Classic Audiobook Collection - Loss of the Sultana by Chester D. Berry ~ Full Audiobook [history]
Episode Date: November 11, 2022Loss of the Sultana by Chester D. Berry audiobook. Genre: history In April 1865, as the Civil War collapses into uneasy peace and the nation reels from Abraham Lincoln's assassination, thousands of U...nion prisoners are finally released from Confederate camps like Andersonville and Cahaba. For many of these gaunt, half-starved soldiers, the steamboat Sultana seems like a last hard step on the road home. Instead, it becomes a floating pressure cooker of exhaustion, bureaucracy, and greed: a vessel built for a few hundred people is packed with more than two thousand, pushing north on the Mississippi after a hurried repair and a rushed loading at Vicksburg.Chester D. Berry, himself a survivor, reconstructs the tragedy through a blend of firsthand narrative, gathered testimonies, and documentary detail. Voices from men who endured prisons, marches, and hospitals now confront a new enemy - fire, boiling steam, icy river water, and the chaos of a night-time catastrophe near Memphis. As Berry follows the disaster and the investigations that follow, he also probes the unsettling question of how the worst maritime loss of life in American history could be so quickly overshadowed, and what happens when survivors must fight not only to live, but to be remembered. For ad-free listening try our premium subscription Chapters (Approximate) (00:00:00) Chapter 001 (00:09:12) Chapter 002 (00:12:42) Chapter 003 (00:40:14) Chapter 004 (00:46:14) Chapter 005 (00:47:32) Chapter 006 (00:48:51) Chapter 007 (00:54:58) Chapter 008 (00:57:58) Chapter 009 (01:01:09) Chapter 010 (01:03:59) Chapter 011 (01:07:02) Chapter 012 (01:09:52) Chapter 013 (01:18:53) Chapter 014 (01:20:14) Chapter 015 (01:21:29) Chapter 016 (01:46:22) Chapter 017 (01:56:38) Chapter 018 (01:58:13) Chapter 019 (02:14:01) Chapter 020 (02:21:10) Chapter 021 (02:35:46) Chapter 022 (02:38:36) Chapter 023 (02:41:47) Chapter 024 (02:42:54) Chapter 025 (02:58:16) Chapter 026 (03:01:09) Chapter 027 (03:04:05) Chapter 028 (03:09:22) Chapter 029 (03:14:22) Chapter 030 (03:20:08) Chapter 031 (03:21:31) Chapter 032 (03:27:01) Chapter 033 (03:29:48) Chapter 034 (03:36:40) Chapter 035 (03:38:44) Chapter 036 (04:05:23) Chapter 037 (04:24:32) Chapter 038 (04:37:07) Chapter 039 (04:38:27) Chapter 040 (04:39:45) Chapter 041 (04:42:07) Chapter 042 (04:52:36) Chapter 043 (04:59:19) Chapter 044 (05:06:06) Chapter 045 (05:10:50) Chapter 046 (05:16:49) Chapter 047 (05:24:06) Chapter 048 (05:30:26) Chapter 049 (05:33:20) Chapter 050 (05:40:35) Chapter 051 (05:41:36) Chapter 052 (05:44:02) Chapter 053 (05:51:28) Chapter 054 (05:59:11) Chapter 055 (06:01:18) Chapter 056 (06:04:48) Chapter 057 (06:06:09) Chapter 058 (06:07:20) Chapter 059 (06:08:42) Chapter 060 (06:12:33) Chapter 061 (06:24:48) Chapter 062 (06:28:52) Chapter 063 (06:30:11) Chapter 064 (06:32:06) Chapter 065 (06:41:58) Chapter 066 (06:44:50) Chapter 067 (06:52:40) Chapter 068 (06:55:42) Chapter 069 (07:00:23) Chapter 070 (07:03:55) Chapter 071 (07:06:17) Chapter 072 (07:08:50) Chapter 073 (07:13:28) Chapter 074 (07:18:03) Chapter 075 (07:24:12) Chapter 076 (07:34:34) Chapter 077 (07:38:48) Chapter 078 (07:41:55) Chapter 079 (07:44:37) Chapter 080 (07:47:59) Chapter 081 (07:52:39) Chapter 082 (07:59:39) Chapter 083 (08:10:03) Chapter 084 (08:14:30) Chapter 085 (08:20:04) Chapter 086 Max Character Limit reached Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices
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introduction to loss of the sultana and reminiscences of survivors by rev chester d berry introduction
the average american is astonished at nothing he sees or hears he looks for large things things ordinary are too tame
this and the exciting events of april eighteen sixty five perhaps account for the fact that the loss of the steamer sultana and over seventeen hundred passengers mostly exchanged prisoners of war finds no place in american history
the idea that the most appalling marine disaster that ever occurred in the history of the world should pass by unnoticed is strange but still such is the fact and the majority of the american people to-day do not know that there ever was such a vessel as the sultana
and many of those who do recollect something about the occurrence cannot tell whether it occurred in the mississippi river the gulf of mexico or the atlantic ocean
and the purpose of setting them right and instructing others thus holding in the memory of the present generation and those yet to be the sufferings of the defenders of our country is the object of this sketch
the steamer sultana was built at cincinnati ohio january eighteen sixty three and was registered as near as i can learn at one thousand seven hundred and nineteen tons
she was a regular st louis and new orleans packet and left the latter port on her fatal trip april twenty first eighteen sixty five arriving at vicksburg mississippi with about two hundred passengers and crew on board
she remained here little more than one day among other things repairing one of her boilers at the same time receiving on board one thousand nine hundred and sixty five federal soldiers
and thirty-five officers just released from the rubble prisons at cahaba alabama mackan and andersonville georgia and belonging to the states of ohio indiana michigan tennessee kentucky and west virginia
besides these there were two companies of infantry under arms making a grand total of two thousand three hundred souls on board besides a number of mules and horses
and over one hundred hogsheads of sugar, the latter being in the hold of the boat and serving as ballast.
At Helena, Arkansas, by some unaccountable means, a photograph of the boat with her mass of living freight was taken,
a copy of which is in the possession of L. G. Morgan of Findlay, Ohio, one of the survivors today.
Leaving Helena, the boat arrived at Memphis, Tennessee, about seven o'clock.
P.M. of the 26th of April. Here the sugar was unloaded, many of the exchanged prisoners
helping the crew, thus making a little money for themselves. Sometime in the evening,
probably well towards midnight, the boat steamed across the river to the coal bins or barges,
and, after taking on her supply of coal, started on up the river for Cairo, Illinois.
All was quiet and peaceful.
Many of the soldiers, no doubt, after their long, unwilling fast in southern prisons,
were dreaming of home and the good things in store for them there.
But, alas, those beautiful visions were dissipated by a terrific explosion,
for about two o'clock in the morning of the 27th,
as the boat was passing through a group of islands known as the Old Hen and Chickens,
and while about opposite the Tagleman's landing
had burst one of her boilers
and almost immediately caught fire,
for the fragments of the boiler had cut the cabin
and the hurricane deck in two,
and the splintered pieces had fallen,
many of them back upon the burning coal fires
that were now left exposed.
The light dry wood of the cabins burned like tinder,
and it was but a short time ere the boat was wrapped in flames,
burning to the water's edge and sinking.
Hundreds were forced into the water and drowned in huge squads,
those who could swim being unable to get away from those who could not,
and consequently perishing with them.
One thing favorable for the men was the fact that there was a little wind,
hence the bow of the boat, having no cabin above it,
would face the wind until the cabin was burned off from the stern.
Then the boat gradually swung around, the unburned part of the boat above the water acting as a sail,
while that below acted as a rudder and finally drove the men into the water.
A part of the crowd was driven at a time, thus giving many of those who could swim or had secured fragments of the wreck,
an opportunity to escape.
But there was one thing that was unfavorable, and that was the pitchy darkness of the rain.
the night. It was raining a little, or had been, and but occasional glimpses of timber
were all that could be seen, even when the flames were the brightest. Consequently,
the men did not know what direction to take, and one man, especially, swam upstream.
Another thing that added greatly to the loss of life is the fact that the river at this place
is three miles wide, and at the time of the accident it was very high.
and had overflown its banks, and many, doubtless, perished after they reached the timber
while trying to get through the woods back to the bluffs, the flats being deeply underwater.
Others died from exposure in the icy cold water after they had reached the timber,
but were unable to climb a tree or crawl upon a log and thus get out of the water.
Among the passengers on board were twelve ladies, most of them belonging,
to the Christian Commission, an association akin to that of the sanitary commission of the
Army of the Potomac.
One of these ladies, with more than ordinary courage, when the flames at last drove all the
men from the boat, seeing them fighting like demons in the water in the mad endeavor to save
their lives, actually destroying each other and themselves by their wild actions,
talk to them, arguing them to be men, and find,
finally succeeded in getting them quieted down, clinging to the ropes and chains that hung over the bow of the boat.
The flames now began to lap around her with their fiery tongues.
The men pleaded and urged her to jump into the water and thus save herself,
but she refused, saying,
I might lose my presence of mind and be the means of the death of some of you.
And so, rather than run the risk of becoming the cause of the death,
death of a single person, she folded her arms quietly over her bosom and burned, a voluntary
martyr to the men she had so lately quieted. In the official list, the name seemed to have been
taken without reference to rank or state they were from. Sometimes, apparently, a squad from one
company or regiment would be taken together, but often it was the case that they were all mixed up.
in other cases many were left out for instance a sergeant came to me and asked to see the official list it was shown him
why said he there are but ten of my company reported here and i know there were eighteen of us this has been true in quite a number of cases on december thirtieth eighteen eighty five at a convention called in faustoria o'us
Ohio, there was a committee appointed, consisting of A.C. Brown, P. L. Horn, William Fies,
A. W. King, and G. N. Klinger, to prepare a suitable memorial and present the same to Congress,
praying for a pension for each of the survivors of the lost sultana.
End of introduction. Section 2 of Loss of the Sultana by Chester D. Berry.
This Libravox recording is in the public domain.
Section 2
The Burning of the Sultana
by William H. Norton
Company C. 115th Ohio.
Midnight's dreary hour has passed.
The mists of night are falling fast.
Sultana sounds her farewell blast
and braves the mighty stream.
The swollen river's banks o'er flow.
The leaden gents.
clouds are hanging low, and veil the star's bright silver glow, and darkness reigns supreme.
Her engine fires now brighter burn, her mammoth wheels now faster turn, her dipping paddles lightly
spurn, the river's foaming crest. And drowsy Memphis lost to sight, now fainter shows her beacon
light, as sultana streams in the dead of night, and the Union soldiers rest.
the sleeping soldiers dream of home to them the long-sawed day had come no more in prison pens to moan or guarded by the gray
at last the changing fates of war had swung their prison gates ajar and laurel rees from the north afar await their crowning day for peace has raised her magic hand the stars and stripes wave o'er the land the conquered foemen now disband
as melts the morning dew,
and mothers wear their wanted smile,
and aged sires the hours beguile,
and plighted love awaits the while the coming of the blue.
On sails the steamer through the gloom,
On sleep the soldiers, to their doom,
And death's dark angel, oh so soon, calls loud the muster roll.
A burst, a crash, and timbers fly,
and flame and steam leaped to the sky,
and men awakened but to die,
commend to God their souls.
Out from the flames,
encircling fold,
like a mighty rush of warriors bold,
they leap to the river dark and cold,
and search for the hidden shore.
In the cabins and pinioned there,
amid the smoke and fire and glare,
the awful wail of death's despair
is heard above the roar.
out on the river's rolling tide out from the steamer's burning side out where the circle is growing wide they battle with the waves
and drowning men each other clasp and writhing in death's closing grasp they struggle bravely but at last sink to watery graves
oh for the stars bright silver light oh for a moon to dispel the night oh for the hand that should guide aright the way to the distant land clinging to driftwood and floating down caught in the eddies and whirling around washing to the end washing to the driftwood and floating down caught in the eddies and whirling around washing to
the flooded banks are found the survivors of that band.
End of Section 2.
Section 3 of Loss of the Sultana by Chester D. Berry.
This Libervox recording is in the public domain.
Section 3. Official Correspondence
Destruction of the Steamer Sultana in the Mississippi River near Memphis, Tennessee, April 27, 1865.
from the records of this department it would appear that the steamer sultana left vicksburg mississippi on april twenty fourth eighteen sixty five and was destroyed in the mississippi river near memphis tennessee on april twenty seventh eighteen sixty five
a court of inquiry was thereupon ordered by major-general c c washburn commanding district of west tennessee to investigate the facts and circumstances of the burning of the
Sultana. On April 30, 1865, the Secretary of War instructed Brevet Brigadier General Hoffman,
Commissary General of Prisoners, to inquire into the circumstances of the destruction of the steamer
referred to, which officer on May 19, 1865, made the following report.
Office of the Commissary General of Prisoners, Washington, D.C., May 19, 1865, made the following report.
Honorable E. M. Stanton, Secretary of War, Washington, D.C.
Sir, pursuant to your instructions of the 30th, Altimo, I proceeded direct to Memphis, Tennessee, and Vicksburg, Mississippi,
to inquire into the circumstances of the destruction of the steamer sultana in the Mississippi River near Memphis on the 24th, Altimo,
by which calamity, a large number of paroled prisoners who had embarked on her at Vicksburg, lost their lives,
and I have the honor to submit the following report of the result of my investigations.
At Memphis, I learned that a court of inquiry had been ordered by Major General Washburn,
commanding district of West Tennessee, to investigate the facts and circumstances of the burning of the sultana,
and at Vicksburg, I learned that a commission had been ordered by Major General Dana,
commanding Department of the Mississippi to make a similar investigation.
The court and the commission were about closing their proceedings when I arrived at Vicksburg,
and finding, upon a perusal of their records,
that all the testimony taken would be useful to me in forming an opinion
as to the merits of the case, I determined to avail myself of a copy of them,
which I was permitted to do through the courtesy of the generals by whom the investigations were made.
In addition to the above, I obtained such further testimony that was within my reach,
as I thought necessary to a full understanding of the matter.
Upon a careful consideration of all the facts as presented in the testimony herewith submitted,
I am of the opinion that the shipment of so large a number of troops,
1,86, on one boat was, under the circumstances,
unnecessary, unjustifiable, and a great outrage on the troops.
A proper order was issued by the General commanding the Department
for the embarkation of the paroled prisoners,
and there were four officers of his staff who were responsible
that this order was properly carried out, viz.
Colonel R. B. Hatch, Captain in the Quartermasters Department, Chief Quartermaster,
Captain Frederick Speed, A.A.G. U.S. Volunteers, Adjutant General Department of Mississippi.
Captain George A. Williams, First U.S. Infantry, Commissary of Musters, and in charge of paroled prisoners.
And Captain W. F. Kearns, A.Q.M. U.S.
volunteers and Master of Transportation. If there was anything deficient or unsuitable in the character
of the transportation furnished, one or more of these officers should be held accountable for the
neglect. The testimony shows that it was well understood by the four officers named that the
troops in question were to embark on the sultana. She was provided by the master of transportation
with the approval of the chief quartermaster upon the order of General Dana,
though not upon a formal requisition,
and Captain Speed and Captain Williams were to superintend the embarkation.
Nothing was known positively as to the number of men that were to go on board,
but it was the impression that there would be from 1,200 to 1,500.
Nor was any inspection of the boat made by either of the officers above named,
to determine her capacity or her condition.
Neither one of them knew whether she had proper apparatus
for cooking for so many men
or other necessary conveniences
required for troops on transports.
The troops were sent to the steamer from the camp
in three parties, as is shown by the testimony
of Mr. Butler, superintendent of military railroads at Vicksburg,
though Captain Speed and Captain Williams
Kerns knew only of the first and third parties.
The second party consisted of between 300 and 400 men.
As the men were being embarked,
Captain Kerns seems to have been satisfied
that too many were going on one boat,
and he so reported to Colonel Hatch,
who agreed with him in this belief,
but failed to interfere himself,
as it was his duty to do so,
or to make any report of the matter to General Dana,
because, as he states, he had had a day or two before some difficulty with Captain Speed about the shipment of troops.
There were two other steamers at the landing during the day, both of which would have taken a part of the men,
and there was, therefore, no necessity for crowding them all on one boat.
It only required an order from Colonel Hatch or a representation of the facts to the commanding general.
Captain Speed and Captain Williams acted under the impression that there were only about
fourteen hundred men to be forwarded, and having also a conviction that Liberty had been attempted
to induce the shipment of part of the men on the Pauline Carroll, they, during the day, resisted
the proposition to divide the command between the two boats, in the belief that in doing
so they resisted an attempt at fraud. It was not until the troops were all on board,
that they became aware of the fearful load that was on the boat,
and then they seemed to think it too late to make any changes.
But neither of them made any inspection of the boat
to see whether there was room enough for every man to lie down.
The testimony shows,
and by a calculation of the area of the three decks,
I am satisfied that there was scant sleeping room for all the men
when every part of the boat from the roof of the Texas
to the main deck was satisfied.
fully occupied. At night it was impossible to move about, and it was only with much difficulty
that it could be done during the daytime. The cooking was done either by hot water taken from
the boilers, or at a small stove on the after part of the main deck, and owing to the limited
nature of this arrangement, the difficulty of getting about the boat and the want of camp
kettles or mess pans, the cooking could not be very general.
before the troops embarked there were on the boat about sixty horses and mules and some hogs one hundred or more
the great weight on the upper deck made it necessary to set up stanchions in many places in spite of which the deck perceptibly sagged the impression seems to have been entertained that the paroled troops having been so long suffering together in rebel prisons were particularly
anxious to go home together in the same boat, but there is no foundation for this belief.
The men were exceedingly anxious to return to their homes, and were willing to put up with many
inconveniences, but they felt that they were treated with unkindness and harshness when they were
crowded together in great discomfort on one boat, when another equally good was lying alongside
willing to take them.
from the foregoing i am of opinion that the four officers above named are responsible for the embarkation of so large a number of troops on an unsuitable vessel colonel hatch and captain speed being the most censurable
it was their duty especially to see that the service was properly performed captain williams was assisting captain speed and seems to have felt that there was no special responsibility
resting on him. But there was a manifest propriety in his knowing the number embarked,
and if there was a deficiency of transportation, he should have reported it.
Captain Kearns made no inspection of the steamer to see that she was properly fitted up,
but he did report her to Colonel Hatch and also to General Smith as being insufficient
for so many troops, and his report should have been noticed.
He made no report of the repairing of the boiler,
which he seems to have been aware was going forward,
and which it has not yet been decided positively
was not the cause of the disaster.
Lieutenant W. H. Tillinghouse, 66th United States Colored Infantry,
was the only other officer connected with this service,
but he had no direct in control.
It is shown by his own testimony that a brought
was being proffered to him to induce him to use his influence in having some of the troops shipped on the Pauline Carroll,
which he showed a willingness to accept, at least he did not reject it,
and which he failed to report until after the loss of the sultana.
The testimony of the four officers above referred to is very contradictory,
and I have formed my opinion from the general tenor of the testimony and the circumstances
of the embarkation.
Brigadier General M. L. Smith, United States volunteers,
had command of the district of Vicksburg at the time,
but he had nothing officially to do with the shipment of the troops.
Yet as it was officially reported to him by Captain Kearns
that too many men were being put on the sultana,
it was proper that he should have satisfied himself
from good authority whether there was sufficient grounds for the report.
and if he found it so he should have interfered to have the evil remedied had he done so the lives of many men would have been saved in reference to the immediate cause of the calamity the testimony which i have been able to collect does not enable me to form a positive opinion
the testimony of the two engineers of the sultana and of the inspector at st louis establishes that her boilers were in good condition on her leaving the
that port for New Orleans, and apparently continued so, until her arrival within ten hours
run of Vicksburg, when a leak occurred in one of her boilers. On the arrival of the boat at Vicksburg,
this leak was repaired by a competent boiler-maker, and was pronounced by him a good job,
though he qualifies the character of the work by saying that, to have been thorough and permanent,
the two sheets adjoining the leak should have been taken out,
and that, in its then condition, it was not perfect.
The first engineer, Mr. Wintringer,
testifies that after leaving Vicksburg,
he watched the repaired part of the boiler,
which was near the front end, just over the fire bars,
carefully, and it did not at any time show the least sign of giving way.
When he was relieved from charge of the engine,
by the second engineer, the boilers were full of water and in good condition,
and on the return to Memphis, the second engineer, Mr. Clemens,
who being on watch at the time of the explosion was fatally scalded,
told him before he died that the boilers were all right and full of water.
I was told by another engineer at Cincinnati
that he had said the same thing to another person on landing at Memphis,
but this other person was not within my reach.
There is nothing to show that there was any careening of the boat at the time of the disaster,
or that she was running fast.
On the contrary, it is shown that she was running evenly and not fast.
A piece of boiler was obtained from the wreck,
by order of General Washburn, which I examined.
It seemed to have been broken from the bottom of the boiler,
the breadth of a sheet and torn tapering to near the top of the boiler,
tearing the iron-like paper at times through the rivet holes
and then through the middle of the sheet.
The lower or wider end seems to have been exposed to the fire
without the protection of water, and if so, this doubtless was the cause of the explosion.
But this piece of iron may have been exposed to the fire of the burning vessel after the explosion,
in which case some other cause must be found to account for it the testimony of some of the most experienced engineers on the western rivers is given to throw some light on the matter
but until the boilers can all be examined no reliable conjecture can be made to account for the explosion thus far nothing has been discovered to show that the disaster was attributable to the imperfect patching
it is the common opinion among the engineers that an explosion of steam boilers is impossible when they have the proper quantity of water in them but the boilers may burst from an over-pressure of steam when they are full of water
owing to some defective part of the iron in which case there is generally no other harm done than giving way of the defective part and the consequent escape of steam
one engineer who is said to be the most reliable on the river said that even in such a case the great power of the steam having once found a yielding place tears everything before it producing the effect of an explosion and his view seems to be reasonable
what is usually understood as the explosion of a boiler is caused by the sudden development of intense steam by the water coming in contact with red-hot iron which
produces an effect like the firing of gunpowder in a mine,
and the destruction of the boilers and the boat that carries them is the consequence.
The reports and testimony show that there were 1,866 troops on board the boat,
including 33 paroled officers, one officer who had resigned,
and the captain in charge of the guard.
Of these, 765, including,
including 16 officers, were saved, and 1,101, including 19 officers, were lost.
There were 70 cabin passengers and 85 crew on board, of whom some 12 to 18 were saved,
giving the loss of 137, making the total loss 1,238.
I have the honor to submit here with
the following papers in support of the foregoing opinions,
Viz.
Testimony taken before the Court of Inquiry,
ordered by Major General Washburn, marked A.
Testimony taken before the Commission,
ordered by Major General Dana, marked B.
Testimony taken by myself,
including testimony of Captain James McCown,
6th Kentucky Cavalry, taken before Colonel Badoe of General Grant staff, Mark C.
And the report of Major General Dana, commanding Department of Mississippi, Mark D.
I have the honor to be, very respectfully, your obedient servant, W. Hoffman,
Brevet Brigadier General, U.S. Army, Commissary General of Prisoners.
Vicksburg, Mississippi, May 7.
1865. Will General Dana please state what officer or officers he considers responsible for the
shipment of the paroled troops within referred to and for the proper character of the transportation?
Very respectfully, W. Hoffman, Commissary General, Prisoners.
Headquarters, Department of Mississippi, Vicksburg, May 8, 1865.
respectfully returned to brigadier-general hoffman captain speed was entrusted with the transfer and shipment of the prisoners and assumed full and active management and control of it and i therefore consider him fully responsible therefore
the quartermaster's department was ordered to provide the transportation and i consider captain kerns quartermaster in charge of transportation responsible for the character of it
n j t dana major general the report of major-general dana is as follows headquarters department of mississippi vicksburg may eighth eighteen sixty five
brigadier general w hoffman united states army commissary general of prisoners in compliance with your verbal request this morning i have the honor to report as follows regarding the shipment of paroled federal prison
from here. The Commissary of Musters of this department, Captor George A. Williams,
first U.S. Infantry, was, by my order in the latter part of March, placed in charge of duties
pertaining to an assistant commissioner of exchange, with a view to transaction of business
with the rebel agents then in charge of federal prisoners of war who were arriving under flag of truce.
the rebel commissioners having positively declined to turn over any prisoners till they received an equivalent captain williams was sent first to mobile and then to cairo to communicate with major-general canby lieutenant-general grant and brigadier-general hoffman
during his absence captain frederick speed assistant adjutant general of this department at his own suggestion was assigned by me to the performance of captain williams's duties
and took entire charge of the receiving of prisoners from the rebel agents and of sending them to the parole camps at the north during captain williams's absence at the north orders were received through me by the rebel agents by the rebel
officials from Colonel Uld, rebel commissioner, by which they were induced to parole the prisoners,
and I then ordered Captain Speed to prepare their rolls as rapidly as possible,
and send them north as rapidly as the rolls could be prepared,
calculating as near as circumstances would permit, about 1,000 at a load for the regular
packets as they passed. The first load which was sent north was expected to,
to be about eight hundred, as that was about the number for which rolls were completed when
the Henry Ames was expected. She was delayed, however, and by the time she was ready to leave,
the rolls were ready for upwards of thirteen hundred, and she carried them off.
I had taken great interest in expediting the departure of these brave fellows to their homes,
and I went down to see this load start. The next load was by the steamboat,
boat Olive Branch, which arrived so soon after the departure of the Ames, that rolls for only about
700 were ready for her. After she left, Captain Speed came to me in considerable indignation,
and asked for authority to place Captain Kearns, the quartermaster of transportation at this post,
in arrest. He stated that he had ordered all boats to be reported to him immediately on arrival
and to await orders.
That this boat had arrived in the middle of the night
and had not been reported to him till 8 o'clock next morning,
and that she had been unnecessarily detained after being loaded,
and that he had been informed that this delay was made
because she did not belong to the line which had the government contract,
and that the contract line had offered a pecuniary consideration per capita
for the men to be kept for their boat.
and the intention was to detain the olive branch till one of the contract line came along to take the load from her.
I directed him not to arrest Captain Kearns till he was satisfied, upon proper investigation, that the reports he had heard were well-founded.
The next boat was the Sultana, and she arrived so soon after the departure of the olive branch that Captain Speed reported to me that rolls for only about
three hundred men could be prepared, and that, therefore, none would go by her, but they would
wait for the next boat. Captain Williams had arrived from the north in the night.
Soon after making his first report, Captain Speed came to my office, and reported that he had
consulted with Captain Williams, and had decided to ship all the balance of prisoners on
the sultana, as Captain Williams had advised that they be counted and changed.
as they went on board, and he would prepare the rolls afterwards.
I expressed satisfaction at this, and asked how many there would be,
and he replied about thirteen hundred, not to exceed fourteen hundred,
that the exact number could not be stated, owing to discrepancies in the rebel rolls.
About the middle of the day, Captain Williams came and reported that the captain of the sultana
said he would leave in an hour or two, and that a large proportion of the men were still out at the
parole camp, and he did not believe that proper exertions were being made to get them off,
and that he had been informed that a pecuniary consideration had been offered per capita
for the detention of the men and shipment of them on the other line,
and he thought Captain Speed was practicing delay purposely for the detention of the men
until the Sultanah should leave, and a boat of the other line arrive.
I then informed Captain Williams of what Captain Speed had previously reported
regarding Captain Kearns and his clerks, and stated that I thought he had the rumor wrong.
He promised to investigate it, and afterwards reported to me that he was entirely mistaken as regarded Captain
Speed. I also ordered a telegram to be sent to Captain Speed, informing him that the boat would
leave in an hour or two, and inquiring if any more men would go by her. After dark, Captain Speed reported
that all the men were in from camp. Up to this moment, I considered that he had performed his
difficult task with great satisfaction and efficiency. The next morning on visiting my office, I
inquired of Captain Speed whether the boat had left and was informed she had.
I then inquired as to the exact number of men she had taken, and was astonished to hear
that there were 1900. Having never seen the boat, I inquired as to her capacity and as to the
comfort of the men, and was assured by both Captain Speed and Captain Williams that the load was
not large for the boat, that the men were comfortable and not to the men were comfortable, and not
overcrowded, and that there were very few boats which had so much room for troops as the
sultana. I had at first entrusted the whole exchange business to Captain Williams,
but he, having left Captain Speed, was placed in charge of it, in addition to his other duties,
by my orders. He assumed and managed it, as I thought with ability,
and I never had any report or complaint, further than, as stated above,
prior to the deplorable calamity to the boat,
and was not informed of any circumstances in the details of the whole matter.
I am, very respectfully, etc., N. J.T. Dana, Major General.
The testimony referred to in General Hoffman's report is on file in this department.
It is quite voluminous, however,
and as his report was based upon that testimony and the report,
report of General Dana, it is believed that the foregoing will furnish the necessary data
bearing upon the destruction of the steamer sultana.
Respectfully submitted, F. C. Ainsworth, Captain and Assistant Surgeon, USA. Record and
Pension Division
To the Honorable, the Secretary of War.
End of Section 3.
Section 4 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry.
This Libravox recording is in the public domain.
Section 4
N. Wittringer, Chief Engineer
As I was chief engineer of that ill-fated steamer at the time of her explosion,
I thought that my recollections of that terrible calamity would be of some interest.
I believe that George Caden, one of the pilots,
and myself were the only officers of the boat that escaped with our lives.
Mr. Caiton, if still living, resides in St. Louis, Missouri.
I have not heard of him for some time.
The Sultana left Cairo on that fatal trip, the 15th of April 1865, the day after the death of
President Lincoln, and as all wire communications with the South were cut off at that time,
the sultana carried the news of his assassination and death to all points and military posts.
on the Mississippi River as far as New Orleans.
I do not remember the exact date of our leaving New Orleans on our return trip,
but on our arrival at Vicksburg,
we were ordered to report to carry a load of paroled soldiers,
who, I believe, were from Andersonville and Libby prisons.
While at Vicksburg, we repaired a boiler.
Now it was claimed by some at the time that this boiler was not properly repaired,
and that was the cause of the explosion.
In a short time, those boilers were recovered,
and the one that had been repaired at Vicksburg
was found in good condition, whole and intact,
and that it was one of the other three that caused the explosion.
Now, what did cause this explosion?
The explosion of the Walter R. Carter and Missouri, in rapid succession,
I think, fully answers that question.
it was the manner of the construction of those boilers after these three fatal explosions they were taken out of all steamers using them and replaced with the old style of boiler
they were an experiment on the lower mississippi they had been used with some success in the upper mississippi where the water at all times is clear and not liable to make much sediment or scale
as i said before those boilers were an experiment on the lower mississippi and had not long been in use there and it was the opinion of experts that it would have been only a question of time for all steamers using those boilers to have gone the way that the carter missouri and sultana went
had they not have been taken out and replaced by others i have one word to say for the engineer who was on duty at the time and who lost his life
it was talked around that he was under the influence of liquor i can say for him and all who were personally acquainted with him can say the same that he was a total abstainer from anything of the kind
i went off watch on that fatal night while the boat was lying at memphis wharf at eleven o'clock in the evening of the twenty sixth i retired to my birth and did not know anything until i was aroused by the explosion which occurred a few miles above memphis
said to be about two o'clock in the morning of the twenty seventh of april that sight is as fresh in my memory to-day as it was twenty-one years ago and i suppose to you survivors it is also
i stood bewildered for a moment and then saw the river perfectly alive with human beings struggling in the water and the cry from all quarters was put out the fire which was getting good headwhip
by this time. But there was such a massive confusion and such a complete wreck of the boat
that nobody apparently could get out of the position they were in. I managed to get hold of a shudder
and saw that the fire would soon force me off the boat. I took my chances and jumped into the river.
I was not in the water long until I came across a gangway plank, about 30 feet long and 15 inches
wide. I abandoned my shutter for it. I was not there long until four others kept me company.
There was just about enough buoyancy in the plank to keep our heads above water, and that was all.
We floated in that manner for about two hours, when we lodged against a snag, when one poor fellow
became so benumbed with cold that he could hold no longer and sank to rise no more.
In a very short time after that, we were picked up by one of the relief boats that came from Memphis and were taken to the city.
There was supposed to be about 2,200 people all told on the sultana at the time, of which about one half were lost.
I would like to attend the reunion if I could make it suit at the time to do so, and hear the experiences that will be given there.
Hoping you may have a pleasant meeting of old friends to talk over the perils of that terrible night,
and that not one of you may ever experience such another is the wish of N. Wintringer.
Note. This was written April 14, 1886, and he died October 11, 1886.
End of Section 4. Section 5 of Loss of the Sultan by Chester D. Berry.
this librivox recording is in the public domain section five henry j lyda i was employed on board the steamer sultana but left the boat about two hours before it left st louis for new orleans on her fatal trip
in my estimation it was carelessness on the part of the captain and engineer that caused the disaster the sultana's boilers were not fit for duty as that steamer
stopped at Natchez and Vicksburg on the last two trips before the explosion to patch and
repair her boilers? She had the tubular boilers which have been done away with since that time.
My post office is St. Louis, Missouri. I am also a member of Frank P. Blair Post Number 1,
Department of Missouri, and a pensioner of the United States. Certificate Navy number
1894, having served on the gunboat, Essex.
End of Section 5.
Section 6 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry.
This Libervox recording is in the public domain.
Section 6. C.W. Abaduska
I was born on the state of Maryland, August 15, 1844, and enlisted in the service of the United
States at Wallach.
Aldrin, Michigan, August 6, 1862, in Company F. 18th Regiment, Michigan, volunteer infantry.
I was captured at Athens, Alabama, September 24th, 1864, and confined in the Cahaba, Alabama Prison.
When the Sultana exploded, I was asleep on one of the hatchways and jumped off into the water,
supposing that we were near the shore, but when I found out,
that I was mistaken, I got aboard the boat again and made a raft and went ashore on it.
I was picked up about 10 a.m.
Occupation Manufacturer.
Post Office, Waldron, Michigan.
End of Section 6.
Section 7 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry.
This Libervox recording is in the public domain.
Section 7.
Josea C. Aldrich.
I enlisted in the service of the United States in August 1862 in Hillsdale County, Michigan,
as sergeant in Company G of the 18th Michigan Volunteer Infantry.
I was captured at Athens, Alabama, the 24th of September, 1864,
and was confined in prison at Cahaba, Alabama,
and released from there April 12, 1865, and went to Vicksburg, Mississippi,
where I went on board the boiler deck of the steamer sultana with the other prisoners,
like a flock of sheep, until her passengers numbered 2,141, over six times her capacity.
She steamed out of Vicksburg, April 25th at 1 o'clock a.m., arrived at Helena, Arkansas, the 26,
about seven o'clock a.m. and arrived at Memphis, Tennessee, the 26th of April at seven o'clock
p.m. Here we stopped for a while, and I went uptown and got some refreshments, and I went back on the
boat well fed, but weary. A comrade, J. W. Dunsmore, and I, bunked on the floor about
midway on the cabin deck, the only place I could find, as the floors of all the decks were
completely covered when all of the boys lay down. We left Memphis about one o'clock a.m., April 27th.
There was no danger manifested, and more than that it was not in the least anticipated,
only that the boat was heavily loaded. But in the darkness of that morning, between one and two o'clock,
opposite Zagelman, or Tegelman, landing,
eight miles above Memphis,
suddenly and without warning,
the boiler of the steamer exploded.
When it happened, I was sound asleep,
and the first thing that I knew or heard
was a terrible crash.
Everything seemed to be falling.
The things I had under my head,
my shoes, and some other articles and specimens
that I had gathered up,
and had them tied up in an old pair of drawers,
they all went down through the floor.
We scrambled back.
The smoke came rushing up through the passage
made by the exit of the exploded boiler.
The cry from all was,
What is the matter?
And the reply came,
The boat is on fire.
It was all confusion.
The screams of women and children
mingled with the groans of the wounded
and dying. Brave men rushed to and fro in the agony of fear, some uttering the most profane
language, and others commending their spirits to the great ruler of the universe. The cries of the
drowning and the roaring of the flames as they leaped heavenward made the scene most affecting
and touching. But it was of short duration as the glare that illuminated the sky and made visible
the awful despair of the hour
soon died away,
while darkness more intense than ever
settled down on the floating
hulk and the victims of the disaster.
I was pushed in the water
and started for the bottom of the Mississippi,
but I soon rose to the surface
and found a small piece of board
and soon had the luck of getting a larger board,
which was very lucky for me,
as I could not swim.
At this time a comrade grabbed me.
I released his hold by giving him the small board.
Another comrade had got hold of the middle of the large board.
Then there came an end of a ladder in my reach.
I grabbed it and pulled it under the board.
Another comrade was on the other end of it.
That was the craft which we three hung to
and managed to keep away from others that were fighting and drowning.
We floated along down the river nearly an hour, I think, when my limbs began to cramp.
That was the last of which I was conscious until at eight o'clock a.m.
We had floated down the river six miles and lodged in the floodwood against an island which was within two miles of Memphis,
and here we were picked up by the United States picket boat, Pocahontas.
They poured whiskey down me, rolled and rubbed me, and finally brought me back to life.
I was like the newborn babe, not a raveling of clothing upon me,
in a place surrounded by persons whom I had never seen before,
but I was happy as a lark to think I was rescued and saved.
They placed me on the stretchers and carried me to the Overton Hospital at Memphis,
gave me a shirt and drawers and placed me in a good bunk.
The third day, as soon as I was able to get up,
they issued a suit of Uncle Sam's blues for me,
and I was happy, without as much as a postage stamp,
for I thought I might live so as to tell the story to friends at home,
and I am glad that I have the opportunity to give this short and hasty sketch.
I was discharged from the service of the United States at Jackson, Michigan, July 1865.
Note. Now deceased.
End of Section 7.
Section 8 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry.
This Librevox recording is in the public domain.
Section 8.
Daniel Allen
I was born at Fair Garden,
Tennessee on the 7th of September 1843.
I enlisted in the service of the United States in Sevier County, Tennessee,
a private and company K of the Third Tennessee Cavalry, October 3, 1863.
Was captured by the rebels at Athens, Alabama, September 24, 1864, and was confined in
Cahaba Prison until March 16, 1865, when I was paroled, reaching parole camp near Vicksburg,
March 21st, and was ordered to parole headquarters at Camp Chase.
But before reaching that place, the sad event took place which calls for this narration.
My escape and rescue from the ill-fated vessel were attended with much interest and excitement.
The first I knew of the terrible disaster I was awakened, while in the stern of the lower deck,
by the cry, she's sinking, and the shrieks and cries of the wounded and the terror-stricken comrades.
I pressed toward the bow, passing many wounded sufferers, who piteously begged to be thrown overboard.
I saw men, while attempting to escape, pitched down through the hatchway that was full of blue,
curling flames, or rush wildly from the vessel to death and destruction in the turbid waters below.
I clambered upon the hurricane deck, and with calmness and self-possession, assisted others to
escape. At length, realizing that there was but little time to be lost, I divested myself of all
clothing, and throwing a plank out, jumped into the water, 16 feet below. I was at once grass,
by two drowning men who held on to me until I climbed into the bow of the boat to release myself from their hold.
I then descended the cable and made for the Arkansas shore.
I was in the water five hours when I was picked up by a lifeboat.
I was taken to the hospital at Memphis, Tennessee, where I remained a day or two,
and then went to Camp Chase, Ohio.
I was discharged from the service at Nashville, Tennessee.
June 10, 1865.
My occupation at present is that of farmer and stock dealer.
My present post office is Allensville, Tennessee.
End of Section 8.
Section 9 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry.
This Librevox recording is in the public domain.
Section 9.
Hiram Allison.
i was born in franklin county pennsylvania december fourth eighteen thirty and enlisted in the service of the united states at munsey indiana december eighteen sixty three in company g ninth cavalry
was captured at sulfer trestle louisiana september twenty fifth eighteen sixty four and confined in the castle morgan prison at cahaba alabama until march
and then was taken to be exchanged at big black river mississippi i got on the boat sultana at vicksburg she was crowded to her utmost capacity
arrived at memphis april twenty sixth in the evening where she discharged a lot of freight some of the boys went uptown but i stayed aboard as near as i can tell we left about twelve or one o'clock that night
i was on the hurricane deck close to the wheelhouse lying down and was just beginning to doze when all at once i heard the crash i jumped up the first thing and saw a great hole torn through the hurricane deck and fire coming through
i stood a few minutes and looked at my surroundings i concluded to take to the water i climbed down from the hurricane deck to the cabin deck and took up the cabin deck and took our
off all my clothes but my drawers and shirt, and then glanced around the burning wreck,
and saw that I would have to go, so I jumped from the cabin deck into the water.
I remained there for two or three hours, and then came across a horse trough, with a comrade
on each end of it. I took the center. When I caught up with the two comrades, they were both
praying. When I got on with them, I said,
That was a terrible disaster.
They made no reply, but kept right on praying.
I said no more to them, and when it was light enough for me, to see they were gone.
What became of them I never knew.
I stayed on the trough till I got to some brush and logs on the Arkansas side.
Then I bid it goodbye, about five miles from the ill-fated sultana.
I was taken to Memphis with others.
i was put in the overton hospital remained there a few days and then turned my face homeward i was scalded on my legs and cut on the head
post office address is moncy delaware county indiana occupation carpenter and joiner end of section nine section ten of loss of the sultana by chester d berry
this libervox recording is in the public domain section ten george anderson i was born in wayne county ohio on the twentieth of july eighteen thirty eight
i enlisted in the service of the united states august sixth eighteen sixty two in wayne county ohio in company f one hundred and second regiment ohio infantry
and never missed any duty from the time of enlistment up to the time of being captured a small detachment of our regiment was sent to reinforce our troops at athens alabama in the fight there against forest's command
we were taken prisoners september twenty fifth eighteen sixty four and taken to the prison at kahaba where we remained until march sixteenth eighteen sixty five when there was an exchange of prisoners and we were taken to the prison at kahaba where we remained until march sixteenth eighteen sixty five when there was an exchange of prisoners and we were
were sent to Vicksburg, Mississippi, where we went on board the steamer, Sultanah, which was to
take us up the river to Cairo, Illinois. When we arrived at Memphis, Tennessee, two of my comrades
and myself got off and went up into the city, and while there, I can assure you, I did not expect to be
there in the morning. Got on board the steamer again, on the hurricane deck near the pilot house,
my two comrades and myself bunked for the night under one blanket.
We were asleep at the time of the explosion.
I was thrown out of reach of anybody
and saw nothing of my comrades after the explosion.
I swam about in the water for a time
and finally got a piece of railing that was thrown from the boat
and stuck to that and floated down the river
with Mr. Horn from Worcester and two others.
Their names I have never.
learned two miles below Memphis making in all nine miles we were picked up by a gunboat and put on board a steamer that was anchored there for that purpose
when taken out of the water I found that I was hurt in the left shoulder and breast and I feel it to this day I was taken to Memphis where I remained a few days and then was sent to Columbus Ohio where I remained a short time and was distraud
charged from the service and sent home.
I now reside near Seville, Medina County, Ohio.
My present occupation is farming.
End of Section 10.
Section 11 of Loss of the Saltona by Chester D. Berry.
This Liber Vech recording is in the public domain.
Section 11.
P.S. Aitchley.
I was born in Sevier County, Tennessee,
on the 12th of December 1842, enlisted in the service of the United States at Knoxville, Tennessee
on the 5th of November 1862, as a corporal and company K of the 3rd Regiment of Tennessee Volunteers,
was on duty at the Battle of Athens, Alabama, when the Confederate forces, under the command of General
N.B. Forest, captured that place, and were immediately transported to Cahaba, Alabama,
as prisoners of war, and remained there in close confinement for about six months,
when we were paroled out on the 16th of March 1865, and sent to Vicksburg, Mississippi,
where we went on board the ill-fated steamer, Sultana.
We were highly elated with the thoughts of going home and seeing loved ones,
when suddenly, as we were a few miles above Memphis, Tennessee, one of her boilers exploded,
and hundreds of souls were ushered into eternity my experience on that terrible morning no pen can write nor tongue can tell
i was thrown into the surging waves of that mighty river into the jaws of death and life depended on one grand effort expert swimming which i did successfully and after swimming six or seven miles according to statements given by citizens living on the banks
of the river, landed on the Arkansas shore without any assistance whatever.
There I found a Confederate soldier who came to my relief and took me to a house nearby
and gave me something to eat, and I felt something like myself again, thanks to the
great ruler of the universe. The said Confederate soldier worked hard to save the lives of the
drowning men and brought to shore in his little dugout about fifteen of them.
a number of comrades got out at the point where i did among them were some ohio men for whom i have great respect but have lost their names especially one of the twenty-fourth ohio regiment that got out of the water at the same time i did
i gave him my blouse and slips as he was naked if he is yet living i would like to hear from him i will close by wishing god to bless every survivor
My present occupation is farming.
Present post office address Trotter's Store, Tennessee.
End of Section 11.
Section 12 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry.
This Librivox recording is in the public domain.
Section 12.
Murray S. Baker
I was born in Canton, Wayne County, Michigan,
and enlisted in the service of the United States at Plymouth, Wayne County, Michigan,
24th day of July 1862 in Company D, 4th Michigan Cavalry,
was captured September 30, 1864, and confined in the Kahaba, Alabama Prison.
