Part 1

Produced by David E. Brown and The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)

THE

CAPTURED SCOUT

OF THE

ARMY OF THE JAMES.

A Sketch of the Life of

SERGEANT HENRY H. MANNING,

OF THE TWENTY-FOURTH MASS. REGIMENT.

BY

CHAPLAIN H. CLAY TRUMBULL.

BOSTON: NICHOLS AND NOYES. 1869.

Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1868, by NICHOLS AND NOYES, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts.

CAMBRIDGE: PRESS OF JOHN WILSON AND SON.

TO THE SURVIVING MEMBERS

OF THE

Twenty-Fourth Regiment Massachusetts Vols.,

THIS SKETCH OF THEIR COMRADE IS AFFECTIONATELY

_DEDICATED_,

BY ONE WHO HOLDS IN EVER FRESH AND DELIGHTFUL

REMEMBRANCE HIS THREE YEARS' EXPERIENCE

AS THEIR BRIGADE COMPANION,

AND

_HIS MINISTRY AS THEIR OCCASIONAL CHAPLAIN_.

NOTE.

This little sketch is the best, because the only, tribute to the memory of its subject that the writer, amid the pressure of varied duties, can find time to render.

Prepared, in great part, for use in a memorial discourse, it has not been rewritten, although extended by additions which perhaps mar the harmony of its first design.

The fact that it was shaped to be spoken rather than to be read,--designed for the ear rather than for the eye,--will account, to those accustomed to public address, for some of its unsuitableness of style for the form in which it now appears.

H. C. T.

CONTENTS.

The Dead of the Army of the James 9

Cost of the Slaveholders' War 10

A Massachusetts Boy.--Foreshadowings of a noble Life 13

The Soldier of Christ and Country 14

A good Regiment.--A good Record 16

Fighting and Praying 17

James Island.--Hospital Supply of Rebel Shells 19

Charleston Siege-work.--Sharpshooting 20

The Veterans.--Love for the old Flag 22

Campaigns it in Virginia.--Volunteers as a Scout 24

The Capture.--The Dungeon.--The Gallows 27

Gloom of the Stockade and Jail.--Consecration Vow 29

Escape and Recapture.--Torn by Blood-hounds 31

Andersonville Horrors 34

In the Rebel Ranks.--Loyal still 35

A Prisoner among Friends.--Good News for Home 37

Again with his Regiment.--Merited Promotion 38

Home at last 39

Telling his Story.--Fulfilling his Vow 40

Student-life at Andover.--Loving Service for Jesus 41

Toil for Bread.--Unfailing Trust 43

Failing Health.--A Grateful Heart 47

In Hospital.--Gentle Ministry there 48

Hope against Hope.--The Privilege of Christian Work 53

Only Waiting.--Rest at last 55

Claims of the Dead on the Living 58

THE CAPTURED SCOUT OF THE ARMY OF THE JAMES.

THE DEAD OF THE ARMY OF THE JAMES.

On the evening of Wednesday, Sept. 2, 1868, some two hundred ex-officers of the "Army of the James" were assembled in the dining-hall of the St. James Hotel, Boston, in delightful re-union, as comrades of camp and campaigning. The writer of this little sketch was called on to say words in tribute to "The memory of the honored dead" of that army, and in consequence the tenderest recollections were revived of those who fell in the long years of war with rebellion.

Hardly had the writer reached his home from that re-union, before word came to him of the death of another soldier of the Army of the James; one whose varied and thrilling experiences, peculiar services to the Union cause, and noble Christian character entitled him to special mention, as a noteworthy and satisfactory illustration of the bravery and worth of the enlisted men of that army. While on his death-bed, this young soldier had sent particular request to one who, as an army chaplain in his brigade, had known something of his personal character and history, to preach a commemorative discourse on the occasion of his decease. Thus called on again to pay just tribute to the memory of the dead of the Army of the James, the writer prepared this sketch as part of a sermon preached at Warwick, Mass., Sept. 13, 1868, and now gives it to the public at the request of those who, knowing something of the young soldier's history, naturally desire to know more.

