawling along, he reached an angle of the fort, where he secured his slight cord to a gun, and fearlessly launched himself over a height of some twenty or thirty feet. The cord broke as he was descending, and he fell into the moat, injuring himself internally, and for some moments unable to move. His fall did not arouse the guards. He had now to crawl about one hundred yards past the sentries to reach the water's edge. Stunned, bruised and severely injured, he dragged his body in pain to the black and tempestuous water, over which he must have found it difficult to see even the shadow of the island a quarter of a mile off, where he might hope to get a boat and reach the mainland. Stripping himself to his shirt and drawers, and tying the clothes he had taken off to a plank, he adjusted his life-preserver, and boldly shoved off into the water. But the brave little adventurer had not calculated the temperature of the water; and, as he drifted off into the shadows, he found his wounded limbs benumbed, and his powers utterly failing him. Nature at last extorted from him the cry of a drowning sufferer. A boat was manned by the guards, and he was taken from the waters insensible. By the use of brandy and stimulants, he was enabled after some hours to speak. Major Cabot said that in consideration of his youth, he would overlook his effort to escape, if he would give his parole to make no further attempts. "No," said |