We find in the Syracuse Courier and Union the narrative of
Francis Colehan, an escaped soldier from the rebel army at Pensacola, from
which we extract:
I had a good opportunity to find out the private opinions of
a great number of the soldiers, and I have no doubt there are over one hundred
men at Fort Barrancas alone who were as loyal to the Union as myself. Of course we all desired to escape from the
despotism which compelled us to serve under the accursed flag. We often cogitated plans of escape, but something
would always seem to interfere with every project we formed, and we were unable
to execute any of them.
On the 21st of December last, I was on guard as sentinel in
charge of the 32 pounders on the beach, which were heavily loaded with grape
for instant use, and could sweep the beach and water for a long distance
around. Unmindful of my duty, I very carelessly allow[ed] Timothy
Conovan to spike both guns! The spikes
were short pieces of steel wire, shaped like a rat-tail file. Connovan [sic] drove the spikes firmly down
into the vents, broke them off close, and then put down the vent covers so that
no one could see them. That night we
held a private council and the following persons resolved to make their escape
the next day, or perish in the attempt:
Timothy Conovan, Springfield, Massachusetts; James Smith, Buffalo, New
York; James Parker, Milwaukie, Wisconsin; Edward English, Baltimore, Maryland;
Albert Johnson, a sailor, and myself. –
There was an old leaky boat hanging up in the rickety old
shed near our quarters, and about four rods from the water. We had previously looked upon that old boat
as the means of our deliverance. By
stealth we had caulked and tarred it and made it perfectly tight and safe. Before the break of day on the morning of the
22d of December, we crept one by one out of our quarters and silently
congregated in the shed, where in darkness we held a brief council as to the
disposition of the sentinel who was on duty, and who was pacing up and down the
beach in front of us. We were all well
acquainted with him and were unwilling to take his life in that murderous
manner although we knew he would instantly fire upon us and alarm the camp.
We concluded to pause until he turned on his beat, and when
near the farther end we would make a rush for the water, and run all
risks. It [was] already seven o’clock,
and daylight had begun to streak the east.
No time was to be lost. It was
life or nothing now. – The moment the sentinel turned his back we seized the
boat, and swiftly and silently rushed for the water, into which we dashed the
boat, and fixing the oars instantly began to glide from the soil of Dixie. The noise of the oars arrested the attention
of the sentinel. He turned, challenged and
instantly fired. The bullet whistled
harmlessly past us. In a moment the
whole camp was in a perfect state of confusion and alarm, but before they
comprehended the matter we were beyond the reach of the Minnie or musket. They resolved to give us grape, and the
thirty twos were ranged upon us. But
when the captain raised the vent covers, and discovered the broken spikes, he
fairly danced with rage. We saw this,
and rising in the boat pulled off our hats and gave them a wave and a cheer.
The United States troops in the fort who had witnessed the
whole affair from the beginning, and when we waved our hats they gave us an
enthusiastic and tremendous cheer. As we
approached the beach, hundreds of them came down to meet us, and a number
rushed out into the water, seized the approaching boat, and carried it high and
try upon the shore. Before I could stir
from my seat, some one slapped me on the shoulder, and looking up, I beheld
Rowland Parish of (Fairmount) Geddes, an old schoolmate, now a member of the
New York Seventy-fifth Volunteers from Auburn.
Right glad was I to find so quickly an old friend and neighbor. He too had been watching us during that mile
and a half row for life.
We were immediately taken before Col. Brown, who closely and
rigidly questioned us. But our
statements were so plain, and we found so many old friends and acquaintances,
that we were soon afterwards relieved of all suspicion. Two days after two negroes escaped, and being
interrogated by the Colonel, fully corroborated our statements. They said that the suspicion and anger of the
rebels were so great that they came near hanging two or three persons as
accessories to our escape.
We stopped in the fort for the eleven days, and on the 2d of
January were placed in the United States steamer Rhode Island, which arrived at
Philadelphia January 18th. The next day
we sailed for New York, and landed at Fort Lafayette, where we were detained
five days when an order came from Washington for our release. We took the oath of allegiance with a hearty
good will, and are once more at liberty.
– Published in The Burlington Weekly Hawk-Eye,
Burlington, Iowa, Saturday, March 8, 1862, p. 2