COST OF THE SLAVEHOLDERS' WAR.

Others than his immediate comrades have reasons for an interest in this young soldier, and should join in honoring his memory, and recalling at his death the record of his army life. Dying though he did among the green hills of Massachusetts, in these days of palmy peace, with parents and sisters ministering to his comfort, as he wasted slowly before their loving gaze, he was really one of the dead of the war, one of the starved of Andersonville. His vigorous constitution was broken down under the malarial damps of the sea-island death-swamps, beneath the smiting sun-glare of the Carolina sands, in the fatigues of dreary marches and anxious picket service, and amid the excitements of battle and the crushing responsibilities of a mission of imminent peril within the lines of the enemy. His young life was really worn away, not here at the North, but there at the South, in dragging months of imprisonment, in teeming hours of attempted escape, in rapid flight from the swift pursuers, and in the death-clutch with the fierce-fanged hounds in the swamp of despair!

And he was but one of many,--a representative youth; one out of thirteen thousand martyrs of Andersonville,--

"The men who perished in swamp and fen, The slowly starved of the prison pen;"--

a solitary soldier among fully three hundred thousand who gave their lives for the nation's life, the sodden mounds of whose graves, like an encircling earthwork, make secure that nation's proud though dearly-bought position among the kingdoms of the world. Surely, there is little danger that the story of such a man will be told too widely, or his services be too highly esteemed; small cause for fear, that, in the glad days of rest from war, there will be too vividly recalled those dark hours of the imperilled republic, when the bared right arms of two and a half millions of loyal and loving Union soldiers and sailors were essential to the preservation of a free and righteous government; and not only each blood-drop shed by those who stood or fell in battle for their country, but every heart-throb of their suffering or toil, and every tear of those who loved them, counted on the ransom of Liberty, and helped--

"To make, for children yet to come, This land of their bequeathing, The imperial and the peerless home Of happiest beings breathing."

A MASSACHUSETTS BOY.--FORESHADOWINGS OF A NOBLE LIFE.

Henry Hatch Manning was born in Warwick, Mass., May 17, 1844. He was ever a loving and dutiful son and brother. Just before his death, his mother remarked, "I cannot now recall any act of his disobedience."--"Our brightest earthly hopes will perish with him," added his sister. When young, his frequent wish was that he had been the eldest child, so as to lift burdens his sisters now must bear. At eight years old, he was at work for a neighbor, earning something beyond his board. While thus occupied, he was startled by the sudden death of his employer by accident. Hurrying to his home, he whispered the sad story to his mother, adding in almost the same breath, "But don't tell father. He wouldn't let me go back; and what would Mrs. Holmes do without me?" Thus early he showed his independence of character, and his desire to live for others.

Having the ordinary common-school advantages of a Massachusetts town,--such as are now, thank God! extended into regions whither they won an entrance by blood,--Henry Manning improved them well. He had, moreover, faithful home instruction; and the influence of a Christian mother's prayerful teachings followed him like a continual benediction. When about sixteen years old, while at work in another town from this, in a season of spiritual declension and coldness there, he was drawn by God's Spirit to make a full surrender of himself to Jesus. Evil influences were around him just then: a sneering scoffer sought persistently to dissuade him from his new-formed purpose; but God was with him, and he witnessed faithfully for Christ. Others followed his example, and a precious revival of God's Spirit-work followed in that long cold and formal community.

THE SOLDIER OF CHRIST AND COUNTRY.

It was soon after this that the echo of rebel guns against Fort Sumter aroused the New-England sons of Revolutionary patriots to the perils of the nationality their fathers had founded in blood. Henry Manning was not yet seventeen when the old flag was dishonored in Charleston Harbor; but he was old enough to realize his country's need, and patriotic enough to stake every thing in her defence. His heart, warm with new love for the Saviour who died for him, throbbed to evidence its affection in some sacrifice for a cause approved of God. Delayed somewhat in his original plans, he enlisted, in the early autumn of 1861, as a private in the Twenty-fourth Massachusetts Regiment, then forming near Boston, under the gallant and lamented Stevenson.