In the spring of 1865, I was taken to Big Black River and turned over to the Yanks.
I did not keep a diary and cannot remember details.
After lying in camp a while,
we were taken to Vicksburg and put on board the sultana.
I tried to get close to the boiler, but it was full there,
so I lay down by the stern door,
beside Frank Nevins of the 18th Regiment Michigan Volunteers
and another comrade of the 25th Regiment Michigan Volunteers.
He was lost.
I sat up till 12 o'clock, cooking rations, and then laid down and went to sleep.
How long I had been sleeping, I do not know.
I was awakened by the explosion, and sprang to my feet and looked around.
Someone said the boat was sinking.
I went out on the stern and saw that it was not, and so went back.
It was one of the worst sights I ever witnessed.
Men who were scalded and bruised were crawling over one another to get out of the fire.
I went to the side of the boat and pulled a board off to help me get ashore with,
but a big yank grabbed it away from me.
Then I got another off from a bunk and went down to the wheelhouse
and threw it in the water and then jumped after it.
My limbs cramped, but I kept paddling.
I tried to get to one of the wheelhouse, and threw it.
side of the shore but could not and then i tried the other side and by hard work i got on some floodwood when i reached it i was about exhausted and could not speak and laid there until i was rescued
was discharged at detroit twenty eighth of june eighteen sixty five occupation farming post office address williamstown ingham county michigan end of section twenty
Section 13 of Loss of the Sultanna by Chester D. Berry.
This Librevox recording is in the public domain.
Section 13.
Otto Barden
I was born in Worcester, Wayne County, Ohio, August 28, 1841,
and enlisted in the service of the United States at Worcester, Ohio, August 8, 1862,
in Company H of the 100,000.
102nd Ohio Volunteer Infantry, just in time to take part in protecting Cincinnati from being
destroyed by Kirby Smith, was then sent to Louisville, Kentucky against General Bragg, and followed
him through the state of Kentucky, 375 miles, back to Bowling Green for winter quarters, which were
cold cornstock camps, for we had no tents that winter of 1862 and 1863.
On Christmas Eve of 1862, we recaptured Clarksonville, Tennessee, on the Cumberland River.
In the fall of 1863, we were sent to guard the Chattanooga Railroad, then back to Nashville, Tennessee.
In the spring of 1864, we were sent to guard the Tennessee River, and in August 1864, we were sent after General Wheeler along the Chattanooga Railroad and drove him.
across the Tennessee River. From here we went to Decatur, Alabama, and on September 24, 1864,
a detail was made at one o'clock at night, consisting of 250 of the 1002nd Ohio Regiment, and
150 of the 18th Michigan Regiment, to go to Athens and see what was the matter. We got within
five miles of Athens, when we met General Forrest's whole
brigade. We drove him five miles and fought with him for three hours when we found that we were
surrounded and out of powder. In a charge, we lost our best officers and were out of ammunition.
We had to surrender on the 24th of September, 1864. We were sent to Cahaba, Alabama, where we were
held as prisoners until the latter part of March, 1865, when we were sent to Cahaba, Alabama, where we were held as prisoners,
taken out on account of the high water, the Alabama River having risen so high that we were
waste deep in water for five days. The rebel sent us to Vicksburg, where we remained in parole
camp. While here we heard of the sad news of the assassination of President Lincoln by a rebel.
The prisoners became wild with indignation and started for the rebel headquarters. The rebel major that
had charge of us, fled across the big black river bridge for safety until we learned the
particulars of the president's death. We were put on the steamer sultana. About 2,400 men were on
their way to God's country, as we called the north, and we all felt happy to know that we were
on our way home and that the war was over. Hallelujah, amen. On the morning of April 27, 1865,
I was in the engine room of the steamer, sound asleep,
lying by the side of the hatchhole with seven others of my regiment
when the explosion took place.
First, a terrific explosion, then hot steam, smoke,
pieces of brickbats and chunks of coal came thick and fast.
I gasped for breath.
A fire broke out that lighted up the whole river.
I stood at this hatchhole to keep comrades from falling in, for the top was blown off by the explosion.
I stood here until the fire compelled me to leave.
I helped several out of this place.
I saw Jonas Huntsberger and John Baney go to the wheelhouse.
Then I started in the same direction.
I tried to get a large plank, but this was too heavy, so I left it and got a small board,
and started to the wheel to jump into the water.
Here a young man said to me,
You jump first, I cannot swim.
This man had all of his clothes on.
I had just my shirt and pants on.
I said to him,
You must paddle your own canoe.
I can't help you.
Then I jumped and stuck to my board.
I went down so far that I let go of my board
and paddled to get on top of the water.
I strangled twice before I reached the top.
Then the young man caught me, and he strangled me twice.
By this time I was about played out.
I then reached the wheel and clung to it until I tore off all of my clothes
with the intention of swimming with one hand.
I looked around and recognized Fritz Saunders of my regiment by my side.
i said saunders here is a door under the wheel let us get it out we got it out and found it had glass panels in it i said let this go here is a whole door
the rest on the wheel took the first door and we started after them with the other we had not more than started when a man swam up and laid across the center of our door
i looked back and saw the wheelhouse fall it had burned off and fell over if we had remained there one minute longer it would have buried us in the fire
i said to saunders let's go to the right it is nearer to shore he replied no there is a boat i will paddle for it and when we were in the center of the river the steamer was about out of sight
We met three young men clinging to a large trunk.
They grasped our door for us to steer them into the timber.
We had not gone far until these bore too much weight on our door.
That put us all under the water.
I gave the trunk a kick and raised on the door
and brought it to the surface of the water.
Then I said,
"'Boys, if you don't keep your weight off of the door,
then you must steer the trunk yourself.
By this time I was cold and be numbed
And was in a sinking condition
But having presence of mind
I reached and got my board
And called aloud for God to help
I rubbed my arms
And got the blood in circulation again
Soon we were among the timber
On the hen and chickens island
clinging to trees
But being too cold and be numb
To climb a tree
I had the good luck of finding sap
under the water. I put my foot in the fork and raised myself out of the water. I soon got warm and
swam to a larger tree and clung to it, but was not there very long until I got so cold that I fell
from the tree into the water. I swam to the same tree and clung to it and called aloud for God for his
assistance. I saw a man break open this trunk, it contained only ladies' dress.
so it was no help to us.
One of these men that had clung to the trunk was so cold
that he drowned with his arms around a tree.
We were on these trees until about nine o'clock a.m.
It seemed as if the gnats and mosquitoes would eat us alive.
We were rescued by a steamer sent in search of us from Memphis.
The captain of the steamer that picked us up,
ordered hot coffee and whiskey,
you bet we took it and the christian commission furnished us under clothing and the third day uncle sam gave us a suit of clothes free
on the fourth day we took a steamer for cairo and were sent from here to camp chase and discharged may twenty first eighteen sixty five present occupation carriage trimmer and post office worcester ohio end of section thirteen
section fourteen of loss of the sultana by chester d berry this librivox recording is in the public domain section fourteen william barnes
i was born in the present state of west virginia june fifteenth eighteen forty two and enlisted in the service of the united states in athens county ohio april twenty second eighteen sixty one in company h twenty second eighteen sixty one in company h twenty
22nd Regiment, Ohio Volunteers.
I was captured at Decatur, Georgia, July 22, 1864,
and confined most of the time at Andersonville, Georgia.
At the time the sultana blew up,
I was thrown from the boiler deck and very badly hurt,
but was fortunate enough, with three unknown comrades,
to get hold of a bale of hay,
upon which we floated till nearly opposite the city of Memphis, where we were picked up by a boat.
My present occupation is that of a minor, and my post office address is Nelsonville, Ohio.
End of Section 14.
Section 15 of Loss of the Sultana by Chester D. Berry.
This Libervox recording is in the public domain.
Section 15.
George Bement
I was born in Mason, Cass County, Michigan, November 6, 1841, and enlisted in the service of the United States at Adamsville, Michigan, August 3, 1862, in Company F. 25th Regiment Michigan Volunteers, and was captured at Cedar Bluffs on the Cousa River, Alabama, October 10th.
i was confined first at selma and afterwards at castle morgan cahaba alabama as to my experience on board the sultana about all i can say is that i got very wet and quite cold
i reached shore somehow all right my present occupation is farming and my post-office address is adamsville michigan end of section fifteen
section sixteen of loss of the sultana by chester d berry this librivox recording is in the public domain section sixteen chester d berry
chester d berry born august first eighteen forty four at south creek bradford county pennsylvania removed when ten years old to michigan thence to minnesota and back again to michigan
enlisted august eighteenth eighteen sixty two at marshall michigan in company eye twentieth regiment michigan volunteer infantry served with that organization in allot's campaigns except fredericksburg at which time i had typhoid fever
until i was captured june second eighteen sixty two at cold harbor virginia and taken to pemberton building richmond virginia where i was confined for a one
while, then taken to Andersonville, Georgia, arriving there June 16, 1864.
Here, the rations, which at first were small enough, kept diminishing, until the 1st of September
1864, there were but two tablespoonfuls of very coarse cornmeal, the same of stock peas,
with about two ounces of fresh beef and wood enough to about half-cook the rations.
the beef first then the peas were eaten raw and the meal made into a gruel and drank about the last days of october eighteen sixty four we were removed to millon georgia thence to savannah and down the railroad to blackshear station
were kept here in the woods with a heavy guard around us for about two weeks then taken to what was at the time the end of the railroad at thomasville georgia
were kept here about two weeks then marched across the country sixty miles to albany georgia there put on board the cars and taken back to andersonville entering the prison the second time on christmas eve eighteen sixty four
here we remained with scarcely array of hope till the twenty-fifth day of march eighteen sixty five when we were put on board the cars taken to montgomery there transferred by boat to selma thence by rail to meridian
here we were kept over night where my pocket diary for eighteen sixty four was stolen from me in it i had recorded the exact amount and kind of rations
drawn for every day while in prison.
From Meridian, we were taken to Jackson, Mississippi, then marched across the country to
the Big Black River, crossing it on the first day of April 1865, lacking one day of ten months
that I had been in the hands of the Confederate authorities, and I could not say yet that I was
out of their hands, for we were put into a camp called Camp Fisk, which is four miles from Vicksburg,
and were under a confederate major but fed clothed and sheltered by uncle samuel we understood at the time and i do still that our government had made a proposition to the confederate authorities
that if they would remove their prisoners onto neutral ground,
they might still have control of them,
but our government would feed, cloth, and shelter us.
I never experienced a happier day in my life
than I did when we marched under the old stars and stripes
at the Big Black River Railroad Bridge
and drew my first cup of coffee and a single hard tack.
It looked like a stingy way for Uncle Sam to do business,
but the boys who served us told us that when the first squad of prisoners arrived that they the cooks kicked open the boxes of hardtack among them just as they had been in the habit of doing among themselves and the result was that there was a number of deaths before night
so we were happy with our meager rations finding more joy in looking up at the old flag that we loved so dearly than in anything else
and it seemed to us that the all-wise ruler had gotten up a bit of sunshine and a small breeze in order that we might see the glorious emblem of liberty proudly unfold itself and kiss the sunshine
i have seen many beautiful things in my life but never anything that looked more beautiful than the flag of my country did upon that first day of april eighteen sixty five we remained at camp fiske for about twenty days
then one thousand nine hundred and sixty five prisoners who had been exchanged were placed on board the sultana where there were already a number of passengers and thirty-five exchanged officers the entire number of persons being a little over twenty three hundred
you will notice that the number of prisoners officers and men was just two thousand i understood at the time and have had no reason to change my mind that it was a number of prisoners officers and men was just two thousand i understood at the time and have had no reason to change my mind that it was
was a contrived plan with the United States quartermaster at Vicksburg and the captain of the boat.
I will explain.
At the fall of Vicksburg, General Grant gave many of his men furloughs to go home and recruit themselves after their unusually hard service.
The officers of the steamers, knowing that the men would pay almost any price,
charged exorbitant rates for fare to Cairo, Illinois.
the men paid what was charged but just before the boat started general grant learned what had been done he at once sent an officer to tie up the boats and ordered that all but five dollars from each private and ten dollars from each commissioned officer be refunded
the government adopted that rule and whatever troops were sent by private boats they were allowed five dollars per man for transportation
there were a number of boats at vicksburg at the time we the exchanged prisoners were to be sent north but all demanded the five dollars per man and would take but one thousand men
finally the quartermaster succeeded in persuading the captain of the sultana to take the entire two thousand at three dollars per head
that would give him six thousand dollars for the trip whereas if he only took one thousand at five dollars he would only make five thousand dollars the report said that the captain of the sultana signed the papers for ten thousand dollars and that the quartermaster cashed them on
on the spot for six thousand dollars how true that was i cannot tell but i know it was believed among the men at the time all went gay as a marriage bell for a while a happier lot of men i think i never saw than those poor fellows were
the most of them had been a long time in prison some even for about two years and the prospect of soon reaching home made them content to a long time in prison some even for about two years and the prospect of soon reaching home made them content to
endure any amount of crowding. I know that on the lower deck we were just about as thick as we
could possibly lie all over the deck, and I understood that all the other decks were the same.
The main thought that occupied every mind was home, the dearest spot on earth.
I well remember, as the boat lay at Memphis unloading over one hundred hogsheads of sugar
from her hold, that my thoughts not only wended northward, but I put them in practical shape.
The Christian Commission had given me a hymn book. At the time I left home, the song,
Sweet Hour of Prayer, was having quite a run. I found this, and before the darkness had stopped
me in the evening, I had committed those words to memory, and sang them for the boys,
little dreaming how soon I should have to test the power of prayer as well as the hour when it was held.
The last that I remembered that evening was that the boat was taking on coal across the river from Memphis,
preparatory to going up the river.
There had been considerable talk among the boys that it would be a grand opportunity for guerrillas.
If they only knew that there was such a boatload of prisoners coming up the river,
how they could plant a battery on the shore, sink the boat, and destroy nearly, if not all,
of the prisoners on board.
Consequently, when the terrific explosion took place and I was awakened from a sound sleep
by a stick of cordwood striking me on the head and fracturing my skull, the first thought
I had was that, while the boat lay at Memphis, someone had gone up the river and prepared
such a reception for us.
and what had only been a talk was now a realization i lay low for a moment when the hot water soaking through my blanket made me think i had better move
i sprang to the bow of the boat and turning i looked back upon one of the most terrible scenes i ever beheld the upper decks of the boat were a complete wreck and the dry casings of the cabins falling in upon the hot bed of coal was burning like tinder
A few pails full of water would have put the fire out, but alas, it was ten feet to the water,
and there was no rope to draw with.
Consequently, the flames swept fiercely up and back through the light wood of the upper decks.
I had often read of burning vessels and nights of horror on the deep,
and almost my first thought was,
Now take in the scene, but self-preservation stood out strongest.
I went back to where I had lain and found my bunkmate, busily, scalded to death.
I then secured a piece of cabin door casing, about three or four inches wide and about four feet long,
then, going back to the bow of the boat, I came to the conclusion I did not want to take to the water just then,
for it was literally black with human beings, many of whom were sinking and taking others with them.
being a good swimmer and having bored enough to save me even if i were not i concluded to wait till the rush was over the horrors of that night will never be effaced from my memory such swearing praying shouting and crying i had never heard
and much of it from the same throat imprecations followed by petitions to the almighty denunciations by bitter weeping i stood still and watched for a while then began wandering around to other parts of the boat
when i came across one man who was weeping bitterly and wringing his hands as if in terrible agony continually crying oh dear oh dear i suppose the poor fellow was seriously
was seriously hurt.
My sympathies were aroused at once.
Approaching him, I took him by the shoulder
and asked where he was hurt.
I'm not hurt at all, he said,
but I can't swim. I've got to drown.
Oh, dear!
I made him be quiet,
then showing him my little board, I said to him,
There, do you see that?
Now you go to that pile of broken deck
and get you one like it,
and when you jump into the water put it under your chin and you can't drown but i did get one said he and someone snatched it away from me
well then get another said i i did said he and they took that away from me well then said i get another why said he what would be the use they would take that away from me well then said i get another why said he what would be the use they would take
Take it from me.
Oh, dear, I tell you there is no use.
I've got to drown.
I can't swim.
By this time I was thoroughly disgusted, and giving him a shove, I said,
Drown then, you fool.
I want to say to you, gentle reader, I have been sorry all these years for that very act.
There was little or no rush for the water at that time,
and had I given my board to that poor fellow,
then conducted him to the edge of the boat and seen him safely overboard he might perhaps have escaped while as it was i have no doubt that he was drowned if he was not and should ever see this i wish he would write me the fact
but some one may ask what would you have done without your board i could have got another from the pile of rubbish which would have been a very easy matter and i have not the faintest idea
that anyone would have tried to take it from me, for, as the boys tell about, I was not built
that way. After looking at the burning boat as long as I cared to, and as the waters were
comparatively clear of men, I sprang overboard and struck out for some willows that I could
see by the light of the burning boat, they appearing to be about one-half-mile distant.
I had gone about 20 or 30 rods when, hearing a crash of breaking timbers, I looked back.
The wheelhouse, or covering for the wheel, it was a side-wheel steamer, had broke away partially from the hurricane deck,
and a poor fellow had been in the act of stepping from the hurricane deck onto the wheelhouse.
I presume it was then the hurricane deck fell in.
when it reached an angle of about 45 degrees it stopped for some unaccountable reason till it nearly burned up he succeeded in reaching the wheelhouse but got no further for it broke and let him part way through then held him as in an iron vice till he burned to death and even now after the lapse of years it almost seems as though i could hear the poor fellow's screams as the forked
flames swept around him. I then turned and pressed forward towards my haven of safety,
but soon became aware that I was not gaining upon it. The fact was, I was swimming toward a small
island, and was, in fact, now swimming upstream, but was not aware of the truth. The icy water
was fast-telling upon my weak system, and the moment I became aware that I was being carried away
from the timber instead of gaining it, I became completely discouraged, the only time I think in my life.
Being now quite despondent, I had about concluded that there was no use of my trying to save myself,
that I would drown in spite of my efforts, and that to throw my board away and sink at once
would be only to shorten my misery.
I was just in the act of doing so when it seemed to me that I was transported for the moment to
the old house at home, and that I was wending my way slowly up the path from the road gate to the
house. But, strange for me, when I reached the door, instead of entering at once, I sat upon the
step. My mother was an earnest, devoted Christian. Also my father had been, but father was deaf and dumb.
Consequently, the family devotions fell to mother, and I knew that in the years of my home life,
that if one of the family were away from home during the hour for prayer,
nine o'clock in the evening, that one was especially remembered in the prayer.
As I sat upon the step, I thought it was nine o'clock in the evening,
and as plainly as I ever heard my mother's voice, I heard it that evening.
I cared but little for the prayer until she reached that portion
that referred to the absent one, when all the mother's soul seemed to go up,
in earnest petition God save my boy. For ten long weary months she had received no tidings
from her soldier boy. Now she had just learned that he was on his way home and her thoughts
were almost constantly upon him, and for him her earnest prayer was made. I fiercely
clutched the board and hissed between my now firmly set teeth. Mother, by the help of God,
Your prayer shall be answered.
I started out for a grand effort.
Just then I heard a glad cry from the burning boat,
and looking around, discovered that past the boat down the river,
two or three miles as near as I could judge,
was the bow light of a gunboat.
I turned and was now obliged to swim past the burning boat,
for I was up the river, about eighty rods above it.
when nearly passed the boat which i kept a safe distance to my left i ran into the top of a tree that had caved off from the bank and whose roots were now fast in the bed of the stream
upon which i climbed and was nearly asleep when a number of men from the boat came along and climbed upon it also their united weight sank it low into the water whose icy coldness coming upon my body again
awakened me. Then, to more fully aroused me, a man got hold of my board and tried to take it away
from me. I remonstrated with him, but he claimed the board belonged to him and that I was trying
to steal it. This fully aroused me. It was the straw that broke the camel's back.
Giving the board a quick jerk, I sprang backward and went swimming down the stream on my back,
holding my board high, at least I might lose it.
I soon turned over and proceeded more slowly.
I began again to have an almost irresistible feeling of drowsiness.
I was cold and sleepy.
Just then I came across, or thought I did,
a dry black ash sapling, about two and one-half or three inches in diameter at the butt,
and six or eight feet long, that pronged in two.
two branches, about three feet from the butt end. I put this with my board, and trying them found
they would float. I then gave myself up to sleep, and did not awake until long after sunrise.
I then stood upon a large snag in the river that was pronged or forked, something like I
imagined the black ash sapling was in the night. I stood on the lower prong, which was about a
foot under water, while the upper prong was nearly two feet above the water, and what to me was
stranger than all, I had, instead of the little board, four inches wide and about four feet long,
a two-inch plank, about four inches wide and about six feet long.
I was out of my head and imagined that some terrible danger threatened me,
but if I could only get that plank upon the upper prong of the snag, all would be safe.
I soon came too enough to know that I was working a useless scheme.
Then I realized that it was worse than useless,
as it would take some of my strength to hold the plank on the snag,
while it would do me no good whatever.
I then abandoned the project and began to cry with the pain of my fractured skull,
but I soon stopped that also, saying to myself,
Crying does not ease pain.
Then came the first clear thought of the morning,
and I realized what had happened,
and that I was about five rods from the woods upon the Arkansas shore,
the shore itself being underwater.
Quickly shoving my plank into the water,
and starting for the place where the shore ought to be,
which was the most foolish move of the water,
all, for when I arrived there and had pulled myself up a small cottonwood tree, I was surrounded by a
perfect swarm of buffalo gnats, which made lively work for me, and although I had firmly seated
myself upon a limb of the tree, and employed both hands with bushes whipping them off my neck and breast,
the only parts that were exposed, which were a solid blotch in less than an hour.
Had I remained on a snag in the river,
I would have been free from the gnats
and nearer passing steamers,
by which I hoped to be carried away.
I remained in this tree but a short time,
perhaps an hour or more,
when the steamer Pocahontas came along,
picking up all the men they could find.
I soon attracted attention
and was taken on board the steamer,
and soon after landed at Memphis,
and was then taken to washington hospital where my wound was poorly dressed as i remember it none of the broken pieces of skull being taken out
i remained here a little over a week and although i gave my name company and regiment to a reporter and also to the hospital steward yet about two or three months afterward my mother received official notice from washington that her son was killed upon the sultana
and my name stands to-day upon the michigan adjutant-general's report for eighteen sixty five as killed by the explosion of the steamer sultana
yet when in after years i applied for a pension for that fractured skull which was so bad that the surgeon at washington hospital told the man in the next bunk to mine that i could never get well
i was obliged to prove that i was upon the sultana and that i was hurt or had my skull fractured at that time such is the ease with which pensions are procured and such the liberality of the government officials when they have had my skull fractured such is the ease with which pensions are procured and such the liberality of the government officials when they have
have the official evidence in government reports before them.
After my brief sojourn in Memphis, I, with others, was placed on the steamer,
Bell Memphis, and taken to Cairo, remaining there overnight, thence via Mattoon,
where we were obliged to wait a few hours for cars.
Here I was obliged to go hungry, or begged from the citizens,
although I had a meal ticket at the eating house given me by the Christian Commission,
but the landlord refused to honor it.
From here we were taken to Indianapolis,
where another halt was made,
then on to Columbus,
when I was sent to Tripler Hospital and doctored up for about two weeks,
then sent to Jackson, Michigan,
to be mustered out of the United States Service
on special telegraphic order from the War Department.
my present occupation is minister of the gospel post office address to concha michigan end of section sixteen section seventeen of loss of the sultana by chester d berry
this librivox recording is in the public domain section seventeen william boore i was born in cumberland county pennsylvania january twentieth eighteen
enlisted in the service of the United States, October 5, 1864, as a private and company D of the 64th Regiment Ohio Volunteer Infantry at Sandusky, Ohio.
Was captured at Franklin, Tennessee, November 30, 1864, and confined in prison at Meridian, Mississippi, Cahaba, and Selma, Alabama.
I was finally released from prison and sent to Vicksburg, Mississippi, arriving there March 19, 1865.
Remained in camp until the 22nd of April, I think, when we received orders to break camp and be ready for our homeward journey.
The train from Vicksburg came on time.
The Ohio men were first called, and, responding promptly, were taken aboard the train,
and landed at Vicksburg.
We were then ordered to fall into line
and march aboard the steamer Sultana.
When going on board,
my attention was attracted by the noise
and work at the boilers going on at that time.
We were marched to the hurricane deck
and informed that this was to be our place of abode,
but I thought different.
I turned to comrade William A. Hewlett
and, asking him to take charge of our cross.
clothing which I had at the time, I went below and looked at the boilers, which were not very
favorable to my mind. I went back to the boys, told them that we had better look for some
other place, and that I thought that there was danger, and if the boat should blow up, and we
were on that deck, we would go higher than a kite. We started for the deck below,
taking our position at the head of the stairway. Six of us took our places here,
and enjoyed ourselves the best we could considering the crowded condition of the boat all looking ahead to the happy time when we should reach home to see our loved ones
while thus apparently everything was moving along smoothly and swiftly if not to our comfort in the stillness of night on the morning of april twenty seventh eighteen sixty five about two o'clock we were awakened by the exploding of the boiler of the boat the cracking of timbers
wailing of men and the screams and moaning from the wounded,
and the frantic men rushing to and fro,
not knowing what to do,
while the flames were madly rushing through the broken kindling of the boat cabin.
It soon cleared the boat of its human freight.
When the explosion occurred, we all, except one,
rushed out from under the wreck.
Comrade Thomas Brink was fastened in the wreck.
I commenced clearing away the broken timbers that were about him and got him out.
We went downstairs.
I asked him if he could swim.
He said,
Yes, I can swim, and I told him I could not swim,
but would meet him somewhere on the shore.
I was not, however, permitted to realize that happy event,
but was forced to the painful thought that he had perished,
and the gallant Thomas Brink was no more.
after i parted with my friend on the bow of the boat i went upstairs and got in under the wreck of the cabin roof there i dressed and took my rubber blanket and a spare shirt and tied them up expecting if the board could carry me it could also carry my clothing
for i thought they would come good after having been in the icy cold water for a few hours now i thought that i was prepared for any event that might overtake me i went down to the boiler deck
while there i had a good view for quite a distance around the burning boat it was a most distressing scene to see hundreds of men in the water pleading for help clinching one another while they would hold on to each other
going down by the dozens at a time at the same time i wonder how so many were saved as were laboring under so many disadvantages hundreds of them being thrown into the air as soon as the explosion took place
scarcely having time to awake out of sleep and plunged into the water which was almost icy cold the time for me to escape was now at hand for the fire was sweeping through the stairway
i had taken a survey of the river and made for the side which i thought was nearest the shore comrade crawford of the hundred and second regiment and i started for the same place at my same place at my same time
to him we would have to leave, he led the way, and I waited until the way was clear again.
While waiting, my bundle caught fire, and as I struck the water, I heard a hissing noise
caused by the water coming in contact with the fire. Here I met with an accident, which came near
proving fatal to me. I got into one of those whirlpools in the water, and while there I could
not manage my board. I finally got tired out, and then for the first time I thought I must give up
the struggle and drown, as I could not get away from there. I finally concluded to dive to the bottom
and get a good start, not thinking that the water was 40 or 50 feet deep in the channel. I went down,
but it was not long before I was in need of the fresh air. When I came near the surface of the
water, as luck would have it, I cleared the pool and got my board. I rested a short time and made
up my mind to get to the wheelhouse of the boat and get on it and stay there until picked up,
or go down with a burning boat. But in trying to get there, I came across a board about eight feet
long. I put my other board under this, and got on the other end of the board which projected
about a foot out of water.
I got a good start.
When I came to the bow of the boat,
there was a man doing his best
to keep his head above water.
He called to me to know if that board
would not carry us both.
I told him we had got
where everyone must be for himself,
and that I could not swim,
and had to depend on that board
to bring me to safety.
He told me that he could not swim
and pleaded for me to aid him.
him. I could not withstand the plea and told him if he would get off in case the board would not
carry us both, he could get on with me. It proved sufficient, and we floated downstream,
and landed on the Arkansas side of the island opposite mound city, where a rebel captain
got us out on a rail raft, which he had made so as to cross to the island. When rescued,
I was so chilled that I had no recollection of being rescued or taken off the board.
After getting on land, I have some recollections of how I fell over, as I could not walk or stand,
but I got hold of the fence and held on to keep up.
Although it was daylight, with me it was all darkness.
The last that I could remember was hearing some ladies tell me to go to the fire.
How long I was unconscious, I know not.
But before my sight came to me, I began to revive.
I could hear some of the remarks that were made,
and also could feel that someone was washing my face,
but did not understand the meaning of this.
When I awoke, I found myself before a big fire in the yard.
A man handed me a bottle,
I took it and was soon satisfied that I knew what it.
contained. I handed it back to him and said,
I do not drink whiskey. This was the first I uttered after being rescued.
There were nine of us rescued at this place, Mount City,
and were well treated by the two families that lived there.
A widow gave us a good meal and made us as comfortable as possible while we were there.
The steamboat Pocahontas came along and took us on board,
and took us on board for Memphis, Tennessee.
When we arrived there,
the ladies of the Christian Commission supplied us with underclothing.
I took an ambulance for Overton Hospital,
where I changed clothes and went to bed
and soon lost myself in sleep.
Those of us that were able to go north
were sent out of the hospital to the soldiers' home for dinner.
In the evening, about two hundred or more took a boat
for Cairo, Illinois, where we landed on the following evening.
A grand reception was given to the soldiers at Matun, Illinois.
I was discharged from the service at Camp Chase, Ohio, May 17, 1865.
My occupation is Whipstock making.
Post office address, Sandusky, Ohio.
End of Section 17.
Section 18 of LATTS-E.
Loss of the Sultana by Chester D. Berry.
This Librivox recording is in the public domain.
Section 18.
William Bracken.
I was second lieutenant in Company D.
88th United States colored infantry.
At the time the sultana blew up,
I was officer of the picket guard on the Wolf River
and was close enough to hear the shrieks and groans of the wounded and drowning soldiers
and crew, but was powerless to aid them for want of boats.
The United States picket boat Pocahontas picked up all who were alive next day.
On board the Pocahontas were a number of soldiers belonging to the 113th Regiment Illinois
Volunteers, the regiment to which I had formerly belonged, and they said that the general
impression among the survivors was that the boilers had been tampered with, and that the
and that the boat was blown up purposely to cause the destruction of the soldiers on board one or more of the employees of the boat were also of this opinion and they so expressed themselves
i visited the hospitals in memphis and saw the most heart-rending sight i ever witnessed my post-office address is putnam illinois end of section eighteen section nineteen of loss of the sultana by
Chester D. Berry. This Libravox recording is in the public domain.
Section 19. James K. Brady
I was born near Highland, Marion County, Ohio, September 23, 1846, and I lived on a farm until
1861, when my father and his entire family were taken sick with typhoid fever.
My father died, and I lay 78 days before I was able to leave my bed.
In the fall of 1862, the day before I was 16, September 22nd,
I enlisted in Company B, 64th Regiment, Ohio Volunteer Infantry,
and was in every battle with my regiment from that time on until the last battle of Franklin, Tennessee.
In front of Atlanta, Georgia, I received,
a scalp wound in the back part of my head. At Franklin, Tennessee, I received a flesh wound in the
right hip, and with five others of my company, was taken prisoner November 30, 1864.
Marched the next day to Columbia, Tennessee, and after being held there a few days,
we were marched with about 1800 or 1900 other prisoners to Corinth, Mississippi,
where we were confined for a few days in a stockade.
When we reached this, we were in terrible condition,
having marched several hundred miles over very bad roads in the winter season,
with our clothing worn out and nothing much to eat, some barefooted, others sick.
We were shipped from here to the place which the boys called Hell Upon Earth,
the prison pen of Andersonville.
on march twenty sixth eighteen sixty five i with several hundred others was taken out of prison and after a long journey part of the way by rail and the rest on foot we reached big black river and went in camp near vicksburg mississippi
about the twenty third or twenty fourth of april i with a lot of paroled prisoners was loaded aboard the ill-fated steamer sultana at vicksburg
Mississippi. Our condition on this boat was more like a lot of hogs than men. With the other passengers
and crew, there were about 2,100 in all, besides a freight cargo, making in all more than double
the carrying capacity of the boat. We were headed up the river for Cairo, Illinois. The boat landed
at Memphis, Tennessee, on the evening of April 26th, where a part of the freight
was unloaded.
Sometime after we steamed up the river,
making a landing to take on coal.
My friend, David Edelman, and I,
went up to the hurricane deck and made our bed,
as we were crowded too much below, and laid down.
That was the last that I knew until the explosion,
which occurred about two o'clock a.m.,
at which time I was suddenly awakened to my senses,
as the fire was all over me, and my friend was trying to brush it off.
It had already burned most of the hair off from the top of my head.
We finally got the fire out and began looking around for some means of saving ourselves,
for we could see that the boat was on fire.
We could see nothing to get,
so we went to the front end of the hurricane deck
and took hold of some ropes and went down to the bow of the boat,
and oh, what a sight met our gaze.
There were some killed in the explosion,
lying in the bottom of the boat,
being trampled upon,
while some were crying and praying.
Many were cursing while others were singing.
That sight I shall never forget.
I often see it in my sleep and wake with a start.
After looking for something to save ourselves with, in vain,
we had about given ourselves up as lost,
when all at once we saw a crowd
with something which proved to be the gangplank.
As this seemed to be our last chance,
my friend and I both grabbed hold of it,
just as it was going over the side of the boat,
and we all went down together.
I think not less than 40 or 50 men had hold of that plank,
at least there were as many as could crowd around it
when it went into the water,
and it was very heavy.
I ran beside it.
It struck the water end first,
and I thought it would never stop going down,
but it finally did,
and slowly arose to the surface.
I think there were about 15 or 16 of us
that had stuck to the plank,
but now a new danger had seized me,
as someone grabbed me by the right foot,
and it seemed as though it was in a vice.
Try as I would
I could not shake him off.
I gripped the plank
with all the strength that I had
and then I got my left foot
between his hand and my foot
and while holding on to the plank
with both hands
I pried him loose with my left foot
he taking my sock along with him
but he is welcome to the sock
he sank out of sight
and I saw him no more
by this time the plank had been turned over
and we lost some more of our passengers.
I looked back and saw that there were two men on the plank behind me.
How many were in front of me at this time, I could not tell,
but I knew that my friend was there,
as every little while he would call out some encouraging word to me
to keep up my spirits.
The two men on the plank behind me would crawl up on top of it
and finally upset it again,
and one of them lost his grip,
and went down to rise no more.
Then the other fellow seemed to get crazy,
for he not only climbed upon the plank behind me,
but reached over and tried to grab me by the shoulder.
Just as his fingers were touching my shoulder,
I dropped under the water,
and he went right over me into the river,
like a big frog,
turning the plank over with the force of his plunge,
but I came up on the other side of the plank,
grabbing it with my left hand.
I never saw that man again.
I was now getting very tired in my weak state,
as I only weighed 96 pounds when I came out of prison.
I weighed 154 pounds the day before I was taken prisoner.
I was almost ready to give up
when I heard my friend Edelman say,
Now, boys, this plank is able to carry 15 or 20 men
if properly handled, and there are but five or six of us. Now I will steady the plank,
while the rest of you get on and lie flat. Then I will get on. We all got on and laid flat down
and paddled with our hands. It was not long after this that one of the men in front said that he
could see a house, and for us to paddle on the left side. We did as we were told, and soon had our
plank alongside of the building, which proved to be a log stable, with an old set of harness
hanging up in it. The stable was standing on the levee of the river, but as the river was all overflowed,
there was not much of the stable out of the water. When it got light enough to count up,
we found there were 23 of us on the stable, and as far as the eye could see upon every old snag and
every little piece of drift big enough, you would see a man. That sight I never will forget.
I can see it now as I pen these lines. A little after daylight, a man swam out about three rods
above us and got on some drift. The sight I hope I may never see again, for he was scalded
almost to pieces, and he said, Boys, it is going to kill me. And he lay lay.
down and died. I don't think he lived three minutes after he got out of the water.
Then there was a nice large mule swam out to us just after daylight. He had a piece of railing
12 or 14 feet long tied to his halter strap. One of the boys got down and unfastened it.
What became of the mule, I do not know, as he was there in the water the last I saw of him,
just his back, neck, and head out of the water.
A little after sunrise, we could see the smoke of a steamer coming up the river, and in due
time she came up to where we were.
The steamer came as close as she dared to, and sent out little boats to take us in.
I had now become so stiff that I could not move, and my friend, with some of the boat's crew,
carried me down into the little boat and took me over to the large one,
which proved to be the Jenny Lind.
There was a doctor on board,
and he gave us something to make us throw up the water,
but I did not throw any up.
They carried me in the cabin,
and that was the last I knew until about four o'clock in the afternoon.
When I awoke, there was one of the sisters of charity
trying to pour a hot sling down my throat with a teaspoon,
for I found that I was in a hospital at Memphis, Tennessee.
After waking up it was not long until I opened my mouth,
and I think there was about a gallon of water ran out of it.
I wanted to go out and see if the other boys were safe.
They would not allow me to go, for they said I was too weak,
but the next afternoon they let me go,
and I found three of my companions alive, some of them badly hurt.
The other two were either drowned or killed in the explosion.
The next day we took a steamer for Cairo, Illinois, arriving there just after dark.
Most of the boys went to the barracks as they were afraid they would get left,
but I, with a few others, stopped at the soldiers' home, where we received the finest of treatment.
a good supper, something we had not had for three long years, and a nice bed.
It was not long before I was sound asleep, and I knew no more until I got a gentle shake from one of the attendants that awoke me,
but at the same time he said don't be in any hurry, you have plenty of time.
I got up feeling greatly refreshed, dressed and washed myself, and sat down to a breakfast,
that was good enough for a king. After breakfast, one of the men went to the train with us,
getting there just five minutes before leaving time. Then we started for Matoon, Illinois,
arriving there about eleven o'clock, and oh, what a sight we witnessed. The platform at the depot
was crowded, from one end to the other, with the citizens of Mattoon and surrounding country,
with baskets filled to overflowing, with everything you could think of to eat.
As fast as a basket was empty, it was refilled,
and after we had eaten all we could, it seemed as though the baskets hadn't been touched.
Let me say that during my entire term of service,
I never received such treatment as while in the state of Illinois.
After we had finished eating, the citizens wanted us to go,
home with them and stay until evening, for we could not get a train before that time.
In the afternoon it was learned that we could not get away until one o'clock that night.
The people of the town called a meeting in a new hotel, which was not completed inside yet.
That evening the local speakers of the town made several patriotic speeches to us, but what
was the nicest thing of all, there were about forty-lake.
dressed in red, white, and blue, that sang several patriotic songs. Among the rest they sang,
Welcome home, dear brothers, and it seemed that we were. Ever since that time, I have had a warm place
in my heart for the people of Matoon and surrounding country, also for the people of Cairo, Illinois.
But all things have an end, and so at one o'clock we started.
for Columbus, the capital of the great and glorious old state of Ohio.
In due time, we arrived. But oh, what a change! Instead of being treated like lords,
as we were in Illinois, we were treated more like so many dogs than human beings.
Myself and a few others could not endure this kind of treatment, so we took French leave
and went home.
In about two weeks, I received notice to come to Columbus and get discharged.
We were discharged by order of special telegram from the War Department, without any descriptive list.
I came home and went around to see my friends and neighbors, but when I went around, it seemed as though everybody was gone or dead.
Being in so much company for three years, I became restless,
packed my kit and went to missouri it was a little more lively there as every man i met had a large navy revolver strapped to him
it made no difference whether he was a banker dry goods man or a farmer it was all the same the revolver was there i remained there eighteen months and was never treated better by any people anywhere and i never carried a weapon of any
kind. Then I came home, married, and went to farming. I didn't like that. Then I went into the timber
business, getting out spiles and stave bolts. I finally quit that and went into the retail
grocery business. I followed that for about nine years, but at the present time I am not
doing much of anything. My post office address is Morale, Ohio.
End of Section 19
Section 20 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry
This Libervox, according, is in the public domain.
Section 20
Joseph Bringman
I was born in Mansfield, Ohio, on the 16th of April 1841,
enlisted in the service of the United States at Mansfield, Ohio,
on the 6th of August, 1860.
in Company D of the 102 Regiment Ohio Volunteer Infantry,
was captured at Athens, Alabama, on the 24th of September 1864,
and confined in the prison at Cahaba, Alabama.
When I went on the steamer Sultana at Vicksburg,
I was sick and very weak, and all of my teeth seemed to be loose,
the result of prison life.
Sometime in the evening of the 26th of April 1865,
we stopped at Memphis, Tennessee to take on coal.
After this was done, we started up the river,
and I laid down outside of the balusters on the cabin floor,
on the left side of the boat.
I did not sleep very soundly,
and my sleep was disturbed by dreams.
I had kept on my clothing as it looked rainy.
A rope was stretched some 12 or 15 feet above the deck, running to the spar, with which I came in contact some way, as I afterwards found the marks of the rope on my body, which causes me to speak of it here.
It appeared to me in my dream that I was walking leisurely on an incline or sloping hill, and when I reached the top, there appeared to be a ledge or projecting rock overhanging a river.
I seemed to step upon it so as to look down into the water,
and just as I took the second step,
the rock seemed to burst with a report like the shot of a distant cannon.
I felt pieces of rock striking my face and head,
and I seemed to be hurled out into the river.
The sensation was like striking the water with my side and shoulders
and going under with a waving or oscillating motion.
I came to the surface, but was still not fully conscious, and started down again with apparently the same motion, but did not seem to go down so far.
I became more conscious and began to strangle.
I now found that it was not all a dream, and also that my clothing was an encumbrance, and at once divested myself of it.
On coming to the surface of the water, I struck a scantling some for-eastern,
inches square, I seized it and also managed to get some more floating debris, and by this means I was
able to keep above the water. My thoughts were more collected now, and I could see men in the water
near me, and also horses struggling in the water, and one horse came near capsizing my frail float.
My impression was that the boat had capsized and thrown us off. I then asked some of those that
were in the water, what had happened to the boat? None of them knew. A moment later, we saw a light,
and then we knew that the boat was on fire, and in a very short time, the flames lighted up the river
all around. I shall never forget that terrible ordeal. The water was icy cold, and in every
direction men were shivering and calling for help, while the water was carrying us swiftly down
the stream. The boat did not follow, and the darkness prevented us from seeing each other.
After floating some distance, I heard Philip Horn, of company I, telling some of the others
how to work to get ashore. I called to him, and he asked who I was. I told him, and then he
asked me what I had for a float. I answered, and he said that they had part of a floor, and called
to me to come and get on.
I worked over to them and tried to get on, but their floor seemed to sink too much, and I did not venture on.
I told them that I would stick to my boards and scantling, had just let loose of their floor when it struck something and turned over.
I understood that several were drowned.
Floating along, I several times came near the shore, but each time the current drew me back toward the middle of the stream.
i could see the buildings on the bank of the river at memphis as i floated past and halloed for help the steamers along the wharf were ringing their bells and men were out in canoes but i was on the opposite side of the river and was not noticed
i was so chilled that i was powerless and a kind of drowsiness came over me i felt that i was going to sleep and i seemed as comfortable as if in a downy bed
i soon dropped to sleep or to unconsciousness with the music of the bells of the steamers ringing in my ears the next i knew i was on a boat at the wharf or landing at memphis lying on a mattress and several men were working over me trying to bring me to consciousness
the boat had picked me up with others from eight to fourteen miles below where the explosion took place i knew nothing about this except what i was told
I learned that our boat, the Sultanah, had blown up.
There were twelve of my company on board that boat, and only two of us escaped.
I was taken from the boat and conveyed in a carriage to the hospital at Memphis,
and on going up the stairway, I dropped down and was unconscious till the next day.
My injuries were a fractured arm, three broken ribs,
my face somewhat scalded, scarred, and bruised all over, and frozen to unconsciousness.
I was at the hospital about four days when an order came to discharge all that were able to go home.
I got up and walked around to show that I was able to go, but I suffered terribly before I got very far.
I was discharged at Camp Chase, Ohio, on the 20th of May 1865, and was soon at home,
but could not do any work until cold weather that fall,
and I feel the effects of that exposure and shaking up to this day.
My present occupation is farming.
Post office address Enon Valley, Pennsylvania.
End of Section 20.
Section 21 of Loss of the Sultanna by Chester D. Berry
This Libre Vox recording is in the public domain.
Section 21, A.C. Brown
I was born in Clermont County, Ohio, on the 24th of November, 1838,
enlisted in the service of the United States on the 3rd of September 1861,
in Company I, 2nd Ohio Volunteer Infantry,
and served in the first brigade of first division of the fourteenth army corps army of the cumberland while in command of my company at the battle of chickamauga september twentieth eighteen sixty three was taken prisoner had already served over two years of active service
was taken from the battle-field to belle isle which is in the middle of the james river opposite richmond virginia remained on the island but a short time
and was then transferred to Smith's building opposite Libby Prison in Richmond.
In this prison we had the best fare, while in the so-called Southern Confederacy.
They gave us all the mule meat we could eat.
