To Mr. Levi Cozzens, of Utica, New York, Spencer wrote this account of his dangerous exploits in the South:
St. Louis, Missouri, May 6, ’62.
Grandfather Cozzens.
‘Dear Sir: I received your letter yesterday, and hasten to answer it with pleasure.
I sent Kitty something of an account of my experience in ‘Secessia,’ but perhaps a more detailed one will not be uninteresting. Here goes!
During the last of January there was, you will remember, the calm in military and naval movements that usually precedes a storm. At that time . . . Columbus, then still held by the rebels, was the point upon which much anxiety centred from both North and South.
At the time I speak of I belonged to the gunboat Essex, Porter commander. To say the least, I was uneasy, and, after deliberating on the matter, I spoke first to a comrade, whom I knew well, and on the evening of the 29th of January asked permission of the executive officer, Captain Riley, to have an interview with Captain Porter. Granted, and I stood at the door. ‘Come in, young man. Speak quick!’
‘It confused even me somewhat, and I have some brass.
‘I would like a few words in private,’ I said, but so confusedly that I had to repeat. Ejecting his secretary by some verbal violence he bade me enter and sit down. I volunteered my services for an exploration of the river batteries at Columbus, meeting his approbation of my plans for action, as I unfolded them, and retired as much relieved as if I was returning instead of being on the point of setting out upon a dangerous expedition.
The time allotted for our absence was ten days. In my pocket I had a leave of absence for my comrade and myself: also a pass through the pickets. The next day the tug attending upon the Essex took us up to Cairo to make some little preparations, and I had with me nearly a hundred dollars, given me for purchases, deposits, etc., by the men. At noon, having satisfactorily acquitted all our business, we had a good dinner of fried oysters, etc., and we spent the afternoon at billiards, getting back to the boat about dark. So far, all good. I had taken a pair of irons with me to Cairo, getting them twisted apart, although the work was done most awkwardly.
In the afternoon Captain Porter had caused a small skiff that was lying near us to be put in perfect order and attached to the stern of the gun-boat, with oars handy. I then went up to the purser, depositing seven dollars and a half, and keeping three dollars in specie, and taking a receipt, which I gave to a friend to keep. We also left word with him to wake my comrade and myself at half past two.
We woke late, however, but got on an extra amount of clothing (for it was extremely cold), and, dropping into the skiff, succeeded in making good our escape—the bell noting three o’clock as we left the vessel in the distance.
After half an hour, spent with frequent interruptions of warming ourselves by some little exercise, we succeeded in getting the irons upon my wrists, soon to remove them, however, on account of the intense cold; nor were they replaced until we were within sight of Columbus.
We searched ourselves carefully for letters and papers, destroying, among others, our leave of absence and pass, only keeping one for effect. Meanwhile, we muffled the oars with handkerchiefs, which were soon rendered useless by the water freezing upon them as hard as rock. We also, at first, secreted, each, a fine saw and file, to cut steel, but afterwards threw them over as useless, and, if found, criminating.
On the passage down the cold told upon us with fearful effect, benumbing us in spite of our most severe exertions. My comrade, who had been injured in one arm, suffered very severely. A little before dawn we passed the Grampus (a notorious craft) at anchor in the river, unnoticed and without hailing. At last, as the dawn was beginning to make things show a little, we passed the town, and finally effected a landing on the steamer Charm, our repeated hails having failed to bring any answer.
Here, once fairly on board, we succeeded in raising somebody, and, telling him we were deserters from the North, got him to take us up to the floating battery. Here we reported to Captain Guthrie as deserters, got kind treatment, and I was released from my irons. But still the suspicion was very great, and Captain Guthrie refused to allow us to leave the ship (we did not ask him), while he went up to Major General Polk, then commanding at Columbus, and consulted about us. He asked us many questions, which we answered in a way that seemed remarkably like prevarication to each other.
However, after he came back from General Polk’s we were put aboard the ‘Floating Battery,’ where we spent three days of idleness and anxiety under a cheerful countenance. On the fourth of February we were sent aboard the Confederate gun-boat General Polk, and were immediately sent below and put under guard. The day before, Captain Guthrie said that as we wanted to join the army he would send us to Island Number Ten, to Captain Gray’s company, and so we were finally on the way. The gun-boat got under way in about two hours, after which we were brought up from the hold and sent forward among the men. They were very kind, giving and offering everything but clothes, of which the deficiency was everywhere apparent.