After his enlistment, on the Sabbath before he left for the war, he stood up alone in his home-church, and made public profession of his new faith, and was there enrolled as a follower of Jesus; his pastor preaching an appropriate sermon from the text, "Thou therefore endure hardness, as a good soldier of Jesus Christ;" which inspired counsel Manning certainly followed to the letter. Going out thence, clad in the "whole armor of God," Manning commenced his career as a soldier of the cross and his country, and thenceforward followed unflinchingly the flag of his government and the blood-stained banner of Jesus.

A GOOD REGIMENT.--A GOOD RECORD.

The Twenty-fourth Massachusetts was a noble battalion, with a glorious record. Through its four years of service, its well-earned reputation for good discipline, thorough drill, and staunch courage was unsurpassed; and few regiments were its equals in hard fighting and practical efficiency. It would be enough for any man's soldierly reputation that he stood well in that regiment; for he who won honor there deserved it everywhere. Hence the good name there secured by Henry Manning shows his personal worth, and indicates the value of his services. Said Col. Ordway, at the close of Manning's term of service, "I have known his whole course since he has been a soldier.... He has always been a brave, faithful, truthful, soldier, ... honest and temperate, and in every way to be trusted." Maj. Edmands added, "I can cheerfully say, that I have never known a braver man in the regiment--and I was formerly his captain. He is, I believe, competent to fill any position where fidelity, integrity, and energy are required." Adjutant Stoddard also testified, "[He] has always been especially noticed for the efficient manner in which he has performed his duties as a soldier: always ready for any daring undertaking, he has won for himself a place in the hearts of the officers and his comrades of the Twenty-fourth Massachusetts; and his name can never be obliterated from the pages of the history of that regiment."

FIGHTING AND PRAYING.

The Twenty-fourth went out in the Burnside expedition to the waters of North Carolina, and, passing the perils of Hatteras "Swash," had an honorable and distinguished part, under brave and beloved Gen. John G. Foster, in the battles of Roanoke, Newbern, Little Washington, Rawl's Mills, Kinston, Whitehall, and Goldsboro'. In all this service, Manning gained in manliness and in the Christian graces, under the developing influences of active army life. At Kinston he had a narrow escape from death. A bullet struck the rail of a fence, behind which he was stationed as a sharpshooter, just in range of his head; a knot turned it aside so that it barely passed his cheek, scattering the splinters in his eyes.

In the spring and early summer of 1863, the Twenty-fourth was in South Carolina, passing months on the sickly sea-islands, where it was said no white man had before lived at that season of the year. It was there that the writer of this sketch--then chaplain of another regiment in the same brigade--first met young Manning. His regiment then having no chaplain, he was one of an association of earnest Christians who had banded together to keep up religious meetings, and to do good as they had opportunity, among their fellows. Under their rustic canopy of boughs, beneath the grand old live oaks, and amid the stately palms of Seabrook Island, were enjoyed never-to-be-forgotten hours of prayer and praise.

JAMES ISLAND.--HOSPITAL SUPPLY OF REBEL SHELLS.

From Seabrook to James Island, the Twenty-fourth moved, in July, 1863, under Gen. Terry, in co-operation with Gen. Gillmore's advance on Morris Island. Stricken down with sunstroke there, his whole system prostrate under repeated attacks of fever and chills, fastened on him in the malarial regions of his recent service, Manning lay sick in the rude regimental hospital on the morning of July 16, when the enemy in force made a sudden attack on the Union lines. The shock of this battle was bravely met by Col. Shaw's Fifty-fourth Massachusetts regiment, then first in action. The hospital of the Twenty-fourth was found to be in the focus of the enemy's sharpest fire, and a hurried move was ordered down the island. As the poor invalids, with failing limbs, dragged their tedious way to the beach, shell after shell from the enemy's guns came shrieking past, or bursting among them. One such seemed to explode in Manning's very face, and he fell, with the half conviction that it had killed him. As he rose again to his feet, another burst above him, and a ragged fragment of the hot iron tore down along his very side, laying open his clothing, and bruising and lacerating his arm. But this injury probably saved him from a severer; for, checked by it a moment, he saw yet another shell explode directly before him, in the group he had fallen behind, killing and wounding not a few of that number. Sorry comfort, this, for sick soldiers! Yet such was but an incident in the trying army service of our Union soldiers, in the prolonged war with rebellion.