The guards around this prison were not unlike those that were on duty at many others,
always watching for an excuse to kill a yank,
and, as many of the guards had never been to the front,
and were not likely to be sent there, as they were too cowardly to be trusted.
Their only chance to kill a yank was to take one of us that was unarmed
and shut up in a building where the yank could not even get at him with his fist.
It was only when they were sure that they were out of harm's way
that they had the bravery to shoot one of us.
Our boys had noticed that some of the guards wanted to immortalize their name by killing one of us,
so we concluded to test their marksmanship.
Late at night, when most of the boys were asleep,
we would raise the window and present the yank
that was to be sacrificed in order that the guard,
who is exposed to the dues and nightfall,
might get a furlough and go home for his health.
This, I believe, was the order at all the prisons,
that if one of us was shot for breaking the rules,
the guard that did the shooting was furloughed.
as soon as the yank would appear at the window the boys would commence to tantalize the guard to get him to shoot bang would go the gun and the yank would fall back pierced by ball and buckshot
we did not have much trouble to stop the blood as the supposed yank was a broomstick with a piece nailed across to represent arms clothed in blouse and cap
so the name yank would immediately appear in the window and call in question the marksmanship of the guard of course such performances would alarm the rest of the guards and there would be detail made to double the guard for the rest of the night
many instances of my prison life might be referred to which were similar to that after two months at richmond by which time they had to commence eating the mule meat themselves
We were taken to Danville, Virginia, where they had the riot last fall, and the darkies killed so many of the white people.
We were kept at Danville the balance of the winter of 1863 and 1864, and in the spring of the latter year, were taken to Andersonville, Georgia, where I was introduced to Captain Wirtz, April 18th.
On our arrival here, I told my comrades that we were in for the war.
this proved to be the fact i was kept here until the eighteenth of march eighteen sixty five which made my stay at andersonville eleven months to a day and a little over nineteen months a prisoner of war
the records at washington show that over a hundred and eighty thousand of our soldiers were captured and imprisoned during the war and only about twenty-five or thirty thousand are now supposed to be living
we left andersonville on the eighteenth of march eighteen sixty five destination unknown to us of course as it was on all occasions when we were being transported from one prison to another we were going to be exchanged
we started south and finally after travelling by railroad river and on foot we came to big black river twelve or fifteen eight miles from vicksburg
and were here paroled.
The conditions admitted of our sanitary commission feeding and clothing us,
but we were to remain under control of the Confederate Major until legally exchanged.
While here I was called upon by the agent of the Southern Express Company at Vicksburg,
who informed to me that he had received a dispatch from the superintendent of the Adams Express Company
at Cincinnati, Ohio, requesting him to render me any assistance I.
required in cash or otherwise. I requested that the agent would kindly return my thanks to those of my
friends, North, who had so kindly remembered me in my sufferings, and all the favor I asked was when
we were to be sent north, that cabin passage be procured for me. It was while here in camp that
word came of the assassination of our beloved president, Abraham Lincoln. Our Confederate Major
concluded that it was not a healthy place for him and deserted us. So I am still on parole,
having never been exchanged. A train was sent for us, and we were shipped to Vicksburg.
When marching from the train to the wharf, and when near the boat, I saw my friend,
the express agent, awaiting me on the cabin deck. I stepped on the ill-fated steamer and was
introduced to the first clerk when I was informed.
that my fare was paid to Cairo.
The express agent, after wishing me a safe trip,
bade me goodbye and went uptown.
It was now about 11 o'clock.
I soon sat down to dinner.
You can imagine the contrast between sitting down at a table
filled with all the substantials and pastry
in the finely furnished cabin of a steamer
compared with the surroundings and fare at Andersonville.
after eating a very light meal of the plainest food on the table i helped myself to more than some would think proper under different circumstances and carried out to my comrades quite an armful of victuals
i found them going for the hard tack and lincoln coffee with a relish a happier crowd i never saw we all felt that a few more hours would land us at home where anxious friends were awaiting our return
our names had already been forwarded by telegraph to the press north and many hearts were made light by the prospect of meeting a son a husband brother or sweetheart
it is well my friends that we cannot see into the future little did this happy throng know what awaited it that in a few more hours some were to be roasted yes burned to death while others would be struggling with the waves only to sink
to rise no more. Many the tears I have shed in remembrance of this doubly sad calamity.
After my comrades had faced the leaden hail, had fallen into the hands of the enemy,
passed through all the harrowing experiences of prison life,
that they should meet such a fate when almost in the embrace of friends at home seemed doubly sad.
We left Vicksburg in the evening after supper.
The clerk and myself had quite a chat,
and he seemed to take quite an interest in having me relate some of my prison experiences.
I broke in on his questioning to find out how many there were on board the boat.
The sultana was one of the largest boats on the Mississippi River.
The clerk replied that if we arrived safe at Cairo,
it would be the greatest trip ever made on the western waters,
as there were more people on board than were ever carried on one boat on the Mississippi River.
He stated that there were 2,400 soldiers, 100 citizen passengers, and a crew of about 80, in all over 2,500.
We arrived at Memphis, Tennessee, at about 10 o'clock at night, April 26th.
I retired to my state room, and the last that I remember, they were taking me.
taking on coal. I was wakeful and commenced to plan what I would do in case of an accident to the boat.
There were so many passengers on board that there would be great excitement. I decided that in case of a fire,
I would get off the boat as soon as possible. I then went to sleep.
I learned after the accident that it was about three o'clock in the morning of the 27th of April 1865,
in dark and misting rain,
when about seven or eight miles above Memphis
and near the cluster of islands called the Henan Chickens,
that one of the boilers of the boat exploded
and the boat burned to the water's edge.
The first I knew after going to sleep,
I found myself laying on the opposite side of the cabin
from my stateroom about the middle of the boat.
The steam was rushing up all about me,
and the fire was starting.
The boat from midway forward was all torn to fragments,
and this was the part of the boat that was occupied by the boys.
Back of me, the chandelier in the ladies' room was burning brightly.
I got up and started to the rear of the boat through the ladies' cabin,
past a lady who was putting a second set of life preservers on a little child.
This was the only child on board.
when i reached the railing at the rear of the boat after assisting a lady to throw overboard her trunk i laid off my heavy army shirt that i might not be encumbered by its heavy weight in the water and overboard i started
before i reached the water something was thrown over that hit me and down i went under the water as i came up a drowning man caught me round the neck with a death grip and under the water and underwere a drowning man caught me round the neck with a death grip and underwere
we went, the second time for me. As we sank, I strangled. I now passed through the same experience
that only a drowning person or those about to drown undergo. In those few seconds of time,
my whole life, from my childhood down to that terrible moment, passed before me like a panorama,
with perfect distinctness. As we came to the surface, I freed myself from his deadly
grasp and struck out for myself.
I now took account of stock
and found all I possessed of this world's goods
was a string around each ankle.
As I did not want to be weighed down with a garment
that was afloat and fastened to the strings,
I swam with one hand at a time
and with the other hand broke the strings.
When about three or four hundred yards away from the boat,
the whole heaven seemed to be lighted up by the conflagration.
Hundreds of my comrades were fastened down by the timbers of the decks
and had to burn, while the water seemed to be one solid mass of human beings,
struggling with the waves.
The light and the screams at this time cannot be described.
Out of twenty-five hundred only about six hundred were rescued,
and about 200 of the rescued died soon after from the injuries received at the time of the accident.
Most all on board were from the middle and western states.
The adjutant general of the state of Michigan, in reporting for the last year of the war,
refers to the Sultanah explosion as being the greatest calamity of the war.
A great many Michigan men were on board and lost.
I swam about four miles and came to an island covered with timber.
I climbed a tree and the water surrounding it was about ten feet deep.
Now when I hear persons talking about being hard up,
I think of my conditions at that time,
up in a tree in the middle of the Mississippi River,
a thousand miles from home,
not one cent to my name, nor a pocket to put it in.
and to contrast my appearance then with my face scratched and swollen my weight about one hundred pounds with my appearance to-day reminds me of two irishmen who on meeting each thought he recognized an old acquaintance afterwards found they were mistaken and one said to the other
you thought it was me and i thought it was you but be jabbers it is neither of us
i was about to close and leave myself up a tree after remaining in the tree about four hours a boat came along and took me off
was mustered out of the service on the sixth of may eighteen sixty five my present post-office address is cannon city colorado end of section twenty one section twenty two of loss of the sultana by chester d berry
This Libervox recording is in the public domain.
Section 22.
Michael Brunner
I was born in Bavaria, Germany, on the 25th of January, 1841.
I enlisted in the service of the United States in September 1861 at Georgetown, Ohio,
as a private and company C of the 59th Regiment Ohio Volunteer Infantry.
I was captured on the 19th of September 1863 at the Battle of Chickamauga, Tennessee,
confined two days at Bell Island, then in a warehouse of Roysterin brothers in Richmond, Virginia,
thence to Danville Prison No. 5.
From Libby Prison, I, with three other comrades, escaped,
but was recaptured near the Blue Mountains, Virginia, and taken back again.
into Libby Prison and thence transferred to Andersonville, Georgia in 1864.
In December, escaped from the hospital at Andersonville with two comrades,
Joseph Pritchett of Ohio and Alex Simpson of Indiana.
We were recaptured near Bainbridge, Georgia, near the Florida Line,
and returned to Andersonville in 16 days after escape.
remained in Andersonville until March 1865 when I was taken to Black River, Mississippi, near Vicksburg, and paroled.
Was placed on board the steamer sultana on the 25th of April 1865.
I was on the outside of the cabin deck near the stairway at the time of the explosion,
and jumped on a stage plank and remained on it until it broke down,
crushing many prisoners under it.
I then remained on the front part of the boat
until she was nearly burned up and sinking,
when I got hold of a piece of plank which supported me
until I floated ashore on the Arkansas side of the river,
where I was picked up by a skiff
and conveyed over to Memphis by the steamer Bostonian.
I was discharged from the service at Columbus, Ohio,
on the 6th of May, 1865.
My present occupation is that of a shoemaker.
Post office address, Georgetown, Ohio.
End of Section 22.
Section 23 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry.
This Libravox recording is in the public domain.
Section 23.
William Carver.
I enlisted in the service of the United States, November 5th,
1862 in Company B of the Third Tennessee Cavalry to serve three years or during the war.
Was captured at Sulphur Branch Tressel, which is near Athens, Alabama, September 25, 1864,
and from there was taken to Cahaba, Alabama, where I remained until the water had overflown the prison.
Left Cahaba on the 6th, and arrived at Vicksburg, the 16th of Marlaba.
March 1865, where I remained until the 24th of April, and bordered the steamer Sultanah.
On the morning of the 27th of April 1865, between two and three o'clock, the explosion took place.
I was asleep on the hurricane deck of the boat behind the wheelhouse.
The report partially awoke me, and the next I heard were the cries of the terrified people,
which words are inadequate to express.
I remained on the boat as long as I could with safety,
then went to the lower deck and jumped overboard.
The drowning men grabbed me and held me under the water.
As soon as I got clear, I came to the surface of the water
and swam to the wheel of the boat.
A comrade reached down and helped me upon it.
I was very much exhausted and rested a while.
when I felt the wheel giving way.
It broke loose and fell into the water and drew me under.
I felt something strike my side.
It was the iron rod in the wheel.
I clung to it the best I could.
When the flames came towards me,
I buried myself in the water as long as I could.
I was burned severely on the right side of my face and shoulder.
In some way I got on board with a comment,
and we floated to a drift pile on the Arkansas side of the river.
I had no clothing on, and it was about daylight when we landed on the drift pile,
and two men came out to us in an old dugout and took five of us to the Arkansas shore.
After a time, the steamer silver spray came along, took us on board, and landed us at Memphis, Tennessee.
I was placed in the hospital and well cared for, but my father was among the missing ones.
We left Memphis on the 30th of April for Camp Chase, Columbus, Ohio, and from there to Nashville, Tennessee,
where I was discharged from the service, June 10, 1865.
End of Section 23
Section 24 of Loss of the Sultana by Chester D. Berry.
This Libravox recording is in the public domain.
Section 24.
Abraham Castle
I was born in Montgomery County, Pennsylvania, and lived there until I was 17 years of age, and then came to Ohio.
Enlisted in the service of the United States at Findlay, Ohio, on the 19th of January, 1861, in Company B, 21st Regiment, Ohio Volunteer Infantry.
was captured at Kingston, Georgia, November 6, 1864, and taken to Cahaba, Alabama.
At the time of the explosion, I swam about three miles and was rescued at 10 a.m., more dead than alive.
Not able to work.
Post Office address, Macomb, Ohio.
End of Section 24.
Section 25 of Loss of the Sultan, by T.
Chester D. Berry. This Librovoc's recording is in the public domain. Section 25. Simeon D. Chelfth.
I was born in Green County, Kentucky on the 17th of January, 1844. I enlisted in the service of the
United States at Liberty, Kentucky, on the 23rd of July, 1862, as a private and company G of the 6th
Kentucky Calvary.
About the 1st of March 1865, our regiment left Nashville, Tennessee for East Point, Mississippi.
After letting our horses rest a few days, we started on what was known as the Wilson Raid, we supposed for Mobile, Alabama.
General Crookston, with the first brigade, which consisted of the fourth Kentucky-mounted infantry,
2nd Michigan Cavalry, 6th Kentucky Cavalry, and 8th Iowa Cavalry, was on route for Tuscaloosa,
and on the 31st and camped within 20 miles of Tuscaloosa.
The next morning, by gray daylight, our pickets commenced firing.
We were all soon mounted, and company C and G of the 6th Kentucky Cavalry were detailed for rear guard.
Our army marched down the road
And was gone about one hour
When the firing increased
Then it ceased for a few minutes
Our companies were in line ready to march
When the rebels commenced firing on us again
We swung into line
And seeing so many blue coats
We hallowed to them to cease firing
Which they did for a moment
Captain Paris and Lieutenant J.J. Serber
ordered a charge
which was made expecting to regain our command,
although we encountered a larger force of rebels.
We charged through the line of battle,
then into a brigade that was marching by fours.
At the rear of this brigade was a barricade or a fence built across the road.
There five of us stopped,
and were firing down the columns of another brigade,
and while there we had to surrender.
The rebels took us back on the road,
about a mile, and then began to take such clothing from us as best suited them.
Oh, well do I remember of a rebel who traded me a pair of shoes for a good pair of boots,
and all the difference I got was,
"'Set down you, yank, or I'll put my bayonet through you while I pull them boots off.'
Of course the persuasion caused the trade.
They then started to take us to prison.
While marching along, an old man came out to the room.
road and said, I guess, damn you, you-uns ain't out stealing horses today, like
youons were yesterday. S. H. Davenport looked at him and said,
Yes, damn your old soul, you ain't hidden the woods like you were yesterday.
They marched us afoot until late in the night, and not a bite to eat until the second of
April, about ten o'clock, and that was dry corn dodgers.
We got to Uniontown, Alabama, the 4th of April,
and while there some 20 or 30 of the first Mississippi cavalry came in,
they wanted to know what kind of guns you damn Yanks got.
We had Spencer Carbeams.
I told them that we could wind them up and start them to shooting at sunrise,
and they would not stop until sundown.
Well, I believe it, for Ewan's kept a solid cloud of lead oil,
our breastwork at Selma.
From Union Town we went to Moberly, Alabama, on Tom Bigby River.
There we stopped for the night, and I asked permission to go and buy some sweet potatoes
of some darkies. It was granted, and a guard, we called them our bodyguard, went with me.
I got as many potatoes as I could carry for a five-dollar Confederate bill, and on my return to where
the rest of the boys were, I saw a Confederate soldier peddling whiskey. I asked him how he sold it,
and he said, $5 a glass. I told him I would take three glasses. I drank one, gave one to my messmate,
and the other to my lieutenant. On the following morning we boarded a boat, crossed the river,
and there the home guards were out, all of them, wanting to kill a yank.
We started from there to Meridian, Mississippi, where they marched every one of us and marched
us into prison.
When the first two of our squad entered the prison, the old prisoners commenced yelling,
Fresh fish!
After we all got in, they flocked around us to get the news from the outside world.
Everyone was anxious to know what our army was doing.
After we were in prison a while, we drew our rations, which were one.
pint of cornmeal, ground cob, and altogether.
This was one man's rations, and a half of a hog jowl for ten men per day, and also some pine
wood, with which we did our cooking.
After our fires were in full blast, one of the seventh Illinois cavalry and I were talking.
I said to him, I do not want to hurt your feelings, but a bodyguard is crawling on your neck.
His reply was,
It does not hurt my feelings at all.
If the sum shines out, you will see plenty of them.
There is no use of my telling it, for few will believe it.
The sun shone bright next day,
and you could see them crawling all over the prison,
but lucky for us we did not remain there long.
We were on the road to Vicksburg, Mississippi,
to go into parole camp.
We were there when Lincoln was a son.
assassinated, one of the best men that ever sat in the presidential chair, and if he was alive today,
we, the rank and file, would be better treated by the lawmaking powers of the land.
After we got into parole camp and had plenty to eat, we were happy once more.
We boarded the ill-fated steamer Sultanah April 25, 1865, and at dusk, she started out with her heavy freight from Memphis, Tennessee.
the river was up to high water mark i thought it was over high water mark when i came to try it we landed at memphis april twenty six eighteen sixty five and unloaded some sugar i don't know how much
we then pulled out a barge of coal and took on enough to run to cairo illinois then we started up the river everything seemed to be safe about two o'clock in the morning of april twenty seven
the boiler of the boat exploded. When this took place, I was sleeping on the bow of the boat with my head against one of the cable posts.
Seth H. Davenport was at my left, and on his left was a man who was killed. A piece of iron glanced my head, and in the excitement I thought the rebels had fired a battery on us.
My blankets were covered with ashes, cinders, and fragments of timber, and they were rather heavy to crawl.
from under. The front part of the cabin and the pilot house were blown to Adams and the
stairway damaged so that it could not be traveled. The boat was crowded with soldiers from
boiler deck to hurricane deck. A man stood in the lower part of the stairway and hallowed,
The boat is sinking! The men rushed to the bow of the boat and jumped overboard as fast
as they could, tumbling into the river upon each other, and going down into the deep by the
hundreds. After the main rush was over, I had more room and could see what was going on.
While gazing about, I saw the fire start up in the coal that lay near the furnace.
I looked for a bucket so as to get water to put it out, but couldn't find any.
I went to the bow of the boat to see what had become of the man that was killed.
He was still there, but all of his clothing was torn off him by the men running over his body.
I began to look for something to aid me in swimming.
I found a board 14 or 16 feet long,
and was watching my opportunity to jump off and to keep as far from anyone as I could,
when A.M. Jacobs came to me and asked me to save his life.
He said,
You can swim, and I cannot.
I replied, I will help you all I can, but a man cannot do much in water.
He then asked me to give him my board for his pole, as he called it.
It was a small post used in the framework of the cabin,
and was four by six inches square at each end, and the rest was worked down.
I did so.
We both went to the bow of the boat to jump overboard,
but there were too many men in the water,
the water being covered with men's heads,
all of them begging for something to be thrown to them,
on which they might escape.
I believe I saw 150 or 200 men sink at once near the bow of the boat.
The fire was now getting headway
and sweeping everything with which it came in contact,
and I knew I must take to the water.
I looked around for the man that was killed, but he was gone.
I suppose someone threw him.
him overboard to keep him from being burned up.
Jacobs and I walked to the edge of the boat and stopped and prayed,
and at the Amen, we both jumped overboard.
Jacobs held to the board I gave him,
and when I came to the surface of the water,
I told him to put one end of the board under his breast,
and hold it there with one hand,
paddle with the other hand, and to kick with both feet.
After he got started on his board, I told him to do the best he could, and I started for the Arkansas shore.
The boat being now under heavy flames gave good light so I could see the timber.
When I got about halfway between the burning steamer and the shore, a boat came down the river with bales of hay, which were dumped into the river.
The waves overtaking me, I was strangled by their slapping me in the shore.
face. At length I got the run of them by diving through one and riding the next.
When I was within three or four hundred yards from the timber, a young man came swimming up
behind me and said, ha, pard, haven't you something I could rest my hand on until we get to
the bushes? I stopped and looked at him and asked him if he had any clothes on. He said he
had on his shirt. I told him to take it off and he
could swim better. He did so, and I pushed my post back, and he put his hand on one end,
eye on the other, and we both got the step and landed in the bushes together.
Thinking now of having a good rest, I took hold the tops of two bushes. Letting myself down
full length and not finding bottom, I concluded that was no place to rest, and started out in
the brush to find land.
to a leaning willow, I threw my left arm and foot over it to rest. I held about half of my body
out of water, but I got chilling in that position and again let down for bottom, but could not find it.
I then pulled out for the shore, but was unable to find it after wandering around one or two
hours. This is very much shorter than I thought it was at that time. I then started for the main
part of the river, thinking some boat might pick me up, every now and then hallowing,
Has anybody found land?
A man hallowed,
Here's a good dry log you can get on.
I told him to keep up a noise so I could find him,
it being then the darkest hour of the night just before daybreak.
We kept up a chat until I reached the log which had a limb about three feet long.
I threw my arms over the night.
the limb, but I could not kick another lick. I could not have got on the log if he had not
helped me. I placed my feet on the limb, and with my hands rubbed and hit myself on the breast.
I got so blind I could not see. After that wore off, I could stand up. Then I jumped up and down
to start the perspiration. After the dawn of day, mosquitoes came on us by the thousands.
We had it pretty lively, then, until we were taken on board of a vessel, the name of which I do not remember.
We were landed at Memphis and taken to the soldiers home.
All the clothing I had was a rebel hat, calico shirt, and a pair of red flannel drawers.
A. Rhodes and I slept in a newspaper so as to keep our clothes clean.
We remained there eight or ten days.
After we drew our clothing, we were a little bit of.
put on a boat and started for Cairo, Illinois. There we stopped at the soldiers' arrest,
afterward boarded a train, and ran up to Matoon, where the citizens had provided plenty for us to eat.
From there we went to Terre Haute, Indiana, where we were treated well by the citizens.
From Terre Haute to Indianapolis, where we received a good supply of bacon and beans.
Our next stopping place was Columbus, Ohio, where we stopped overnight in Todd Barracks,
and the following morning started for Camp Chase, where we were discharged from the service.
While walking up the street, we met a man who had a boiled shirt, and he asked A. Rhodes,
What regiment is this?
He answered,
No regiment at all.
Just a detail of Wilson's cavalry sent down.
on the Mississippi River to catch alligators.
My present occupation is farming.
Post office address, Lebanon, Kansas.
End of Section 25.
Section 26 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry.
This Liber Vox recording is in the public domain.
Section 26.
William A. Christine.
I was born in Worcester, Ohio,
September 23, 1841, and enlisted in the service of the United States at the same place,
August 6, 1862, in Company H, 102, Ohio Volunteer Infantry.
Was captured at Athens, Alabama, 24th of September, 1864, and confined in the Cahaba, Alabama
prison. At the time the Sultana exploded, I was sleeping with my comrades,
on the hurricane deck.
I looked around but saw nothing of them,
so I went down into the cookroom
and found a barrel with one end out
and threw it overboard
and then jumped after it.
But got into a crowd,
so I let it go
and got on the wheel
and undressed and again jumped.
Something fell on me and burned my head.
On looking back,
I saw a plank floating toward me
and grabbed hold of it.
a young man who had a plank divided with me and then we started on our trip down the river soon after this we were joined by comrade elias hines of the eighteenth michigan
we noticed that the first man was not in his right mind and on reaching one of those strong currents which carried us around he fell off and i suppose was drowned
as he was about eight feet from either of us we could not help him we had all we could do to hold the planks together we floated down the stream until daylight when on reaching memphis we were picked up by some of the fire department and taken up the stream about a mile
when we crossed over and landed below the city among some barges i received a blouse from comrade hines and a pair of pants from some one on the war
then went to the hospital and got cleaned up.
The 102nd Ohio Volunteer Infantry
had 105 men on the boat and only 32 were saved.
Out of the 14 men in Company H, only three were saved.
Occupation Railway Mail Business
Post Office address
319 East Spring Street, Columbus, Ohio.
End of Section 20.
Section 27 of Loss of the Sultanna by Chester D. Berry.
This Libervox recording is in the public domain.
Section 27. F.A. Clap Saddle
I was born near Unionville, Columbus County, Ohio, July 28, 1842,
and enlisted in the service of the United States at Alliance, Ohio, August 9, 1862,
in Company F. 115th Regiment Ohio Volunteer Infantry.
Was captured at Blockhouse No. 1, Nashville and Chattanooga Railroad, December 4, 1863,
and confined in the Meridian, Mississippi and Andersonville, Georgia prisons.
The night of the explosion, being a warm night,
I took off all my clothes but my shirt and drawers before lying down.
I was on the hurricane deck near the bell frame, fast asleep, when the explosion took place.
Something fell and struck the frame, covering me so that I could not get out at first,
but by hard pulling I crawled out under the rods or braces of it.
The deck appeared to be deserted. I could not see anyone.
I threw a blanket over my shoulders and jumped to the cabin deck and from there to the lower deck.
i will ever remember the terrible scene i witnessed there i got a small board went to the west end of the boat near the wheel and commending myself to take care of him who ruleth all things i jumped into the water
i went down deep and strangled badly but being a good swimmer did not get excited my greatest fear was that i would get into the jam and some one would get hold of me and pull me down under
i was within talking distance of but one person while swimming i picked up two short pieces of boards while in the water and laid one across the other under my breast so that i kept above water without much trouble
i became very cold and my limbs began to cramp after a while seeing a light i headed for it and when i reached the place some men threw a rope out to me
i let my little bark go and grabbed hold of it and about daylight they pulled me ashore i was very badly chilled there were fifteen of my company on the boat and eight were lost
occupation farming post office address marlborough stark county ohio end of section twenty seven section twenty eight of loss of the sultana by chester d berry
This Libravox recording is in the public domain.
Section 28.
George A. Clarkson.
I was born in England, April 8, 1835.
I enlisted in Captain Mott's Company B, First Michigan Lancers, August 5, 1861, and mustered out of the service with regiment, March 21, 1862.
Re-enlisted as a corporal in.
Company H. Captain Purdy, Fifth Michigan Cavalry, August 18, 1862 at Milford, Michigan.
At the Battle of Trevillian Station, Virginia, June 11, 1864, was taken prisoner with 18 of my company.
Was taken to Richmond, Virginia, first to the Pemberton building, there stripped and searched for money,
then to Libby Prison, and from there to Andersonville.
our sufferings on the cars for the want of food and water were great left andersonville for millen october thirty first and afterwards sent to savannah blackshear and thomasville
on the twentieth of december eighteen sixty four we were started on foot for albany a killing march on the frozen ground barefooted and nearly naked and on december twenty fifth were again placed in anderson
where we remained until March 25, 1865.
We afterwards crossed the Black River to the neutral ground in rear of Vicksburg, Mississippi,
on the 1st of April, having taken an oath at Jackson, Mississippi, not to leave until duly exchanged.
Do not know whether I was exchanged or not.
I left there for home April 25th on the steamer, Sultana.
I was suffering with diarrhea and scurvy, and a short time before the explosion was to the rear of the boat.
The men lay so thick that I could not see any of the deck.
All was peace and no sign of disaster.
I spoke to the engineer of how nicely we were going, and then returned to my place on the deck,
which was about twelve or fifteen feet forward of the boilers next to the guard, or railing of the boat.
Being chilly, I wrap my blanket around me, thereby saving myself from the scalding water when the boiler exploded.
William Brown of my company lay next to me and was lost, also one of Company M of the Fifth Regiment, who was next to him.
All of those around me was scalded.
I remained on the boat until the fire drove the most of us off to the bow of the boat into the water.
I threw a barrel into the river, but someone got it.
Men were thick in the river.
I jumped as far as I could, but someone caught hold of my feet, and I kicked him off.
I was very weak, but an expert swimmer.
I secured a small piece of board, about four inches by three feet,
which someone threw into the river.
I had taken off all my clothes, except my drawers and vest,
In the latter was a diary and pictures of my wife and girls.
These I saved.
I did not try to swim, but floated about four miles,
heading for the bank of the river.
Getting into a clump of four or five small cottonwood trees,
I managed to get most of them bent down
and stood on them up to my waist in the water.
Once in a while, losing my hold, I would get a ducking.
I was on the Arkansas side of the river,
and the land was so overflown,
there was no getting to hard ground.
I was rescued by the gunboat Pocahontas at 9 a.m.
And was so used up that I had to be lifted into the yawl by the sailors.
Some ladies were on the gunboat who gave us shirts and drawers.
It looked at the landing at Memphis,
as though all the vehicles in town were there to take us to the hospital.
etc. I was taken to the Washington Hospital and after getting some new clothes was sent to Camp
Chase, Ohio, and from there I received a furlough by order of the Secretary of War and went home.
I was mustered out of the service July 5, 1865 at Detroit, Michigan.
Since that time I have resided at Milford, Oakland County, Michigan, and am completely broken down.
so that I have to live on my pension.
I was a sash and doormaker in factories.
End of Section 28.
Section 29 of Loss of the Sultana by Chester D. Berry.
This Libervox recording is in the public domain.
Section 29.
George M. Klinger
I was born at Chester, now Maysville, Kentucky, August 4, 1844.
enlisted at camp kenton kentucky in the service of the united states october thirteenth eighteen sixty one as a corporal in company e sixteenth kentucky infantry
was captured november thirtieth eighteen sixty four at spring hill tennessee near franklin tennessee and taken to kahaba alabama and was confined until the water rose to four feet deep in the prison
not one foot of dry ground was seen for six days a steamer arrived from selma loaded with artillery for mobile she was ordered to halt at the prison where we waded out and crawled on to the deck
we started down the alabama river to mobile as we were told but on account of the heavy fighting we had to turn back we then went up the tom bigby river to gainsville where we were taken off and marked we were taken off and marked
to Big Black River, back of Vicksburg, Mississippi, where we camped on neutral ground until the 24th of April 1865.
We received orders to pack up, which occupation did not take long, for there was not much to pack.
We were put on board the steamer sultana, while they were patching the boiler, and I heard the captain of the boat tell the quartermaster not to put any more on, as we had a load already.
We were driven on like so many hogs until every foot of standing room was occupied.
We proceeded up the big Mississippi.
As you all know, the river was out of the banks, and the levees were all overflowed.
We stopped at a town called Helena in Arkansas, where a photograph was taken of our steamer with about 2,300 souls on board.
We arrived at Memphis, Tennessee on the evening.
of the 26th of April, where we unloaded some hogsheads of sugar and other freight,
and about one o'clock in the morning of the 27th, we left the coal-bins on our journey home,
as we were told. All were in good spirits to think of going home to see loved ones. Some of us had
not seen either for more than two years. About two or half-past two o'clock in the morning,
the awful explosion took place.
i was sleeping with comrade willison of my company next to the wheelhouse aft the boat on the tennessee side the wheelhouse broke loose and i came near going down with it
that was the last i ever saw of comrade willison as nearly all were trying to get to the tennessee side i did not see any chance to be saved there so i went to the arkansas side and jumped overboard and started away from the burleson
boat with George proper, I think, and had swam until we got sight of the trees when I came across a small window shutter.
I had not gone far when a man near me called for help, for he was drowning.
I shoved the shutter to him, and by this means his life was saved.
He was picked up with me by the steamer Silver Spray.
He was a captain, I believe, and belonged to the second Michigan Cavalry.
he made me give him my name company regiment and place of residence and said he would visit me as i was the means of saving his life that is the last i saw or heard of him
we were taken back to memphis tennessee where we were treated very kindly by the ladies of the sanitary commission who gave us underclothing so as to cover our nakedness after remaining there a few days we went on board a steamer about
for Cairo, Illinois. From there we went to Camp Chase, Ohio, thence to Louisville, Kentucky,
where we were discharged from the service on the 17th day of June 1865, under General Order
77, current series, by Captain Charles Fletcher, First United States Infantry.
I am now a brickmason and contractor. Post office address, Maysville, Kentucky.
End of Section 29.
Section 30 of Loss of the Sultanna by Chester D. Berry.
This Libervox recording is in the public domain.
Section 30.
J.S. Cook
I was born in Ireland, February 15, 1842,
and enlisted in the service of the United States at Cleveland, Ohio,
in Company C.
115th Regiment, Ohio Voluntary Infantry, August 20, 1864,
was captured near Franklin, Tennessee, December 5, 1864, and confined in the Andersonville Prison.
On the 24th of April 1865, I, with 2400 other prisoners of war,
was put on board the steamer sultana at Vicksburg, Mississippi, on the Mississippi River,
bound for Cairo, Illinois, and from thence to our several homes as the war was over.
Most of us died more than a dozen living deaths while in prison,
and looked more like candidates for the Boneyard than for anything else.
Nevertheless, when we heard the news that we were going home and back to God's country,
we felt light-hearted and merry as we thought of seeing our girls again.
While General Bangs walked down the gangway, the boys following him saw the old flag floating from the Jackstaff.
They cried for joy and hugged each other like schoolgirls.
But alas, our joy was of short duration.
We arrived at Memphis, Tennessee on the evening of the 26th of April, left there the same night, and steamed up the river.
when about eight miles above Memphis, one of the boilers exploded while most all on board were sleeping.
What a scene of consternation.
I pray God to never let me witness anything like it again.
Men lying in all imaginable shapes, some crying, some praying, many who perhaps never prayed
before for God to help them until it was too late.
some with legs broken or arms smashed and some scalded and mangled in all ways those who were not disabled seemed to be at a loss to know what to do
many of them stuck to the burning boat until the flames drove them off and they went down in squads to rise no more after the survivors were picked up and placed in the hospital at memphis there were only six hundred half of whom were nearly
dead. Many of these were picked off the tops of trees, as the river had overflown its banks,
so that it was ten miles wide. I, with my bunkmate, J.C. Coke, was lying close to the bell on the
hurricane deck. The smokestack fell on the other side, which crushed it down on the next deck below,
and buried us up under a lot of boards, so that I thought for some time I could not extricate myself.
When I got onto my feet, Coke spoke to me, and I answered him, and seeing what was the matter,
I turned around to get a board to take with me to be of use in the water.
I looked around for Coke, but could not see him, and never have since.
This was the saddest part of my experience, as he was the only son of his father,
and I had something to do with his enlisting.
It so affected the old man and grieved him
that he died partially insane some years after.
Now my choice was between drowning and burning to death.
I chose the former and scrambled to the edge of the boat
and jumped overboard into the icy cold water.
I could not swim very much
and floated down the stream about as fast as the boat
so that I could see everything that was going on.
in my voyage i came in contact with a large log floating down stream and got upon it but found that the log wanted to be on top of the water only half of the time
so i gave up that ship and clung to the little board until almost on the verge of despair the scenes of my life were passing through my mind and i was about to give up all hope when i saw down stream a dim light
this gave me new courage as it approached me i saw that it was a steamer and as she neared me i shouted with all the strength of a drowning man for help
when they heard me they stopped and threw me a rope by which i was helped on board after i was placed in the cabin of the boat a union lady whose name i have often wished i knew took off my wet clothing put a dry suit of uncle
Uncle Sam's clothes on me, got me up to the stove, and made me drink two horns of whiskey,
about fifteen minutes apart.
This is the only time that I felt that whiskey did me any good.
These kind actions were performed as a mother would perform a duty for her child.
I love to think of that woman, and if I knew her whereabouts, I would make her a visit.
End of Section 30.
Section 31 of Loss of the Sultanna by Chester D. Berry.
This Libravox recording is in the public domain.
Section 31, William Crisp.
I was born in England, January 1834,
and enlisted in the service of the United States at Hillsdale, Michigan, August 1862,
in Company D. 18th Regiment, Michigan Volunteers.
was captured at Athens, Alabama, September 24th, 1864,
and confined in the Castle Morgan, Cahaba, Alabama Prison.
I was put on board the sultana at Vicksburg.
The boiler exploded when about seven miles above Memphis.
I was badly burned and lost the use of one arm,
swam three miles and a half, and got in a tree.
I was rescued at 7 a.m. April 28th, 27th, 1865.
Occupation, farming.
Post office address, Silver Creek, Nebraska.
End of Section 31.
Section 32 of Loss of the Sultana by Chester D. Berry.
This Libervox recording is in the public domain.
Section 32.
Ben C. Davis
I was born in Bredgeon, Glamorgenshire, South Wales, on the 12th of May 1827, enlisted in Company L. 7th Kentucky Cavalry,
was taken prisoner at Lafayette, Georgia, on the 23rd day of June, 1864, under Colonel Watkins's
command, and taken to Cahaba, Alabama, and remained there until about November,
was then removed to Meridian, Mississippi.
Stayed there about four or five weeks when I was taken back to Cahaba, Alabama,
and remained there until about March 20, 1865,
when the Alabama River overflowed the country, rising about two feet all over the prison.
We had to do our cooking on rafts, and a great many men were sleeping on them.
During the high water, a steamboat came up the river
and took about 600 of the prisoners away,
they being sent to parole camp at Vicksburg.
When the boat came in sight, there was a great rush for it.
Everybody wanted to get out of prison.
There was a sixth sergeant that belonged to my regiment.
His name was Morris Malayli.
He was not able to travel through the water to the boat,
and I undertook to carry him.
through. When I got to the stage plank, the boat had let loose and we had to go back to the
prison. We remained there three days when another boat came and I had to carry the sick man again,
but this time we caught the boat and were taken to the parole camp. In about three weeks,
the sultana came to Vicksburg and took nearly 2300 on board to go to Camp Chase, Ohio.
A little above Memphis the boat stopped to get coal,
and when everything was ready, they started up the river.
About two o'clock in the morning I got up to have a smoke.
I went to the boilers to get a light from my pipe,
and going back to the hurricane deck, where I had been sleeping,
I sat down for about ten minutes.
When I got through with my smoke,
I got a canteen of water and was about to take a drink
when the boiler exploded and the canteen flew out of my hand.
I never saw it again.
Morris Mullaly and myself, from Covington, Kentucky,
John Anndorff and Joe Moss from Cincinnati,
were sleeping under the same blankets,
and when the explosion took place,
I thought the boat had all gone to pieces.
In the confusion, there was no command, whatever.
I remained on the boat until the same,
side wheel was burned clear to the water. By this time it was getting too hot from me, and I let
myself down to the lower deck by a rope. There were so many people in the water you could almost
walk over their heads. The fire was sweeping through the boat so that I could not bear to
stay there longer. I got a shutter about three feet square, and at this time I found Joe Moss.
He begged me to let him have the shutter as he could not swim.
I threw it into the river, and I told him to follow it, which he did.
I never saw him again.
I pulled off all my clothes except my shirt and jumped into the river, making toward the Arkansas shore.
I knew I had a good journey before me, but got there all the same.
When I reached the Arkansas Willows, I could not find a safe place,
so swam about forty or fifty yards down.
Here I found a large log fast in the willows, so I mounted it.
I could hear so much groaning that I hollered to them to encourage them,
telling them I was on shore.
One man, who was pretty close to me, asked me what regiment I belonged to.
I told him to the seventh Kentucky cavalry, and he said,
Here's a fourth Michigan after you.
they kept on coming till there were five of us on the log i always did believe that i was the first to land on the arkansas shore that morning about half-past three o'clock a m
between eight and nine o'clock a man in a canoe came and picked us up taking us down to a plantation right opposite where the hulk of the sultana was tied up there i met john andorff one of my bunkmates
i guess every one that was on the sultana knew something about the monstrous alligator that was on the boat it was nine and one-half feet long while the boat was burning the alligator troubled me almost as much as the fire
my post-office address is covington kentucky end of section thirty two section thirty three of loss of the sultana by chester d berry
This Libra Vox recording is in the public domain.
Section 33.
John Davis
Was born near Ottawa, Putnam County, Ohio, October 26, 1840.
When about one year old was moved to Ayersville, Defiance County, Ohio, which has been his home
till the present.
He enlisted July 30, 1862, in Company D.
100th Regiment, Ohio Volunteer Infantry.
Took part in the battles of Rocky Face Ridge,
Rusaka, Dallas, Utoe Creek, Atlanta, Columbia, and Franklin.
Was slightly wounded at the Battle of Rosaca
and was captured at the Battle of Franklin on November 30, 1864.
Was confined at first at Meridian, Mississippi,
but was soon removed to Andersonville,
Georgia, and finally taken from there and placed on neutral ground in the rear of Vicksburg,
Mississippi, till sent forth with other exchanged prisoners on the ill-fated steamer, Sultanah.
At the time of the explosion was sleeping on boiler deck within 15 or 20 feet of the stern door,
had as bunkmates A. W. King, William Wheeler, George Hill, and James A. Fleming.
the last named was lost as well as valmore lambert who was on cabin deck over the boilers after the explosion he reached the stern door in a rather suffocating condition but was not much injured by the explosion
and remained upon the boat until driven off by the flames the river was very high and the water icy cold was in the water at least two or three hours but was finally picked up by a boat sent to the rescue
when taken into the boat could not stand alone and was perfectly prostrated was put to bed in the cabin of the boat and carried to memphis remaining in memphis two or three days
was then sent by steamer to Cairo, Illinois, thence by rail to Columbus, Ohio,
and there discharged by special telegraphic order from the War Department.
Post Office address is Ayersville, Ohio.
End of Section 33.
Section 34 of Loss of the Sultana by Chester D. Berry.
This Librevox recording is in the public domain.
Section 34.
L. A. Deerman
I was born August 11, 1837.
I enlisted in the service of the United States on the 1st of February, 1864, at Nashville, Tennessee,
in Company K of the 3rd Regiment of Tennessee Cavalry.
I remained at Nashville until the 18th of June, 1864,
then started for Athens, Alabama, and arrived at that point on the 20th of June, 1864.
as well as I can remember at the present time.
We went into camp and remained there until the 25th of September 1864
when I was captured at the Battle of Sulphur Branch Tressel,
which is six miles above Athens.
Cahaba was the next point.
It was an awful one, too, when I arrived there,
but I must come back to the night before I arrived at Cahaba.
One of my friends and I made our escape by jumping from a flat car,
about 10 o'clock p.m., at a place about 10 miles above Selma, Alabama, in the swamps.
The darkest and lonesomest place that I ever saw.
We stopped close by the place where we leaped from the car until morning,
then we started out, waiting the water that was in the swamp.
The water kept growing deeper and deeper until,
it compelled us to change our course, and we soon arrived at a large farm.
It being cloudy and foggy, we soon lost our course and traveled around at random about one hour.
The sum shone out, and we found that we had been lost.
We stopped to rest until night, but in a short time our rest was disturbed by the barking of dogs
and hollering of men. They soon came upon us. There were four.
five dogs and two men. We surrendered, of course, as we had nothing by which we could defend
ourselves. We were then carried to Selma, Alabama, and from there to Cahaba Prison, arriving there
about the 1st of October 1864. I remained there until the 6th of March, 1865, but my friend
made his escape from the prison before this, and succeeded in reaching Nashville, Tennessee.
was taken on board a boat bound for Vicksburg, Mississippi, on the 6th of March, 1865, arriving there
about the 18th or 19th of March, 1865. To the best of my recollection, I remained there until about
the 24th or 25th of April. From Vicksburg, I went aboard the great steamer, Sultana.
Late in the evening, she pulled out and landed at Memphis, Tennessee, to unload show.
sugar, leaving there the evening of the 26th, or morning of the 27th of April.
As I had been up all of the previous night, and had not had any rest or sleep,
two or three of the boys and myself went halfway back on the deck and made us a good bed out of our
blankets, and went to bed like white people, as we had not done for some time prior.
I never knew when the boat left Memphis, nor did I know any of the boat,
until about three o'clock next morning when the noise of the explosion awoke me from my dreams.
The first thing I knew, I was standing on my feet, looking, listening, and thinking,
what in the world is the matter now? I soon found out what was the matter.
I turned and looked and saw one of the smokestacks lying in front of me.
I saw at once that it was torn to fragments, and such screaming and,
and yelling was never heard.
By this time,
nearly everybody was in the water,
swimming for life.
I saw that I would soon have something to do.
One of my messmates that went to bed with me that night
came up to me with a board,
which was one and one-half inches by ten inches
and eight feet long,
and said,
"'Louis, I can't swim a lick.
Do you think this will be of any good?'
I replied,
and picked up a short board about three feet long and said to him,
Come on, I will help you all I can.
I jumped into the water, holding on to my board,
and told Frank to put his board in,
and I will hold on to it until you get on.
You stay on one end of the board and kick with your feet,
and don't let anyone get on with you if you can help it.
He did so.
I gave him a start and got him out from among his,
the crowd. He made it all right and was the first man I saw the next morning with whom I was
acquainted. I went on and on swimming for my life on my short board. It seemed to me that I was in the
water about an hour and a half. While I was in the water, I struck an old log. One end of it was
hanging to something, and the other end was floating about in the water. I caught hold of the end of it,
and pulled myself upon the log, and here remained until eight o'clock in the morning.
I could hear the boys all up and down the river banks on logs, bushes and drift,
smacking and rubbing themselves to keep warm,
and crowing like chickens, while many a poor boy was sinking or floating in the deep waters of the Mississippi.
Oh, this was so unexpected to that crew that night?
We were carried back to Memphis and remained there ten days,
and then we took a boat and started for Cairo, Illinois, and from thence to Camp Chase, Ohio.