At noon they made us drink grog with them, and gave us a dinner which seemed excellent. Indeed, I may say we were in no place so trying during the whole trip as to take away our appetites.
Meantime we walked about, improving the opportunity for seeing, among other things, the peculiar construction of the boat, her four rifled Parrott guns, mounted on a carriage and slide of Southern invention, and apparently, by a unanimous verdict of two, superior to anything we had seen in the North.
After a while we were had up to a very severe cross-examination separately; but we had previously compared notes, and came through all right.
On the way down to Island Number Ten we passed a little place on the river shore where we saw a severe bite-and-gouge fight. We arrived the same evening at Number Ten, but did not leave the boat, the men giving us a good bed.
The next day the gun-boat steamed down to Madrid, giving us a good opportunity to see the fort and town; but we did not try to go ashore. I shouldn’t omit a laughable remark of the second master of the gun-boat at the time of our examination of the day before. He said we were a couple of sharp-looking fellows, just such as they would send on such business; upon which I made laugh, remarking that he complimented us.
We did not stop at Madrid over two hours, and on going back to Number Ten we still stayed aboard. They used every effort to induce us to ship on their gun-boat, but the excuse (if we should be taken by our boat we should certainly hang) seemed so plausible that they could not insist. After spending the second night on the gun-boat, on the sixth of February we were finally sent ashore, and hired ourselves very readily to Captain Gray, of the Engineer Corps, as men of all work. Gray immediately set us to work building a house, leaving us the first opportunity to speak in perfect security and leave when we wished. We worked hard that day with the carpenters, and the next also on the house. Afterwards we were put to work cleaning a sixty-eight-pound gun that had just been mounted, which we put in perfect order. Later, having charge of the magazine, we moved it a couple of miles on a boat, and guarded it until we were relieved by soldiers. Then we did sailors’ work with needle and palm, and all sorts of job-work, never hard nor very constant, but a little vexatious. I did not know how long this would last, and begged Trussel, my comrade, to return with me;[1] but he insisted upon our staying a while longer, and we finally agreed to do so. About this time Trussel went with Captain Gray to Columbus, where Gray stayed about four days, and, getting drunk, returned without him. Trussel stayed nearly a week longer in Columbus, getting complete information in regard to fortifications, guns, and torpedoes, and finally returned with an assistant engineer, Mr. Pattison, who proved to be our future ‘boss.’ But a rumour had already begun to circulate that Columbus was to be evacuated, and he thought he saw evidence of this while there, and so refused to return North with his information. He was in much better repute with the officers than I was, and his facilities for getting information were large. He demurred to the idea of returning until the matter of evacuation was permanently settled; and he was right.
One bright day, while we were at work surveying, with Mr. Pattison, boat-load after boat-load began to come in sight, land, and encamp; while ammunition and commissary stores poured in in enormous quantities. Of course there was immense waste in both. At this time (of the evacuation) there were only seven guns mounted at Island Number Ten, and if our gun-boats had attacked ‘twould have been ‘a take ‘ worth having.
Our work now was with Pattison, surveying, sometimes on the opposite shore, sometimes on the Island, and mostly on the mainland, where we lived. I managed to get all the important distances by stealing a glimpse at a map. We were then waiting impatiently for Madrid to be taken, to make our escape by floating down the river to that place.
Meanwhile our course of life began to improve under Pattison, Trussel being flag-man, while I walked alongside two lusty negroes who carried the chain, noting the distances. At first I was tempted to give them inaccurately, but upon reflection acted differently, and with success, as the ground was afterward rechained and my chaining found correct.
On the day of the capture of Madrid we were nearly eleven miles from the island, surveying at the foot of Reelfoot Lake, to see if there was any passage by which Yankee soldiers could enter. Found none, but on our return found that Madrid was evacuated and the troops at Tiptonville.
During the whole of the preceding trip, and for some time before, I had suffered with diarrhœa; but upon that trip I was feeling pretty well, but my comrade suffered terribly. He being mounted and I afoot (because he was not well), Pattison took him on a cross survey with a prismatic compass, and sent me home, so that I arrived and heard the news first.