CHARLESTON SIEGE-WORK.--SHARPSHOOTING.

Immediately after the fight at James Island, the Twenty-fourth passed over to Morris Island, to have a part in the operations against Charleston from that point, commencing with that terrible assault on Fort Wagner in which Col. Shaw lost his life,--when Gen. Stevenson's brigade (including the Twenty-fourth) was in reserve, holding the front after the sad repulse. There, Manning was again stricken down with sunstroke. Later, he was assigned to a company of sharpshooters in active service at the extreme front. He then had narrow escapes daily. On one occasion, as he and a comrade were alternating in rifle firing through a loop-hole, he had thrown himself down to rest under his rubber blanket, raised for a shade, when a bullet wounded his comrade in the face; as he sprang up to aid him, a huge fragment of a mortar shell came tearing down through the air, and crushed the rubber blanket into the ground on the very spot where Manning had lain. Those were toilsome days on Morris Island, in the slow dragging siege; men who were there will not soon forget its shifting sands, its blazing sunlight, its unintermitted fire of artillery and musketry, its labors on traverse and parallel and sap, its frequent struggles of sortie or assault, and its atmosphere laden with disease:

"How they marched together, sound or sick, Sank in the trench o'er the heavy spade! How they charged on the guns at double-quick, Kept ranks for Death to choose and to pick, And lay on the beds no fair hands made!"

The Twenty-fourth sweltered and toiled with the other regiments, and won for itself a proud name by its brilliant charge on the rifle-pits in the very face of Wagner's guns. Thence it passed down the coast to Florida, and had a little rest in the quaint old Spanish city of St. Augustine.

VETERAN RE-ENLISTMENTS.--LOVE FOR THE OLD FLAG.

It was while the regiment was at St. Augustine that the call came from the government for the re-enlistment of its veteran soldiers. It did not take Henry Manning much longer to make up his mind to a second enlistment than it did to the first. Had he been wanted for thirty or fifty years, instead of three or five, he would doubtless have been ready. God be praised that such boys lived, and were willing to die, in the hour of our country's need!

A little incident, occurring as the veterans of the Twenty-fourth left St. Augustine, on the furlough granted them as a consideration of re-enlistment, well illustrated the character and spirit of the soldiers of the war. They were gathered about the head of the dock, just ready to embark for the North, to leave soldier-life for a while behind them. Their thoughts were naturally of their release from service, and of the homes and loved ones to which they were hastening. Their comrades, who were to remain behind, had assembled to see them off: citizens of the old town were also there; and all was glad-hearted cheerfulness. But unexpectedly to nearly all, as they stood thus together, the regimental colors were brought down from Fort Marion, to be taken with them to the North. As the dear old flag came in sight,--the bullet-rent and storm-worn colors which they had followed unflinchingly on the weary march and in the battle's crash, and for which so many whom they loved had died,--instinctively, as by the word of command, every voice was hushed; every farewell stayed; and the soldier group parted and fell back on either hand, in reverent, affectionate regard for that symbol of all that they lived for then; and, as through the open ranks the loved flag was borne down the pier to the steamer's deck,--

"Every foot was quiet, Every head was bare; The soft trade-wind was lifting A hundred locks of hair;"

while tearful eyes, in bronzed and manly faces bore precious testimony to the patriotism and generous devotion of those brave and tender-hearted soldiers. It was with such men and in that spirit that Henry Manning came home, in the spring of 1864, on his veteran furlough.

CAMPAIGNS IT IN VIRGINIA.--VOLUNTEERS AS A SCOUT.