We remained at this place a few days, and from here went to Nashville, Tennessee,
where we remained until the 10th of June, 1865, when I was discharged.
I was a farmer when I enlisted in the service, and am still trying to farm,
I live in St. Clair, Alabama, near Steele's Depot on the A.GS Railroad.
End of Section 34. Section 35 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry.
This Libre Vox recording is in the public domain.
Section 35. J.W. Dunsmore.
I enlisted in the service of the United States at Iona, Iona,
County, Michigan, December 25, 1863, in Company I, First Regiment Michigan Engineers and
Mechanics, and joined the regiment at Bridgeport, Tennessee.
Was captured at a small place called Ackworth, August 8, 1864, and taken to the Kahaba Prison.
In March I was taken to Vicksburg and put on board the Sultanah.
Her boiler exploded when about ten months.
above Memphis. At the time H. C. Aldrich and myself were lying in one of the upper decks,
near the starboard wheelhouse. He said, What shall I do? I cannot swim. I replied,
You have got to. I got two blinds for him from a window, and he went overboard. I followed him
as quickly as possible. While I was swimming for dear life, a man called to me and asked for
a chew of tobacco. I started to swim for the timber and was caught in an eddy and nearly drowned.
When I got out of it, I could see the lights of Memphis, but could not reach the dock,
and finally was pulled out by a colored girl at Fort Pickens.
Was sent from there to Camp Chase, Ohio, and was given a furlough.
I was discharged at Detroit, June 1865.
Occupation, Farming.
Post office address, Harrison, Clare County, Michigan.
End of Section 35.
Section 36 of Loss of the Sultana by Chester D. Berry.
This Libra Vox recording is in the public domain.
Section 36.
J. Walter Elliott.
I was born in South Hanover, Indiana, March 22nd, 1833.
and enlisted in the service of the United States at Lafayette, Indiana, April 18, 1861, in Company E, 10th Regiment, Indiana Volunteer Infantry,
and promoted as captain in Company F. 44th Regiment, United States Colored Troops in July 1864,
was captured near Nashville, Tennessee, December 2, 1864, and confined in the Cahaba, Alabama,
and andersonville georgia prisons i have seen death's carnival in the yellow fever and the cholera stricken city on the ensanguine field in hospital and prison and on the rail
i have with wife and children clinging in terror to my knees wrestled with the midnight cyclone but the most horrible of all were the sights and sounds of that hour
the prayers shrieks and groans of strong men and helpless women and children are still ringing in my ears and the remembrance makes me shudder
the sight of two thousand ghostly pallid faces upturned in the chilling waters of the mississippi as i look down on them from the boat is a picture that haunts me in my dreams
but to the narrative where shall i begin memory with faultless faithfulness reproduces a thousand pictures of the dark days of the winter of eighteen sixty four and sixty five
captured and paroled in october ordered on duty without exchange and again captured while trying to steal through hood's lines at nashville on december second eighteen sixty four i knew full well that a recognition would be swift
followed by a drumhead court-martial and my execution.
Therefore, I assumed the name and command of one Captain David E. Elliot,
of Company E. 75th, Indiana, who I knew was with Sherman on his march to the sea,
and never until I had shaken the dust of the Confederacy from my feet did I disclose my identity
to friend or foe. And the sixty autograph albums gotten up by my companions in Castle Reed
will attest it.
Shall I tell of the march over ice and snow,
the wading of deep streams from Nashville to Dixon,
two miles below Cherokee on the Memphis and Charleston Railroad,
the suffering from cold and exposure in the dead of winter,
and from hunger when I bought a barrel of corn meal for thirty-two dollars in greenbacks,
and then eating not half what I craved, but dividing with my fellows,
of seeing a wagon-load of corn on the ear, driven into the prison corral and thrown out to us as though we were a lot of fattening hogs,
of the number of dead we left on the ground next morning, killed by eating raw corn after a four days fast,
of my confinement without food for a day and night in a close, crowded box car, in which fresh horse dung was half a foot deep,
of the indignities the humiliations and cruelties heaped upon us by cowards playing provost marshal of our sojourn at cahaba alabama
of our removal from that purgatory to that hell of hells at andersonville presided over and approved upon daily by his satanic majesty's most loyal representative on earth captain words ably assisted by his brothers of royal blood who were kennel
fed and guarded by one of the CSA's most trusted lieutenants,
with a picked command scarcely second to the historic old guard?
Oh, the long and dreary winter in prison.
The suffering from cold, hunger, and the petty tyranny of cowards
clothed with a little brief authority.
The stench of rotten meat, of which we had not half enough to eat.
The bitter, bitter feeling that our country had abandoned us,
to our fate refusing to exchange because it would be exchanging able-bodied soldiers for us who were starved until we could be of no service
how day by day through long weary weeks each of us watched his fellows slowly but surely starving to death and already mourned as dead by fond loved ones at home get ready for exchange came the order oh the joyous shout that made the castle walls
ring out. How each of us laughed and cried, shook hands with and hugged his fellows,
and joining hands in a circle, in good old Methodist camp-meeting altar style, as we all joined
in singing, rally round the flag, boys. The joy of that good hour more than repaid for all past
tribulations. Sixty-five officers formed in line awaiting orders.
Behold death on a pale horse, says that grand old soldier, General Noble of Bridgeport, Connecticut,
as Captain Wurz enters the stockade on a white pony.
At the cars we joined some 500 privates from the stockade,
and a more pitiable sight city life in its worst phases never disclosed.
All were begrimed and blackened by exposure,
without a pretense of protection from summer's sun or winter's rain,
all weak and leaned from starvation.
Many too feeble to take care of themselves
were literally encased in scales,
beneath which were myriads of living vermin eating all vitality away.
Two I saw doubled up and scarred all over,
having been literally torn in pieces by the dogs
because they attempted to escape from the devil's domain.
we left a good many poor fellows dead along our entire route thrice derailed twice we had two cars wrecked crippling a good number of the boys
on march twenty sixth we hailed the glorious flag of our country as it floated on the breeze tears flowed at sight of that proud emblem while big black river jordan like divided the forlorn c s a from our canaan
we crossed we gathered at the river we sang and danced and rested under the shade of the trees out from the gates of hell out from the jaws of death going home
on our arrival at prison camp six miles in rear of vicksburg we received a glorious welcome and invitation to take something that is we were taken to the commissary where barrel after barrel of pickled cabbage was rolled
out and the heads knocked in and we marching round and round gobbled out and ravenously devoured the cabbage and licked the vinegar from our fingers the sweetest dainty to my bleeding gums that ever i tasted we feasted on pickles
next day we exchanged our filthy rags for clean clothing rode home rested and feasted about twenty five hundred embarked on the sultana for st
Louis, together with a good many passengers, crowded, jammed, and packed on all the decks and guards
and in the cabin. But what cared the survivors of Andersonville? The war was over, and we were going
home. Nothing unusual occurred until we reached Memphis, although I had suffered much from fear of
the boys crowding to one side of the boat and capsizing her. One instance, in particular,
while at Helena, a photographer was taking the boat,
and each soldier seemed to be bent on having his face discernible in the picture.
I entreated and exhorted prudence while I sat on the roof,
my feet pendant and my hands on a float, momentarily expecting a capsizing and sinking.
Each night the cabin was filled with a row of double-deck cots.
I had been fortunate in securing one of these,
but on the night previous to reaching Memphis
I suddenly conceived and executed the purpose of making a stranger
whose name I never knew,
our commissary sergeant in parole camp,
occupy my cot while I spent the night in a chair.
The boat lay at Memphis Wharf, discharging freight,
and the cots were being placed,
when my friend of the night before came to me and asked if I had a cot.
I pointed to my hat, placed on one to hold,
it. He said that one was in a hot, unpleasant, and dangerous place over the boilers, and that he
had reserved one for me in the ladies' cabin, that I had my way the night before, and he must have
his way now.
Give it to some poor fellow who had none last night, I said. But a moment afterwards, he came and
told me he had removed my hat to the cot selected by him, and that I would have to take that
or none. Soon I retired to the cot, read until weary, fell asleep, was partly aroused by the
boat leaving the wharf a little after midnight, but relapsed into sweet slumber, dreaming of the
loved ones at home, a motherless daughter, a noble Christian mother, two devoted sisters and my
brothers. How I reveled in the joy of that reunion? A report as of the discharge of a part of a
of artillery, a shock as of a railroad collision, and I am sitting bolt upright, straining my eyes
and stretching my arms out into the Egyptian darkness, face, throat and lungs burning,
as if immersed in a boiling cauldron. Crash, crash fall the chimneys on the roof.
Oh, that I could shake off this horrible nightmare! But now, from all around, rise shrieks,
cries, prayers, and groans.
Have I awakened in the dark regions of the lost?
I sprang to my feet, hastily dress, start forward,
groping my way between the stateroom doors and the cots,
to learn what has happened.
Suddenly I find a yawning opening in the floor.
I paused in doubt and uncertainty for a second,
when the scene lights up from below,
disclosing a picture that beggar,
all description, mangled, scalded, human forms heaped and piled amid the burning debris on the
lower deck. The cabin, roof, and Texas are cut in twain, the broken planks on either side of the
brake projecting downward, meeting the raging flames and lifting them to the upper decks.
Women and little children in their nightclothes, brave men who have stood undaunted on many a
battlefield, all contribute to the confusion and horror of the scene, as they suddenly see the
impending death by fire, and wringing their hands, tossing their arms wildly in the air. With cries
most heart-rending, they rush pell-mell over the guard into the dark, cold waters of the river,
while the old soldier is hastily providing for himself anything that will float, tables, doors,
cots, partition planks, anything, everything.
What a worse than babble of confusion of sights and sounds,
as each seeks his own safety, regardless of others.
Where is the cot of my selection a few hours previous,
and where it's occupant?
Ask of that holocaust below.
There is a divinity that shapes our ends.
Captain, will you please help me?
i turned in the direction of the voice so polite so cool and calm amid this confusion there on the head of the last cot on this side of the breech which was covered with pieces of the wreck
sat a man bruised cut scalded in various places both ankles broken and bones protruding with his suspenders he had improvised tourniquets for both legs to prevent bleeding to death
i am powerless to help you i can't swim i replied but he answered throw me in the river is all i ask i shall burn to death here
i called captain chapman of lafayette whom i never saw afterward and we bore mccloid aft and threw him overboard i then got hold of a life-preserver for myself just as a frightened maiden in nightgown only rushed past
me. I seized her as she was leaping from the guard and called the chambermaid,
who put my life-preserver on the girl. I then had no chance for escape, as I thought,
and death seemed inevitable. I worked and toiled to my very utmost to assist others until all
was done that I could do. Then the thought occurred to me that it was my duty to make an effort
to save myself.
I saw two Kentuckians meet,
each lamenting that he could not swim.
Then let us die together, said one.
Well, replied the other,
and embraced in each other's arms,
they leaped, sank,
and the muddy waters closed over them.
I saw others, blinded by the explosion,
leap into the fire, and die.
I now cast about me for something I
could use as a buoy, but everything available seemed to have been appropriated.
I tried to improvise a life preserver out of a stool.
I threw a mattress overboard. It floated and was at once caught onto by several who were
struggling in the water. I got another mattress, and slipping down a fender onto the taff
rail, I dropped it, but it no sooner touched the water than four men seized it, turned it over,
and it went under as i jumped down down i went into the chilly waters some poor drowning wretch was clutching at my legs
but putting my hands down to release myself and vigorously treading water i rose strangling to the surface my scalded throat and lungs burning with pain the mattress was within reach with only one claimant
god only knows what had become of the three others placing my arms on the support i began a life and death struggle to escape from the falling wheelhouse which i barely succeeded in doing but its waves strangled me and came near sweeping my companion off
there seemed to be acres of struggling humanity on the waters some on debris of the wreck some on the dead carcasses of horses some holding to swimming live horses some on boxes bales of hay drift logs etc
soon we parted company with the wreck and the crowd and drifted out into the darkness almost alone a boat the general boynton passed near whistled and hove too
But finding her efforts at rescue futile, she steamed away and gave the alarm at Memphis,
and the gunboats and steamers there sent out lifeboats and yalls to pick up those floating by from several miles above.
Having floated nearly five miles, we struck a small drift that seemed stationary,
and that I correctly thought was on the overflowed Arkansas shore.
I crawled upon a large floating tree.
chilled and benumbed i could not sit up i had three large doses of quinine in my pocket took them all at once and by vigorous rubbing soon was able to stand and walk
meantime my companion was helpless and could not get on to my drift i held the mattress to the drift and with a keen switch i struck the man who by the way was dressed in but one garment and-and-a-one was dressed in but one garment and
that, a very brief one. And striking first one place, then another, he begging piteously all the
while, and rubbing where I struck, I hope he has forgiven me that whipping. I soon had him up,
and together we pulled one young woman and two men out of the water, who soon chilled to death,
in spite of all we could do for them. Shivering with cold, silently we paced back and forth on that
floating cypress. Minnet seemed ours, as we kept our lonely vigil over the lifeless form of that
beautiful girl, and of the two brave men who had passed the perils of field and prison, only to die in
this way, just when all danger seemed past. There was no sound to break the oppressive silence,
save the splashing of the cruel waters, and the gurgling moan of a poor fellow who had clasped
his broken, scalded arms over a scantling, and drifted with his mouth just above the water,
and lodged nearest, dying. An occasional feeble cry of distress nearby on the riverside was
answered by voices up the bank. Oh, would morning never dawn on night so hideous? At last,
the sun, as if reluctant to light the scene of horror, slowly disclosed to my view of the poor wretch
clinging in unconsciousness to the floating scantling,
who immediately expired when taken from the water.
There were also to be seen some half-dozen soldiers on the roof of a cabin above us,
and here and there a chilled half-frozen soldier,
clinging to the branches of a tree,
or perched on a bit of floating drift.
But my attention was devoted especially to a man
some forty yards from me on the riverside,
clinging to a pole or upright snag, worn smooth by the waters.
When first I made him out, his feet were above the water,
and he was climbing with all the strength he had to reach a projecting snag to rest thereon,
but failing he stopped, then slipped gradually inch by inch down the pole
until his feet were beneath the water.
Again he tried to reach the rest above, falling short of the point before,
reached. So periodically climbing and falling back, each time he sank lower and failed to climb as high
as before. At last he had to throw his head back to keep his chin above water, and, climbing,
he failed to get his waist out of the flood. Only a few minutes, and he will make his last futile
effort, and the lifeless body will be borne away on the muddy tide. Oh, how I wish I could swim,
whim. Now comes a Confederate soldier in a bateau from his camp not far inland. I hail him and send him in
haste to the rescue. With great effort and danger to himself, he drags the stiffened and almost
lifeless body from that pole and bears it to a place of security on the log cabin roof, where with
vigorous rubbing the boy soon bring him around. Here and there goes that bateau,
taking the imperil to places of safety.
And now the Jenny Lind, a little steamer from Memphis, comes,
and Johnny puts his passengers on board,
taking them from cabin roof drifts and trees,
myself the last one in sight.
At the boat, Lieutenant McCord of Bellevue, Ohio,
our Susan of Castle Reed,
pulls me on board, and in the joy of the meeting,
we for the moment forget the loss of many of our brave companions.
If Susan still lives,
I wonder if he ever laughs over my giving him my red flannel drawers
and of his promenade with me through Memphis to the quartermaster's,
barefoot and clad only in red shirt and drawers.
Just after boarding the boat I saw a dugout,
paddled by a citizen coming out of the woods,
and in the bottom there lay McClure.
I helped lift him on board and lay him on deck and give him a tumbler of whiskey.
When I left Memphis, he was in the hospital there, and I know not whether he survived,
but rather think he did.
But what had become of my chivalrous knight of the gray?
How he dignified the gray?
Silently he had disappeared when his good work was done,
with that modesty inseparable from true royalty of heart.
would that i knew his name reaching memphis i met young safford of north madison indiana whose father had joined us at vicksburg as a sanitary commissioner
the father's arms were both badly scalded and he was otherwise injured the son put two life-preservers on his father and one on himself and they hastily got upon a state-room door in the water
a horse leaping from the boat struck the door knocking them off and separating them the sun was taken up unconscious opposite memphis by the life-boat from the essex and now restored he was inquiring and searching for his father
together he and i opened more than a hundred coffins on the wharf hoping to have the satisfaction of giving him a burial that his body should not be lodged on some bar to become food for fish
Then together we visited the offices of a morning paper, where I, for the first time, gave my real name and command.
Here we met Irwin, a United States scout, who had been the senior Safford's companion, and he gave the young man his father's watch, a very valuable gold one, and told us that Mr. Safford had been discovered and rescued in an unconscious state by some negroes on president's
island, having floated 12 miles.
The son took the first boat for the island, where he found his father, as had been told him,
and took him to Madison some days after.
I, with a number of surviving officers, was sent to quarters at a hospital.
I was sent for that afternoon by Mrs. Harstock of Illinois, aunt of my deceased wife,
who had seen my name in the paper.
Soon I joined her at the fort below.
When I returned to the city the second day afterward, I was hailed at every turn.
Captain, they have left us. You must get transportation for us and take us home.
So I gathered up the boys, all who were able to be moved, about 250, and shipped them for Cairo.
We had a dozen or more scalded men laid on the cabin floor, and nerds.
them at cairo i placed the well in barracks and the wounded in hospitals for the night i succeeded next day in getting cars by which we arrived at matoon at early dawn of the day following
we had had nothing to eat for twenty-four hours and there was no way to feed the men citizens crowded around to see the heroes of the great disaster who at my request took the boys to their homes to their homes
and breakfasted them.
Then came trouble about cars.
If cars should be sent thence to Indianapolis,
they would be kept for debt, owing by one road to the other.
But on my personal pledge to return the coaches,
we got them, which pledge,
the superintendent at Indianapolis cheerfully redeemed.
From a tune, I wired the mayor of Tara Hote,
and also Governor Morton.
Terre Haute gave us a dinner worthy of my grand old native state.
At Indianapolis we found ambulances in waiting for the disabled
and a good supper prepared for all.
Here I surrendered my charge and completely worn out by my watching and nursing on the river and rail,
I stopped at the first inn I found, that of an Englishman on Illinois Street near the Union Depot,
who generously tended the hospital.
of his home to me and my companions.
My present occupation is farming and fruit growing.
Post office address, Arba, Alabama.
End of Section 36.
Section 37 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry.
This Libervox recording is in the public domain.
Section 37.
William Fies, Adjutant National Sultana Sertanus
Survivors Association.
I was born in Elmendingen, Baden, Germany, October 17, 1841.
My parents emigrated to the United States in the year 1847
and located in New York City, from which place we removed to Marion, Ohio,
in the month of September 1852.
At the age of 17 years, I was apprenticed to learn the trade of cabinet-making.
On the 30th day of October, 1861, I enlisted as a private in Company B. 64th Regiment, Ohio Volunteer Infantry at Marion, Ohio, was appointed corporal November 16, 1862, and was promoted to sergeant April 1, 1864.
I served with the company and regiment until January 1864, when I re-enlisted at Blaine's X-roads, East 10th.
Tennessee for three years longer, and was remastered January 27, 1864, in Company B. 64th Regiment
Ohio Volunteer Infantry, participating in all the campaigns, battles, and skirmishes with the
company and regiment, except the Battle of Chickamauga, at which time I was on detached duty
and engaged in recruiting service. I was taken a prisoner with five others of my company,
at the battle of franklin tennessee november thirtieth eighteen sixty four marched the next day to columbia tennessee and after being held there a few days
we were marched with about eighteen hundred other prisoners at corinth mississippi selma and montgomery alabama finally reaching meridian mississippi where we were confined for a few days in a stockade when we reached this place most of us were in a deplorable
condition having marched several hundred miles over bad roads in the winter season with scanty clothing and scantier rations a great many were barefooted and a number were sick we were shipped from here to andersonville georgia
i will not attempt a description of this hell on earth nearly all have read descriptions of it on march twenty sixth eighteen sixty five i with several hundred others
was taken out of the prison, and finally, after a tedious journey,
partly by rail and the rest of the distance on foot,
we reached and were encamped on the Big Black River near Vicksburg, Mississippi.
On the 23rd or 24th of April, according to the records of the War Department,
1865, paroled Union prisoners of war, of which number I was one,
were loaded on board of the ill-fated steamboat,
at Vicksburg, Mississippi, more like so many cattle than men, which, together with the passengers
and crew, made in all about two thousand and twenty-one souls, besides a freight cargo, making in all a
cargo of several times the carrying capacity of the boat, and were headed up the river, our destination
being Cairo, Illinois. The sultana landed at Memphis, Tennessee, on the evening of April
26, where a portion of her cargo of freight was discharged.
Sometime during that night, the boat left the wharf at Memphis and steamed up the river,
making a landing to take on coal.
Before we left Memphis, my bunkmate, Comrade A. O. Cranmer, of my company and I,
fixed down our bed on the cabin deck and on the starboard side near the railing.
I remember, just before I fell asleep, Captain May.
in command of the boat came up from below to go to a stateroom, I presume, and was compelled to crawl around on the rail, as the deck was so crowded with men lying down that he could not find room to step, and was in consequence made the subject of several jokes.
After this incident I fell asleep and did not wake up until after the explosion, which occurred about two o'clock a.m., at which time I was brought to my senses by some time.
water which was thrown over me by someone on the hurricane deck. When I came to my senses,
I found myself standing on a part of the wreck, in front of and near the starboard wheelhouse,
surrounded by wreckage and in the midst of smoke and fire. The agonizing shrieks and groans of the
injured and dying were heart-rending, and the stench of burning flesh was intolerable
and beyond my power of description.
I was not aware at that time that the boilers had exploded,
but thought the boat had caught on fire.
Judging from the injuries I received,
I must have been knocked senseless by the explosion
as I found the left side of my face bruised and bleeding,
my left hand badly scalded,
and my left shoulder disabled,
which afterwards proved to be a very bad dislocation.
When I took in the situation
and saw the dangerous place out,
was in, I took hold of an iron brace rod near me, which was so hot that it actually blistered
my hands, and scrambled onto the hurricane deck, where I found a number of men trying to extinguish
the fire by throwing water with buckets. From them I first learned that the boilers had exploded.
From there I slid down a rope to the bow of the boat, carrying with me a small wooden box,
which I thought might become useful to me in case I was compelled to take to the water.
I changed my mind, however, and threw it aside.
I saw a number of men bringing from the hold empty cracker barrels
and jumping overboard with them,
but I saw they were worse than useless in keeping the heads of the men above water,
having only one head in them they would not balance.
Just at this time the stage plank was lowered from its hangings
and about as many as could get a hold of it were trying to launch it,
first on one side, then on the other.
Finally, it went overboard, carrying with it a great number.
But as it was heavily bound with iron, it sank,
and must have carried down with it a great many who had a hold of it,
and others who were struggling in the water to keep afloat and save themselves.
Seeing now that all other means of escape were cut off,
I began to look around for something to save myself with.
As it was now apparent the fire was fast gaining headway
and would soon burn through the slight barrier formed by portions of the upper decks,
which had fallen down,
and which had up to this time kept most of the flames
for meaching those of us who were on the bow of the boat.
Just at this time I saw Robert White, a member of my regiment,
standing with one arm around a flagstaff,
looking on the struggling mass of humanity in the water below him as i knew he had followed steamboating before the war i thought he might be able to give me some advice
i went to him and said bob what is to be done and all he said was billy i guess we will all be drowned or burned up i was of the same opinion but made up my mind to at least make an effort from my life in which i was successful
while poor Bob was either drowned or burned up as he predicted,
for I never saw him again.
After this incident I went a short distance to find, if possible,
something that would keep my head above water.
But all I could find was some splinters of boards.
Everything else had been taken,
even to a box which had contained a live alligator.
I had picked up a piece of rope with which I tied the splinters together
into a convenient bundle.
About this time the fire had burned through the wreckage,
and it became apparent that those of us who were still on board
would either be compelled to jump overboard or burn up.
I chose the former, and went over with my bundle,
and sank a few feet under water.
I rose to the surface,
and about this time some other fellow,
who I thought must have weighed at least two hundred pounds,
came down on top of me and knocked me under again.
When I again came to the surface, my bundle of splinters was gone,
and I was just about gone myself,
as some other fellow had taken a hold of me, but I kicked him loose.
Notwithstanding my disabled condition and being at best only a poor swimmer,
I managed to keep my head above water, at least a part of the time,
and get away from the mass of men struggling for long.
life. When I was just about exhausted and thought my time had come, I came to a fellow with a nice
large board. He was the only occupant, but I saw at once that he was very much excited and was
not making any headway. I took hold of the board, throwing my disabled left arm over it, when he
cried to me, For God's sake, let go, I am drowning. I said to him, you fool, keep cool.
this board is large enough to save both of us and several more if managed right but he did not heed my advice and at once made an effort to get it away from me by whirling it over and over edgewise he going over with it at almost every revolution
i kept very cool occasionally putting my hands on it thus keeping myself afloat knowing that he must soon exhaust and perhaps drown himself which proved to be correct
as he soon disappeared below the surface and sank to rise no more when i had full possession i struck out as best and as fast as i could fearing that others might want to take passage with me but not knowing where the strong current would land me
after being in the water for quite a long time which seemed to me an age part of the time in company with others going down the river some swimming others floating on driftwood and all conceivable kinds of rafts
everything that would float being utilized some were shouting for help others praying singing laughing or swearing i finally came inside of some bushes which i took to be on the shore
but which as i afterward learned was the larger one of a group of islands called the hen and chickens the current carried me in some distance and i brought up by a cottonwood sapling i thought perhaps i could touch bottom here
but found the water too deep, the river at that time being very high,
overflowing the islands and surrounding country.
Realizing that in the condition that I was then in,
being almost chilled to death,
that unless I could get out of the water,
I would probably perish before help would reach me.
I made an effort to climb the sapling,
but being then almost helpless,
I failed in my first attempt, and almost lost my life,
for I slipped into the water over my head.
But with the assistance of my board,
my second effort was successful,
and I found myself safely perched on the sapling,
where I had plenty of time to meditate upon the situation.
I thought of a great many things,
of home, relatives, and friends,
and of my poor comrades who must have perished,
but particularly of my intimate friend and comrade,
A. O. Cranmer,
who I.
knew had a wife and children at home anxiously awaiting his coming, but who I thought must surely
have perished, for he could not swim a stroke. I sat on my perch trying to keep from freezing by
fighting buffalo gnats, which were very annoying, until some time after daybreak, when I heard a
steamboat coming up the river, and knew by the shouts for help of those who were similarly situated
as myself, and from the frequent stops of the engines, that help was near at hand.
In a few moments the boat was near me. They saw me and sent a rowboat in after me.
I was lifted by willing hands from my uncomfortable seat, placed in the boat,
carried to the steamboat, and lifted upon the decks. The first person I saw was my dear
friend A. O. Cranmer, whom I had given up for lost, but he had had given up for lost, but he had
landed on the same island and was picked up just a few moments before I was.
To say it was one of the happiest meetings of my life would hardly express it.
I was immediately given some hot stimulants and plenty of hot coffee and was put into a nice
warm bed.
In due time the boat landed us at the wharf at Memphis, where those of us who were injured
were given some clothing by good ladies and conducted to a hospital.
when the boat landed us I saw standing on the wharf Major Coulter, formerly of my regiment,
who was then on his way to some southern port.
He reached out his hand, but was so overcome with grief that he could scarcely utter a word.
He had been with us the evening before, treating and giving some of us a little spending money,
little thinking at the time that so many would so soon find watery or fiery graves.
i was placed in a ward with quite a number who were severely scalded or otherwise badly injured and such misery and intense suffering as i witnessed while there is beyond my power to describe
the agonizing cries and groans of the burned and scalded were heart-rending and almost unendurable but in most cases the suffering was of short duration as the most of them were relieved by death in a few hours
i suffered intense pain from my injuries especially from my dislocated shoulder and scalded hand not having had any attention from the surgeons in charge but i did not murmur or complain as i saw all around me numbers of poor fellows whose injuries needed attention more than mine
a kind-hearted matron came to my cot and washed me and wrote a few lines to my parents informing them of the disaster and that i was saved
it was then that i thought again of my good kind mother at home and longed to be with her as i fancied i could see a strong resemblance between them i was finally taken to the operating-room put under the influence of chloroform and the dislocation reduced and my other injuries
attended to. I did not remain long at the hospital. I soon found a number of my comrades, and
with them, without leave or orders, boarded a boat bound for Cairo. As none of us had transportation
or money with which to pay our fare, the captain and clerk, after some parleying, kindly consented
to carry us. In due time we arrived at Cairo, and after getting transportation from the
quartermaster's department, were sent to Columbus, some to Camp Chase, the injured ones to
Trepler Hospital, where right inside of the capital of our own glorious state of Ohio,
we were treated more like brutes than soldiers, and were almost starved to death by some
inhuman dishonest scoundrel in the employ of the government. I had too much grit to put up with
such treatment and took French leave and left for home, where I soon received notice to return
immediately to be mustered out of the service May 30, 1865, under a special telegraphic order
from the War Department, having served just three years and seven months in the Army.
In all that long service, I am pleased to say I was not at any time sick enough to go to a
hospital, and was only once wounded, and that only slightly, at the Battle of Stone River.
About twenty members of my regiment were aboard of the sultana at the time of the disaster,
ten of whom were lost. I quote from the records of the War Department, a copy of which I have
in my possession, the following. The reports and testimony show that there were 1,866 troops on the
Sultanna, including 33 paroled officers, one officer who had resigned, and the captain in charge of the
guard. Of these 765, including 16 officers, were saved, and 1,101, including 19 officers, were lost.
There were 70 cabin passengers and 85 crew on board, of whom some 10 to 18 were saved.
giving a loss of a hundred and thirty seven making a total loss of one thousand two hundred and thirty eight i had always estimated the loss greater but presume the records are correct and am only too glad that the loss was not greater
it was without doubt the greatest marine disaster on record in either ancient or modern times and i am surprised that so little is remembered about it at this time
and especially by persons who were at that time great readers and can to this day tell all about some battle or skirmish or other disaster where the loss of life was trifling as compared to this
present occupation furniture dealer and undertaker post office address marian ohio end of section thirty seven section thirty eight of loss of the sultana by chester d berry
this librivox recording is in the public domain section thirty eight nathaniel foggelsong i was born at mansfield richland county ohio
in the year 1842 and moved from there to right, Hillsdale County, Michigan, when 10 years of age,
living there until the fall of 1862.
I enlisted to defend my country and to stand by the old flag in Company A of the 18th Michigan Infantry.
From Wright we went to Camp Woodbury, Hillsdale, Michigan.
I served with my regiment in all its campaigns until captured at the Battle of Athens, Alabama.
on the 24th of September 1864 by Forests cavalry.
They robbed us of our blankets, watches, and of all our valuables,
and then we marched over rough roads through rivers and by rail to Cahab, Alabama,
where we remained until the 12th of April, 1865, when we were taken to Camp Fisk,
which is four miles from Vicksburg, Mississippi, there to be recruited up so that we could stand a
journey north. They commenced giving us one-quarter rations and increased it as we starved creatures
could stand it. We remained here until we received orders to board the train at 5 o'clock
p.m. on the 24th of April 1865 for Vicksburg. While at Vicksburg, the steamer Sultana
came steaming in with passengers and crew numbering 110. The steamer remained here about 30 hours
and during that time was boarded by 1,996 federal soldiers and 35 officers
just released from the prisons at Cahaba, Alabama, Andersonville, and Macon, Georgia,
and belonging to the states of Michigan, Indiana, Ohio, West Virginia, Kentucky, and Tennessee.
We were crowded on the boat like a flock of sheep,
until the whole number of passengers was 2,141, besides horses, mules, and a large number of hogsheads of sugar, over six times her capacity.
The overloaded boat steamed out of Vicksburg at 1 o'clock a.m. on the 25th of April, and arrived at Helena, Arkansas, at 7 o'clock a.m., and left there at 8 o'clock.
The boat ran smoothly, and the soldiers were enjoying the thought of being homeward bound.
Yes, with joy that cannot be expressed,
although many of them were suffering from wounds received in battle,
and all were sadly emaciated from starvation in the prison pens where we had been confined.
But now we were en route for home.
The cruel war was over, and the long struggle closed.
battles, sieges, marches, and prison pens were things of the past.
We arrived at Memphis at 7 o'clock in the evening of the 26th.
A guard was stationed at the edge of the boat with orders not to let any of the prisoners get off.
I was not very well, so I did not disturb the guard,
but a number of the boys went off the boat and enjoyed themselves.
After unloading the cargo of sugar, she took on a while.
supply of coal and then started from memphis about one o'clock in the morning of the twenty-seven so far the presence of danger was not manifested nor was it in the least anticipated except that the boat was heavily loaded
but in the darkness of that terrible morning between two and three o'clock just opposite tangleman's landing eight miles above memphis suddenly and without warning the steamer exploded one of her boilers
with terrific force, and in a few moments the boat burned to the water's edge.
The steamer was running at the rate of nine or ten miles an hour.
Mr. Rowberry, the chief mate, who had charge of the boat, and who was among the survivors,
was in the pilot house with Mr. Clayton, the pilot, at the time of the explosion.
At that time I was sound asleep, and the first thing I knew or heard was a terrible crash,
and everything coming down upon us.
I was lying on the lower deck near the stern of the boat.
I laid still a few minutes after the explosion,
and my comrade said,
Thanniel, why don't you get up? The boat is all on fire.
My reply was that I could not swim,
but they said,
Get ready and go with us.
I told them to save their own lives,
as I might be the cause of losing them.
I went with them to the edge of the boat, and there we saw that the water was full of men,
horses, and mules.
Several of the boys were determined to jump off into the river,
but I persuaded them to wait till the water was clearer,
and they did so, thus saving their lives.
I still remained on the boat and heard the cries of comrades for help,
some of them calling on God for help, while others took his name in vain.
One poor fellow, Pat Larky, who belonged to Company E of my regiment, had secured a board,
and it seemed that every time he would try it, it would throw him off into the river.
Pat shouted,
Come help poor Pat, he is a drowning!
The poor fellow went down.
By this time the flames were cracking and snapping over my head, threatening my life.
I was thinking whether to burn or drown,
when a woman with a little babe about two months old came to me crying for help.
I told her it was everyone for himself.
I saw that she had on a life preserver, but it was buckled down too low.
I stepped up to her and was going to unbuckle it when she said,
"'Soldier, don't take that off from me.'
I said, it must be up under your arms.
I placed it there and took her by the hand, and she jumped into the water.
she thanked me and said may the lord bless you she lost her husband baby father and mother there
when i saw my condition i went down upon my knees and asked god to be merciful to me a sinner and offered up the following prayer o lord if it is thy will for me to be drowned on the mississippi all is well or if not may i return home to see my father brothers and sister
I then climbed up on the banisters close to the rudder.
Being weak and feeble, I almost lost my hold.
I grasped tighter and drew myself up, and getting a new hold,
reached out my arm so that I could just place my fingers and foot on the rudder,
then bent my head and body, shoved my arm around the rudder,
and as I let go, drop down onto the lower deck.
While hanging to the rudder, a man cried,
get off from me i replied in a minute there were nine of us that had hold of that rudder and i being the top one kept quiet
soon the coals from above began to fall on my head and shoulders and i began to think that i must get out of there a part of the deck burned off and fell into the water and i tried to get those that were under me to swim and get on to it but all they said was
my god if we let go of this we shall drown i answered let us die like men helping ourselves for god helps those who help themselves in this case and i believe in all others
the coals came thicker and faster so that i had to brush them off my head and shoulders with one hand and hang on to the rudder with the other it will be seen that i had now to do something consequently i made up my mind by the assistant
of God and his mighty power, that I would jump into the water and cried,
Here goes for 90 days.
I sank three times, and as I came up the third time, I grabbed a comrade by the heel.
While catching my breath, he kicked me loose, and down I went again.
As I came up, I grabbed the same comrade by the ankle with one hand,
and with the other grabbed a wire rope to which I hung, being nearly exhausted.
Looking around, I found a piece of scantling, about three by four, and I thought it would help me in getting to a piece of deck, which had floated away from the boat. So I went kicking and paddling like a dog till I reached the piece of deck. As I climbed upon it, I heard Comrade Borns of my regiment say, My God, is that you? I replied, Yes, all that is left of me. He then said,
I have two boards, and you shall have one.
I then started for the center of the deck.
There was a hole burned in it which I did not observe, and down I went,
but throwing out my arms I recovered myself before falling far.
Afterwards I was more careful, moving around closer to the edge of the piece of deck,
when, behold, there laid one of the deck hands and two women scalded to death.
I found a door and a piece of six.
siding. I took the piece of siding and shoved the door down to the comrades that were hanging on the rudder,
and finally they all got upon the piece of deck. By this time the citizens had their raft made,
and came and took us to the shore, where there was a log stable, and near it was a log heap,
where we warmed ourselves and dried our clothes. As Sergeant Bournes was destitute of clothing,
and the wind being very chilly,
I took my pants and blouse
and gave them to him,
thus leaving me with my shirt and drawers.
Bourne said to me,
Fogelsong, let us go and pray to God,
thanking him for saving our lives
and permitting us to stand upon the earth once more.
I agreed, and he made the best and most fervent prayer
that I had ever heard.
Soon after this a boat came along,
took us on board,
and carried us back to Memphis. I crawled into a bunk and soon fell asleep. The first thing I knew,
two sisters of charity came along and said, Here is a soldier. They awoke me, and I asked,
What do you want? They said, We want to put dry and clean clothes on you. I was so weak that I could not
stand alone, but they dressed and led me to the top of the stairs where a lieutenant of an
Indiana regiment took me, carried me down, and placed me on a bus with those two ladies.
They took me to the Overton Hospital, and as I went into a ward, one of my comrades of my regiment,
Sergeant Nelson Vogel song, grabbed me, saying,
I never expected to see you again after I left you on the boat.
He is dead now.
They took me to the next ward, which was quite well filled with the boys that were
on the boat, some of them nearly dead and dying with the injuries received from the exposure.
I remained in the hospital ten days, then went by boat to Cairo, Illinois, and from there,
by rail to Camp Chase, Ohio, where I was discharged from the service on the 21st of June 1865,
and then went home to Wright Hillsdale County, Michigan, where I now reside.
Section 39 of Loss of the Sultanna by Chester D. Berry
This Libravox recording is in the public domain.
Section 39.
Martin Frazy
I was born at West Farms, New York, January 1st, 1841,
and enlisted in the service of the United States at Milton, Indiana, April 18, 1861,
in Company C, 2nd Regiment Indiana Caval.
and was captured near Scottsville, Alabama, April 2, 1865, and confined in the stockades
at Meridian, Mississippi, for about one week.
I hardly think it necessary for me to give my sultana experience, as I have no doubt that
there will be plenty of experiences of far greater interest than mine.
I will just state, however, that I was severely scalded on my body and feet, and did not walk
for five months after the explosion.
My present occupation is that of Carpenter,
and my post office address is
1209 New Main Street, Louisville, Kentucky.
End of Section 39.
Section 40 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry.
This Libervox recording is in the public domain.
Section 40.
W.S. Friesner
I was born at Logan, Ohio, August 19, 1838, and enlisted in the service of the United States, October 9, 1861, in Company K, 58th Regiment Ohio Volunteer Infantry.
I was never captured.
Was the officer in command of the Guard in charge of the paroled prisoners.
When the explosion occurred, I was the last one to leave the boat.
there were a few men still on the forecastle forward of the burning debris whom i saw after i left the boat some of whom i was informed were taken off by rescuing parties
i floated off on a stateroom door i think i was in the water for nearly two hours and was picked up by the steamer bostonia post office address logan ohio end of section forty section forty one
of Loss of the Sultanna by Chester D. Berry.
This Libervox recording is in the public domain.
Section 41. Henry Gamble
Henry Gamble was born in Blaine, Lawrence County, Kentucky, December 17, 1844,
and enlisted in the service of the United States at Louisville, Kentucky, April 10, 1863,
in Company B, 14th Regiment, Kentucky Infantry.
was captured near adairsville georgia august thirteenth eighteen sixty four and confined in the millageville and andersonville georgia
he says at the time of the explosion i was asleep at the head of the stairway in front of the cabin with elisha kerosit of company g fourteenth regiment kentucky infantry he was killed and i received a severe wound in my left leg
i helped to cut down and throw overboard a stage plank and got upon it with twenty-five other comrades one of them caught me by the shoulders
i finally succeeded in getting him to release his hold in time to save my own life but he was drowned i then beseeched my comrades to get off the stage-plank and rest themselves on its edges by so doing it would not turn over hold us all up and we would be safe
but my pleadings availed nothing.
Finally, they all drowned, but myself and four others.
We succeeded in steering it to the wall of an old stable
that was almost underwater caused by the high tide of the Mississippi River.
When we reached that most coveted spot,
I was so weak and exhausted that my comrades had to help me to a place of safety.
We remained there until about sunrise,
when we were rescued from our perilous condition and taken back to Memphis with joy and delight.
My present occupation is that of a merchant.
Post office address, Blaine, Kentucky.
End of Section 41.
Section 42 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry.
This Librevox recording is in the public domain.
Section 42.
Daniel Garber
I was born in Washington County, Pennsylvania, April 8, 1828,
and enlisted in the service of the United States at Belleville, Ohio, August 16, 1862,
in Company E, 1002nd Regiment Ohio Volunteer Infantry, as a private.
The regiment was assigned to the 20th Army Corps.
I engaged in the campaign in Kentucky and Tennessee in pursuit of the Rebel General Bragg
in eighteen sixty two in all the marches and engagements of the regiment i took part from louisville kentucky until i was taken prisoner at athens alabama september twenty third eighteen sixty four
the union forces were attempting to drive general hood back i was at the time afflicted with catarr in my left hand and was unable for duty i with about forty others was quartered in a large
brick mansion, which for the time served as a hospital.
The rebel cavalry under command of General N.B. Forest,
captured the town of Athens, and surrounding the hospital,
made prisoners of all within, except a comrade,
who escaped by climbing up the chimney.
They were then taken by the way of Cherokee to Meridian, Mississippi,
and while passing through here, a citizen asked,
Where did all those yanks come from?
the colonel in charge replied they are chiefly from ohio and indiana and are good boys they may be good boys but they have stolen all our negroes was the reply
we continued our journey through selma alabama to kahaba in the same state when we arrived here we were required to register and received instructions as to the position of the deadline which it was certain death to
cross. I once stepped over this line, but fortunately was not seen by the guard.
An escape was planned, and the inside guard was overpowered and disarmed, while the guard
outside ran away. But, owing to the lack of decisive action on the part of the prisoners,
the attempt failed, and we were driven back into the prison. A cannon was planted in the
door of the main building, and we were called upon to surrender.
Our punishment was a fast of 48 hours.
In the meantime, a guard had said he had bayoneted a prisoner,
and we were compelled to undress and hold our clothes above our heads
and march between the guards, but fortunately he was not discovered.
On or about the 1st of March, 1865,
the Alabama River got very high, owing to the incessant rain for the past few days,
days, and consequently overflowed the prison to the depth of two feet at the highest place,
making it very disagreeable, for we had no place to stand up or lie down but in the water.
About the 16th or 17th of March, I was taken out with the last squad for parole,
and we were taken via Selma, Demopolis, and Jackson, Mississippi.
While overnight at Demopolis, Sergeant D.P. Canada of my company died.
We stopped a day at Jackson, where a few of the boys drew some clothes.
From there we were taken to Big Black in the rear of Vicksburg, where we arrived on the 21st day of March.
Our men received us under the glorious Stars and Stripes on the 22nd,
and we went into parole camp three or four months.
miles in the rear of Vicksburg.
Here we remained until the 25th or 26th of April,
when I, with about 2100 other purled prisoners,
was taken on board the ill-fated steamer Sultanah.
We started up the broad Mississippi with fond hopes
of soon seeing the dear ones at home,
but how few of us had the pleasure of realizing these hopes.
We arrived at Memphis a short time before dark,
dark and took on coal and other matters. We left Memphis shortly after midnight on the 27th,
and when seven miles above there, the steamer's boiler exploded. I was at that time lying by the
side of the pilot house with Corporal Jacob Irons of my company, and was asleep when it occurred.
My first recollection was that I was on my feet and enveloped in a cloud of hot steam, and was considerably
scalded in the face. After the steam had risen, I said to Corporal Irons,
what is the matter? And he said the boat had blown up. He seemed to be very much excited,
and told me they thought they could make the shore. These were the last words he spoke to me,
but as the boys kept jumping off from the boat into the river, he kept calling for them not to,
for they would all be saved. I then began to look around,
to devise some means of escape.
I stepped back to where some of my company's boys were untying a yawl.
I thought that I would help them get it down,
and then I thought, if I did, they would all jump for it and perhaps be lost,
which I learned afterward was the case.
I then got a shutter and board from off the pilot house
and tied them together with a pair of drawers.
By that time the flames had come through.
i then got over the railing behind the wheelhouse and climbed down to the lower deck by this time all was confusion and men were jumping off into the river to get away from the flames
i looked around for a clear place to jump for i knew that if i jumped in where men were struggling they would seize my board and i would be lost for i could swim but very little i waited a short time and when there was an opening large enough
Large enough, I threw my board in, jumped on, and went down under quite away, but came
up all right and floated away from the boat.