On arriving at Number Ten, I found a number of gun-boats (five), transports, and a few mortar vessels, which began to shell the place soon. I could easily have escaped that night, but Trussel not being there I dared not leave him. On Sunday he returned, but altered much, suffering fearfully with his complaint, and almost unable to move. So I did nothing else but take care of him and watch our shells as they exploded all around. I went out frequently upon the bank of the river for that purpose, and must say they were of but little account there.
During Sunday night I made every arrangement for escape and return, but was again obliged to defer the attempt, as I dared not leave my comrade, although he begged me to do so. On Monday morning, while about to prepare some tea for him, being outside the house, I was suddenly arrested by an Irish lieutenant of the Sappers, and strictly kept from giving Trussel[2] the least hint of what had happened, or sending for my clothes, or even sending the medicine to my comrade.
Being taken before the commanding officer, General Mc (I forget his name[3]), and informed upon—’ This young man, General, was standing on the bank yesterday all day, and we suspect him of being a spy, and about to give information to the enemy ‘—I was by him immediately put in charge of Colonel Scott, Twelfth Louisiana Volunteers, who moved soon afterwards to Tiptonville. Marching, one of the men being overloaded I helped him carry his ‘traps,’ gaining thereby much goodwill and a pair of blankets to sleep under for the rest of the time that I was under guard. At Tiptonville we camped in the mud, where I sat all day under guard upon two rails, and slept about half of the night upon four rails.
Although five miles distant the mortar-shells could be distinctly seen bursting in the air all through the day.
‘About midnight the regiment moved, taking me with them aboard a boat that soon afterward started for Fort Pillow.
Here I stood all night under guard before the furnace door, trying to warm myself but freezing all the time. I was neglected in the morning, and did not get any breakfast until, meeting one of the officers, I gave him a good blowing up, and got him to send the Colonel (Scott) to me. I asked him if he had orders to starve me, and he, repenting, took me upstairs and gave me a good breakfast. Immediately after, feeling better, I began to use my eyes, taking a good and comprehensive view of the fort, breastworks, calibre of the guns, etc. I was taken up the hill and placed upon the side of a bank, upon which a little grass had begun to grow (March 18th), and, the sun being pleasantly warm, slept nearly all day. I got a bite of dinner from some of the men, the officers neglecting me altogether until night, when one of them gave me some supper after dark, and I went to sleep on a borrowed blanket. It commenced raining soon, and with extreme difficulty I got the guard to take me under the shelter of the porch of the commissary store-house near by. Once there, I slept like a top.
I must not forget to mention that having an insult from one of the regiment the day before, I told him he would not dare give it if I had not been a prisoner, upon which I challenged him to fight with either sword or bayonet—which the guard would not allow; whereupon the fellow threatened to give me ______ as soon as I was released. I know something about a bayonet, and during the two months previous to my undertaking the trip I had nearly three hours a day of practice with cutlass and small sword.
The next day a guard-tent was assigned, under which a little incident occurred. I was lying on the blanket under the tent when a sergeant of the regiment (Twelfth Louisiana Volunteers), Dan Hickman, came up pretty ‘tight,’ but in a good-natured way, with a full canteen of whisky by his side.
Coming into the tent in spite of all the guard could do, he sat down by my side, and in a drunken, affectionate manner, began to brush my hair back. ‘You’re a pretty good-l’king fel’r. What’s yo’ name?’ ‘Kellogg,’ said I, ‘ Spencer Kellogg, all the world over, and in the Southern Confederacy to boot.’ ‘Well, Kellogg,’ he said, still fumbling round my head, ‘they say y’r a spy, but I reck’n it’s all right.nYou’ve got a good for’ed, ‘n’ a fine open count ‘nance (hie).’ Suddenly, ‘Will y’r have a drink?’ You ought to have seen the air of eagerness with which I seized that canteen, and the length of time I gurgled at it. He went out soon, being alarmed for the safety of its contents; but he afterwards proved friendly to me.
It was not the only whisky-drinking that I did in the South. While going down the river to Island Number Ten I drank grog every day on the gun-boat General Polk, and when at the Island frequently went aboard to promote good fellowship by drinking with the sailors.