Rejoining his regiment at Gloucester Point, Va., he was in Gen. Butler's expedition up the James River, towards Drewry's Bluff. Early in June, while the Army of the James was shut in the peninsula at Bermuda Hundred, Gen. Butler called for a volunteer scout--or quasi spy--to venture within the enemy's lines, and bring back information of his position and numbers. This call found a ready response in Manning's heart, and he volunteered for the undertaking. He found, as he said in writing to his home of his determination, peculiar satisfaction in the thought that he could now be of real service to the cause he loved. On the vedette-post, in the rifle-pit, or on the battle-line, he must stand or fall as one man, doing only what any lad might compass; but in this new mission, all his nervous energy and cautious shrewdness and consecrated purpose would tell in an effort worthy of a soldier, whether that effort brought success or failure. As expressive of his feelings, he enclosed to his friends the following lines he had clipped from some paper:--

"We must forget all feelings save the _one_; We must resign all passions save our purpose; We must behold no object save OUR COUNTRY, And only look on death as beautiful, So that the sacrifice ascend to heaven And draw down freedom on her evermore."

It requires not a little moral courage and true nerve to deliberately leave one's military lines in the face of the enemy, and pass over into the encircling forces of the foe. But Henry Manning had counted the cost of his undertaking; and late on the evening of June 7, 1864, he glided stealthily down the steep right bank of the river James, and along the water's edge in the shade of the heavy foliage, until he had passed the rebel picket in front of the famous "Howlett Battery;" then cautiously, and with bated breath, he crept up the bank, and was within the enemy's intrenchments. Bayonets glistened, lights flashed, voices hummed about him: he was everywhere surrounded by sights and sounds of life, but he saw never a friendly look, heard never a friendly note.

"He hears the rustling flag, And the armed sentry's tramp; And the starlight and moonlight His silent wanderings lamp.

With slow tread and still tread, He scans the tented line; And he counts the battery guns By the gaunt and shadowy pine; And his slow tread and still tread Give no warning sound."

Carefully making his observations, he passed from point to point up and down the intrenchment lines, out to the Richmond pike, and beyond to the Petersburg railroad. Concealing himself during the day, he scouted again on the second night. The defences of the enemy were noted, with the general disposition and number of the troops. Long after this he wrote, "[I was] in possession of such valuable information that if I could only have got back with it, all the time, treasure, and blood which have been spent before Petersburg would have been spared. It could have been captured then with very small loss." But the attempt to regain the Union lines must be postponed until the following night, now that the dawn of the second day found him far from his starting point; so, seeking a secluded spot in the forest, near Chester Station, he concealed himself in its cover, and was soon fast asleep.

THE CAPTURE.--THE DUNGEON.--THE GALLOWS.

Awaking after a few hours, he heard the unexpected murmur of voices near him. A change of position had been made by some of the troops, and he was surrounded by the enemy. He hardly moved before he was discovered.

"A sharp clang, a steel clang! And terror in the sound; For the sentry, falcon-eyed, In the camp a spy hath found: With a sharp clang, a steel clang, The patriot is bound."

As a prisoner he was hurried before Brig.-Gen. Johnson, and by him sent forward to Gen. Beauregard's headquarters. The order to him from Gen. Butler, being found on his person, gave color to the charge that he was an authorized spy; and the first proposition was to hang him at once to a tree. Indeed, he was told that his body should swing before sundown. But from some reason it was decided to try him by formal court-martial; and he was sent to Petersburg, where he was shut in a vile hole, underneath the jail, "a low, filthy dungeon," as he described it, "dark, gloomy, and crawling with vermin." Those who have never been prisoners of war under special charges, in the gloom of solitary confinement, with the staring gallows threatened, cannot fully realize the terribleness of Henry Manning's struggle of mind during that first night in the Petersburg dungeon. Earnestly did he call on God for strength, that, if he must yield his young life thus and then, he might be faithful even unto such a death. And God sustained him.

GLOOM OF THE STOCKADE AND JAIL.

"I will lift up mine eyes to the hills."