After I had gone four or five rods, a bundle of clothing came floating along, and I took
it with my right hand and held on to the board with my left.
I then floated with the current.
Think I went on the south side of the island.
I saw a boat going up on the other side of the island.
side and could see it by the side of the wreck as I floated down the river. I also remember seeing
the lights of Memphis as I went past. I was picked up four miles below Memphis by two men in a yawl
and rode to the gunboat Pocahontas, where I was taken in, 11 miles from the scene of the disaster.
I wish to state here that there were 13 of my company on board the sultana, and but two
besides myself were saved. Their names were William Lockhart and William Yeasley.
About the last thing I remembered was that I was very nearly chilled to death and could not survive
much longer. They gave me some stimulants, and I did not remember any more until the next morning
when I found myself undressed and between two mattresses. We were given red drawers and shirts by the
Christian Sanitary Commission. I was then taken to the Gaioso House, where I think I stopped
two days. After drawing clothing, we were put on the steamer Bell of St. Louis, our destination being
Cairo, Illinois. While going there in the night, I remember several incidents that were amusing.
Some of the more timid were springing up at every little noise, thinking there was going to be another
explosion. At one time we supposed that we were having a race with another boat, and one
comrade said, if he had a gun, he would shoot the captain. I wish to mention another little
incident right here. Their chance to be a citizen on the boat, and discovering that I was a
mason, he gave me a dollar and told me to get something I needed with it. I thanked him very
cordially, for it was the first money I had in my possession for a long time.
I hope if he is living now and sees this, he will remember this incident, and will know that I have
not forgotten him.
I think we arrived at Cairo in the evening of the second day after leaving Memphis.
We left here after twelve o'clock that night for Matoon, Illinois, where we arrived the next
day about two o'clock, and here the good citizen.
gave us a lunch. Our next destination was Terre Haute, Indiana, which we reached at 10 that night.
We remained here until the next morning. Our next move was to Indianapolis. We stopped there part of a day.
From there we went to Camp Chase, Ohio, where we arrived on the 4th or 5th of May 1865.
Here I was discharged by special telegram from the war doctor.
department on the 21st. When I came home, I worked at my old trade on the shoe bench for about
ten years. Since that time, I have been farming. Have raised a family of four girls and three boys,
and all are married but one boy. My post office address is Butler, Ohio.
End of Section 42. Section 43 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry.
This Lubrovoc's recording is in the public domain.
Section 43.
Stephen M. Gaston
I was born January 11, 1850 at Centerville,
Wayne County, Indiana,
and am perhaps the youngest ex-prisoner of war,
if not the youngest soldier, that was in the service.
I enlisted in the service of the United States
at Indianapolis, Indiana,
October 19, 1863, in Company K, 9th Indiana Volunteer Cavalry, 121st Regiment.
Was captured by General Forest's troops at Sulphor Branch Tressel, September 25, 1864, while on our way to relieve the troops stationed in Athens, Alabama,
and was confined as a prisoner of war until about the 10th of April, 1865, at Cahaba, Alabama.
when we were formally exchanged.
We're sent from Cahaba to the mouth of Tom Bigby River, up that river to Gainesville,
thence to West Point, Meridian, and Jackson, Mississippi, to Black River,
where the commissioners had established a camp of exchange.
Comrades, it did my very soul good to see the old flag floating in the breezes once more,
proclaiming to the world that it still floats, and is able to shelter those who
desire its protection. Many shed tears, a few shouted, but the majority were too overcome to give
vent to their feelings, and said, Thank God we are surely exchanged, and will not be returned to
that hellhole of misery again. After crossing the river, we were taken to parole camp, about four
miles from Vicksburg, and after some little rest in camp, we were ordered, that is, I was a
with others for at parole camp nearly every regiment in the service was represented on board the sultana to the number i always understood of twenty three hundred sixteen of that number belonged to company k ninth indiana cavalry
we arrived at memphis safely and discharged some two hundred hogsheads of sugar and also some horses i found a hogshead of sugar broken as soldiers
always do find, and my comrade, William Block, and I, filled everything we could find with
sugar, intending to eat the sugar and hardtack while going up the river to our destination.
We stored our sugar in front of the pilot house at our heads, for we had made this place our bunk
and turned in for the night. Our evening dreams were sweet, for we had eaten about two pounds
of sugar each, and then were we not going home to see our loved one?
who had mourned for us as dead?
We dreamed the soldier's dreams of home and loved ones,
of camp life, of the battle and the prison,
the scanty fare and the cruel guards,
when suddenly our dreams were broken.
I felt myself raised to a height,
and then a crash came.
The smokestack had fallen directly on the pilot house,
crushing it down almost on us.
I felt for Block and called his name,
but no answer came.
The cries of the wounded were heard all around me.
I was a prisoner again,
for a network of rubber surrounded me.
The stack above the remnant of the wheelhouse
behind the boat was on fire,
and directly below,
some poor fellows were wedged in at my right hand
and begged for help.
I was helpless and could render no assistance.
They soon smothered from the heat and smoke.
after trying again and again i finally extricated myself and going to the hatchway or steps i found my way obstructed and debris scattered everywhere i finally concluded to jump to the lower deck but found i could swing down on the breaching of the stack
i did so and oh god what a sight i was on the bow of the boat and could not see aft but what misery i did see was enough for me
men were crying praying swearing and begging wounded in every shape some with broken legs and arms others scalded burnt and dying their cries made the already dark night hideous lighted up by the now fiercely burning boat
my senses remained and i thought it would be best to try some mode of escape i was wounded and badly scraped from my exertion to get from under the smokestack
On looking around, I found an empty flower barrel, and divesting myself of clothing,
I jumped into the chilling waters.
Taking the precaution to see that no person was near,
I was fortunate to get clear of the boat without encountering anyone,
although two or three tried to get to me, but drowned before reaching me.
I saw at least twenty men drown at once.
As fast as one would feel he was drowning, he would clutch at
the nearest and I believe many a bold swimmer was drowned that night who could have saved
himself if alone. I was finally rescued by a lifeboat from the steamer Bostonia and taken to
the cabin of that steamer in a cramped and exhausted condition and was then taken in an
ambulance to Overton Hospital. After remaining there three days was sent to the
soldier's retreat, then with some three hundred others forwarded
to Camp Chase, Ohio. I stopped at Terre Haute, my home, and followed in the evening to
Indianapolis, thence to Camp Chase, from which place I ran away and reported back to Indianapolis
to Adjutant General Noble, and was given transportation home and a pass for 20 days.
Was discharged at Indianapolis, June 28, 1865. My occupation is that of engineering,
of Eagle Mills.
End of Section 43.
Section 44 of Loss of the Sultan
by Chester D. Berry.
This Libervox recording is in the public domain.
Section 44.
W. N. Goodrich.
I was born in Whiteford Township,
Monroe County, Michigan,
November 21, 1842,
and at the present,
I'm living in the city of Monominee, Michigan.
Enlisted in the city of the city of Monominee, Michigan.
Enlisted in the city of, Michigan.
service of the United States at Ridgeway, Lenawee County, Michigan, on the 31st of July 1862
in Company E of the 18th Michigan Infantry. After a short stay in camp at Hillsdale, we proceeded
to what we supposed was the front, but which was Kentucky. After tramping through most of this
state and spending one winter at Lexington, we finally, in April or May of 1863,
boarded the cars for the front, but we were again mistaken and only got as far as Nashville, Tennessee,
where we halted at a large building called Zollikoffer building.
We remained there two or three days, spending most of our time in killing graybacks,
as they were thicker than fleas on a dog.
From there we went into camp, which was very much better,
and I thought if this was the front, it was about as nice as could be.
soon, however, our fun began.
Being on duty almost every other day, it was fun for a time, but soon became a drudge.
We remained there a long year, and then the glad news came for us to pack up and go to the front.
This was sometime in May or June.
We started for the seat of war, or what we supposed to be it, arriving at Decatur, Alabama, in the night,
and pitched our tents just outside of the city
on the hills that were covered with the filth and rubbish of the city.
On the 23rd of September,
it was reported that a band of Johnny's
were tearing up the track near Athens, Alabama,
and a detail of about 400 men was made from our brigade
and boarded a train of flat cars sometime in the night.
Crossing the river and waiting until daylight,
we then proceeded as far as we could on the cars,
then going on foot for a short distance we were suddenly fired upon by the enemy the firing was returned by us and the enemy fled
our orders were to go to athens so we went on getting inside of athens what did we see johnnies all around us hundreds of them in our front and rear we fought with them the best we could and tried to get to the fort as our dear old starrison
stripes were still flying. But, alas, as we had got almost there, the gate swung open and outmarched
our boys in blue. What could we do but surrender? It was with long faces that a flag of truce was
sent to the commander that we had surrendered. Soon we were surrounded by the Johnny's asking for
something to eat. It seemed to me as though they were about starved, and we soon found that our capture
was General Forest.
When I heard this, I thought my time had come,
as the massacre at Fort Pillow was fresh in my memory.
We did not remain long at Athens,
but were hurried off to a southern prison,
Cahaba, Alabama,
where we were fed on cornmeal for almost six months,
when the glad news came that we were to leave.
Some thought for Andersonville, others thought for home.
It proved to be the latter.
After riding in dirty boxcars and then marching,
we arrived at Big Black River on the 21st of March, 1865,
and remained in camp, which was four miles from Vicksburg,
for about three or four weeks.
Then the glad news came that we were to go north and be exchanged.
We marched to Vicksburg and went on board the steamer at Sultana.
We were a jolly crowd, but our joy was of short duration.
Everything went along smoothly until we were about eight miles above Memphis, when the explosion took place by which so many lives were lost.
As for myself, I had no thoughts of dying just then, so I looked around among the wreck and found a box,
carried it to the side of the boat, and waited until the coast was clear, then threw it overboard and jumped in after it.
It seemed to me as though I was going down to the bottom, but such was never.
not the case. Soon coming to the surface of the water, I seized the box and started down the
river for shore, or any place where I could get out of the water. After floating and swimming about
four miles, I landed safely on a small willow tree. Soon after getting nicely fixed on the
branches, making myself as comfortable as possible under the circumstances, a man by the name of
Williams of the first Kentucky cavalry came floating along and caught hold of a log that was fast to the tree
After watching him a few minutes I descended from my perch and helped him upon the log
Held him there for two hours and was rewarded by seeing him come to life again as he was as near dead as anyone I have seen who was not dead
Early in the morning of the 27th of April boats were seen coming up the river searching for the
the victims of the disaster. Some of the poor fellows were hanging to the trees, some were on logs,
and some were found in almost every conceivable place. At about eight o'clock I was picked up,
taken on board a steamer, and about twelve o'clock landed at Memphis. Remaining there four days,
I again started for the north, this time with fear, thinking that we might meet with the same
catastrophe, but we landed safely at Cairo, Illinois, there bordered the train for Camp
Chase, Ohio. Arriving there, I remained two weeks, and then was sent to my native state,
where I was discharged from the service. My occupation? Mail Carrier
End of Section 44
Section 45 of Loss of the Sultana by Chester D. Berry. This Librovocci
According is in the public domain.
Section 45.
N.W. Gregory
I was born in Erie County, Ohio, June 8, 1845, and enlisted in the service of the United States
at Norwalk, Ohio, December 28, 1861, in Company C, 55th Regiment, Ohio Volunteers,
and was captured at South Mountain, Georgia, October 28, 1864,
and confined in the Andersonville, Georgia prison.
At the time of the accident was asleep on the cabin deck.
I was, of course, aroused from my slumber
and found myself mixed up with the debris of the wreck.
Had some difficulty in releasing myself from between the two decks,
but after some little time succeeded.
I found there were a great many looking for safer quarters.
The jam of men was so great,
that after I slid down, it seemed impossible for me to get a foothold,
and I came near being carried overboard by the surging crowd,
but after a long struggle got on my feet again.
By this time the fire was beginning to drive the crowd back,
and I saw the time was short for anyone to stay on the boat.
Seeing a large coil of rope at one end fast to the boat,
I threw it overboard, got ready for a swim,
but before jumping made a search for pieces of boards
or something that would give me some assistance
after I left the wreck,
which I did not intend to do until the fire forced me off.
I managed to get a couple of panels of a door,
and by this time the heat was more than I could bear,
so I let myself down into the water
with the rope which I had prepared before.
The water was alive with men for some distance from the wreck,
but I was a good swimmer and made good use of it.
That is, as good as I could, after being six months at Andersonville Prison,
and not having strength for a very long struggle in the water.
After being in the water a short time, I got to an old tree.
There were three men on it already.
After a couple of hours, I was so chilled and stiff
that if I had been forced into the water, I could not have helped myself.
One of the men that was on the tree chilled and drowned before he was rescued.
I was taken from the water by the steamboat Silver Spray about 8 o'clock in the morning,
not far from where the explosion took place.
Was taken to Memphis and placed in the hospital.
Have many thanks for the people of Memphis for the good care and treatment of the survivors.
On the way north, after starting for home,
there were 60 of us in the crowd that left Memphis.
Was pleased when we arrived at Cairo, Illinois, for I had a dread of steamboat travel.
There was an incident on the way, after leaving Cairo, that is well worth mentioning.
I am sorry that I cannot remember the place or the name of the family that is connected with the incident.
The cars stopped at a small town just at three o'clock in the morning after riding all night from Cairo.
at this place we were obliged to stay until ten as we had to change roads after a short stay at the depot i took a stroll upon one of the streets and when near a large fine-looking place i was taking a view of it when a man came out and invited me in
i readily accepted taking me into the sitting-room i found nine of the boys all waiting for breakfast
after the meal was over the man of the house provided himself with ten one dollar bills and gave one to each of us i have given him many a thought but like all other soldiers i was careless at the time
i hope this will remind some of them who were there of the incident if they are living and in this way i may find out the name of this family
my present occupation is mining post office address lead city south dakota end of section forty five section forty six of loss of the sultana by chester d berry
this livervox recording is in the public domain section forty six samuel c haynes i was born in burlington county new jersey march fifth eighteen
and enlisted in the service of the United States at Lafayette, Indiana, December 10, 1861,
in Company G, 40th Regiment Indiana Volunteer Infantry,
and was captured at the Battle of Franklin, Tennessee, November 30, 1864,
and confined in the Andersonville, Georgia Prison.
About the 1st of April, 1865, I, with about 600 other starved prisoners,
taken from the prison to Vicksburg and paroled. We waited there several days and regained much of
our lost strength. While there, we heard of President Lincoln's assassination, which caused
greater grief than any defeat we had received while on the battlefield. The remaining time
his assassination was the subject of heated conversation, and the southern sympathizers kept well
out of our way. At last, word came for us to get to be.
ready to go home. We boarded the ill-fated sultana in the afternoon. Myself and two comrades,
John Thompson and Charles May, of Company G. 40th Regiment Indiana Infantry, both were lost,
went directly to the upper deck, back of the pilot house, and laid down to sleep. We awoke when
they stopped at Memphis, but after leaving there we went to sleep again, and knew nothing
until awakened by the explosion.
About the first thing I thought of
was that some raiding rebel battery
had thrown a shell into the boat.
I then heard screams of men below.
Someone cried,
Keep quiet, keep quiet, we will run ashore.
That made me feel good.
In a few moments, fire broke out,
and as I could not swim,
I stayed on board until driven off by the heat.
I helped tear off a flight of stairs from the passenger deck to the hurricane deck,
intending to jump in the water with it, but quickly changed my mind.
I talked a moment with Nathan D. Everman, an excellent swimmer.
He promised me help, but when he saw me afterward, he bid me good-bye,
saying that I was all right.
After leaving the stairs and Evernman,
I ran into the cabin, clutched a bunk with both hands, and jumped into the river with it.
It went down twice with me.
I let loose of it after the second sinking, having swallowed some water and almost strangled.
I could not keep my head out of the water, and thinking I was going to drown, I began to dive,
hoping to find something to cling to and reach the shore.
In a few minutes I found myself near two men,
clinging to a board. They tried to keep me off, but I was too strong for them, and succeeded in
getting a firm hold on it. They afterwards told me they were good swimmers, and the board would float all
three of us. We floated down the river about a mile, when we drifted among five or six men who were
drowning. They broke my hold of the board, and I again thought I was lost, but fortunately I bobbed up by a long
steerage pole. It was about 25 feet long. An Irishman, one of the boat hands, was on one end of it.
I was carried along on it very nicely going downstream. I said to him,
Let us steer for the shore. We can use our limbs and may get into a tree top. We landed on the
Arkansas shore, as I afterwards learned, and remained there till about seven o'clock a.m.
a steamer came up from memphis and sent a skiff out to us and we almost naked were taken to the steamer and afterwards to memphis
some citizens gave me a pair of shoes and five dollars in our money they treated me as kindly as any one could i went to the quartermaster's department and drew a dry suit of clothes i had lost all but shirt and pants when in the water and we had lost all but shirt and pants when in the water and we
with what the citizens gave me, I was now fitted out.
I stayed in Memphis about two weeks,
and met my friend Everman, who was very glad to see me.
We were afraid to try the boats again,
and waited for the train to go north.
We received word that they would not run any train for several weeks.
We were too anxious to get home to wait any longer,
so we again tried the water.
This time we succeeded in getting.
to Cairo, Illinois. Here I boarded a train for Indianapolis. At Terre Haute, we were given a grand
dinner, and I began to think I was in God's country again. We then proceeded on our way to Indianapolis,
and received a furlough for 30 days. When the time was up, I went back and was honorably discharged,
June 20, 1865. My present occupation is trader and
stock buyer. Present post office address, Romney, Indiana.
End of Section 46. Section 47 of Loss of the Sultana by Chester D. Berry.
This Librevox recording is in the public domain.
Section 47. Ogle V. E. Hamblin.
I am a resident of Pulaski Township, Jackson County, Michigan, and am now 50 years old,
March 1892. I enlisted in the United States Army at Jackson, Michigan in 1863, as a private
and company E of the Second Regiment, Michigan Cavalry, and went from Jackson to Grand Rapids, Michigan,
thence to Nashville, Tennessee, and there we drilled for regular service until February
1864. Thence we went to Cleveland, Tennessee, to join our regiment. We did not see much actual service
until May 5, 1864, when we started with Sherman for Atlanta.
We went as far as Kennesaw and lost Mountain,
and then turned our horses over to Cook's Command,
and came back to Nashville to guard the Nashville and Franklin Railroad
until Atlanta was taken.
We then drew horses and drilled at Franklin
until Forrest came back in Sherman's rear
and crossed the Tennessee River.
We were then sent to drive him back again,
after driving him back we were ordered to guard the river to keep hood from crossing our company being sent to raccoon ford where hood was attempting to cross
there was a small engagement took place there when our cavalry was surrounded and all taken prisoners i being so unfortunate as to get shot through the arm near the shoulder this was on the thirtieth day of october eighteen sixty four
They took me from Raccoon Ford to Florence, Alabama, and there, for practice, the young
rebel doctors cut off my arm. I think it could have been saved. They kept me in the hospital
at Florence until the 1st of December, when Hood again commenced moving toward Nashville.
Then I was sent to Columbus, Mississippi, to the Rebel Hospital, and as soon as I was able,
I was sent to Cahaba Prison, Alabama, where I reached.
remained until they sent me to Jackson, Mississippi, thence to Vicksburg, where I boarded
the steamer sultana, and then went up to Memphis, Tennessee. And while they were unloading
some sugar at Memphis, my chum, Frank Perkins, and I, spread down our blankets, took off our top
clothes, all but our shirts and drawers, and were soon in the hand of slumbers, dreaming of
battlefields, and of all the scenes which we had passed through, when we were suddenly away
by a terrific explosion. I sprang to my feet only to find the whole boat in a tremendous tumult and uproar.
The cries of the dying and the groans of the wounded and the loud appeals for help were heart-rending.
The hold of the boat was full of comrades. They cried for the door of the hold to be opened.
My chum, Frank Perkins, and I pulled the door away when they came rushing out of the hold like bees,
out of a hive, followed by dense clouds of steam and smoke.
I remained on board the boat until the fire and steam drove me off.
I then looked the situation over calmly,
and, thinking that my underclothes would be a hindrance to me while in the water,
I took every stitch of my clothing off as coolly as though about to take a bath,
which proved to be of considerable duration.
The water was already full of the seething, massive,
humanity. Some were swimming boldly toward the shore, others going down to rise no more.
Some were clasping and dragging down to death those who could have saved themselves had they been
left unencumbered. All in all, it was a terrible sight to behold, and one from which I shrink
and shuddered to this day, nor do I ever wish to witness such a sight again.
Screwing my coverage up to the sticking point,
I prepared to take the leap into the icy waters,
which I expected to be my sepulchre.
I watched my chance for a clear spot
so that no one would catch on to me and drown me at once.
Into the water, and when I arose to the surface,
I struck out as best I could.
Having but one arm to swim with,
I found I could do nothing against the strong current,
and so let myself float down with the current.
After floating for some time,
I came across my old chum, Frank Perkins, again,
and three other fellows on a plank.
They asked me to get on,
but the plank would not hold all of us up,
so I put my arm on his back to rest myself and floated along.
Then I struck out again when, behold,
a welcome object was in sight,
some trees on an island,
i floated into a tree-top and caught fast with my arm and shouted for help when nearly exhausted some woodsman heard me and came to my rescue with a boat they took me to their shanty
i never was as cold in all my life i shook until i thought i would shake their shanty down the steamer blew up between one and two o'clock and i was rescued just before daylight
i could not tell the distance we floated down the river nor the length of time we were in the water but it seemed a long time and i do not want another bath like it the united states steamer pocahontas came up the river and picked us up and took us back to memphis
it was quite embarrassing for me when i got off the boat on to the wharf i was still in the same condition as when i leaped into the water entirely naked
when we reached the warehouse the united states sanitary commission gave me a pair of red drawers and undershirt when i felt comparatively happy
i was then taken to the soldiers home at memphis and there fitted out with a full suit and cared for like a human being i remained there three days and was then taken to columbus ohio thence to detroit and from there to jackson the place of beginning
As I look back over the past, mine was an experience which I would not want to go through again.
I am now comfortably situated, but I am almost totally blind and expect,
ere this is published in book form, to be shut entirely out from the light of day,
which I can trace back to poor vaccination and exposure while undergoing the above-written sufferings.
End of Section 47
Section 48 of Loss of the Sultanna by Chester D. Berry
This Librevox recording is in the public domain.
Section 48.
Robert N. Hamilton
I enlisted in the service of the United States on the 9th day of July, 1862,
at Huntsville, Scott County, Tennessee.
I was a private and company F of the 3rd Regiment of Tennessee Cavalry
and was captured at Athens, Alabama, on the 24th of September, 1864,
and confined in Cahaba Prison, Alabama,
and released from there about the 12th of March, 1865.
About two o'clock in the morning of April 27, 1865,
the explosion of the sultana occurred,
and every deck was covered with sleeping soldiers.
I was sleeping with Corporal H.C. Jones of my company,
on the boiler deck about midway between the boilers and the stern of the boat the noise awoke me i thought that i would be crushed to death by the falling timbers but i soon found that the boat was on fire
i began to make preparations for my escape i first went toward the stern of the boat but everywhere was confusion men and women were praying and most of them not thinking of trying to save their lives
they were leaping off into the water on top of each other hundreds drowning together i saw that was not the place for me to make my escape so i turned around and went back to about the centre of the boat and got a thin board about six inches wide and about ten feet long
and went out through the wheel-house climbed down on the wheel and got off into the water without sinking soon after i got into the water some one got hold of my water some one got hold of my own
board. I spoke to him to let go of it, as it was not sufficient for both of us, but I had to
jerk it away from him. I then heard Buck Leonard exclaim,
Is that you, Bob? I told him it was. He said, Don't get excited and you'll get out.
I thought he was taking things rather cool, as he had on all of his clothes, even to his
hat and boots. He got out alive, and I reckon is living today.
I still held on to my board and swam for some time, but did not seem to be getting very far from the old wreck, which had, in a very short time, burned down to the boiler deck.
I suppose I had been in the water something near one hour when I saw a steamboat going down the river.
I started toward it, as I thought it would stop to pick us up, but it kept on going.
I had got back nearer the burning wreck.
Seeing several of the boys had got back on the bow of the boat,
I swam to where one of the spars was lying with one end in the water
and the other end on the bow of the wreck.
I climbed it and got back on the bow,
where I, together with about 20 others,
was taken to land by two citizens on the Arkansas side of the river.
After getting back on the old wreck,
I met Thomas Pangell of my company
and saw the bodies of three men that were burned beyond recognition
and helped to pull a man up on the boat.
He was one of the engineers.
His nose was torn off, all except a small particle of skin,
and he died before he was taken to land.
It was now about sunrise.
The hull sank soon after the last load was taken off.
The two men that rescued us,
brought ashore the bodies of two dead women mother and daughter who were of a family of about eight persons all of whom were drowned except a grown son who was frantic with grief at the sight of his dead mother and sister
a boat soon came to our relief tom pangle and i found jarsson m elliot of our company on the boat he was scalded all over and unable to help himself but was perfectly composed and bore his suffering with
Great fortitude.
He had his army badge, which he requested me to give to his parents.
He died that night in Gaioso Hospital, Memphis, Tennessee.
Next day I met my brother John and several more of our company.
My brother Henry was lost with about 20 others of the company.
About the 29th of April, we were again started north and landed at Cairo, Illinois,
where we took the cars for Matun.
Illinois. On arriving at Matoon, we were met by the citizens of the surrounding country with
wagon loads of provisions, the best that the country afforded. The vast multitude manifested their
sympathy for us through speeches made by chosen orators. Never shall I forget seeing the tears
shed by the stoutest hearts on that occasion. We then went to Camp Chase, Ohio, where we
remained a short time. Eventually, all the pearl prisoners were ordered to their respective states
to be mustered out of the service by General Order No. 77. I was discharged from the service of the
United States on the 10th of June 1865 at Nashville, Tennessee. Thus ended nearly three years of hard service
which I gave my country, and of which I feel proud today. All I regret is that I can,
could not do more for my country. I try to teach my children the importance of honoring our
country and its glorious old flag. God bless it, may it wave over a free country as long as time may
last. My present post office address, Van Alstein, Grayson County, Texas. End of Section 48. Section 49 of
Loss of the Sultana by Chester D. Berry. This Librevox recording is
in the public domain.
Section 49.
Absalom N. Hatch.
I was born in Steuben County, New York, March 8, 1839.
Enlisted at Saginaw, Michigan, November 11, 1861.
Company F. First Regiment Michigan Engineers and Mechanics.
Was captured near Huntsville, Alabama, May 5, 1864,
and confined in a prison at Cahab.
Alabama, also at Marion, Mississippi. I was put on board the sultana too weak to care what
became of me, but the air from the river, with the sweet crackers and other dainties provided by the
ladies, seemed to put new life into me. I began to realize that I was on my way home
after a prison life of ten and one-half months. On the night of the disaster I did not lie down
until the boat loosed from her moorings at the coal barge near midnight, and then found that some
comrade had occupied my place, or rather the one that I had selected, on the boiler deck.
There was no other way than to find another, a task easier thought of than accomplished,
but which I proceeded to do.
I first explored the boiler deck, then cabin and hurricane decks, but all were full.
I then went below and out in front of the boilers, near the flagstaff, on the bow,
and rolled myself up in a blanket between coils of rope.
Had just gone to sleep when the explosion occurred,
several men ran over me and jumped into the river before I could get on my feet.
I stayed on the boat until the wheel, or covering on the left-hand side,
began to topple into the boat,
when I jumped in the river with an oak scant.
two by four for company floated within three miles of memphis and was finally picked up by a boat just at peep of day the sight while on the boat previous to leaving it brings a shudder even to this late day
p s yours found me just attacked with erysipolis wrote off what you found on this sheet the next morning both eyes were swollen shut have just got around again
would have written more if i had been well present occupation is that of farming post-office address ellington tuscola county michigan end of section forty nine
section fifty of loss of the sultana by chester d berry this libervox recording is in the public domain section fifty jacob helminger i was born in allan county ohio in
in 1839, enlisted in the service of the United States at Houston, Ohio, August 1, 1862,
in Company B, 50th Ohio Infantry, was captured at Franklin, Tennessee, November 30, 1864, and confined in the
Kahaba Prison. The loss of the Sultana on the morning of the 27th day of April, 1865, will remain fresh in the minds of the
survivors as long as life lasts. I have seen men shot down in battle, treated like brutes while
prisoners of war, but the explosion of the sultana caused the greatest horror I ever witnessed.
In giving my experience in the affair, I will not attempt to give the experience of others,
for each one had all he could do to look out for himself. A few of my own company and myself were
sleeping on top of the hurricane deck. In my sleep I heard a noise and felt a terrible jar of the
boat. In an instant I was wide awake, and before I could realize what had happened, my comrades
were also on their feet. Smoke and steam had already taken possession of the boat, and we were not
long in perceiving the situation of affairs. I stepped where I could see and looked at my watch,
and I think it was about two o'clock.
this watch i brought out with me and have it yet we now saw that the boat was on fire many of the injured ones were screaming and groaning
i told my comrades to remain there while i went down on the next floor to see if there was anything we could use as a raft and if so i would return to them and we would at once aim to make our escape
i had a great difficulty in getting below everybody and everything being in the way and finally after getting there i found nothing but what was already in the hands of some one or thrown overboard with perhaps a hundred men contesting for its possession
I then made my way back to the hurricane deck,
but found the boys I had left there gone or scattered,
and saw nothing more of them until after daylight,
finding all of them at Memphis but one.
This was G.W. Sheerer of my company.
He has never been heard from,
and can only be accounted for as one among the lost,
about 1700 brave soldiers that found watery graves.
I then saw that none could assist each other,
but that each would have to look out for himself,
and that I would have to watch my chance and make my escape.
To jump into the water just at that time
would have been certain death,
for the river looked to me like a solid mass of men.
Some appeared to be swimming away,
others trying to get back to the boat,
while others were drowning,
and not only themselves,
but pulling others under with them.
some were praying some swearing while others appeared quite calm and only looking for a favorable opportunity to get away i heard the captain of the boat giving a command he told us to come to order that the hull was not hurt and we would land
now if the fire could be put out i would have thought this order very advisable but i could see no possibility of stopping the flames unless they were quenched by water
the fire had now become so great a person could see a considerable distance each way from the boat the crowd in the water had also scattered so i began to muster my courage and prepare to leap overboard
i had great confidence in myself as a swimmer and hoped to make sure if i was not interfered with by drowning people or getting cramped all the clothes i had on was my pants shirt and socks
this had been my night-dress and i concluded to swim as i was i was ignorant of the distance to either shore and thinking perhaps it was not over three or four hundred yards either way i would take the tennessee shore
i looked for a clear spot and made a final leap when i came to the surface i looked around to see if any one was near me and seeing there was not all i had to contend with was the mighty waters
of the Mississippi. I now put in my best efforts and pulled for the shore. I imagined myself making
great speed for a while, but finally noticed I was drifting down below the boat. I could see
at once that the current of the river was against me, and thought I would try for the opposite,
or Arkansas side. This effort was also a defeat. Somehow the current worked against me in this direction
more than in the other. I headed down the stream and could see some lights, not knowing what
and where they were, and resolved to steer for them. I had not gone far until I noticed
an object of some kind in the water ahead of me. I kept my eyes on it, and after a while heard
someone talking in that direction, and so called to them. They answered and told me to come to
them, so I did my best and after a while caught up with them. It proved to be a large plank
capable of holding from four to six men, while there was only two upon it. They invited me on board
with them, and of course I accepted. My new companions appeared quite cheerful under the circumstances,
and one of them said the lights ahead of us was Memphis, and on nearing them found that our
comrade was right. It did not take long for our plank to slide down the river opposite the wharf.
A man came to us with a skiff and landed us on shore. It was now daylight, and the wharf was already
crowded with people, all anxious to know the cause of the explosion. Of course we could give no reason,
or at least I could not, and in fact I did not feel like talking, for I was so benumbed with
cold that I felt very little interest in anything or anyone.
I have never been a whiskey drinker, but on this occasion drank nearly a pint at a time
given me by a ferryboat captain.
I am a carpenter by trade.
Post office address, New Sharon, Iowa.
End of Section 50.
Section 51 of Loss of the Sultana by Chester D. Berry.
This Librevox recording is a
the public domain.
Section 51.
William S. Hill
I was born in Blount County, Tennessee, in the year 1845, and enlisted in the service of the
United States at Knoxville, Tennessee, in the fall of 1863, in Company L.
Third Regiment Tennessee Cavalry, and was captured at Sulphor-Tressel, Alabama, in the fall of 1864,
and confined at Cahaba, Alabama.
At the time of the explosion of the steamer sultana,
I was blown into the river and floated about nine miles before I was picked up.
My present post office is Rockford, Tennessee.
End of Section 51.
Section 52 of Loss of the Sultana by Chester D. Berry.
This Librevox recording is in the public domain.
Section 52. Wiley J. Hodges
I was born in Severe County, Tennessee, November 4, 1835, and enlisted in the service of the United
States at Knoxville, Tennessee, on the 15th day of June, 1863, in Company F. 3rd Regiment Tennessee
Cavalry. Was captured at a trestle in Alabama, September 25, 1864, and confined in the
prison at Kahaba, Alabama, until the sixth day of March, 1865, when I was taken to Vicksburg
for exchange, and was sent up the river on the ill-fated steamer sultana.
My bunk was near the boiler, and on the night of the terrible accident I lay with a blanket
over me. I was awakened by the explosion and found myself covered with burning coals from
the furnaces. I was not long in springing to my
feet and throwing my burning blanket away and getting away from that locality.
I remained on the boat until the fire became uncomfortable when I obtained a plank
and throwing it into the river followed after it.
I soon found that it was not sufficient to hold me out of the water, so I caught hold of
a floating barrel, but after turning it over a few times, concluded I did not want it and
let it go.
I then turned back to the boat and obtained three planks,
and putting them together, held them with my hands and feet,
and found them that I could keep my head out of water.
I floated down the river in this manner until daylight,
when I saw two men upon the bank to whom I hallowed for help.
They came to my rescue and took me to a house where I remained
till a steamer came along and carried me back to Memphis.
I was discharged from the service of the United States at Nashville, Tennessee on the 15th day of June 1865.
My occupation is that of a farmer.
End of Section 52.
Section 53 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry.
This Libervox recording is in the public domain.
Section 53.
P. L. Horn.
I was born in the...
city of Worcester, Wayne County, Ohio, October 24th, 1844, and pursue the vocation of a
confectioner and baker. I enlisted as a private and company I of the 102nd Regiment
Ohio Volunteer Infantry at Worcester, Ohio, August 7, 1862, was captured at Athens, Alabama,
September 24th, 1864, was held as prisoner at Cahaba, Alabama, was held as prisoner at Cahaba, Alabama,
for seven months, was then released and sent to Vicksburg, Mississippi, where I got on board
the steamer Sultanah that had sailed from New Orleans, and upon which the eye of an evil planet
was resting. At Vicksburg, Mississippi, one of the boilers underwent a process of repairing.
We steamed up the river, the vessel running smoothly, and all going merry as a marriage bell.
We reached Memphis on the evening of the 26th of the 6th of the 6th of the year.
of April 1865, where a cargo of sugar was unloaded.
Departing thence at about midnight, we pressed up the river and took on coal.
While this was going on, I fell asleep.
After that I knew but little, and seemed to live a thousand years in a minute.
My first conception or self-identification was that I was lost in the air, and true it was.
I was whirled in the air.
when the explosion took place i was lying on the left side of the boat on the cabin guard at the foot of the stairs that goes up to the hurricane deck i was either blown through the stairway or thrust out sidewise into the river but my first consciousness was that of being in the air
when i struck the water i went down twice when upon rising the second time i encountered a piece of the wreck which i seized
i think it was part of the cabin guard which was about twenty feet in length by six to eight feet in width seven other comrades clung to the wreck upon which we floated on the river passing the city of memphis
on the way down in this life and death struggle two of the men through sheer exhaustion relinquished their hold and sinking back into the arms of the cruel river were drowned
i do not know their names they were strangers to me it was now just before daybreak and the darkness was most terrible but nevertheless we sounded the loudest possible alarm which was heard by men in a gunboat lying near and we were picked up by a skiff with three men in it
there were six of us in the boat and one of them my monk mate joseph mccelvey of my company was scalded from head to foot in the explosion
i was the first one to get into the boat mckellvie recognized me and said for god's sake help me in i said is that you
it is he replied i asked are you hurt he answered yes scalded from head to foot i took him by the arm and one of the boatmen took hold of him also and we helped him into the skiff
the boatman removed his coat and put it around mackelvey to prevent him from taking cold we then started up the river toward memphis and when crossing the river in the direction of the tennessee side
we were then on the arkansas side we were fired upon by some negro guards union men who thought that we were confederates and who were guarding the river some distance below fort pickens we then headed up stream and met a steamer in anxious search of the vexen we then headed up streamer and met a steamer in anxious search of the
victims of a terrible disaster. One of the skiffmen with a lantern signaled the steamer,
and it came to a halt, and we were taken on board. McElvey was hurt the worst, and received the most
kind and tender attention. A bed was made on the lower deck for him, his clothing removed,
and his body sprinkled with flour, if possible to mitigate his sufferings. The dense darkness still
prevailed, and the steamer continued its journey down the deep broad current, on the alert for
victims till after daylight, when it returned to Memphis, not having found any more of the
unfortunates. Shortly after, we were taken on the steamer, a comrade, stranger to me, died,
but prior to his death they placed him on a barrel, and for a time rolled him quite vigorously,
thinking that he was gorged with water.
When we arrived at Memphis, the ladies of the Sanitary Commission were the first to come to us with dry clothing,
giving each of us a flannel shirt and a pair of drawers.
We changed our clothing, and then were driven in cabs to the hospital.
The unfortunate McElvey was taken to a different hospital, in some part of the city, where he died.
We remained in Memphis two or three days, and those who were able and were able and
well enough were transported to Cairo, Illinois, and thence to Columbus, Ohio, where I was discharged
from the service, May 20, 1865. At the time of the explosion, McElvey and I were lying together
asleep, and it is a matter of wonder to me how I escaped when he was so seriously injured.
When the explosion took place, my first impression was that I was experiencing another railroad
disaster, as I had just passed through an ordeal of that kind on the way to Athens.
But when I collided with the water, this impression was soon corrected.
How far or how high I was blown into the air, I do not know, but I remember that my feet
first struck the water, and with the exception of being slightly hurt on my left side,
I suffered but little from the shock.
It was not a laughable matter, then, but it is now, when during the first,
the night we were clinging with a death grip to the wreck, a mule, another floating wave of this
disaster, swam along and dumped us all into the river, compelling us all to exert our strength
to regain our hold on the wreck. The current at times would compel the men to relax their grip,
and with the greatest difficulty they would recover it again. It is my opinion that the explosion was
caused by a torpedo having been placed in the coal by the Confederates at the last coaling station.
One of the boilers of the sultana had just been repaired at Vicksburg.
Many of the men who lost their lives were soldiers who had been prisoners for many months,
some even for 20 months.
End of Section 53
Section 54 of Loss of the Sultana by Chester D. Berry
This Liber Vox recording is in the public.
Domain. Section 54. IRA B. Horner
I was born in Ohio in 1847. I enlisted in the service of the United States at Findlay, Ohio,
October 25, 1861, as a private, in Company K of the 65th Regiment Ohio Volunteer Infantry,
and was promoted to corporal at Nashville, Tennessee. I passed unharmed through all the engagements
of my regiment until at the Battle of Stone River or Murfreesboro, December 31, 1862,
where I was wounded in my left hip and thigh.
At Chattanooga, Tennessee, I re-enlisted in the same company and regiment and as a corporal.
During the second term, I was most fortunate in escaping sickness
and was leading a most charming life,
but while in battle at Franklin, Tennessee, November 30, 1864,
my good fortune seemed to have forsaken me,
and the worst of evils befell me.
I was a prisoner in the hands of the Confederates.
The day following our capture,
we were placed in a line and searched,
and everything that would be of any value to them was taken from us.
I had a new pair of boots,
which I was compelled to exchange for a pair of shoes,
two sizes too short for me, which had to be cut before I could wear them.
I had a watch, which I sold as soon as I entered the enemy's line, for $150 Confederate money.
Also had $33 of our money hidden under the cover of a pocket testament,
and as the men who were despoiling me had no use for the latter,
it was left in my possession, and the treasure therein became the means of saving the lives of three comrades
and myself.
I bought one or two bushels of cornmeal,
without which it would have been impossible for us to live.
When we were to be exchanged,
and were passing out of the prison grounds,
the monster who had presided over our prison tortures,
said by way of parting,
I had rather shoot every one of you than see you exchanged.
The explosion of the steamer sultana
and my escape from a watery grave,
at first seemed like a horrid dream, but in a short time I learned it was a reality.
When first awakened from my slumbers, it seemed as if some poor emaciated comrade had fallen upon me.
The next I knew I was struggling and strangling in the water.
I was not very well versed in the art of swimming, but fortunately for me a stick of timber came
floating along. I grasped it and soon found another, and by the aid of these I thought that there
would not be much danger of my drowning. While clinging to the timbers, a poor fellow clutched me by the
legs, and for fear that he would drown us both, I pushed him off, letting one of my socks go with
him. Probably well I did so, for I should not have been able to have taken him with me.
after getting through with this my attention was drawn to a brilliant light some comrades asked what light that was some said that it was the boat burning and others that it was a boat coming to our rescue
although i felt that i would not drown at the same time i did not feel comfortable from the fact that there was an alligator seven and one-half feet long keeping me company while floating along on the timbers i heard a familiar
voice hallowing to me.
Horner, is that you?
I answered,
Yes, what there is left of me.
On my asking him what he was on,
he replied on a piece of the hurricane deck of the boat.
I asked if it would be sufficient for me to come on with him.
All right, he says,
Horner, come along.
I could not see him, but struck out and soon found him.
The craft was,
only about four by six feet, and two comrades were with him. Less fortunate than myself,
they could not swim. My timber was gone, therefore I had to remain. Now there was a squad of four,
two swimmers and two hangers on. One poor fellow was badly scalded as well as myself.
We floated gently and peacefully along until we came to where the city guards were stationed.
They fired upon us, not knowing what was the matter.
Soon we arrived inside of the city lights.
I was well aware if we got any help outside of our own efforts,
we might get in there, so I hallowed with all my strength,
and soon a party of two with a small boat came to our rescue.
I felt like if I had all the world I would give it to those boatmen.
They rode us to a larger boat, the Essex.
There the attendants on board gave us something to drink from a canteen which set the blood in circulation,
and also something to eat in the shape of hard tack and dried beef.
After landing, we marched up to the town of Memphis,
I marching along in the city with only one sock, shirt, and drawers on,
but we felt fortunate to be alive and free.
We were placed in the Gaioso Hospital, where we were placed in the Gaiosso Hospital, where we were
remained and were cared for about ten days. Before leaving, we donned another suit of blue,
then we went on board a boat bound for Cairo, Illinois. On arriving there, we felt quite relieved
to know that we were off the water. The next morning we went by rail to Matoon, Illinois,
where a bountiful repast was served, and also a ten-dollar note was given to me, which I gave a portion of
to my messmates. The word had come that all Ohio soldiers that were able to be transported
were to be sent to the state to be mustered out of the service as the war was over.
Of course we wanted to go whether able or not, and of course I went, though I went on crutches,
being scalded and bruised on the left side, and my left shoulder dislocated.
We arrived at Columbus at the seminary hospital,
where we remained three weeks then we were mustered out of the service by order of the war department may fifteenth eighteen sixty five i arrived home on or about the eighteenth of may eighteen sixty five
the people at home looked on me as one of the dead as they had learned that i was on the boat and they did not expect to see me alive again but they did not know that i had learned to swim since they last saw me if i had not learned to swim i should without any doubt have drowned
my present occupation is farming my present post office is weston ohio end of section fifty four section fifty five of
Blas of the Sultana by Chester D. Berry.
This Librivox recording is in the public domain.
Section 55.
Jacob Horner
I enlisted in the service of the United States
on the 14th of August 1862 for three years
at Nashville, Holmes County, Ohio,
as a private and Company A,
1002nd Regiment Ohio volunteer infantry.
I was captured in the engagement
before Athens, Alabama, and made a prisoner of war on the 25th of September 1864, and taken to
Cahaba, Alabama, where I remained until the 14th or 15th of March, 1865, when I was paroled out and sent to Vicksburg,
Mississippi, arriving there on the 21st of March.
I remained there until the 24th of April when I went on board the steamer Sultanah, bound for Cairo, Illinois.
we arrived at memphis tennessee on the evening of the twenty-sixth of april on the morning of the twenty-seventh of april the steamer exploded one of her boilers and there were about one thousand four hundred and fifty drowned and killed
my life was saved by swimming about two and a half miles and landing in the brush the water had risen so high that it had overflowed its banks
as to the cause of this disaster i never knew the number of passengers on board according to what i have learned was two thousand two hundred and fifty
this disaster of which i am writing was the greatest accident that ever happened during the war and neither pen nor tongue can describe it i was discharged from the service at camp chase ohio on the twentieth of may eighteen sixty five
end of section fifty five section fifty six of loss of the sultana by chester d berry this libervox according is in the public domain section fifty six w a hald
I was born near Lucas, Richland County, Ohio, May 19, 1841, and enlisted at Mansfield, Ohio, October 2, 1861, in Company A. 64th, Ohio Volunteer Infantry.