One day—the one after Madrid was evacuated— while going back to Number Ten from a surveying expedition at Reelfoot Lake, the General Polk was lying at Tiptonville (Obionville), and I went aboard, being invited by the sailors. While on board, grog being offered me, I was about to take the ‘tot’ when the executive officer, from the deck above, a man of gold buttons and blue broadcloth (brass-mounted, the sailors call it), called out:
‘Who gave you permission to drink that grog?’
‘No one gave me permission,’ I replied; ‘the men asked me to drink.’
‘We don’t give away grog on this ship,’ said he, with a tartaric-acid aspect—but a moment after I set down the cup he said, ‘You have permission to drink.’ I replied that I did not wish it, upon which he told me, sharply, that I might leave that ship—which I did. It made me bitter, but when I told Trussel he laughed.
At Fort Pillow I remained under guard two weeks to a day, receiving, in the main, most kind treatment, winning the confidence in my innocence of most of the officers and men, teaching the officers sword practice and the men bayonet exercise, and playing many a game of whist and ball. The weather was fine, and I enjoyed myself famously, without any apprehensions for the future. Finally I induced an officer (he made me promise to join his company) to speak to General Villipique, then commanding at the place, in my favour. He immediately sent for me, asking only a few questions, what I was going to do, etc., and upon my statement that I was going to Corinth to enlist, he released me, and before I left, gave me a pass, transportation, and five days’ provisions. I did not leave for three days, during which time I assure you I saw all there was to see about Fort Pillow.
Started for Corinth, via Memphis, landing at the latter place next day in the morning. Got my pass ‘vised’ at the provost marshal’s office, and, seeing Memphis industriously until five o’clock P. M., started for Corinth. General Trudeau and his aide were in the cars, and, securing a seat near them, I obtained much valuable information from their conversation. Spent the night at Grand Junction. The next day, when about to leave, found a man belonging to the First Louisiana Cavalry Volunteers, who, much to his own satisfaction, picked me up as a recruit to his company. He was at all the expense upon our arrival at Corinth, where I stayed that day and night, leaving the next day for Iuka, twenty-five miles farther on, where his regiment was expected that night. I arrived at Iuka, and his regiment came in during the evening, upon which I domiciled myself with his company (being acceptable, as it was small), but would not be sworn in until he gave me the bounty-money, fifty dollars, which not being on hand, I commenced serving without being sworn in at all. Managed to pass the night in a semi-freezing condition near a small fire, and in the morning sponged some breakfast off one of the messes.
The sound of the fight at Pittsburg Landing[4] began to reach our ears early in the morning, and continued with but little interruption during the entire day. About eleven o’clock A. M. all the available men in the regiment were ordered to be reported for service, and after some trouble I managed to get my name among them, getting an old double-barrelled shot-gun and ten rounds of cartridges for arms, and an ambitious but extremely emaciated horse to ride— one that was never out of a perpetual jiggle. We left camp soon after for the Tennessee River, passing many pretty houses, from which came ladies of various degrees of comeliness, wearing innumerable white and bandana handkerchiefs. From Iuka the Tennessee is distant nearly eight miles, but it was over mountains for a good part of the way, and the weather was intensely warm. The sound of the battle in progress, raging with a continual roar, caused anxiety to us all; but to me of a peculiar kind. I expected every moment to be brought into a fight against my friends, and you may imagine it caused me trouble.
However, we rode quietly along on a jog-trot, sweltering in the heat of the sun and in clouds of dust, until the road came at last to run along the side of a beautiful valley, in the midst of which flowed a babbling rivulet, which we crossed repeatedly in our course onward. Few knew where they were destined, yet jokes were current, and merriment and good-humour pervaded all. When we were within about a mile of the river a halt was ordered (I wished fervently that it might be to camp), and the colonel and a detachment went forward to reconnoitre. From the result a retrograde movement was ordered, and we began to retrace our line of march, leaving pickets at favourable places, and at last, striking a cross-road, moved down the river towards the scene of action. It had got to be quite dark by this time, and the roar of the smaller cannon had ceased, but occasionally there came, wafted on the breeze, a sullen boom which I knew full well to be the guns of our boats. Still we travelled on by moonlight until hardier men than I, overcome by weariness, slept in their saddles; while I, whose every nerve seemed pounded to a jelly, and whose eyelids seemed glued fast, was only kept awake by the hope of escape.