Was captured near Franklin, Tennessee, November 29, 1864, and confined in the Cahaba, Alabama Prison.
When the explosion occurred, I was lying near the half.
head of the stairs on the cabin deck and was suddenly awakened by a terrible crash and nearly smothered with hot steam i soon realized that a frightful disaster had occurred and heard the groans of the suffering and cries for help
hastily making my way down the stairs to the bow of the boat i found all was confusion men were shoving off gang planks some tearing boards off on which to float others were
walking through the crowded deck, seemingly crazed or wringing their hands and calling on
God for deliverance. Others were crying, while many were being crowded off into the river by
dozens, and going down to a watery grave, clasped in each other's embrace. I made my way through
the crowd down to the bow of the boat, picking up the hatch door on my way. I dropped it into
the water and leaped after it, but unfortunately for me, three other parties seized and got away
with it. That gave me some room, and I got out of the crowd without being hindered by anyone.
I swam until my strength was about exhausted, when I saw, by the light of the burning vessel,
a small cottonwood tree floating near with a man poised in its branches. When it came near enough,
I caught hold of the roots and held on.
As soon as the man saw this, he made serious objections,
saying that it would not carry two men and that he could not swim a lick.
To which I replied,
I only wish to rest a minute and I will surrender the tree to you.
Slipping my suspenders from my shoulders
and extracting myself from my government pants,
I applied all my strength to swimming again.
In this way I took to my shoulders.
toiled on, fighting the mad waters of the Mississippi, until to my great surprise, I saw something
in the darkness floating nearby. I struggled towards it, and laid my hand on a large plank,
covered with pitch and gravel, which proved to be a part of the hurricane deck of the
sultana. On this plank I floated for several hours, and as the day dawned on the morning of
the 27th of April 1865, I was picked up by the steamer of Bostonia and carried to the city of Memphis,
Tennessee. My present occupation is that of a plasterer. Post office address, Armordale, Kansas.
End of Section 56. Section 57 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry.
This Librovoc's recording is in the public domain.
Section 57
John H. James
I was born in Paris, Trumbull County, Ohio,
November 13, 1844,
and enlisted in the service of the United States
at Limaville, Stark County, Ohio,
August 11, 1862,
in Company F. 115th, Ohio Volunteer Infantry.
Captured near Nashville, Tennessee,
December 4th, 1864,
and confined in the Meridian, Mississippi and Andersonville, Georgia prisons.
The first thing I knew of the explosion, I found myself under one of the fallen smokestacks.
I cannot tell how I got out.
I floated and swam down the river until about sunrise.
Was picked up by a gunboat yawl, more dead than alive.
Occupation Wood Finisher
Post Office address?
707 North Howard Street, Akron, Ohio.
End of Section 57.
Section 58 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry.
This Libervox recording is in the public domain.
Section 58.
C.J. Johnson.
I was born in Phillipsburg, Allegheny County, New York, May 18, 1840,
and enlisted in the service of the United States at Hudson, La Nauton.
county michigan august twenty first eighteen sixty two in company a eighteenth regiment michigan infantry and was captured at athans alabama september twenty fourth and confined in the cahaba alabama prison
when the explosion took place i lay between the smokestacks asleep i remember jumping into the water but knew no more until about sunrise when i was picked up on the arkansas side by the picket
boat, Pocahontas.
Occupation farming.
Post office address.
Medina, Lanawi County, Michigan.
End of Section 58.
Section 59 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry.
This Libervox recording is in the public domain.
Section 59.
Lewis Johnson.
I was born in Henry County, Indiana, November.
1845 and enlisted in the service of the United States at Henry County, Indiana, December
1863, in Company G. 9th Cavalry, was captured at Sulphatressell, Alabama, September 25, 1864,
and confined in the Castle Morgan and Cahaba prisons. When the Sultana exploded, I was lying in
front of the wheelhouse. I got up and walked across the boat,
pulled off my clothes and jumped into the water.
I was burned very badly on my neck and shoulders.
I swam out to some timbers on the Arkansas side and got on a log.
There were nine of us on it.
We were there until eight o'clock when we were taken in by a boat.
Occupation, farming.
Post office, Muncie, Indiana.
End of Section 59.
Section 60 of Loss of the Sultanna by Chester D. Berry.
This Libra Vox recording is in the public domain.
Section 60.
Benjamin F. Johnston.
I enlisted on the 16th of August 1862 at Almont, Lapeer County, Michigan,
as a private in Company A of the Fifth Regiment Michigan Cavalry.
Mustered in the United States Service at Detroit on the 26th of August,
1862 and left Detroit for Washington DC on the 6th of December 1862,
arriving there on the 9th and went into winter quarters on East Capitol Hill.
Our regiment in the spring joined the Army of the Potomac,
and I was taken prisoner on the 11th of June 1864 at Trevillian Station, Virginia.
Taken first to Libby Prison in Richmond, Virginia,
and from there to Andersonville, Georgia, where I was confined until the 25th of March, 1865.
I was paroled out and sent to Vicksburg, Mississippi, arriving at Black River on the 1st of April, 1865,
crossed the river and went into camp, remaining there until the 24th of April,
afterwards marching about four miles to Vicksburg, where we went on board the steamer Sultanah.
company being near the rear of the column would naturally fall on the lower deck and on the bow of the boat.
We arrived at Memphis, Tennessee on the evening of the 28th of April, and the steamer stopped and unloaded
300 hogsheads of sugar, which detained her until nearly 11 o'clock at night.
Left there about that hour and went up the river about four miles, where we stopped and took on a
supply of coal to last as far as Cairo, Illinois, leaving the barges about two o'clock in the morning of
the 27th, when, after steaming up the river three more miles, the explosion took place.
Taking in the whole situation at a glance, I got up, put on my shoes, and waited for a favorable
opportunity to leave the boat, realizing that I was safe on the boat as long as the fire did not
affect me. When the opportunity presented itself, I took off my blouse, hat, and shoes,
keeping on all my underclothing, and took an amber-type likeness of my wife and boy out of my
blouse pocket and put it in my pants pocket, so that if I was lost and ever found,
it would be the means of identifying me. I then put my left hand on the railing of the boat
and jumped into the river and commenced swimming for the shore.
after being in the water a short time a piece of board about six inches wide and from six to seven feet long came floating along in front of me
having secured it and placed it under my breast i had no trouble in reaching an island but on account of high water it was overflown after a great amount of trouble i finally succeeded in getting out of the river into the fork of a small tree and remained the
there until eight o'clock, when I was picked up by a steamer and taken to the soldiers home at Memphis.
Left there, the second day for Michigan.
Was discharged from the service as a veterinary surgeon at Detroit, July 7, 1865.
End of Section 60.
Section 61 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry.
This Librevox recording is in the public domain.
Section 61
A.A. Jones
I was born in Stowe, Summit County, Ohio, on the 25th of April 1843.
Lived with my parents on the farm.
Enlisted in the service of the United States August 11, 1862,
and mustered into the service September 18, 1862,
in Company C of the 115th Regiment, Ohio Volunteer Infanifetime.
spent first year of service in the state of Ohio, mostly at Cincinnati, guarding
parole prisoners, looking after Morgan, quelling valendigam riots, etc., were ordered to
Murfreesboro, Tennessee in the summer of 1863.
The regiment was distributed along the Nashville and Chattanooga Railroad.
Fifty or sixty of my company, myself included, were stationed at Fort LaVeer.
where we remained until december fifth eighteen sixty four when we were unceremoniously taken under general forest's wing who promised us a parole in a very short time
notwithstanding we were moved hastily into dixieland across tennessee into mississippi and hardly halted until we saw the inside of the filthy enclosure at meridian mississippi remaining there until the barefoot stragglers came up
feet bleeding and frozen caused by the ice and snow that lay on the ground at the time many a poor fellow went to his long home on account of the cruel treatment of the enemy in taking away his boots and shoes
arrangements were very soon made to remove us from here as pap thomas was making it rather lively for hood about this time and we were moved into alabama thence into georgia where we went into winter quarters
in the most dreaded of all prisons, Andersonville.
It must have been the last days of December
when we arrived at this den of death.
We remained there until the last of March, 1865,
when some 2,500 men were sent out on exchange,
arriving in camp at Black River, Mississippi,
the forepart of April 1865.
Here it was we wrote the happy news to our parents,
wives and sweethearts, that we would soon be with them at home.
How our hearts leaped within us with anticipation?
On the morning of April 25th, the news came that transportation had been secured,
and we were marched out with light hearts to Vicksburg, where the sultana lay awaiting us.
It was not at all necessary to be invited to go on board,
and as we did so, we noticed the repairing of the boilers.
some twenty-five hundred sandwiched ourselves as best we could until every available spot and place was occupied the repairs of the boilers the overcrowded condition of the boat the drunken captain who furnished transportation
made everything blue because the captain of the boat objected to taking on so many these very important things were unnoticed by the comrades in their anxiety to reach home and
friends once more. But the sequel proves we should have been more wary. Near the bow of the
hurricane deck was the place selected by our squad who had stuck together through all our afflictions
during the war. My health was very poor while at Andersonville. The hurried march into our lines,
change of climate and diet, etc., made my case no better. Consequently, I was most miserable when
I boarded the vessel, and asked as a favor of my comrades, Martin Baird and Robert Gaylord,
if they would permit me to sleep between them, as we had only one blanket.
They cheerfully consented, and although the nights were quite cold to us bloodless fellows,
yet by being so closely packed, we managed to keep three sides comparatively warm.
This was the position we occupied during the night of the 26th, up to the time the
crash came, which must have been about two-thirty a.m.
What a crash! My God! My blood curdles while I write, and words are inadequate.
No tongue or writer's pen can describe it. Such hissing of steam, the crash of the different
decks as they came together with a tons of living freight, the falling of the massive smokestacks,
the death-cry of strong-hearted men caught in every
conceivable manner, the red-tongued flames bursting up through the mass of humanity
and driving to death's door those who were fortunate enough to live through worse than a dozen
deaths in that damnable death pen at Andersonville. We had faced death by day while
incarcerated there, but this was far more appalling than any scene through which we had passed,
awakened with the dreamy whisper of mother, sister, or other darling on our lips.
But oh, what a change in one short moment!
Comrades imploring each other for assistance that they might escape from the burning deck.
Officers giving orders for the safety of their men.
Women shrieking for help.
Horses neighing.
Mules kicking and making the terrible scene hideous with their awful braze of distress.
these are a few of the many scenes and sounds that greeted my sight and came to my ear after a most desperate effort on my part i extricated myself from the section of the wreck that by the explosion had been thrown upon me
my sleeping comrades alas where were they martin baird that slept on my right and robert gaylord that slept in my left where were they
god can answer i cannot as i never saw or heard of either of them after that poor fellows they were kind to me and i trust that i may yet touch elbows with them across the river whose waters are so pure
i climbed as rapidly as my strength would permit to the railing on the edge of the boat and from there looked down on the awful scene below the darting flames by this time lighted the
the whole panorama. Can I ever forget the scene? Not while my senses remain. Masses of drowning
men clinging together until they were borne down by their own weight to rise no more alive.
Their poor, pinched and ghastly faces are indelibly engraved on my memory.
Life is sweet, and all those scenes of destruction did not prevent me from thinking of the dear ones at home
and how I was to save my own life.
I climbed to the lower deck and grasped a plank.
Was sliding it over the edge of the boat
when a comrade asked permission to slide down.
It was granted.
When he reached the water, he caused me to lose my hold.
Then he moved off with it.
This robbed me of what I first expected to save my own life on,
but I bear no malice.
my earnest wish being that the plank he robbed me of saved his life or that of some other comrade.
I stood wondering what next to do, but as God was watching over me,
there was a way that soon proved to me that there was a power ruling over all stronger than man.
A plank like the first floated from beneath a swell of the boat.
As soon as I noticed it, I sprang into the water, came up,
and remained as near the boat as possible.
I swam to the bow,
then swam away as quickly as I could
to avoid obstacles being thrown on me,
as I had observed many a poor comrade
passed to his watery grave in this manner.
After getting a short distance from the boat
on the Tennessee side,
there was something I took to be an island,
as the flames by this time lighted far out on either side.
I started, as I supposed, for the island, but soon got into the current, and it being very swift,
and the plank large, I was swept down at a rapid rate, and the water being very cold,
soon chilling my weak physical structure, to such an extent that I gave up all hope of my
reaching shore by any exertion of my own, so I floated with the current.
I cannot describe my feelings as I lay motionless on the plank,
my lower limbs being benumbed and cramped,
so that I had no power over them.
I never can forget the scene of horror as I looked upon it the last time.
Those noble men who had faced battle in all its fury,
who had not flinched when the word forward came,
even though in the face of the cannon or screaming shell,
had faced worse than death at Andersonville,
standing there on the bow of that burning boat,
wringing their hands,
rushing to and fro,
begging and imploring their comrades
to assist them that their lives might be saved to their dear ones.
I floated on out of sight and hearing of that terrible picture
until life in me was well-nigh extinct.
When I saw in the gray of the morning the street lamps at Memphis,
when i realized this fact i was more horrified than at any time for the thought of going beyond that city into the wild region below in that mad rushing current was enough to curdle the blood if any was left in my veins which i doubt for as i remember the sensation that every particle of blood had been forced to the uppermost portion of my brain by a one hundred horse-power engine that the top of my own
my head would fly skyward. Providence stepped in again in my behalf, when I so much needed assistance
and hope had well-nigh given away. I heard the dip of oars, and felt a strong hand grasping and
raising me from my faithful friend, the plank, and placing me on the bottom of a boat that was
being used to patrol in front of the city to pick up those who were floating down that far.
I was taken to a wharf boat, and as I was born along by two strong men, two women,
God bless them, came forward with a blanket and wrapped it about my naked form.
Comrades, will we ever realize what force there was back of the women of our country
to aid and assist us in crushing out the life of the cruel war?
This country owes them much for their untiring zeal,
patriotism and courage.
I was taken to the Washington Hospital as soon as I was able to sit up,
where we received very kind treatment,
until we left for the North two days later.
My present post office is Parkman, Ohio.
End of Section 61.
Section 62 of Lass of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry.
This Librevox recording is in the public domain.
Section 62
Nicholas Carnes
I was born in MacArthur, Ohio on the 25th of December 1839
I enlisted in the service of the United States August 12th, 1861, at MacArthur, Ohio,
as a sergeant and Company B of the 18th Regiment Ohio Volunteer Infantry
and mustered into service at Camp Wool, Athens County, Ohio.
in September 1861.
Our regiment being assigned to the army of the Cumberland,
I served under General's Buell and Rosecrans,
and consequently was in the battles at Stone River and Chickamauga.
Was captured on the second day's fight, September 20, 1863,
at Chickamauga, and was taken with several thousand prisoners to Richmond,
where we were searched and robbed of our valuables.
I was assigned to the old Pemberton building, where I remained about two months,
and then I, in company with Comrade Johnson, was taken to Libby Prison,
where they can find us in darkness for 36 hours.
We were then taken out and placed on Bell Isle, where we remained the rest of the winter,
and in the latter part of March, 1864, was taken to Andersonville,
and remained there until September.
when I was taken out and shipped to Millen,
from there to Savannah, Blackshear, Thomasville,
and was finally taken back to Andersonville,
arriving there on the evening of the 24th of December, 1864.
We remained there until the latter part of March, 1865,
when we were taken out and sent to Vicksburg, Mississippi.
Here I would like to relate about the many happy changes,
but space will not admit, neither can words express it.
At Vicksburg, we were put on the ill-fated steamer sultana.
All went along smoothly until one of her boilers exploded
on the morning of the 27th of April, 1865.
I was lying on the cabin deck when the explosion took place,
and with the aid of a number of comrades secured a stage plank
and launched it out into the deep rough water.
waters. Many were forced to let go and were drowned, but those that were fortunate stayed with a plank.
We tried for some time in vain to make to the Tennessee shore, but the current being against us,
we were drifted downstream until we lodged in some driftwood that had caught in an old tree top.
I clambered through the drift until I reached a log where I found a Michigan comrade who divided his clothing with me,
which was the means of saving my life as I was nigh chilled to death.
When daylight came, I made my way back to the old stage plank,
where all hands joined and rowing it to an old shanty,
and we climbed to the roof and remained there until about nine o'clock a.m.,
when the relief boat Jenny Lind came to our rescue.
I was then taken to Memphis and placed in the hospital,
where I remained until after I drew my clothing.
was then taken by boat to cairo illinois and from there by rail to columbus ohio where i was discharged from the service may eleventh eighteen sixty five my present occupation is salesman my present post-office is plain city ohio
end of section sixty two section sixty three of loss of the sultana by chester d berry this libervox recording is in the public domain section sixty three e j kennedy
i was born in new york city december twenty third eighteen forty one and enlisted in the service of the united states at cleveland ohio april eighteen sixty one in company e seventh regiment
Ohio Volunteer Infantry,
was captured at Cross Lane, West Virginia,
and at Franklin, Tennessee, August 1861, and November 1864,
and confined in the following prisons,
Libby, New Orleans, Salisbury, and Andersonville.
I was sound asleep when the explosion took place
and awoke to find myself in water.
I managed to get hold of a piece of the wreck
and in company with one of my comrades,
stuck to this for nearly four hours
when we were picked up by a gunboat.
Occupation Merchant.
Post office address, Baria, Ohio.
End of Section 63.
Section 64 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry.
This Librevox recording is in the public domain.
Section 64.
Rinaldun Kimmel.
was born in william center ohio january twenty second eighteen forty and enlisted in the service of the united states at farmer ohio september eleventh eighteen sixty one in company e twenty first regiment ohio volunteer infantry
was captured at the battle of chickamauga september twentieth eighteen sixty three and confined in the following prisons pemberton building richmond virginia
Dansville, Virginia, Andersonville, Georgia, a prisoner for 18 months and 11 days.
He was on board the sultana when the boiler exploded and asleep at the time.
On awakening called to his partner Dunifan, who was sleeping with him, but received no reply.
Could not swim, and the alternative of burning to death or drowning presented itself,
he chose the latter.
securing a small board before leaving the boat,
he threw it in and jumped after it,
managing to get hold of it when it came to the surface.
It helped him through.
He was among the first to leave the boat,
floated down to Memphis just at daybreak
and was taken from the water nearly lifeless,
was not in his right mind for several hours.
Left Memphis April 29th.
Dunifin was never heard.
from. Our Kimmel died March 25th, 1891. End of Section 64. Section 65 of Loss of the
Saltona by Chester D. Berry. This Librivox recording is in the public domain. Section 65,
Albert W. King
I was born at Eichorhofe near Wittenberg, Germany, March 6, 1842. Came to Diffel.
Defiance, Ohio, March 1849, enlisted in Company D, 100th Regiment, Ohio Volunteer Infantry,
on July 17, 1862, at Defiance, Ohio.
I was with said company and regiment until I was captured at the Battle of Franklin, Tennessee, November 30, 1864.
In company with several hundred others captured at the same time, was taken south.
our first experience in prison was at meridian mississippi some time later we were transported to andersonville georgia where we were exposed to all the weather during the winter months consequently we suffered intensely
our best clothes blankets and tents had been taken from us when captured early in april eighteen sixty five we were taken from the stockade and transported to our lines at big black
River near Vicksburg, Mississippi, and placed in parole camp. About the same time, large squads of
prisoners arrived from Cahaba and other prisons. Here we remained until we were furnished transportation
on the steamboat, Sultana, at Vicksburg. The trip to Memphis was very tedious, though pleasant in spite
of the enormous crowd on the boat. We were on our way home, and everybody was cheered by the
thought. John Davis, George Hill, William Wheeler, Adgate Fleming, and I, all belonging to the
same company, occupied a small space on the boiler deck, about twenty feet from the stern of the boat.
We arrived at Memphis on the evening of the 26. While the boat lay at the wharf, sugar in
hogsheads was being unloaded, and we helped. When tired, we went upon the streets of Memphis,
soon returned to the boat, fearing it might leave us. When our steamer left Memphis, we started
for our lodging place. Some distance up the river, the steamer made a stop at the coal barges,
and a supply of coal was taken on. When the steamer was again under headway, we fell asleep.
We had slept about an hour when the crash came. Men, coal, wood, and timbers from the boat were
thrown over and beyond us. The steam and ashes smothered us so we could scarcely breathe.
Several seconds passed before I recovered sufficiently to know what had happened. When I came to my
senses, I rushed for the stern entrance, falling several times before I reached the fresh air.
My four companions were soon by my side, having also escaped any serious injury from the explosion.
Now hundreds of men came rushing out to get breath.
Jamming and crowding commenced.
Those crippled were trampled on.
The high-hanging bridge plank crushed many as it was cut down.
The lifeboats were cut from their fastenings,
but in such an immense crowd amounted to mere nothing.
The cabins over the boilers were shattered and torn out,
and soon that portion of the boat was on fire.
Men called for buckets, but none were left on the boat, and in a few minutes later the fire assumed great proportions.
Men, women, and children in the cabins called for help.
Men jumped from the upper decks to the water below.
Hundreds had been blown into the water when the explosion occurred.
It was an exciting scene.
We could not see how any of us could be rescued, not a boat in sight.
The Tennessee shore was a half mile away, and the high water extended far back over the Arkansas flats.
Our little squad of five were still on the stern deck, trying to break off a large piece of siding.
But, on account of a large white horse fastened to the railing on the stern deck and directly in the way, we did not succeed.
Fleming had repeatedly asked us for God's sake to tell him what to do, that he could
not swim. Our answer was to avoid the big crowd and remain close to us. But when he saw that we were
disappointed as to getting off the piece of siding, he rushed into the crowd going overboard
and was never heard of afterward. The fire was close on to us, and we must soon leave the deck.
Davis, Hill, and Wheeler were now with me, but a minute later they had disappeared, I looked for
something that would furnish a little support in the water, but could not find anything.
I climbed the stern railing and jumped as far as I could to avoid the crowd just below me.
When I reached the top of the water, my head struck the boat.
I had got turned in the water by coming in contact with drowning men.
For a short time I was obliged to fight and keep out of the grasp of drowning men.
frequently I was pulled under, but always gained the top.
I used my best efforts to get away from the boat,
and when I saw I could get out near the stern,
I worked fast to get away,
when I was once more knocked under by some person jumping upon me.
As I came to the top,
a lady was beside me grasping me and calling for help.
I managed to get away,
but on getting a hold on some wreckage,
I returned and assisted her.
Many others were near and around us calling for help.
We were going toward the Arkansas side,
and in course of time we left the burning boat quite a distance.
Toward morning it became so dark we could see nothing before us.
Men in different directions could be heard calling for help.
All this time my lady companion was quiet,
except that she would occasionally say,
For God's sake, tell me, do you think we will be saved?
I said but little, as I was beginning to fear
that we were a long distance away from anything on which to rest,
as it was quite dark and I could see nothing ahead of us.
All at once, however, my feet came in contact with brush.
This encouraged me, and I worked fast,
fearing if it was an island under water we might accidentally.
pass it. I now saw that we were among small trees and brush, but my feet would not reach bottom.
The current was sweeping over this island, and it carried us down.
Fortunately, we were now within reach of a drift lodged against saplings.
I soon discovered a log among the drift which I mounted. It sank partly, and I had no
trouble in seating my companion. I held her with one hand.
hand, grasping the little tree next to me with the other. Our weight upon the log brought it down,
and we were in the water to our shoulders. In a few minutes we became so chilled that we could
scarcely speak. Soon it was daylight, and no one in sight who might rescue us from our
dangerous position. Later in the morning two men in a river y'all came near and were passing us,
when someone behind us called to them to run in as a man and woman were in the drift near him they obeyed and in a few minutes we were lying in the bottom of the boat
this gentleman who beckoned to the boatman to pick us up first is comrade l g morgan of finley ohio for whom i have ever since had much regard i have often met him since
we were taken to a shanty near by where quilts and blankets were thrown over us and we were placed in front of a fire several others were brought in soon after
george hill of my company was among the number he conversed with the lady and while they were thus talking she drew a ring from her finger handed it to me saying that all the valuables she had with her on the sultana were lost excepting that ring
And it was all she could at the time offer me as a token of reward.
Later in the forenoon we were put on a steamer and taken to Memphis.
On arriving here we separated.
I was taken out to the soldiers' home,
and the lady was no doubt taken care of by the doctors.
At least I have never seen or heard from her since.
Valmore Lambert of my company,
who slept in the cabins directly over the boilers, was lost.
john davis william wheeler and george hill of my company were rescued my post-office address is defiance ohio
end of section sixty six of loss of the sultana by chester d berry this librivox recording is in the public domain section sixty six george a king
enlisted as a private in company b second regiment tennessee cavalry and was enrolled on september first eighteen sixty two at blount county tennessee
was captured in alabama while carrying a dispatch from athens alabama to general j d morgan near tuscumbia alabama on the tenth of october eighteen sixty four
was sent to meridian mississippi thence to cahaba alabama and remained a prisoner until the spring of eighteen sixty five the destruction of the sultana occurred near memphis tennessee april twenty seventh eighteen sixty five
i was sleeping on the top of the boat when the explosion awoke me and i thought the boat was being fired upon by the enemy but soon found what was the matter
i then stripped myself to try the water and went to the lower deck by a rope i then went to the bow of the boat to get off i thought that i would rather drown trying to save myself than to burn to death on the boat
after i got into the water i was struck by a piece of timber which disabled me i was then caught by some one but managed to get loose
the water was a mass of men some trying to make their escape and others drowning i went some distance from the mass and then steered for shore i think i could not have reached it but for four men passing by me on a plank i caught hold of the plank and rested
a little, then got on.
We five made for the timber, which we reached in safety.
We went some three miles down the river and caught on to a tree and climbed up.
Just after we got up, five others landed there, though one was so weak he died in the water.
We were taken on a boat about eight o'clock a.m., and were landed at Memphis.
From Memphis we were taken to Camp Chase, Ohio,
Ohio, thence to Nashville, Tennessee.
Was discharged from the United States Service, June 14, 1865.
Occupation Farmer
Have been Deputy Sheriff for the last four years for my county.
Post office address, Tong, Blount County, Tennessee.
End of Section 66.
Section 67 of Loss of the Sultan by Chester D. Berry.
This Libravox recording is in the public domain.
Section 67.
Hugh Kinzer.
I was born in Leesburg, Ohio on the 4th of October 1836.
Enlisted in the service of the United States at Leesburg, Ohio, on the 16th of August, 1862,
in Company E, 50th Ohio Volunteers.
Was captured at the Battle of Franklin, Tennessee, on the 30th of November,
1864 and taken to Cahaba, Alabama, where I remained until about the 15th of March,
1865, when I was sent to Vicksburg, Mississippi, to parole camp, where I remained about six weeks,
and then took passage on the steamer sultana on the 24th of April 1865, landed at Memphis,
Tennessee on the evening of the 26th, and took supper at the soldiers' home. The captain was very
urgent that all should return soon so as not to be left. But notwithstanding his orders about
200 failed to make their appearance, and were consequently left in Memphis, which, as the sequel proved,
was a lucky thing for them. About two o'clock in the morning of the 27th, we pulled out of the coal
yard, which is about seven miles above Memphis. The boat was very heavily laden, there being about
2,300 persons on board besides the freight.
My messmate and myself occupied a position on the upper deck
toward the bow of the boat, just outside of the banister.
I was sleeping soundly when suddenly I was aroused by the noise of the explosion.
I arose to my feet and saw that the smokestacks were both down.
I looked below and saw that the boat was on fire.
My comrade and I passed down to the lower deck,
and the scene that met our eyes and the sounds that greeted our ears
are beyond all description.
My messmate, Johnny Carr, seized a board and said,
I am going to try to get out of this, and then sprang into the water.
I watched him as long as he was visible,
but he failed to carry out his purpose
and must be numbered as one of the Sultanis victims.
I was very weak from my long confinement in prison, but I was a very good swimmer and thought I would take my chances,
so sprang into the water and swam a few yards, when my strength deserted me so fast that I saw it would be of no avail to continue and turned back.
A rope had been thrown over and was hanging by the side of the boat, to which two or three poor fellows were hanging.
I took hold of this rope and climbed above them.
Gradually the hold of each one lessened,
and they sank in the deep waters below.
My own grasp was becoming weak,
and I was sliding down the same way the others had done
when a piece of board came floating down,
and, with an effort, I threw myself upon it,
and in an instant someone jumped upon me and said,
shove out of here.
By much tact we managed to steer clear of others who were trying to grasp at something to save themselves.
One more on the board would have meant death to us all.
The current carried us downstream very swiftly, and the glare from the burning boat upon the water blinded us,
so we could not see the timber along the banks, and, in fact, the water was so high at this time that the timber was overflowed.
we came to a bend in the river and were out of sight of the burning vessel when we discovered there was timber about five or six hundred yards ahead of us and turned to go to it
at this point the swift current and dead water formed an eddy and we went whirling around as we were going around a person caught on to our board who said that she was a woman
after going around once or twice she let go and floated down on her own board at the same time we floated out of this swift current and swam directly to the timber
we succeeded in reaching a tree the top of which was out of the water and my companion climbed upon it while i swam to another one about twelve feet distant
while swimming from the eddy to the tree my fingers caught in a substance which proved to be a pair of pants with suspenders on them this was a lucky find for me as i had divested myself of all unnecessary clothing before i jumped into the water
when i reached the tree i was too much exhausted to lift myself upon it for some time we had floated about three miles down the river and it was now getting daylight giving me the opportunity of seeing the board which had proved to be so instrumental in saving my life
it was a poplar board about eight feet long one foot wide and three-fourths of an inch thick my companion was in great distress as soon as he got out of the water and began to realize something of his condition
he was so badly scalded that his face hands and whole body began to blister whether he is living or dead i know not
i have never heard from him since the second morning when i left him in the hospital at memphis i do not know his name but his regiment was the sixtieth ohio volunteers while we were clinging to the tree we saw in the distance the hull of the sultana come floating down the river
with a dozen or more boys still clinging to the burning wreck a mound of earth which had not been overflowed had formed a sort of island and several of the men from the wreck had floated down and lodged on it
and as they discovered the men on the hull of the boat as it came floating down they quickly made a raft of logs and boards and went to their rescue from our position in the tree we watched them go trip after trip until the long
last man was rescued. Before they landed the last man on their return trip, the hull of the
sultana went down, its hot iron sending the hissing water and steam to an immense height.
There were seven boats that came up the river to pick up the unfortunate. They spied my
companion, and I perched in the tree and came to where we were, there being a sufficient
depth of water to make safe running.
We were taken back to Memphis and placed in a hospital.
After a day or two of rest, I resumed my journey homeward.
There are many incidents that are deeply fixed in my memory that occurred on that eventful morning,
but space forbids me to mention them.
But all of my war experiences of three years, including camp, march, battle, and prison,
there is nothing so fearful as that morning of terrors.
My present occupation is farming.
Post office address, Albion, Nebraska.
End of Section 67.
Section 68 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry.
This Libervox recording is in the public domain.
Section 68.
Henry J. Klein.
I was born in Blackford County, Indiana, September 13th, 1847.
and enlisted in the service of the United States,
December 17, 1863,
in Company G. 9th Regiment, Indiana Cavalry,
was captured at Sulphor Branch Tressel,
September 25, 1864,
and confined in the Cahaba and Selma, Alabama prisons.
At the time of the explosion of the Sultana,
I was sleeping in front of the wheelhouse
between comrades King and Downey of my company.
Both were lost.
Comrade Downey had sent home for money from Vicksburg.
He went ashore at Memphis to see some friends,
but the boat left him,
and he gave a man two dollars for bringing him in a skiff
to the mouth of Wolf River, where the boat stopped a coal.
When he laid down, he said,
If I had not sent home for that money, I would have been left.
I never heard him speak again.
Comrade King sprang up at the first shock, exclaiming,
Oh, God, oh, mother, I am lost, I am gone.
I followed him across the boat, but lost sight of him.
Our lieutenant, Swain, followed him in the river, still crying.
Swain, a splendid swimmer, got him on a plank
and told him not to cry so, that he would take him out safe.
King hushed and never spoke again,
the lieutenant swimming behind and pushing him on.
The plank in front of him came to a drift in the woods.
He pushed Charlie up against the drift
and told him to climb up, but he was too weak.
Starvation, sickness, and the chill of the water had done their work,
and as Swain swung around to get on the drift himself,
he saw Charlie's hands go under it.
but to go on with myself at the time of the explosion i climbed down from the hurricane to the boiler deck and then divested myself of all my clothing except my cap shirt and drawers and then sprang into the water on the lower side of the boat
it floated after me and the flames burned my neck and ears i came very near drowning our company had seventeen men on board and eleven of them went down
occupation tile manufacturer post office address mill grove indiana end of section sixty eight section sixty nine of loss of the sultana by chester d berry
This Librovox recording is in the public domain.
Section 69.
John H. Cotendurfer
I was born in Lebanon County, Pennsylvania, on the 29th day of July, 1841, and enlisted in the
service of the United States at Mansfield, Ohio, August 11, 1862, in Company D.
1002nd Regiment, Ohio Volunteer Infantry.
Was captured at Athens, Alabama.
September 24, 1864, and confined in the military prison at Cahaba, Alabama, till in March, 1865, when I was taken to Camp Fisk, the United States and Confederate Neutral Camp, where I arrived in the 16th of that month.
I, with others of my regiment, was placed on board the steamer, Sultana.
Five of us took up our positions outside the railing in front of the left wheel,
on the middle or cabin-deck floor with a blanket apiece over us and our coats for pillows we were outside and over the four great boilers one of which caused the great destruction of lives and untold sorrow through so many of our northern homes
when the explosion occurred it threw the boiler out of its bed ascending and tearing its way through both cabin and hurricane decks those immediately over the river
boiler, were thrown in every direction, some of them being thrown directly up and falling into
the fiery chasm below, while those upon the side of the boat, like myself, were thrown
directly out and away from the boat. The first I realized after the explosion, I found myself
about three hundred feet from the boat, shrouded in total darkness, and in what appeared to be
an ocean of water. To say that I was dumbfounded would but
faintly express my condition. But what was I to do, give up in despair and drown? No, never.
As I arose to the surface and got full control of myself, I tried to isolate myself from those
around me, and then took a survey of the situation. For a few minutes total darkness prevailed,
then a small fire kindled itself, and there being no effort made to check this little flame,
in a very short time it became a fierce conflagration, and the heat was intense, driving the men back,
those in the center and nearest the fire, crowding those on the outer edge into the river until all were driven off.
The boat burned and sank, when darkness again or all prevailed.
But all this time, while the fire was doing its horrible work and the boat drifting with a current,
I was about a hundred yards ahead floating downstream backwards
and in a position to see the stern and one side of the boat
where hundreds were dropping off into the river,
the most of them going to their death.
After watching them for a while,
I became quite composed and fully realized my situation,
and in company with another poor fellow,
I started out to find shore, but failed.
In our desperate effort,
fighting the waves and current, we became separated, and I know not what became of him.
Now I was alone, cold, and tired. I began to look around for some support, which I found in the shape
of an empty candle box, which answered the purposes very well. This box I still had in my
possession when picked up by a skiff, 18 miles below where the accident took place. I was brought
back to Memphis and first put on a steamboat where I took the first whiskey I drank while
in the service of the United States. I was taken to Gaioso Hospital, at which place I remained
some three weeks before I was able to be moved, on account of an injury to the lumbar region
of my spine by being thrown against a rope at the time of the explosion. I am a medical
practitioner, residing at Gallion, Ohio.
End of Section 69.
Section 70 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry.
This Libervox recording is in the public domain.
Section 70.
C.J. LeHugh.
I was born in Harrison County, Indiana, March 5, 1846.
Enlisted in the service of the United States at New Albany, Indiana,
November 1863 in Company D. 13th Indiana Cavalry, and was captured at New Market, Alabama,
September 30th, 1864, and taken to and confined in the following prisons, viz, Cahaba, Andersonville,
Meridian Stockade, and Selma, Alabama, and was paroled at Black River Bridge, Mississippi,
and placed on the boat Sultanah on the morning of April 24, 1866, and was paroled,
This boat was destined for different points up the Mississippi River.
Myself and three other comrades lay down to sleep in the rear of the pilot house
on the Texas roof near the pilot house steps.
About two o'clock a.m. the explosion occurred,
killing the three comrades,
Theodore Baker of Company B., 13th Indiana Cavalry,
I do not remember the names of the other two,
and leaving me the only surviving one that was on the Texas roof.
I was thrown off the boat, but caught hold of the railing of the banister,
and remained in that condition until driven off by the flames of the burning boat,
falling into the water on the upper side of the steamer as it swung around.
The water was full of struggling and drowning people.
I heard a lady crying for help, asking her husband to rescue her.
She was holding to a rope attached to a mule that had got overboard.
I also saw the husband with a little child on his back,
struggling in the water for a moment, then sinking.
The lady cried out,
My husband and baby are gone.
A comrade who had his limb crushed in the explosion by a door blown from the boat
had the lady get on this door, through which means she was rescued.
I was one of the last to leave the boat.
It was burned to the water's edge.
I swam down the river,
and when opposite Memphis swam to some brush
where I found a log to cling to.
I remained there until daylight.
A lady discovered me and pointed me out to the captain of a boat,
saying there was a little boy on a log in the brush out on the river.
The lady and two of the crew came in a boat
and rescued me and placed me on board the gunboat and wrapped me in blankets. I was not conscious of
what was transpiring until the following evening, was then placed in a hospital boat at Memphis.
The lady who first discovered me in the brush took me to her own house and took care of me two weeks.
Myself and forty-two others were sent north to Indianapolis, Indiana, and from there we went home.
My present occupation is stock-raising.
Post-office address, Great Bend, Kansas.
End of Section 70.
Section 71 of Loss of the Sultana by Chester D. Berry.
This Libri-Vox recording is in the public domain.
Section 71.
Adam Leak
I was born in Knox County, Tennessee, April 15, 1842.
enlisted in the service of the united states at london kentucky on the fifteenth of november eighteen sixty two in company b third regiment tennessee cavalry and was captured at sulfer trestle alabama september eighteen sixty four and confined in the kahaba prison
i boarded the steamer sultana at vicksburg when the explosion occurred i was asleep on the cabin deck outside the railing was knocked insensible by flying timbers and other missiles and knew nothing until i found myself on the boiler deck near the wheelhouse
then i realized a terrible calamity had occurred by seeing a perfect sea of people floundering in the water some drowning some grasping at objects human and human and a very sea of people floundering in the water some drowning some grasping at objects human
and otherwise, all desperate at what seemed certain death. A horrible scene in the contemplation of which
my own condition was forgotten. With others I reached the bow of the ill-fated vessel and was standing
near the jackstaff when the wind veered and sent the flames in a solid mass against us, sending us in a
body overboard. As I went over, I grasped the cables in a coil, and when going down continued to pay
them out until I had secured a hold on their length that kept me above water and thus saved
myself, as I could not swim at all. I remained in the water about three and one-half hours,
when the hull of the destroyed Sultana grounded on the Arkansas side, and myself and such comrades
as hung on with me were rescued by means of old gunwales lashed together and extending to dry land
a hundred yards away.
The hull sank within five minutes after.
My post office address is Knoxville, Tennessee.
End of Section 71.
Section 72 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry.
This Libervox recording is in the public domain.
Section 72.
Asa E. Lee.
I was born in Galesburg, Illinois,
April 14, 1847, and enlisted in the service of the United States at Clinton, Indiana,
June 17, 1863, in Company A. 71st Regiment Indiana Volunteers, or 6th Indiana Cavalry.
I was captured at Florence, Alabama, October 3, 1864, and taken to Meridian,
Mississippi, where I was confined 61 days, and afterwards taken to Cahaba,
Alabama, where I remained 140 days, or until about April 21, 1865, when I was taken to Vicksburg,
Mississippi for exchange. I, with others, was placed on board the steamer sultana, and on the night
of the terrible disaster, was asleep on the hurricane deck near the pilot house, with my bunkmate,
John May of Terre Haute, Indiana, a member of the 137th Regiment Indiana,
when the explosion took place.
I was thrown to the forecast
striking on my back and shoulders
and was severely bruised by the fall.
I have never seen or heard from my bunkmate
since the evening we closed our eyes in sleep
just before we left Memphis,
and I have met only three of the Saltaanus survivors
since May 10, 1865.
I left the boat while it was wrapped in flames,
and after swimming nearly two miles, I succeeded in getting on a log in the river,
where I remained for about five hours,
and was then taken up by the steamer Silver Spray and carried to Memphis,
at which place I remained about six days,
and was then sent north on the steamer Bell Memphis to Cairo, Illinois,
and from there to Indianapolis.
There were nine of my regiment on board the sultana,
of which six were lost.
My present occupation is carpenter and builder,
and my post office address is to Lair, California.
End of Section 72.
Section 73 of Loss of the Sultana by Chester D. Berry.
This Librovoc's recording is in the public domain.
Section 73.
Wesley Lee
I bunked on the front part of the cabin.
deck between the two stairways, and was asleep when the explosion took place.
I sprang to my feet at the noise, and in doing so struck my head against the deck above,
which had been smashed down and was supported by the railing around the stairs.
I then crawled to the side of the boat and looked over the deck above.
Just then the flame shot up from about the center of the boat,
with that crackling sound you all remember so well.
I looked on the river at that terrible scene, a sea of heads.
Oh, what a sight it was!
It is just as vivid in my mind today as it was then.
The hungry fire was fast eating toward me.
Then I slid down a fender to a lower deck,
took off my shoes, socks, blouse, and pants,
tore two narrow pine boards from the center of the stairway,
walked to the side of the boat and jumped off, starting for the Tennessee shore,
and was making fine headway, as I supposed.
However, on turning on my side to swim, and so rest myself,
in a short time the water was tumbling around me, and I looked for the shore,
but it seemed as though it was farther away.
I could just see it in the distance.
Then I looked up the river and saw an island,
but I was too far below to try to stem that fearful current.
About this time I saw a steamboat coming down the river toward the burning wreck,
but soon after I was left in darkness.
A little incident happened just then.
Some person who had got beyond the island came across in front of me
and in a firm and manly voice said,
Don't take hold of me.
I answered,
I will not, as we have found.
plenty of room. I mention this, for if he is living, I would like to know who he is and where he is.
He passed to the rear and was soon out of sight. After I had been in the water a long time
and making poor headway, I became satisfied that the current was running to the other side
of the river, but would it do to change my course? I concluded not to, for perhaps the river would
soon make a turn, and then the current would favor me. I was beginning to feel very cold and put forth
every effort to reach the shore, keeping my boards in such a position that the current running
against them would draw towards the shore. The voices of those in the river were in the rear,
and I began to make a little headway, and soon the lamps in the city became visible. Then I worked
all the harder, but it was necessary, for I was getting colder.
all the time. The thought of home, however, together with a determination of a soldier, to live as long
as he can, bore me up. When I came in front of the wharf boat, two men came out with a lantern,
and I called for help. One of them jumped in a skiff, and was soon by my side, took me in, and in a short
time I was by a fire in the wharf boat, where I was given some clothing. Then they asked me
what the matter was, and when I informed them that the sultana had blown up and her crew was in the
water, the telegraph operator went to his instrument, and in a few minutes a steamer was moving out
and picking up men. By the time I was well warmed, the steamer General Boynton came to the wharf
boat and put off some men it had just picked up. Then the telegraph operator came to me and
asked if I cared about being mentioned as the person who gave the information of the disaster,
as it would do me no good, and the rivermen would get pay for it. I told him it made no difference
to me, but I see by some articles in the National Tribune that the steamer General Boynton gave
the news, which is not correct. Post Office address, Winston, Missouri. End of Section 73.
Section 74 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry.
This Libre Voc's recording is in the public domain.
Section 74.
Thomas C. Love, alias Thomas Long.
I was born in Providence, Rhode Island, January 13, 1843.
Enlisted in the United States Navy, my second term, at Chicago, November 4th, 1816.
for two years, or during the war.
I was sent to the ironclad Essex stationed at Memphis, Tennessee.
Was rated quartermaster,
and was on watch at the time the steamer Sultana left the wood dock,
about half a mile above the Essex,
and was near the mouth of Wolf River.
The Sultana left the wood dock about two o'clock in the morning of April 27, 1865,
and steamed up the river.
at twenty minutes of three she blew up at a point seven miles above memphis and at twenty minutes past three i heard the cries of drowning men calling for help
i reported to our captain john atchinson and he jumped out of bed and ordered all hands called all boats manned and to be away and save all that we could
i had charge of one of the boats the skylark and helped to save seventy-six of the men from a watery grave and when all our boats were gone except the market boat called the dinghy our six messengers boys took it and saved the only woman that was saved the same
who was on board the sultana.
The people of Memphis sent us a barrel of whiskey in the morning,
but our first lieutenant, William Berry,
broke in the head of the barrel and poured the contents onto the deck.
The firemen and coldmen that were left on board
caught the whiskey in buckets as it ran down the scuppers,
and some got quite jolly,
whereas, if it had been served out to the men, as was intended,
there would not have been anyone drunk.
the men in the boats worked hard without any breakfast and then we hunted for those that had strayed off into the swamps trying to get to the dry land
all that day we found men almost dead hanging to the trees about two miles out into the river and among those that i rescued was one man so badly scalded that when i took hold of his arms to help him into the boat the skin and flesh came off his arms like a
cooked beat. I lost my hold on him, but soon caught him again, and with help he was got into the
boat and saved from a watery grave. I heard of the reunion of the survivors of the
sultana that was held at Adrian April 29, 1890, and went to see if I could meet with any of those
whom I saved, and had the pleasure of taking the above-described man by the hand. It was with a grip that did not
slip as when I went to pull him into the boat. I met another man that I picked up from a bale of
hay. There were nine trying to hold to it and a piece of log. I saw 21 men on one log that was
drifting in the river. I took off part of them and called another boat that took the rest. I was
through all of the war, this being my second term, but the horror and sufferings of that morning I never
saw approached. Pen cannot write or describe it, tongue cannot tell, and mind cannot picture the despair of
2300 scalded and drowning men in a cold deep river on a dark night, with the current running
twelve miles an hour, and those men just released from prison, not half-fed nor quarter clothed.
They did not have the strength to battle with a trial like that. It was the most of the most
heart-rending scene that I ever witnessed. I hope to never see the like again.
My present occupation is that of General Merchant, and my post-office address is Clayton, Michigan.
End of Section 74. Section 75 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry.
This Libri-Vox recording is in the public domain.
Section 75.
William Luganbeel
enlisted in the service of the United States as a private in Company F of the 135th Regiment
Ohio Volunteer Infantry at Columbus, Ohio, May 2, 1864,
was captured at North Mountain, West Virginia, July 3, 1864,
and was taken to Andersonville, Georgia, July 27, 1864,
remained in the stockade until October 1, 1864, remained in the stockade until October 1, 1864,
I went out on parole of honor and helped build six sheds on the south side of the prison.
My quarters were near the depot, and I could go a mile from my quarters without any guard.
When I got out of prison, I weighed only a hundred pounds,
but when I was on my homeward trip, I weighed 136 pounds,
so much for stealing sweet potatoes and peanuts.
March 27, 1865, I left Andersonville and was sent to the Black River, Mississippi, for exchange, and thence to Camp Fisk, which is two miles back of Vicksburg, where I remained about three weeks.
While here, President Lincoln was assassinated. We then went on board the steamer sultana, and on the evening of April 26th, we landed at Memphis, Tennessee.
while there i lay down to sleep they took on coal and started again for god's country went about seven miles when i was awakened by a terrible roar and crash
i was on the second deck my partner's name was joseph test from dayton ohio a piece of timber ran through his body killing him almost instantly i tried to help him but could not then i went down
and the like I never saw and hope I never will again.
The boat was now on fire.
Reader, imagine you were on a burning boat with 2,100 men on a dark night.
What do you think you would do?
Well, I will tell you what I did.
On board the boat was a pet alligator.
He was kept in the wheelhouse.
It was a curiosity for us to see such a large one.
We would punch him with sticks to see him open his mouth,
but the boatman got tired of this and put him in the closet under the stairway.
When I came downstairs, every loose board, door, window, and shutter
was taken to swim on, and the fire was getting very hot.
I thought of the box that contained the alligator,
so I got it out of the closet and took him out and ran the bayonet through him three times.
while i was doing this a man came to me and said the box would do for he and i both to get out on my intention was to share it with him but i did not speak and i do not know what became of him
i took off all my clothing except my drawers drew the box to the end of the boat threw it overboard and jumped after it but missed it and went down somewhere in the mighty deep when i came up i got hold of the box
but slipped off and went down again.
When I arose to the surface again,
I got a good hold of it
and drew myself into it with my feet out behind
so that I could kick,
the edges of the box coming under each arm,
as it was just wide enough
from my breast and my arms
coming over each edge of the box.
So you see, I was about as large as an alligator.
There were hundreds of men in the water,
and they would reach for anything
they could see. When a man would get close enough, I would kick him off, then turn quick as I could,
and kick someone else to keep them from getting hold of me. They would call out,
Don't kick, for I am drowning. But if they had got hold of me, we would both have drowned. It was
about six miles from land. While the boat was burning, we could see the trees on the shore,
and kept our heads that way and swam fast as we could,
but the boat burned down, sank, and left us in utter darkness.
We could not tell which way to go, and it was a very lonesome place to be in.
Now I would only try to steady my box when I would get in those whirls as I floated down the river.
I can speak of seeing two men after I started on my voyage.
It was now very dark, and I could have been.
could see an object only a few feet. The first man I met in the darkness, that lonely night,
as he was passing me, said, "'Here goes your old tugboat.' I did not answer him,
as I had tug enough of my own. The next man that came near me asked which way we were going.
He asked me a third time, and said that he believed that we were going right down,
meaning we were floating down the river.
I was taken up three miles below Memphis
by a gunboat called the Essex
and was taken from there to the Gaioso Hospital,
was put in Ward A,
remained there some days,
drew clothing,
and got on board the Bell of St. Louis,
came to Cairo, Illinois,
and then to Columbus, Ohio.
Present address?
Perryton, Licking County, Ohio.
End of Section 75.
Section 76 of Loss of the Sultan by Chester D. Berry.
This Librevox recording is in the public domain.
Section 76.
W. P. Madden.
I was born in Galway, Ireland, on the 14th of March, 1844.
Enlisted at Springfield, Ohio on the 9th of October 1861, in Company I,
44th Ohio Volunteer Infantry and 8th Ohio Volunteer Infantry.
Was captured at Lynchburg on the 18th of June, 1864, and confined in Andersonville Prison.
On the morning of the 27th of April, 1865, at about 2 o'clock, I was asleep, dreaming of home and loved ones,
of whom I had not heard a word for about 10 long months that I had spent in Andersonville Prison.
Suddenly I was awakened by an upheaval and crashing of timbers.
I attempted to arise from my recumbent position,
and as I threw up my hands to explore my surroundings,
I got them severely burned,
and was horrified to find that my efforts to extricate myself
were fruitless, and the heat was stifling.
I could not tell where I was,
but could hear the groans of the wounded,
and the shrieks of the women mingling with the crackling noise of the flames
and the hissing of the white steam that enveloped the boat for a time?
All of this took place in a few moments,
but those few moments were an eternity to me.
No tongue can tell, and pen is powerless to portray the agony of those moments.
Thoughts went rushing through my brain with lightning rapidity.
I thought of all I had suffered and endeavored,
for ten months and of the joys anticipated at home and now so near the goal must i give up the ghost not without a struggle
the rebels had failed to kill me in battle or to starve me to death in prison i rat my blanket about me in order to protect myself from further violence from my hot environment
i called in the name of my divine master for some one to remove whatever hindered my escape and may god bless whoever he may be that removed the obstruction i know him not
i crawled out as black and begrimed as a coal-digger i then discovered that i had been under a piece of boiler iron about half of a circle both ends being blocked with timbers and debris thrown hither and thither by the force of the explosion
i had a much esteemed friend by the name of george menninger a piazzaev his home was in cincinnati ohio he shared my blanket but what became of him i have not been able to learn nor is it to be wondered at in the confusion that followed the explosion
this was a time when strong men who never faltered before the galling fire of the enemy's front were powerless wringing their hands and rending the air with their piteous cries
no one now gave the orders each being left to battle for himself the deck was broken in two presenting a fiery chasm between like dante's inferno burning human forms could be seen below until the river was broken in two presenting a fiery chasm between like dante's inferno burning human forms could be seen below until the river was
was obscured by the flames, which soon communicated with the upper deck.
Every available thing that would float was hastily gathered up, and with precious freight, went overboard,
but often only to be submerged by the addition of others, and rise again on some distant wave,
far away and unoccupied, to be again possessed by another struggler,
and borne safely with the current until rescued by friendly hands.
Almost invariably the means of escape was overburdened,
and it was often the case that parties were drowned
that others might use their floats to a practical advantage.
No doubt many a good swimmer lost his life by being made powerless
by the icy waters of the northwest,
with which the Mississippi River is flushed at that time of the year.
All this time I was endeavoring to keep from being pushed into the river
by my wild and distracted comrades who were rushing to and fro.
In order to do this, I had to lie down, often at the risk of being trampled upon.
I remained on the boat as long as the heat would permit,
seeing that it would be fatal to launch myself among the floating sea of perishing humanity,
grasping at everything within reach,
and often carrying to the bottom those that would have otherwise escaped.
I was fortunate in being a very good swimmer, and with confidence in my ability to reach shore,
I waited until the coast was clear.
I then made a running jump from the fore and upper deck,
but before reaching the water, I lost my balance, and fell face downward,
knocking the breath out of me, and producing an inguinal hernia,
which I now carry, much to my discomfort.
This hurt caused me to swallow at the time a large quantity of water, causing strangulation,
so that it was with the greatest difficulty that I again reached the surface.
After I got my breath, I swam downstream in a diagonal direction for the East Bank,
but for some unknown reason I changed my mind and turned for the west side.
I now began to experience a peculiarly numb sensation commensation,
in my great toes and extending upwards.
Being thoroughly awake to the meaning of all this,
I bestirred myself to the most vigorous and active kicking
that I ever did in my life.
Now and then I would pinch my limbs,
but could not make them believe that it was I,
and yet, as long as they kept kicking, I felt safe.
They had often served me,
and when a boy, they had saved me many a whipping,
and they did not fail me on this occasion.
somewhere between the boat and the shore i overtook three soldiers of whom i recognized one a sergeant of an illinois regiment a fine specimen of a man in every particular and i always admired him
he with the other two was trying to keep above the water with the aid of a very trifling bit of board one of the party was about exhausted i swam to them put my hands on the board
and had this man put his arm on my shoulder and his other on the sergeant, and we pushed on,
but it was soon evident that our load was going to overtax our strength.
With no evidence at hand of the distance yet to overcome,
and as he was already past helping himself,
true to the first law of nature, I released myself,
and our friend went down to be seen no more.
could I have perceived the short distance to the shore I would have saved his life,
but so dark was it that the first intimation that I had of a shore
was when I struck my head against a lot of drift,
upon which I dragged myself,
at the same time shouting back to those I had parted with my deliverance
and encouraging them to persevere,
and soon I had the pleasure of helping them to a place of safety.
I then removed my pants and shirt, wrung the water out of them, and put them on again,
then went at vigorous walking, as did also my friend from Illinois,
but the other we had to pull along between us until a better circulation was obtained for him,
after which we got along very well considering our condition.
About seven or eight o'clock in the morning,
we were taken on board the steamer Bostonia,
and taken to memphis here i want to digress a little to speak a word of praise in behalf of the mate who with his pilot was blown into the river
it was he with the aid of a skiff conveyed to us to the boat and although wet and chilled he did not cease his efforts in caring for others as long as there were any found needing assistance
even on the boat where hot coffee and fire was accessible he looked not for his own comfort until all others were first served this self-sacrificing and unselfish devotion to the wants of others is seldom found
and i mention this as an expression of my admiration for his conduct on that occasion thanks to general washburn in a few days we left memphis for camp chase ohio to be mustered out of service in obedience to telegraphic orders from the war department
and now glorious transition away from the late scenes of horror caressed and adulated by those who long ago gave me up for dead and providential blessings through those years that have passed have done much to compensate for what i have suffered
but oh how many a sad and desolate home who can tell of that anguish in those hearts which fondly waited for the coming of the dear one
let us reverently treasure up in our hearts the memory of the brave dead of the sultana and let our association devote one day of its sittings in some appropriate way to commemorate their deeds of virtue
i am engaged in the practice of medicine at zinia ohio end of section seventy six section seventy seven of loss of the sultana by chester d berry
this librovoc's according is in the public domain section seventy seven jotham w maize i was born in huron county ohio november fifteenth eighteen forty two and enlisted in the service of the united
States at New Boston, Michigan, June 15, 1861, in Company B. 47th Regiment, Ohio
Volunteer Infantry. Served with my regiment in all its campaigns, till on the 22nd day of July
1864, when I was captured in front of Atlanta, Georgia, and taken to Andersonville.
I remained there until Sherman began his famous march to the sea, when I, with others, was
removed to Millen, thence to Savannah, from there to Blackshire Station, thence to Thomasville,
and at last marched 60 miles across the country and put on board the cars at Albany,
and taken to Andersonville again, entering that terrible prison on Christmas Eve, 1864.
I remained here until about the 17th day of March, 1865, when 500 of us were taken out and sent
to Jackson, Mississippi, and from there marched to the Big Black River, where we were received
by our own men and given a ration of hard tack and coffee with a good suit of new clothes,
a blanket, and a tent. We remained at Big Black River until exchanged, and put on board the
sultana. Myself and two comrades bunked together, just back of the left wheelhouse on the
middle deck. The first sensation I experienced was that of falling down through space, as probably
many of you have felt when you had an attack of nightmare. I soon realized that it was no nightmare,
for we were immersed in the icy water of the river, about three by ten feet of the portion of the
deck upon which we were sleeping, having been blown with its occupants into the river.
The shock of the deck striking the water
threw us all off from it,
but we soon found it again,
and others came to us
until that small piece of deck
saved ten lives.
The way we managed
was to keep evenly divided
around the edge and just float along.
I shall never forget
the terrible scene that I beheld
as I glanced back at the boat
and realized what it occurred.
The smokestacks of the sultana
were lying criss-cross, crushing whoever they struck.
The boat was on fire, and the flames were driving the men into the water by the hundred,
and no matter how good a swimmer a man might be, if he got into one of those crowds,
his doom was sealed, and he would go down with the clutching mass.
As we came in sight of the coal-bins opposite Memphis,
we attempted to make them, but the current carried us away so that we could not,
neither could we reach the memphis shore nor make the people on either bank hear us we floated some three or four miles below memphis before we were picked up and were then found by a quartermaster's yawl
and when taken in we're so thoroughly chilled that we could not help ourselves as we were making for the shore at fort pickering the troops mistook us for guerrillas from the arkansas side of the river trying to capture the fore
and fired two volleys on us before they found out their mistake.
Fortunately, no one was hurt.
We were taken to Memphis and soon sent to Columbus, Ohio, thence to Jackson, Michigan,
and soon discharged.
My present post office address is New Boston, Michigan.
End of Section 77.
Section 78 of Loss of the Sultan by Chester D. Berry.
This Libravox recording is in the public domain.
Section 78.
Jerry Mahoney
I was born in Ireland, December 23, 1842,
and enlisted in the service of the United States,
September 23, 1861, at Detroit, Michigan,
in Company I, Second Regiment Michigan Cavalry,
was captured at Florence, Alabama, November 9, 1816.
and was confined in the Meridian and Cahaba, Alabama prisons.
My capture was as follows.
When Sherman marched to the sea, he sent Stanley to reinforce him,
but Hood was nearer to Nashville than Stanley.
Hood had Lee, Stuart, and Cheatham.
Lee crossed the Tennessee River at Florence, Alabama.
Stewart and Cheatham were still on the south side.
i was sent for by general croxton who asked me if i would go at night and cut the pontoon bridge at florence alabama i could go alone or take some comrade with me he said there was nothing i could ask the government for but that i could have it
i could have a commission a furlough or anything else and he would open communication with the rebs at daylight and exchange us if it took one hundred for one
i started with five others we got some citizens coats and putting them on arrived at the bridge at two o'clock a m and as the rebs stated in the newspaper the next day
while portions of that army were on each side of the river a party of bold federals came down the river in skiffs and succeeded in cutting the bridge in two or three places hatchets were found in their possession
it is one of the boldest of federal raids during the campaign we got rid of the coats before we were taken prisoners that night we were kept in a vacant store and while the guards slept three of the comrades got away but they failed to cut the bridge
i drew the attention of the guard at the door by selling my watch that was hid in my bootleg they my three comrades went upstairs and got out of the winter
They were missed in three or four hours, and the bloodhounds were sent after them, but they had crossed the river.
I had no one to help me get away, so I stayed.
I never saw or heard of them after that.
I received a seven months furlough, and then was paroled when the rest were.
Address, 3249 LaSalle Street, Chicago, Illinois.
End of Section 78.
section seventy nine of loss of the sultana by chester d berry this librivox recording is in the public domain section seventy nine jesse martin
i was born in louisville kentucky february nineteenth eighteen forty two i enlisted in the service of the united states at rona indiana september fifth eighteen sixty one in company d thirty fifth
Indiana Infantry. I was captured at Kennesaw Mountain, Georgia, June 19, 1864, and confined in the following
prisons. Andersonville, Savannah, Millen, and Blackshear. I was sleeping in the deck room when the
explosion occurred. At first it seemed to me as though someone was on my breast with his knees and choking me
with his hands. When I came to, I was down on my knees by a cow, as though I had got there to milk her.
If the cow had not stopped me, I guess I would have gone on into the wheelhouse, and then I would
not have survived to write this. The wheel was still turning and water coming in on me, which helped
to bring me to. I soon found out what the matter was, and began to look around to see what
chance there was to escape. I started to see if I could find some of my regiment, but could not get to
where I had left them. I then went aft to see how things were. All was confusion. Some were praying,
others crying or swearing, and some jumping overboard. I found one man who seemed to be taking
things coolly. I went to him and asked him if he would help me throw things to those in the water to
swim on. We went to work throwing over anything we could find that would float except a large
plank. This we saved for ourselves. We stayed on the boat until the fire drove us off.
We then threw the plank in and jumped in after it, but lost it. I never saw the man after that.
I started to swim ashore and happened to find a small piece of plank which helped me along.
I landed on an island and was picked up by the steamer of Pocahontas
Occupation Farming
Mount Pleasant, Ohio
End of Section 79
Section 80 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry
This Libervox recording is in the public domain.
Section 80
Joseph H. Mays
I was born in Park County, Indiana,
August 31, 1846. Enlisted in the service of the United States at Waveland, Montgomery County, Indiana,
on the 12th of November 1861 in Company C, 40th Regiment Indiana Volunteers,
and was captured at Franklin, Tennessee, November 30, 1864, and confined in the Kahaba Prison in Alabama.
I was on the cabin deck of the sultana when the boiler exploded.
One of the smokestacks, about six feet from me, fell and broke the deck in, and I went through onto the lower deck.
I noticed that every man had to take care of himself.
I could not swim, so I got four slats one inch thick, three inches wide, and about ten feet long,
and took my tent rope and tied them together.
Then I was ready.
I picked up the slats and jumped into the river and started to paddle my own canoe.
I got along finally until a drowning man caught me by my ankle.
I kicked him loose and then tried to pull for the shore.
Sometimes I would get within 50 yards of the shore,
and the current would carry me toward the other side of the river,
and then I would try for that side, but it would strike me again,
so I just kept floating back and forth across the river.
I came across a man from a Michigan regiment.
I said,
Hello, comrade, advance and give the counter sign.
I asked him if he could swim.
He said no.
Then I asked him what kind of plank he had.
He replied,
One about two feet wide and ten feet long.
We two got together and tried to reach the shore.
but the current would carry us back and forth across the river as before and by this time we were getting cold and somewhat discouraged the man from michigan said he would have to let go and drown
i told him that would never do and urged him to hold on by this time we were so cold that we stopped trying to get out we could not move hand or foot and the michigan man swore that he could not hold on any longer
i looked down the river and saw the headlight of a boat coming and encouraged my comrade to hold on by saying it would probably take us in
this was about one hour before daylight we became unconscious and did not remember when we were picked up we came to about nine o'clock that day my present occupation is farming post-office address lebanon boone county
Indiana.
End of Section 80.
Section 81 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry.
This Librevox recording is in the public domain.
Section 81.
George B. McCord.
I was born in Erie County, Ohio, April 8, 1844.
My childhood days were spent in Erie and Sandusky Counties, Ohio.
I attended school in Beaver.
Bellevue, Clyde, and Fremont, Ohio, and after the war in Cornell College, Mount Vernon, Iowa.
Enlisted in the service of the United States at Sandusky County, Ohio, as a private in Company G.
111st Regiment Ohio Volunteer Infantry in August 1862, and mustered into service at Camp Toledo by Captain Howard, United States Army.
received the appointment of orderly sergeant, and afterwards promoted to first lieutenant and placed in command of Company F.
Passed through many spirited and exciting battles and experienced many long and fatiguing marches through Ohio, Kentucky, Tennessee, Georgia, and Alabama.
Was in the siege of Knoxville and battles in that vicinity, Atlanta campaign and battles along the line.
captured at Cedar Bluff, Alabama in October 1864, made my escape and was hunted down by
bloodhounds and returned to the prison at Cahab, Alabama. From there was sent to Andersonville, Georgia.
After remaining there about six months, was taken to Vicksburg, Mississippi, where we were
comfortably clothed and properly fed. We remained there about 30 days, and then boarded the ill-fated
steamer, Sultana.
Everything moved along quietly and pleasantly until we passed Memphis, Tennessee.
I was quietly sleeping on a cot in the cabin at the time of the explosion, was wounded,
and today carry scars caused thereby.
Some of my companions who were sleeping near me were instantly killed.
I jumped into the water.
First swimming back and taking hold of the side, we were.
I held on to it long enough to remove some of my clothing so that I could swim easier.
I then struck out with a determination to save my life,
and was only out of reach when that immense wheel that I had been holding to fell over into the water,
taking with it quite a number of persons to their watery grave.
After swimming some distance and making several hair-breadth escapes from drowning men and horses,
i came across a stage plank floating as a life-preserver for ten a more persons one of whom was an engineer of said boat and who appeared to have control of the plank
an invitation from the engineer to catch on was quickly accepted and i peacefully floated along with them we remained in the water until after daylight when we were picked up by the steamer jenny lynde and were landed in safety at memphis tennessee
one man was lost from the plank but ten lives were saved by it their names i am unable to give captain taggart and myself by permission of general washburn boated the next steamer for cairo illinois
and from there by rail to indianapolis thence to columbus ohio where a few weeks later we were honorably discharged from the service
after visiting friends and relations in different parts of ohio i went to iowa being at one time sheriff of marshall county have had the usual experiences of a western sheriff of shooting and being shot
many men are now languishing within the walls of the penitentiary that surrendered only after a desperate struggle and overpowered by me were compelled to give in
have been badly wounded and at one time my wounds were considered fatal but have nearly recovered and am now in reasonably good health i am at present employed in the bank of hanford my present post-office address hanford california
End of Section 81. Section 82 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry.
This Libervox recording is in the public domain.
Section 82. L.W. McCrory.
I was born in Wayne County, Ohio, November 5, 1835, and enlisted in the service of the United States at Portage, Ohio, June 9, 1862, in Company A.
regiment Ohio volunteer infantry.
Was captured at Limestone Station, East Tennessee, September 8th, 1863, and confined in rebel prisons
at Lynchburg, Belle Isle, Libby, and Andersonville, spending in all 22 months in those horrible
dens, one year and seven days in Andersonville.
With others, I was placed on the steamer Sultanah.
I took up my place on the cabin deck in the...
curve of the stair banister.
According to the best of my calculation, the boat must have blown up about one o'clock in the morning.
The night was very dark and cloudy.
When the boiler burst, it tore its way up through the hurricane deck, which came crashing down,
and in all probability would have crushed me, had it not been for the stair banister
which held it up and saved me.
I soon crawled out of that and worked my way out on the,
the small gangplank which was tacked up to what I think they called the gin pole.
I took care to bring my valise and pocketbook along with me.
The former contained a good suit of citizens' clothes, and the latter over a hundred dollars.
I remained upon the plank until driven off by the fire.
While here I saw the big gangplank shoved off.
According to my remembrance, this plank was about forty-fourty,
feet long and six feet wide, and was heavily iron-bound.
I believe it was the cause of the death of at least three hundred of the boys,
for they were just as thick as they could cling around it,
and I never heard of one that was saved by it.
When the fire finally drove me to the water,
fearful lest I should need one hand,
I put my pocket-book, which was an old-fashioned iron-bound one,
between my teeth and hung on to my valise with one hand.
It seemed to me that I never would come to the surface again,
for I had jumped down at least 18 feet to reach the water,
and to add to my discomfort,
my pocketbook kept my mouth partially open
so that I took in some water.
But still I managed to get along pretty well,
and as the boys say, did not lose my head.
Comrade John Cornwell of my company and regiment and myself swam together,
but he was easily discouraged.
After a while he called out to me that he could hold out no longer,
but I cheered him up, urging him to try a little longer,
telling him that I knew he was just as able to get out as I,
and that I was not going to give up.
He tried a while longer, and then cried out again that it was,
was no use. He must sink. I urged him to hold on, but after we had gone about two miles,
he called a third time and sank immediately, and I saw him no more. This startled me a little.
I had hung on to my valise all this time, changing it from one hand to the other, as either arm grew
tired. But when Comrade Cornwell went down, I threw the valise away, but hung to my pocket-book.
which all this time, after I came up from my dive,
I had gripped in my right hand with my little finger and the one next to it.
Now what seems strange to me is that in a very short time after throwing away my valise,
both arms became entirely helpless,
and I was obliged to turn over on my back and float in order to rest them.
After floating a while, I swam a short distance when my arms gave out again,
and I was forced to float once more, but soon was able to swim again.
I then experienced no more trouble with my arms.
I soon came in contact with a log upon which I crawled,
and where I remained until about nine o'clock the next day,
when I was taken off by the steamer Pocahontas.
While upon this log I saw a man reach an island
who was pulled out by two of his comrades.
I do not believe there was a particle of skin upon his entire body.
He had been badly scalded, and it had all come off.
His comrades were doing their best to keep the buffalo gnats off him.
Whatever became of the poor fellow, I never knew,
but presumed that he died in a short time.
About the first man I came across on the Pocahontas
was a big darky who was dishing out hot sling,
unsparingly to the boys.
I took a big drink, but it was not enough,
so I went up to the bar of the boat and called for brandy.
The bartender set down a bottle and a small glass,
but I called for a large one.
He then set down a big beer tumbler.
I filled this brimming full and drank it,
then offered to pay for it,
but he refused to take pay, saying,
it is free to Sultanah survivors.
i told him that when he disposed of it by wholesale he ought to charge something i was taken to the soldiers home and soon sent north on the steamer silver spray
at the time of my capture i had one bullet put through my canteen three through my haversack and my clothes were literally filled full of holes but i did not get even a scratch of the skin
On the trip from Andersonville, Georgia to Columbus, Ohio, I was wrecked six times on the cars and once on a steamboat, but was not injured a particle, except a slightly sprained ankle, received by jumping from the top of a box car about thirty feet down an embankment while the train was at full speed.
The train breaking in two, part of it going down the embankment one way while I went down the other way.
My present occupation is farming, and my post office address, Mungin, Ohio.
End of Section 82.
Section 83 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry.
This Librevox recording is in the public domain.
Section 83.
William A. McFarland.
I enlisted during the first call for volunteers in 1861 in Company A. 42nd,
Indiana Infantry at the age of 16 years.
My first duty was to act in the capacity of Marker Boy,
but had not been out three months when I was carrying a gun with the other soldiers.
I saw constant service until the 20th day of September 1863,
when I was captured by Longstreet's command at the Battle of Chickamauga
in the second day's fight of that battle.
We were skirmishing and were cut off from our command
some time before we knew it. Our captors took us to Libby Prison, where we were kept for four
months. Our rations at first consisted of about half of an ordinary loaf of bread and a small piece
of beef, each for a day's ration, but the meat soon disappeared, and we were left with nothing
but the bread. I was taken with about 12,000 other prisoners from Libby to the Danville, Virginia
prison, where we were kept about three months, and then taken to the famous Andersonville
prison, where we remained for eleven months more, to suffer indescribable horrors.
The cover we had overheard was the blue canopy of heaven, while we were surrounded on the
four sides by a high wall and a strong-armed guard.
When sleeping, we were obliged to huddle together to keep warm in the winter.
Our food was of the very large.
very poorest kind, consisting principally of corn meal. We were allowed to cook any articles we might
buy, but were made to buy the wood to do the cooking with. One Irish potato would bring from
75 cents to a dollar and 25 cents, a tablespoon of coarse salt, 20 to 40 cents, and a handful of wood
25 cents, and in good United States money too. Some of the prisoners had money and often bought such
articles, but if they got much at a time, they would be raided by their comrades. After the war had come
to a close, the federal prisoners were taken from Andersonville and other prisons by the rebels
under a flag of truce to Big Black River, 12 miles in the rear of Vicksburg, and turned over to the
federal forces, after which we marched into Vicksburg. The government had chartered the
steamer sultana to convey 400 prisoners north. The sultana was a packet plying between New
Orleans and St. Louis and was chartered on or about April 23, 1865. The boat was loaded with
2,300 Union prisoners who were to be taken north to Camp Chase, Ohio. Before the
the boat had cleared the landing at Memphis, a number of the boys made their escape and went
uptown and got whiskey. They were in no fit state to drink it, being in such a wretched
condition from the treatment and the prisons, and a guard was sent out to bring them back.
The last to put in an appearance was a soldier hailing from Tennessee. He was a thin seven-footer,
and he came down to the boat, shouting and cursing at the point of bayonet, so dressed. He
drunk he could hardly walk. He was brought up to the hurricane deck, where he caused considerable
disturbance. I was quite young at that time, and it pleased me very much to tease this fellow.
He tried to get at me, but the men were so thick he had to run over a number in trying to get
to me, and received a number of hard licks for his trouble. When the sultana was chartered,
there were several families on board who were on their way from Louisiana to the north,
and they were permitted to retain their state rooms.
After we left Memphis, it began raining and continued to do so all that night.
When eight miles above Memphis, between two and three o'clock in the morning,
the boilers of the boat exploded.
I seemed to be dreaming and could hear someone saying,
there isn't any skin left on their bodies.
I awoke with a start,
and the next moment the boat was on fire,
and all was as light as day.
The wildest confusion followed.
Some sprang into the river at once.
Others were killed,
and I could hear the groans of the dying
above the roar of the flames.
As before stated, I was on the hurricane deck, clear aft.
This part of the boat was jammed with men.
I saw the pilot house, and hundreds of them sink through the roof into the flames,
at which juncture I sprang overboard into the river.
As I came to the surface of the water,
I saw a woman rush out of a stateroom in her nightclothes,
with a little child in her arms.
In a moment she had fastened a life-preserver about its waist,
and then threw it overboard.
the preserver had evidently been fastened on too low for when the little one hit the water it turned wrong and up the mother rushed into the state-room an instant and was then out and sprang into the water and grabbed the child all of which occurred in the space of a couple of minutes
the next thing that occupied my attention was seeing the seven-foot tennesseean whom i had been teasing on the trip close at my side a guilty conscience needs no accuser and i supposed he would drown me if he caught me
i began swimming away from him i swam seven miles down the river and into a drift where i caught on to a log and awaited assistance
as day dawned i found that hundreds had followed my example and although it was a serious situation i could not help laughing at the comical appearance that all made
imagine my surprise when i observed that woman whom i had witnessed plunge into the river after her baby sitting a straddle of a log about twenty feet in front of me with the little one before her
we were both picked up by a yawl sent out by the steamer silver spray the next person the yawl approached was my long tennessee friend who was comfortably seated on a log
he asked how far it was to memphis and when told only a mile he said to the crew go to hell with your boat if you couldn't come to help me before now you had better have stayed away
and with that he slid from his log and began swimming down the river when the survivors arrived at memphis that morning all the hacks and omnibuses in the city were at the wharf to convey us to the overton hospital now the overton hotel
there were enough conveyances for all and none were compelled to walk the seven-foot tennesseean had arrived at the landing by the time the silver spray did but it was found that he was still
the influence of liquor, after all the excitement of the night,
and when he began to get into the conveyance, he refused to ride.
They tried to force him into a hack,
but in the scuffle two or three soldiers were knocked down.
A guard was detailed to march him through the streets to the hospital.
On the way up, we passed through a street inhabited mostly by Jews,
who kept second-hand clothing establishments, etc.,
and as the hack in which i was riding was slowly passing along the street i could see that long tennesseean pulling off boots shoes hats caps and other articles from the signs hanging in front
and by the time he reached the hospital he had about a dozen jews at his heels clamoring for their wares thou is my goat said one and those was my shoes said another while a third would yell
Give me back my pants!
The Tennyson turned and, glaring at the crowd,
threw the lot at his feet, saying,
There, help yourselves!
And as he rushed forward and stooped over the pile,
he began to knock them right and left.
It was afterwards learned that,
out of 2,300 prisoners on the sultana,
1,500 were either blown to pieces or drowned.
The boat was totally distanced.
At the place where the wreck occurred, the river was miles wide, making escape almost impossible.
After being at the hospital a few days, and not being injured, I made my escape, determining to reach home as soon as possible.
The first boat that came along was the St. Patrick, a handsome steamer plying between Cincinnati and Memphis.
Like a burnt child dreading the fire, I dreaded getting on a steamboat for fear of another explosion.
Adopting what I supposed was the safest plan, I crawled into the yawl hanging over the stern of the boat,
as all side-wheel packets have, and never left my quarters until I arrived at the wharf at Evansville.
It rained most all the way up, but I stuck it through.
Every time the boat would escape steam or blow the whistle, I prepared to jump,
supposing an explosion was about to take place.
End of Section 83.
Section 84 of Loss of the Sultan by Chester D. Berry.
This Libervox recording is in the public domain.
Section 84.
Eponetus W. McIntosh, late private of Company E. and A.
14th Illinois Infantry.
I embarked on the steamer Henry Ames at Vicksburg, with about 2100 soldiers on board,
returning from rebel prisons. I remained on said steamer until we arrived at Memphis, where we landed.
I, supposing she would remain some time, went into town to look around and buy some articles I needed,
and while gone, she moved off and left me.
along in the evening the steamer sultana landed loaded with another lot of prisoners so i embarked intending to go to benton barracks and join the comrades i had left on the henry ames
when some miles from the city i cannot state the exact distance she blew up and i was sent whirling into the water which i reached without any trouble from the steam although many were scalded to death before reaching it
as i struck the water i heard groans and screams of agony on every side oh the scene it is impossible to describe
i knew that immediate action was necessary i decided to keep back from the crowd but found it was not an easy matter as the drowning were making for any who could swim and catching at a straw
it was hard work to keep clear and save one owns life i made for the shore but it looked so far away in the midst of night that my courage almost failed me
after eight or ten hours i touched sand on the arkansas shore my strength was so near gone that i even came near having a watery grave it was with much difficulty in suffering that i was unable to walk or crawl on to dry land
where a colored man saw me and came to my assistance.
I needed such assistance very much as I was destitute of clothing,
having stripped myself as I swam along to lighten the load.
In twenty minutes after reaching land,
I was bloated so much that I could scarcely see
and believe that if I had not been cared for at once, I would have died.
I remained there until the next day,
when a boat came across the river, picking up the boys,
and they took me to Memphis Overton Hospital,
where I remained two days.
I was then put on a boat called The Bell of Memphis
and taken to Benton Barracks,
and remained there until I got a furlough.
During my prison life, I suffered agonies untold.
Tongue cannot tell it all,
but this awful struggle for life in the waters
was above all else I ever endured.
Owing to the necessity of constant motion,
without rest to any part of the body,
being reduced to a mere skeleton
through being confined in rebel prisons,
was in my favor,
as I could never have survived that awful disaster,
had I weighed as much as I did before my prison experience.
My weight now was 80 pounds.
I was captured at Aquarrow,
Georgia, about the 4th of October 1864, and exchanged at Vicksburg, April 15, 1865.
Was in Andersonville most of the time. When I was captured, I weighed 175 pounds.
I will never go back on the old flag. Although somewhat palsied and greatly maimed,
I can give three hearty cheers for the red, white, and blue, and set a rebel back.
if he comes to the front almost as quickly as I could when in possession of all my powers.
Post office address, Decatur, Illinois.
End of Section 84.
Section 85 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry.
This Libre Vox recording is in the public domain.
Section 85.
Daniel McLeod
I was a member of Company F. 18th Regiment, Illinois.
volunteer infantry, and at the Battle of Pittsburgh Landing, April 6, 1862, was shot in the right
knee with round musket ball, which caused a compound fracture of the knee joint.
This wound was examined on the battleground by assistant surgeon Ormsby of the 18th Regiment,
afterwards surgeon of the 45th Illinois, who stated that the leg would have to be cut off above
the knee, but that he was too busy at that time to attend to it.
I have the affidavits of two comrades who heard Dr. Ormsby make the assertion.
I was taken from the battlefield on the steamer War Eagle to Cincinnati, Ohio,
and was put in the Fourth Street Hospital, and there treated by Dr. F. Schmidt,
who cut the ball out of the knee joint and removed part of the fractured bones.
Doctors Norton and J.B. Smith were consulted in the case by Dr. Schmidt.
Dr. Norton said that the only way to treat such a case was to cut the boy's leg off,
that in case he did recover, what end would it serve, as the limb would be of no use?
From the Fourth Street Hospital I was removed to the Washington Park Hospital.
While I was there, I was examined by the medical purveyor of the department, Dr. Carpenter,
the presence of Dr. J. B. Smith and Norton.
Dr. Norton then explained the nature and character of the wound,
and also stated what he, Norton, had recommended.
Dr. Carpenter said,
That was the course that should be taken in cases of a light character always.
On June 7, 1863, I was removed to Camp Denison, Ohio,
August 7th to Quincy, Illinois, receiving my final United States
discharge from there in June 1864.
I was then examined by the United States pension surgeon at Springfield, Illinois,
and granted $8 per month pension, the full pension at that time for entire disability.
I was never able to make any use of that leg.
I was a passenger on the steamer Sultana en route from New Orleans to St. Louis.
When the steamer reached Vicksburg, one of the steamer reached Vicksburg, one of the
The boilers was leaking and was patched by Klein's foundry men before the soldiers were put on board.
There was no necessity of loading the Sultanah so heavily, as the steamers Pauline Carroll and Lady Gay were at the landing coming up light.
But the clerk and captain of the sultana were part owners of the boat, and I understood at the time that they put up money to get the transportation of the soldiers, which the officers of the other boats, having no way.
interest would not do. The hold of the sultana was full of sugar, and nearly every
stateroom was taken in the cabin, besides a number of deck passengers. According to my
remembrance, there were taken on at Vicksburg, 1,940 enlisted men, 40 officers, and a company
of the 54th Regiment Ohio Volunteer Infantry as guards. The night of the explosion being tired from the
long trip, I sat up reading at a table in the center of the cabin, and when the explosion took
place, I was blown over the table, being, as it were, on the outer edge of the crater.
All nearer the bow went up and down in the chasm made by the explosion.
Both my legs were broken at the ankle.
When the boat began to burn, which it did at once, everyone that was able rushed to the guards.
While I was dragging myself out, the captain of the 54th Ohio came and pulled me out to the guards.
I at once climbed down on the hog chains to where they had broken off
and let myself drop into the water, which was full of the wreck and men trying to escape,
but not so many as there were shortly afterward when the flames forced them to take to the water.
I had been brought up near the water and was a good swimmer,
so I floated down the river about two miles and lodged in the brush on Cheeks Island above Memphis.
In the morning I was picked up and taken to Memphis and placed in Adams Hospital,
in charge of surgeon J.M. Studley, who, after examining my fractures,
told me that it was no use trying to save my right leg,
as it was in such a condition from the previous wound,
that it would be practically impossible to save it,
and that he would have to cut it off above the old wound this he did and set the broken bones of the other leg and soon both were healed
my present post-office address is eight one eight market street st louis missouri end of section eighty five section eighty six of loss of the sultana by chester d berry the librivox recording is in the public domain
Section 86. L. G. Morgan
I was born in Perry County, Ohio, September 14, 1837, and enlisted in the service of the United States at Findlay, Ohio, September 19, 1861, in Company D. 121st Regiment Ohio Volunteer Infantry.
I, with others, was captured near Kingston, Georgia, and taken to Cahaba, Alabama.
our rations consisted of a pint of corn meal and five ounces of beef daily and in addition to this we would get a few beans or negro peas about two or three spoonsful to the man
we were divided into companies of one hundred men each and one man appointed as orderly sergeant for each company to draw and divide rations we planned a way of escape but failed in doing so
the guards tried to persuade us to tell who the leaders of the conspiracy were but we refused to do so they then read in order that all rations would be stopped unless we did but still we refused
the most of us made up our minds that we would rather starve than betray our comrades after going through various forms of punishment some one finally told and the conspirators were severely punished
after that things moved along quietly nothing of importance happening only the usual tunneling and getting caught at it finally the time came for us to be exchanged and after signing a parole of honor pledging the rebs that we would not try to escape
we took a boat and went to selma alabama where we remained over night in the morning we walked about two miles to take the train one of the men dying on the way from over
overeating the night before.
We got along all right until we reached Jackson, Mississippi.
Here we went into camp and baked enough cornbread to last us through to Vicksburg.
We reached Black River, where we remained overnight.
The next morning we were exchanged and marched across the river into God's country once more.
To say that we were glad would be putting it in a very mild form.
We remained in camp for about six weeks, and at last the time came for us to go north,
so we marched to Vicksburg, a distance of about four miles,
and were put on board the steamer at Sultana.
When about half of us were on board, the captain of the boat stopped us and said that he had enough,
for he did not consider the boat safe enough to take so many,
as he had just had the boiler patched a few days before.
the quartermaster however who had charge of us swore that he was loading the boat and would put as many men on as he pleased we were so crowded that it was difficult to find a place to lie down to sleep
the boiler cabin and hurricane decks were all full there were two thousand soldiers and two hundred passengers besides some seven hundred hogsheads of sugar and i think about thirty or forty mules and other freight
when we reached memphis we unloaded sugar and took on coal i think it was about one or two o'clock a m when we started up the river again and when about seven miles above memphis the boiler exploded
i was sleeping in front of the smokestacks on the cabin deck i got up and looked around it would be impossible for me to describe the scene my first thought was to get some buckets and put the fire
out. But not seeing any, and being afraid to venture over the wreck, I jumped off and swam to the
stern of the boat, then got on again, but could not find any. Then someone asked me to help
throw off the dead men, for it looked hard to see them burn. We threw off five or six. One poor
fellow was pinned down by the wreck and begged someone to help him out. I tried to, but the
Timbers were so heavy that I could not get him loose, and so I had to let him burn to death.
A man by the name of Henry Spaffer, who belonged to the 102nd Regiment Ohio Volunteer Infantry,
came to me and said,
Morgan, what am I going to do? I cannot swim.
I told him to get a plank, but he said he could not find any.
I found a good one, threw it into the water, and made him jump in after it.
i then thought it time to get off myself as the fire was getting pretty hot i watched my chance and finally started being a good swimmer i did not take anything to help me along with
my only fear was that some one would get hold of me and pull me down and i would drown i must have swam very rapidly for i passed a number of fellows in the water
i swam along till i got close to the timber but it was right at a bend in the river and the current was so strong that before i could reach it i was carried below it into the river again i went along for a while seeing no one but after a short time some one called out
hello morgan is that you i replied yes it was spaffer who hailed me i was nearly used up for my legs were badly cramped spaffer floated aboard to me and that helped me along
we swam down the river together and finally landed on some driftwood soon after sunrise we were picked up by the steamer rocket the barkeeper on the boat sent a boy around with a
pitcher full of whiskey, and we each had a large glassful. When we reached Memphis, the women of the
Christian Commission gave us some shirts and drawers, and took us to a place called a soldier's home,
but they had no blankets for us to sleep on. After we had something to eat, I started to go through
the city, bareheaded and barefooted, and while passing a store owned by a Jew, the proprietor
came out and asked me if I had been on the boat.
I answered in the affirmative, and he gave me a hat, one of the clerks giving me a pair of shoes.
A little further up the street I met an artilleryman, and he said if I would come with him to his quarters, he would give me a pair of pants.
I accompanied him, and while there, another artillery boy gave me a blouse.
I got my supper with them, and then went to a hospital, where I was provided with a cot to sleep upon.
in the morning as i was going down the street i saw a sign on a building and it said soldiers lodge that was kept by the christian commission and the soldiers home was kept by the sanitary commission
i went in and they said that i could stay i was there for five or six days when we took a boat for cairo illinois from there we took the cars and went to matoon thence via indianapolis indiana to columbus to columbus
Ohio, remaining there for six weeks. We then received our discharge and went home. I think about
the last of May or 1st of June. Post Office address, Findlay, Ohio.
End of Section 86. Section 87 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry.
This Librevox recording is in the public domain.
Section 87. A.J. Morning
I was a member of Company D. 11th Regiment Illinois Cavalry, and was stationed at Memphis at the time the explosion took place on the morning of the 27th of April, 1865.
A detail of us was sent to the wharf very early to unload hay.
We were immediately put into a yawl and succeeded in rescuing a number of the poor fellows from the sultana.
We worked at it till about 2 o'clock in the afternoon.
My post office address is Toledo, Ohio.
End of Section 87.
Section 88 of Loss of the Sultanna by Chester D. Berry.
This Libravox recording is in the public domain.