Meanwhile, in the distance it began to storm dreadfully, and every moment the sky grew darker above us, while still we followed the downward course of the river, until at last, long after midnight, we camped in some cow-lot; when, getting a few ears of corn and a little water for my jaded but still ambitious horse, I lay down on my blanket, without any meal since morning, and fell quietly and quickly into a sound sleep. In the morning, by questioning some boys, the sons of the owner of the aforesaid cow-lot, I found that the Tennessee River was about one and a half miles distant, and I made up my mind to cross it and ‘break’ for ‘home.’
So, going back to camp, I fed and watered my horse carefully, and, inquiring, found that no camp guard had been posted. Leaving my coat hanging on the fence, I strolled off naturally into the brush, but, once out of sight of the camp, I quickened my step, and in about fifteen minutes made the Tennessee River.
‘Twas the first time I had ever seen it, and I gazed a moment with a natural curiosity; but that did not last long; everything was now at stake, and, although in a streaming perspiration with my rapid walk, I went to the water’s edge, and, tearing off my shoes, trousers, and over-shirt, plunged in. The intensity of the cold nearly took away my breath, but I soon found I could not succeed in that manner, and I returned to the shore. This time I stripped completely naked, with the exception of my cap (a ‘Secesh’ cap, from Fort Pillow), and, after some trouble and much cold, made an island in the middle of the river. Here, after a long search, I found an old, split dugout,[5]1 which carried me, up to my hips in water, across, about a mile below. Once out, you ought to have seen me travel! After about two miles I saw a man ploughing. He was terribly scared; thought I was a wild man, but managed, in a trembling voice, to give me some false information. Travelling about five miles farther, I met a man who gave me some wretched clothes and a piece of bread and bacon, the first mouthful since the breakfast of the morning before. During the walk of the next three miles, which was over a rocky road, my feet were terribly lacerated by flints, and I bled from many scratches on my legs. At last, however, I found a Union man,[6] who put me upon his mule and took me thirteen miles farther on to Savannah, where, among Union soldiers, I was at last ‘home.’ I sought General Grant’s headquarters, and immediately reported myself—only to be immediately put under guard. The battle was still raging, and the result was plainly against us. Almost every house in town was filled with wounded men, while hundreds lay upon the ground, and others were arriving constantly.
I was taken, soon after, up the river to Pittsburg Landing, and stood in the rain shivering about two hours; then, at last, was taken before General Grant. My reception was good.
My story is finished.
Spencer.
From Mr. O. C. Brown I learned that his son had procured or prepared plans of the rebel strongholds at Columbus, Island Number Ten, and Fort Pillow, and of Memphis, Grand Junction, Iuka, and Corinth, and that not the least useful of his services was his taking to General Grant’s headquarters, on the morning of the second day of the battle of Pittsburg Landing, assurance that no re-enforcement of the Confederate force engaged in the battle was possible. As Spencer had been in the rear of that army for days, closely observing all that could be seen, and had listened to conversations that revealed much more, his positive testimony was of great importance. With renewed confidence and energy Grant continued the fight and achieved victory.
Mr. Brown also mentioned that Spencer had entered General Pillow’s guarded tent and taken from his trunk plans, instructions, etc., and forwarded them[8] to Captain Porter long before his own return in April.
I was assured on the same authority that, although Spencer was charged by the rebels with being a deserter, the boy never had allowed himself to be mustered into the Confederate service, having been admonished by Porter to avoid, by all means, such a snare; and that when officers of the United States Navy discussed the question whether Spencer could safely enter the gun-boat service again, they decided that if he should be captured he could be treated only as a prisoner of war.
[1] The time allotted for their absence was only ten days.
[2] Fifteen months later, at Vicksburg, Trussel reported to General Grant with very important information.
[3] General W. W. Mackall, Confederate Commander at Island Number Ten.
[4] “Shiloh,” the Confederates called this battle. The Federal troops, coming to the field from the river through a hamlet of that name, called it the “Battle of Pittsburg Landing.” This was one of the great battles of the year 1862. Beauregard reported his loss at 1,728 killed, 8,012 wounded, 957 missing—10,697 in all. Grant reported 1,735 killed, 7,882 wounded, 3,956 prisoners—a total loss of 13,573. Later statements showed that on each side the loss was about 16,000.
[5] Canoe hollowed from the trunk of a tree.
[8] Probably by negro messengers, who were almost invariably trustworthy.