Section 88. A. Nyhart
I was born in Hawking County, Ohio, June 11, 1842,
and enlisted in the service of the united states at logan hawking county ohio june eighteen sixty two in company g ninieth regiment ohio infantry
was captured at spring hills tennessee november eighteen sixty four and confined in the andersonville georgia prison occupation farming post office bolivar missouri end of section eighty eight
Section 89 of Loss of the Sultanna by Chester D. Berry.
This Libervox recording is in the public domain.
Section 89. C. M. Nisley
I was born in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, on the 19th of May, 1838.
Enlisted in Company D of the 40th Regiment, Indiana Infantry,
on the 29th of October 1861 at Lafayette, Indiana,
and took part in all the engagements that the regiment participated in
until taken prisoner at the Battle of Franklin, Tennessee,
on the 30th of November, 1864.
I was captured about 8 o'clock in the evening,
with 1,900 others,
and hurried to Columbia, Tennessee,
and held there until a few days before the second battle of Nashville
under Papp Thomas,
when we were removed to Meridian, Mississippi,
and from thence to Cahaba,
where we were confined in a prison called Castle Morgan.
This place was on the Alabama River, 27 miles from Selma,
and where the Cahaba River empties into the Alabama.
We were kept here until, in the spring of 1865,
when the river arose till the water was from 18 inches to three feet deep in our prison,
and we were forced to stand in the water, as we could not lie down for three days.
we were then put upon the steamer henry j king and taken down the river to the tom bigby and up that river to gainsville alabama then back by way of meridian mississippi to jackson and from there to the big black river
and then were taken to the neutral camp near vicksburg mississippi where we rested and cleaned up for about ten days we were next taken over to vicksburg and went on board the steamer sultana
Starting up the river, we arrived at Memphis, Tennessee on the evening of the 26th of April 1865.
The steamer crossed the river to the coal barges and took on a supply of coal,
and, shortly after midnight, or virtually on the morning of the 27th of April,
started up the river again and had run about seven miles when the explosion took place.
At the time of the explosion, I was lying on the four-parts,
of the passenger deck. The smokestack fell through the hurricane deck, instantly killing
John Howard of Company H. 40th Indiana Infantry, and pinned me fast to the deck, but after a few
moments of struggling, I succeeded in extricating myself. I then started to help put out the fire,
but I fell through the decks hurting my back seriously, besides getting badly burned and
scalded. I immediately set about helping to extricate those who were caught fast by pieces of the
boat. After this, in company with Captain Mason of the sultana, I threw over broken pieces of the boat
and other materials, for those already in the water, but after a little time, the fire became so hot
that I was obliged to take to the water. A great many had sunk to rise no more, and there were but few
floating and swimming about that would be liable to drag me down.
Captain Mason was the last man I talked with while on board the boat, and he was still on the boat
when I left. I managed to get hold of a piece of studding about ten feet long, and with its assistance,
swam and floated about five miles down the river, when I caught on to a small cottonwood tree
on the Arkansas shore, and hung there till about ten o'clock when I was picked up by the
steamer Bostonia, and taken to a hospital at Memphis, where I remained a few days,
was then sent to Cairo, and thence to Indianapolis.
Here I received a ten days furlough to go to my home, Lafayette.
When this expired, I, having received a commission as first lieutenant, started to join my
regiment, which was at Lavaca, Texas, but was taken with typhoid fever and came near dying,
so, at last, took my discharge and returned to my home, hoping to hear the sound of war no more.
I am now over fifty years of age, but should my country ever need my services,
I am as ready and willing as before to give them.
Captain Hazelage of Company K, 40th Indiana Infantry,
was quartermaster of the troops on the boat, and I was his assistant,
helping to issue the rations.
as near as i can remember there were one thousand nine hundred and sixty-six enlisted men and thirty-six commissioned officers on board the boat
i was afterward a victim before the court of inquiry that investigated the cause of the explosion and i will say now as i did then that in my opinion the boilers were defective the boat overloaded and the pumps not working properly which led to the explosion
I do not believe in the torpedo story. It does not look reasonable to me.
My present post office address is 36 Elizabeth Street, Lafayette, Indiana.
My occupation is traveling salesman, but for the past year have not been able to do much.
End of Section 89.
Section 90 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry.
This Librevox recording is in the...
public domain. Section 90. John W. Norcutt. I was born in Litchfield, Hillsdale County, Michigan,
on the first day of July 1838, and enlisted at Allen, Michigan, December 17, 1863, in Company D.
18th Regiment, Michigan Infantry. I was captured at Athens, Alabama, September 22, 1864,
and confined in the rebel prison at Cahaba, Alabama.
With others of my regiment, I was on board the ill-fated steamer sultana,
and when the boat took fire, I sprang into the river.
I succeeded in securing two pieces of cabin flooring,
and placing one of these under each arm,
I floated down the river till I came to an island that was overflowed.
Here I caught hold of some small trees,
and held on till rescued by a steamer and taken to Memphis.
I think I was in the water about four hours.
I was in the hospital after this 14 days before I could stand alone.
My present occupation is mail carrier,
and my post office address, Campbell, Michigan.
End of Section 90.
Section 91 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry.
This Libravox recording is in the public domain.
Section 91.
Albert Norris
I was born in Muskingham County, Ohio, on the 17th of March, 1842,
enlisted in the service of the United States at Newark, Ohio,
on the 18th of February, 1864, in Company A, 76th Ohio Volunteer Infantry, as a private,
was taken prisoner at Little River, Georgia, on the 26th of October, 1864, by the 51st Alabama Regiment, Confederate,
while on detail made by the Colonel to forage.
Was taken to Cahaba, Alabama, where I remained until I was paroled out on the 18th of March, 1865,
and sent to Vicksburg, Mississippi, and remained in camp at Big Black River until the 24th of April,
when I took passage on the cabin deck of the steamer, Sultana, for Cairo, Illinois.
At half-past one, on the morning of the 27th of April, 1865,
I was lying asleep on the cabin deck of the boat,
just in front and nearly over the furnace,
when one of her boilers exploded,
blowing the center part of the boat into the river.
I fell to the boiler deck upon the hot irons of the furnace,
burning my left arm and shoulder to a crisp.
The men in the hurricane deck fell upon me,
and it was some time before I became conscious of my surroundings.
After the men got off me, getting my right arm loose,
I removed the boards that held me down and got on my feet.
Securing a cracker barrel that had one head in,
I jumped over the high railing around the center of the boat into the deep water.
Comrade Stone of Newark, Ohio, got a coal box and threw it and the barrel into the river.
I caught both of them and gave him the box and kept the barrel for my own use.
We started out for the Tennessee shore, and he floated downstream about seven miles below where the explosion took place, or to Memphis, Tennessee, where he was picked up.
My feet became entangled in my underclothing,
and in trying to loosen them, I came near drowning.
I swam about a mile when I saw the steamer Bostonia anchoring within 200 yards above the burning wreck.
I swam close to her when three men in a small boat took me in
and carried me to the rescuing steamer.
This boat carried one hundred of us to Memphis, Tennessee.
I remained in the Washington and Gaiosso hospitals under the physician's care for three weeks
when Dr. Shipley of Nashport and my brother, William A. Norris, came to Memphis for me.
I returned home to Frazyburg and then reported to Camp Chase, Ohio,
and was discharged from the service on the 30th of June 1865.
My recollections are that there were 2,200,000.
on board the sultana, and 1,600 were lost.
I saw one man going down the river on a large slab, hollowing,
Here goes your schooner for Memphis!
Some prayed, some swore, and some sang.
It was worse than any battle I was ever in.
Since my discharge, I have been agent and telegraph operator
for the P-H-R-R company, 16 years.
and am now engaged in the mercantile business at Union Station, Ohio.
End of Section 91.
Section 92 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry.
This Librevox recording is in the public domain.
Section 92, Joseph B. Norris
I was born on Salem Township, Tuscaroas County, Ohio, November 25, 1841,
and enlisted in the service of the united states september ninth eighteen sixty one in company c fifty first regiment ohio volunteer infantry
was taken prisoner at chickamauga september twentieth eighteen sixty three and confined in the pemberton building at richmond virginia for two months at danseville virginia six months and andersonville georgia ten months
was exchanged at vicksburg mississippi march twenty fifth eighteen sixty five making in all eighteen months and five days a prisoner of war
on april twenty fifth we received orders for all of the paroled prisoners belonging to the states of ohio indiana michigan and kentucky to take the train to vicksburg our camp being four miles in the rear of the city as we were to take a steamer that evening to go north
we were placed on board the steamer sultana i think the list of prisoners numbered one thousand nine hundred and sixty four with one company of the fifty eighth ohio and two pieces of artillery as guard besides cabin passengers and boats crew
we steamed out of vicksburg between four and five o'clock p m on the twenty fourth and reached memphis a little before sundown on the twenty sixth where we tied up and uploaded quite a number of hogsheads of sugar
the sultana also took on coal at this point i think it was about half-past twelve or one o'clock in the morning of the twenty seventh that the boat left memphis that was the last that i knew until after the explosion
i had gone to sleep and was on the hurricane deck at the time i did not hear the report but was awakened by the cries of my comrades who were running to and fro some were screaming
Some were praying, and others were shouting and telling the boys to keep cool.
I tell you, it was a hard place to keep cool with the flame sweeping all around.
I first went to the Arkansas side to jump overboard, but there were too many there in the water for me.
I then went to the Tennessee side and found the same trouble.
I started for the boat stern, tearing off my drawers and shirt as I went.
finding things no better there i thought i would wait until the boat would float down from among the men who were drowning in the water just then a strong breeze drove the flame so close as to make it unpleasant
and thinking it about as easy to drown as to burn i started for the bottom of the mississippi i did not quite get there but coming to the surface i started for shore
after swimming for a long time and being almost chilled to death i landed in the top of some brush to which i held till daylight when i saw a good-sized sycamore log that had lodged in the brush about thirty feet from where i then was
i pulled myself from bush to bush as i was past swimming and my legs were entirely benumbed with cold i reached the log after some fifteen or twenty minutes hard work
and pulled myself upon it.
All the time I was holding on to the brush in the water,
I could hear the boys that had got into trees,
as it began to get daylight,
crowing like roosters and crying,
Here's your mule!
It was about seven o'clock before I was able to crow.
I was picked up by the United States picket boat, Pocahontas,
about ten o'clock a.m. April 27th,
without a stitch of clothing on my back.
and pretty well tired out as well as peppered by the bites of buffalo gnats.
After donning a shirt, given to me by a couple of sanitary ladies,
and a pair of overalls from one of the firemen,
and drinking a couple of glasses of something that did not look or taste altogether like spring water,
I was ready for breakfast, which was on the kitchen table of the Pocahontas.
I had not eaten at a table for nearly four years,
and was rather awkward, but got there just the same.
Post office address is Randolph, Nebraska.
End of Section 92.
Section 93 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry.
This Lubrovoc's recording is in the public domain.
Section 93.
J. E. Norton.
I enlisted at Pontiac, Michigan in August 1862 as a sergeant,
in Company A of the 5th Michigan Cavalry.
I was captured the last time at Trevillian Station, Virginia,
with 500 of our brigade, Custer, June 11, 1864,
and imprisoned in Libby, 10 days,
Pemberton building a few days,
and then shipped by cars to Andersonville, Georgia,
where I remained until removed to Millen Prison in September following.
Was in the latter prison but a short time,
when Kilpatrick, trying to capture us with a scouting detachment from Sherman's army,
drove us out and the rebels took us to Savannah, there to put us on the Gulf Road,
and run us down finally to Blackshear, then to Thomasville, and from there across the country
to America's Georgia. Taking the road again, we came back to Andersonville sometime in December,
where we remained during the winter.
Early in the spring of 1865, we were ordered to be sent to Vicksburg, where on arriving we went on board the steamer Sultana.
We were placed on this steamer by that careless officer, General Dana, who had charge of shipping all the soldiers at that point.
May he never be forgotten as a type of first-class don't care for the boys who were returning to their long look-for home and loved ones.
on the morning of the twenty seventh of april eighteen sixty five i found myself waking from a stupor or unconsciousness produced by a blow which i received at the time of the explosion upon the head just back of the centre part of the brain
i was pinned or held down by the timbers or materials of some sort and felt a smarting sensation on my face tried to raise my hand but was so pinned down that i could not
i struggled and finally loosened myself only to find i was in darkness i did not apprehend at all what was the matter nor was i in the least cognizant of my surroundings for everything was all right when i went to sleep just as we pushed off from the dock at memphis a few hours before
my quarters upon the faded boat were in the centre of the upper deck and ten feet in front of the smokestack the boilers being back of the smoke-stack the boilers being back of the smoke
smokestack prevented my being thrown into the water. I remember distinctly of hearing a noise
caused by the explosion and can only describe the noise by measurement. Being a mechanic I can do no other
way. It appeared to be about one and one-half inch long, and then all was blank until I awoke
one-half hour afterward. Not a sound could I hear but the splashing of water. Could see nothing and was
in great wonderment of mind as to the trouble I felt I was surrounded by.
Presently I heard voices on the end of the boat crying,
Put out that fire! Put out that fire!
I looked and discovered a fire breaking out above the deck,
about the size of the crown of a hat.
It grew rapidly and soon illuminated the awful scene.
The thoughts that came rushing upon me were simply appalling
and too terrible for my description.
I looked for something that was loose on which I could float,
but could find nothing.
I crawled down to the lower deck,
the only one which was not broken up,
and, as I was so doing,
a hand reached up from below me and caught my ankles,
and I heard someone saying,
Help me out!
A timber prevented them from getting out,
and I tried to raise it, but could not quite.
A comrade came crawling along, bent upon reaching the lower deck,
and helped me to raise the timber from off three or four men,
and thus saved them from being burned to death.
When I reached the deck, I found a box, which I made use of in floating,
although I was a good swimmer.
Thinking that I must be in the water for a long time before relief might come,
I remained on board the boat until the fire drove me off,
and then jumped into the water.
While I was swimming away from the burning wreck,
a man attacked me and wanted my box.
I moved the box sideways enough for him to miss his clutch upon it,
but he caught me by the hip,
and we both went down under water farther than I ever went before or since.
I finally came to the surface of the water,
but so weak from having taken water into my lungs
that I could scarcely keep up,
and if it had not been for the box i think i would have drowned about fifteen feet away from me i saw a bale of hay with a soldier boy lying across it which i made the greatest physical effort to reach
i finally made it and putting my arm upon one corner and with the box under the other arm i was soon able to disgorge some of the water from my lungs
as soon as i could speak i assured the soldier boy that i would not sink his bale of hay he was piteously begging me not to as he could not swim i told him to keep a look-out and not let any one get on with us
i found by careful observation that it would support both of us with the use of my box under one arm the water was cold and chilly and but for my care the boy would have fallen off and drowned
i kept him using his limbs so as to keep the blood in circulation and thus prevent chilling so much we floated down the river opposite to memphis where we were picked up by the steamer bostonia which was on her trip to the wreck
and we were afterwards landed at memphis i remained about a month at memphis and then came north to columbus ohio thence to jackson michigan where i was discharged from the service in june eighteen
my present occupation is model and pattern-making post-office address sixty two duffield street detroit michigan end of section ninety three section ninety four of loss of the sultana by chester d berry this libervox recording is in the public domain section ninety four william h norton
I was born in Northampton Township, Summit County, Ohio, February 17, 1841.
I enlisted in the service of the United States in Northampton, the 11th day of August 1862,
in Company C, 115th Ohio Volunteer Infantry.
I am 45 years of age, October 25, 1886, and my residence at the present time is Hudson, Ohio.
my occupation is farming was a corporal at the time of my discharge from the service which discharge i received at camp chase ohio may twenty fifth eighteen sixty five
i was captured at laverne tennessee december fifth eighteen sixty four by general forest command at the time of hood's raid on nashville tennessee we were started on a forced march to the tennessee river
at a place near florence we boarded the cars for meridian mississippi i remained there in prison about ten weeks and was then sent to cahaba alabama where i remained until the first of march eighteen sixty five
the river rose very high and the prison was overflowed the water in the prison was two or three feet deep and i was sent to selma from there to camp fiske near vicksburg
Mississippi. I went on board the steamer sultana April 25, 1865. At the time of the explosion,
I was sleeping on the forward part of the upper deck and was awakened by the explosion and cries of
the wounded. Men were rushing to and fro, trampling over each other in their endeavors to
escape. All was confusion. Soon the flames came leaping up, and I now realized that
that the boat was on fire. I stood for a few minutes and listened to that awful whale of hundreds
of human beings burning alive in the cabin and under the fallen timbers. I tried to get down to the
lower deck, found it impossible to go down by the stairway on account of the fire, but fortunately
discovered a rope, and by the aid of that landed on the lower deck. There the men were jumping into
the river by the hundreds. The river was full of men struggling with each other and grasping at
everything that offered any means of support. The boat was fast burning up, and the flames had reached
within a few feet of me, and I knew that there was but one way of escape, the deep, dark waters
of the Mississippi. I took off my shoes and clothing, except under clothing, and jumped overboard.
As I arose to the surface, several men from the boat jumped upon me, and we all went down together.
Others leaping on us forced us down until I despaired of ever reaching the surface again,
but by a desperate struggle I succeeded in getting out from under them and reached the surface.
I tried to swim through the crowd of men, but could not.
One man caught hold of me, but I managed to get away from him.
and not knowing what to do or which way to go i instinctively turned toward the burning boat reaching that and swimming alongside i found the ring which is used in tying up the boat
i had no sooner caught hold of it than a drowning man clasped his arms around me in a death grip i told him he must let go but it was of no use he never said a word but all the while i could feel his arms tight-trip
around me. Hanging on to the ring with one hand, I tried to free myself from him with the other,
but could not. The situation was becoming terrible. To let go the ring was death to both of us.
The strain on my arm was such that I could not hold out but a few minutes longer.
Another man now got hold of the ring, and still another grasped him by the throat,
and a desperate struggle was going on between them.
The wheelhouse had now burned loose and fell over with a crash.
It seemed to me that the boat was going to pieces.
With all the strength I had,
I made another effort to free myself from the drowning man
and was successful and once more struck out into the river.
This time I had no difficulty in getting through,
as the men had become more scattered.
A few rods ahead of me was a small box,
ten by sixteen inches square, which I soon overtook,
and placing it under my arm,
I found it to be quite a help, but it would not support me.
Looking off some distance in the darkness,
I saw a light,
and supposing it must be a boat out picking up the men,
I now made an effort to reach it,
but it grew dimmer and dimmer,
and finally disappeared altogether.
i think it must have been the deck-hands with the yawl boat i turned in another direction hoping that i could reach the shore but the darkness was so intense except towards the burning boat that no trace of the shore could be seen
suffering with a cramp in my stomach be numbed with the cold it seemed as if i could go no farther but if i stopped swimming i found myself sinking and again would try to keep afloat
in this way i kept along i could hear the cries of those that were burned and scalded screaming with pain at every breath and men all along the river were calling for help
away in the distance floating down the river was a burning boat with a few brave men fighting the fire with buckets of water looking to my left i thought i could see the trees through the darkness this gave me new courage and i could see the trees through the darkness
This gave me new courage, and I turned in that direction, and soon some brush struck me in the face.
A little farther on, I was washed up against a log, which had caught in the young cottonwood trees.
About nine o'clock in the morning of April 27th, a man in a canoe rode me over to the Arkansas shore.
I had landed on an island which was overflowed with water, was told by the man that had rest of the man that had rest of the shore.
me that I had landed between two or three miles below where the sultana exploded.
End of Section 94.
Section 95 of Loss of the Sultana by Chester D. Berry.
This Liber Vox, recording is in the public domain.
Section 95.
Stuart Oxley
I was born in Coshawton County, Ohio, on the 20th day of May, 1842.
enlisted in the service of the united states november eighteenth eighteen sixty one in company eye of the fifty first regiment ohio volunteer infantry which was organized at camp miggs in tuscaroas county and was assigned to the army of the cumberland
was taken prisoner near dallas georgia may twenty sixth eighteen sixty four and confined at selma and cahaba alabama and meridian mississippi until about the tenth of march eighteen
when we came into God's Country at the Big Black River Bridge near Vicksburg, Mississippi.
In dividing off into companies at Vicksburg, I was tented with some of the 50th Regiment Ohio Volunteer Infantry Boys,
and one, Albert Hunter, of the 10th Ohio Cavalry and I, were bunkmates,
and when we went aboard the steamer sultana, we took our places on the cabin stoop on the left or west side,
just to the rear and next to the cabin door.
One or the other of us was there all the time.
I was sick at the time and was seldom away from our places of abode.
On the afternoon of April 26th, we arrived at Memphis, Tennessee.
Just about the time we started from Memphis,
we spread our blankets and lay down to rest and sleep.
I went to sleep very soon, as I have no remembrance of anything
after that until I was strangling in the water.
I never felt or heard the explosion
or anything that transpired at the time of the wreck,
which occurred about two o'clock on the morning of the 27th of April,
about seven or eight miles above Memphis,
farther than my striking on a piece of the wreck.
In my struggle I got hold of the piece of wrecking
and started on my lonely voyage of seven or eight miles
with the current as a moving power.
soon after i became aware there was a man on the other end of my craft up to this time i could not imagine what had happened that i should be in the water my companion told me that the boat was on fire
i did not remember anything after this until we came opposite to memphis and while passing near the gunboat anchored in the river i think one or the other of us must have shouted and given the alarm
about four o'clock in the morning some of the boat's crew overtook us and we were taken out of the water in all this time i did not suffer in mind or body nor was i sensible of my danger or surroundings
i don't think i made any effort to save myself at all after i was taken into the boat i don't remember as they picked up any more before we got to the gunboat or not but i think they did not they said they
started back for the gunboat. As we were put on to the deck, the surgeon poured a glass of
whiskey down each one, and the men of the crew took off our wet clothing, cut down their
hammocks for us to lie on, and did everything possible for our comfort. The gunboat soon got
underway, and after doing all that could be done, they came to and landed us at Memphis.
I was carried on a stretcher to the Overton Hospital, where I remained four
weeks, less one day. My ribs on one side were cracked and broken, my back was badly injured,
and the right side of my face and head scalded. In the list of those saved, I could never find
the name of Hunter who was sleeping on the same blanket with me, and I never learned the name of
the comrade that was on the piece of wreckage with me. Of my suffering and good nursing and kind
treatment by the Good Sisters while in the hospital and my journey home, for want of space,
I must pass over.
I arrived at Camp Chase, Ohio, May 28, 1865, and was discharged from the service the next day.
Engaged in farming and mechanical labor.
My post office address, Burr Oak, Iowa.
End of Section 95.
Section 96 of Loss of the Sultanate.
by Chester D. Berry. This Libervox recording is in the public domain.
Section 96. Thomas Pangle
I was born in Madisonville, Monroe County, Tennessee on the 18th day of September 1845.
My parents are E.S. and H.J. Pangle, and are still living in McMinn County, Tennessee.
I was raised on a farm and enlisted in the service of the United States at the age of
18 years. I still have my order of discharge, and by reference to it, I see a few items of interest.
I was enrolled at Nashville, Tennessee, January 12, 1864, to serve three years, or until the war was
over, in company K., Captain John N. Morton, 3rd Regiment Tennessee Cavalry, and was discharged
June 10, 1865, at Nashville, Tennessee.
I was engaged in no regular battle during my service,
spending most of my time with my comrades on skirmish duty.
I surrendered under Colonel Campbell at Athens, Alabama,
September 24th, 1864,
and was incarcerated in prison at Cahaba, Alabama,
until March 7, 1865,
and returned to our lines, March 16,
at Camp Fisk, Mississippi.
I went on board the ill-fated sultana at Vicksburg, Mississippi,
April 24th or 25th, 1865, with about 2,000 other ex-prisoners.
All survivors of the terrible explosion well remember the morning of April 27, 1865,
when a few miles above Memphis,
so many true and loyal lives were suddenly hurled into eternity.
it was most heart-rending to witness and the recollections of the terrible sufferings of my unfortunate comrades and their heroic efforts to swim to the shore and so many not succeeding who sank to the bottom of the river is most pitiable to think of
it was an affair in the history of the rebellion that should be immortalized and all survivors should praise their maker for their escape
I was sleeping with Rob Reed, Billy Milton, and Jim Esters, and we were bunking about 15 feet from the boiler when the explosion occurred.
We supposed at first that we were being fired at from the shore, but soon realized our mistake.
I was very much crippled up with rheumatism and could scarcely use my limbs, but being an expert swimmer, I concluded to go ashore.
I seized aboard and plunged into the water, but so cold was the water that I soon became powerless to swim,
and determined to climb up on the deck of the steamer, where there were many throwing water on the burning coal, etc.
We succeeded in remaining on the deck until eight or nine o'clock, when we were rescued by parties from the Arkansas shore,
and, finally, was taken aboard the steamer Pocahontas and taken to Memphis.
Among those of the passengers on the sultana,
I remember John Hamilton, Robert Hamilton,
De W. Harris, George W. Maxwell,
Solomon Bogard, and Harlan Jones.
End of Section 96.
Section 97 of Loss of the Sultana by Chester D. Berry.
This Librevox recording is in the public domain.
Section 97.
Joshua S. Patterson.
I am a resident of Franklin Township, Columbiana County, Ohio.
Served in the Army as a private in Company F. 104th Ohio Volunteer Infantry,
enlisted in the service near Bethel Church on the 1st of September 1862.
I was captured at the Battle of Franklin, Tennessee, November 30, 1864,
and taken to Andersonville Prison, where I remained until I was liberated, April 20, 1864.
Discharged from the service May 20, 1865 at Camp Chase, Columbus, Ohio.
Farming is my present occupation.
The following is a brief account of my experience in making my escape from the steamer sultana.
I was awakened from my slumbers about three o'clock on the morning of the 27th of April 1865 by a terrible crash.
I knew not what.
afterwards found it to be the result of the explosion.
As I arose from my bed, which was at the head of the first flight of stairs,
I received a blow on the top of my head, which caused a severe wound,
the mark of which I carry to this day.
This wound was inflicted, I think, by a piece of timber,
it being so dark I could not ascertain how it did occur.
Realizing my danger and perceiving the unusual position of the boat,
i'd jump down on the lower deck and there observed more fully the horrors of our situation i had nothing to hope from human aid only from the mercy of the almighty
dejection filled my mind the consternation became general nothing but sighs and groans were heard even the animals that were on board uttered the most dreadful cries
every one began to raise his heart and hands toward heaven and in the certainty of a speedy death each was occupied only with a melancholy alternative between the two elements of nature ready to devour us
the fire broke out in the vicinity of the boilers which caused the soldiers to rush with tiger-like fury to the opposite extremity of the boat or to that part farthest from the flames without regard to rank position or life
using the vain prerogative,
men jump into the water.
Thus many poor hapless beings
were pushed overboard
by the pressure of the horrified
and stricken mass of humanity.
The confusion was extreme.
Some seemed to anticipate death
by jumping into the river.
Others, by swimming,
gained the fragments of the boat,
while the ropes along the side
were being covered by the men
who were suspending from them,
as if hesitating between
two extremes, equally imminent and equally terrible.
Being one of the number who were pushed overboard, and not versed in the art of swimming,
and unable to battle with the billowy waves, which rushed who and fro bounding like so many
madmen, I realized that life would soon be extinct, and that it did not seem uncertain
for what fate providence intended me.
Fortunately, as I arose from the bosom of the deep, I grasped a split.
of timber, which projected from the hull of the boat, and having hung there until my physical powers
were nearly exhausted, in the meantime disengaging myself from two or three of my drowning companions
who came up and caught hold of my clothing. At this critical moment, I observed a large piece of
timber floating near me, and by a special effort secured it, which I used to good advantage
being able to keep myself above water.
Having floated around to the other side of the boat,
I observed men drawing their fellow victims out of the water by means of ropes.
Availing myself of this opportunity,
I grasped one of these with a death-like grip,
but feeling my utter exhaustion,
I put my arms through the noose of the rope,
and was thus drawn up into the portion of the boat which had not yet sunk.
In the meantime, a man and his son had come to the rescue with their raft,
and by this means I was transferred from the burning boat to land
a few moments before the vessel went down.
My first care, upon setting foot on shore,
was to thank the Almighty for my deliverance from the jaws of death
and give the homage of my gratitude to him to whom I was so evidently indebted for my preservation.
End of Section 97
Section 98 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry
This Librevox recording is in the public domain.
Section 98
William H. Peacock
I was born in Tyler County, Virginia, May 28, 1845,
enlisted in the service of the United States at Muncie, Indiana,
on the 15th day of December 1863 in the 9th Regiment Indiana Cavalry.
Was captured at Sulphor Tressel, 9 miles north of Athens, Alabama,
on the Nashville and Decatur Railroad, September 25, 1864,
and confined in the Cahaba Prison, Alabama.
I was put on board the sultana with 18 others of my company.
The boat was so crowded that there was not,
room for all of us on the second deck, so five of us went up on the Texas roof right in front
of the pilot house. I was the only one of the five that escaped. The first recollection I had
of the accident, I was falling, and had a cut on my shoulder, bruise on my back and my right
side and hip were scalded. This happened seven miles above Memphis. I worked my way out
from under the rubbish and helped get a good many of the boys out who were pinned down by it,
until the fire got so hot that I had to stop and look out for myself.
I saw boys start out to swim with all their clothes on, even their overcoats and shoes,
but they did not go far before they sank.
The only clothes I had on was a pair of drawers, a sack, a handkerchief,
which one of the boys gave to me at Vicksburg before he died,
and a hat that i picked up about a mile from the boat i swam back to memphis and was rescued by the gunboat boys and taken to fort pickens seven and one-half miles below where the steamer's boiler exploded
i with the rest had just got out of prison and only weighed ninety-one pounds at the time of my capture i weighed one hundred and ninety-seven pounds and had not been sick a day
My present post office address is Cowan, Indiana.
End of Section 98.
Section 99 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry.
This Librevox recording is in the public domain.
Section 99.
W. G. Porter.
I was born in Fairfield, Lennoy County, Michigan, on the 19th of October 1839.
enlisted in the service of the United States at Adrian, Michigan,
on the 2nd of August 1862 in Company C of the 18th Michigan Infantry,
was captured at Athens, Alabama on the 24th of September 1864,
and confined in Cahaba, Alabama, or Castle Morgan, as it is sometimes called.
The first night, April 25, 1865, on the boat,
of us slept on the boiler deck in a coal bin as the other decks were so crowded the next day we had a very pleasant ride all were joyous and happy with the anticipation of seeing home and friends
the moment the boat touched the wharf at memphis tennessee the boys began to jump off i went with the rest and roamed about town until ten o'clock in the evening of the twenty sixth of april when we went back to the boat
and as they were going to take on coal enough for the rest of the journey we had to find new sleeping quarters after roaming around on the cabin deck as best as i could among the sleepers i found a place between the smokestacks and spread
down my blanket and was about to lie down, when one of the men nearby said that he was holding
that place for another man. I took up my blanket and found another vacant place large enough to
lie down, but before I laid down was informed that it was being held for another man.
I made my way back to the stairs and found room enough by sticking my feet over the steps,
laid down, and was soon lost in sleep. I slept peacefully and quiet. I slept peacefully and quiet.
until awakened by the noise of the explosion.
The first thought was that the hurricane deck had fallen in from being overloaded,
but soon found out different.
It was not long before it was all confusion,
some singing, some praying, some lamenting,
some swearing, some crying,
and some did not seem to know anything.
I soon made my way downstairs.
In a short time, everything available on the bow of the bow of the bow,
boat was thrown overboard. There were several bales of cotton and also some bales of hay,
but there were generally enough men that went over with them to load them down.
When the gangway board was shoved over into the water, there were a great many that went over
with it. It was but a short time before the fire shot up and burned the boat to the water's
edge. As the boat was crowded, the flames whipped down on them, and those nests.
nearest the fire could not stand it, and crowded back so that a great many near the edge of the
boat were pushed overboard, as the railing that went around the boat had been torn off.
I remained on the boat until the largest part, or nearly all, had gotten off.
I took off my clothing, placed it between two sticks, and tied them together with a pair of
suspenders, with the intention of using them to aid me in floating or swimming, as I was not
much of a swimmer. When I jumped off the boat into the water, I lost them. I do not know how it
happened. The most that I was afraid of was that some drowning man would catch hold of me.
While making for sure, I passed four men a stride of something, using their hands for oars,
and one of them gave the orders so that they would work together.
When I got to land, or where the land is most of the time, I found that the land. I found
that it was covered with water. The trees were quite dense, and out in the woods a few rods,
I found a large tree that was floating in the water, climbed upon it, and called to some others
that were trying to find a place to get out of the water. Some came and got on the log with me,
and several got on another log nearby. I had to rub myself considerably to keep warm,
as I did not have any clothing on.
remained there about four or five hours when a boat came along and picked us up.
When I got on to the boat, they gave me a sheet to wrap around me.
When we arrived at Memphis, some of the Christian Commission came on board
and distributed some clothing, shirts, and drawers, to those that were needy.
I was taken to the soldiers home, where in due time received a suit of clothes.
Of the company to which I belonged, there were 15 on board, and only three of them survived.
William Thayer, Fairfield, Michael Daly, Palmyra, now deceased, and myself.
There were 15 on board belonging to Company K, and only three were lost.
Other companies of the 18th Michigan Infantry lost heavily, but I cannot give the numbers.
My present occupation is farming.
My post office, Weston, Michigan.
End of Section 99.
Section 100 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry.
This Librovoc's recording is in the public domain.
Section 100.
Samuel H. Radabaugh.
I was born near Lancaster, Fairfield County, Ohio, September 29, 1842.
with my parents moved to hancock county ohio the fifth of june eighteen forty eight i became a christian by the mercy of god in august eighteen fifty three and united with the church of the united brethren in christ in december eighteen fifty three
i want to say to the praise of god that he has helped me so to live that the church has not been necessitated to remove my name from its records from that day until now
i enlisted in company k of the sixty fifth regiment ohio infantry september fifth eighteen sixty two the regiment was a part of the renowned sherman's brigade its first colonel was that brilliant young officer general harker
he never commanded the regiment much but commanded the brigade until he was made brigadier general and then he commanded a division much of the time until his death at the battle of kenesaw mount and george
I was married the 2nd of October 1862.
Was detained in Ohio, one place and another, until sometime in December 1862,
when about 30 of us recruits, in charge of Colonel Castle, joined our command in a camp near Nashville, Tennessee.
Here, for 12 or 15 days, we recruits had the pleasure of all the division, brigade, regiment, company,
and also that famous, wonderful, and enjoyable squad drill.
All those days of drill came in good play in the near future,
for from the 30th of December 1862 to January 2, 1863,
we played a conspicuous part in the Battle of Stone River Tennessee.
Here, along with ten of my company, I was taken prisoner,
but I played dead and got away from the Johnny's,
while the other nine comrades went on a journey to Libby.
I was in sixteen of the hard battles of the war,
and in the summer of 1864 on the Atlanta campaign,
I was under fire more or less almost daily
from the 8th of May at Rocky Face Ridge
to the 2nd of September at Atlanta, Georgia.
On the 30th of November 1864,
at the memorable battle of Franklin, Tennessee,
I was again taken prisoner, and this time took a trip to Andersonville,
that indescribable den of suffering, sorrow, and death.
I want to say of Andersonville prison that human tongue has never told,
nor pen ever written, and never will tell or write the horrors, suffering,
and cruelty inflicted on the prisoners at Andersonville by Wurz and his guards,
and I firmly believe that they but executed the will of Jeffs
Davis and his allies. I will give some death rates that I gathered from official records as
follows. Of 12,400 persons taken to the hospital, 76% died. In May 1864, of 18,454 prisoners,
701 died, 23 per day. In June 1864, of 266, of 26,000, of 26,000. of 26,000,000, 7101 died, 23 per day.
In June 1864, of 26,364 prisoners, 1,202 died, 40 per day.
In July 1864, of 31,678 prisoners, 1,742 died, 56 per day.
In August 1864, of 31,693 prisoners, 3,076 died, 99 per day.
On the 23rd of August 1864 was the greatest mortality, 127 died, one for every 11 minutes.
You will allow me to say that I call that treatment wholesale murder, and of the most crucial,
cruel kind known to history. As stated above, I was taken prisoner on the 30th of November
1864, and hence was in Andersonville during the winter of 1864 and 1865. I, with 11 others,
bought out of Andersonville in March 1865, and arrived in God's Country at Big Black River
on the 31st of March 1865. While here, along with
thousands of paroled prisoners, Lee and Johnson surrendered, and President Lincoln was assassinated.
All of us thought that the wicked slaveholder's rebellion was about bursted up.
On the evening of the 25th of April 1865 at Vicksburg, Mississippi, about 2300 of us,
nearly all paroled prisoners from Andersonville and Cahabodans were crowded on board the steamer,
Saltana. She arrived at Memphis, Tennessee on the evening of the 26th of April 1865,
with her load of human beings and about 100 tons of sugar. She remained there until the sugar was
unloaded. I helped unload the sugar and received 75 cents an hour for the time I worked.
At about 10 o'clock p.m. on the 26th of April, she went to a coal barge and took on a supply of
coal. About midnight, I asked one of the deck hands,
How soon do you expect to start up the river? And he replied,
At one o'clock. That would be the morning of the 27th.
Now, remember, kind reader, we were on our way home from the cruel war, it being virtually
over. We were on our way home from those horrid dens of cruelty and starvation.
Yes, we had lived through it all.
and hoped, yes, expected soon, to see loved ones, and home,
and enjoy at least some of the peace we had fought to restore.
Home! Yes, home under the stars and stripes once more.
While thus pleasantly meditating, all of a sudden, about half-past one o'clock a.m.,
one of the boilers exploded, and the greater part of that human load was blown into the river while sound asleep.
some to awake in the cold water and some in eternity those that were not blown off at the time of the explosion were soon compelled to jump into the river so as to escape burning to death for the boat quickly caught fire and burned to the water's edge
about one thousand seven hundred and fifty of that homeward bound company perished then and there and several hundred more poor fellows died in the next ten days from wounds burned burned
and scalds.
I say, fearless of truthful contradiction,
that the explosion of the sultana
was the greatest calamity of the war
against the slave-holding rebels,
and it was the greatest steamboat disaster
known to history.
You will naturally ask two questions.
First, how did you escape?
And second, how did the calamity occur?
To the latter question,
I can but give you my opinion,
and that has never done.
changed since I got ashore and took time to think. I believe that some enemy of our union had a hand
in crowding so many of us on the boat, and that he knew, when that southern sugar was taken off,
that the rest of the cargo and the boat would meet the fate that followed. I believe that some
ally of Jeff Davis put a torpedo in the coal while we were at Memphis, where it would go into
the furnace for the first fire that would be built after leaving Memphis, with the intent to
destroy the boat and its mass of human heroes on their way home. I can say that in May 1888,
a man in the south, William C. Streeter, St. Louis, Missouri, said that he knew the man, Charles
Dale, who said he chiseled a hole in a large chunk of coal, put a torpedo therein, which did the
deadly work, carried it with his own hands, and laid it where it must soon go into the furnace.
I will say one thing more, and that is, if I were in authority, I would arrest and hang the man
who knew so high-handed and bloody a murderer, and did not try to have him brought to justice
for so gigantic a crime. Now, as to my escape, I was lying by the side of the ice-box under the
same blanket with J. B. Horner of Company K of the 65th Ohio and J. W. Vance Coice of
Company A of the 64th, Ohio, sound asleep when the explosion took place. I was blown off the boat
into the water and was under the water when I awoke. When I came to the surface, I tried for a
moment to get on the ice box, for it was in the water as well as myself. But so many were trying to
get onto it that it would do none of us any good. So I swam away to a spot in the river where
there were no human beings, and there concluded that the boat had sank, and knew no better
until I saw the boat on fire. I soon got on a large rail and remained on it for some time.
I lost consciousness, and when I came to know again I had lost my rail. Then, as soon as I could,
I got a piece of the banister of the wrecked boat,
both rails together about four feet long,
and on this little raft,
I remained and suffered with the cold and cramps until daylight
when I was picked up by a few boatmen on the gunboat Essex,
about two miles below Memphis,
having floated with the current about ten miles,
and had been in the water from about one-thirty in the morning
until daylight on the 27th of April.
taken to the Gaioso Hospital at Memphis and treated for injuries in my breast and groin.
I am and have for the last twenty years been a regular minister of the Gospel of Jesus Christ
and the Church of my early choice.
I want all of the readers to remember that it costs something to preserve this government's interest.
I want to ask you to kindly remember the old soldiers, and especially the surviving prisoners
of the late war against the most wanton rebellion and in support of the best government on earth.
I wish hereby to thank God for preserving my life and permitting me to enjoy so much of the
peace I suffered to hand down to future generations.
Residents and post office address, Lindsay, Ohio.
End of Section 100.
Section 101 of Loss of the Sultana by Chester D. B. Barrier.
This Libervox recording is in the public domain.
Section 101.
Christian Ray
I was born near Centerville, Indiana, January 1, 1829,
enlisted at New Westville, Preble County,
honor about the 20th of August 1862,
in Company C, 50th Regiment, Ohio Volunteer Infantry.
Was captured at Franklin, Tennessee, November 30th,
1864 and was confined in the Cahaba prison, Alabama.
Was put on board the sultana and started for Columbus to be discharged.
When we arrived at Memphis, they were unloading sugar and hogs.
I think that a rebel fixed a torpedo in the coal.
After leaving Memphis, having gone about seven miles above,
the torpedo was shoveled into the fire, which caused the explosion between one and two
o'clock in the morning. It blew the pilot house and everything off within three feet of where my
partner and I lay. The rubbish fell down on us and pinned us there for a while. Finally we worked
ourselves out and slid down the stay rod. The steam was so dense that we could not see our way,
but we got down on the lower deck amidst the crowd. Some were praying and some cursing. All kinds of talk
was going on.
As we passed along, we came across a stage plank about six feet long, three feet wide,
and two inches thick.
My partner knew I could not swim.
We then carried the plank to the edge of the boat and threw it off.
My partner said to me,
This is all I can do for you.
Jump on it.
I never exchanged a word, but jumped on the plank, struck one edge of the board, and it turned over with
me two or three times. Finally, I got my breast fixed on one end of it and held on with one hand
and worked away with the other. The current being strong, I was carried away before the main body
commenced jumping out. Good swimmers were fighting and kicking to keep off those
unfortunates who could not swim, but all in vain. They clustered together and went down.
When I saw this, I worked harder to get away.
in a short time i was out of sight so that was good-bye to the burning sultana i then looked up and thought i saw a boat coming so i turned my board up the stream and worked hard for a little while but found it was useless
i was going down stream all the time so i turned my board and let it float i floated back to memphis and lodged on a pile of driftwood there were five other men screaming for life
after a while some good samaritan ran in with a skiff and took us out i was nearly chilled to death and was carried up to the barracks
here i was placed in front of a roaring hot fire and given enough alcohol to kill three men in a common condition before they could get a reaction to take place i was taken to the hospital that night which was the twenty seventh of april
the next morning we started for columbus where i was discharged and sent home i have not done anything for seven years i am totally disabled and crippled up and have rheumatism heart disease and dropsy
present post office address greenville ohio end of section one hundred and two of loss of the sultana by chester d berry
This Libravox recording is in the public domain.
Section 102.
George F. Robinson
I was born in Girard, Erie County, Pennsylvania in the year 1845, and enlisted at Charlotte,
Michigan, August 1, 1861, in Company I, 6th Regiment, Michigan Volunteer Infantry.
Re-enlisted August 2, 1863, enlisted again August 2nd, 1863, enlisted again, August 1, 1861, in Company.
listed again August 3, 1864 in Company C,
2nd Regiment, Michigan Cavalry.
I was taken prisoner, November 5, 1864,
at Shoal Creek, Alabama, by Rebel General Hood.
Was taken across the river and the first night camped at Tuscumbia.
The next morning we started for Quarinth,
arriving there in the evening about 8 o'clock.
The next morning following, we were put on the train,
and taken to Meridian Mississippi, reaching there at 5 o'clock p.m.
The first thing that greeted my ears on arriving at the prison was fresh fish.
I had a few rations and was told to look out, or someone would steal them.
I was much surprised to think that they would try to steal rations from a soldier
who had put over three years in the service,
so I took two pieces of rail and laid them down, took my hat,
put my haversack in it, and put them both between the rails.
And I then laid down on all, and said to myself,
You will fool an old soldier, will you?
I slept good all night,
and on awaking in the morning reached for my rations, but found none.
Someone had dug a hole under the rails and stolen them.
I tell you, I was the most beat man you ever saw.
Experience number one as a prisoner.
about the twentieth of november a party of eight of us commenced digging a tunnel it was slow work for we had to look out for the guards and they kept very close watch but we succeeded at last
six of us got out but when about sixty miles away were captured by an old woman and fifteen dogs and brought back to meridian the worst-looking lot of men you ever saw
we were covered with clay from head to foot by going through the tunnel which was half full of water at the time of our escape everything went along quietly for about a month and then we started for cahaba alabama the prison known as castle morgan
at this time my clothing consisted of shirt drawers and one shoe about six miles from demopolis john corliss and myself made our escape by jumping out of the clothing consisted of shirt drawers and one shoe about six miles from demopolis john corallus and myself made our escape by jumping out of
out of the car window.
I did not stop immediately,
but rolled along after the train
quite a distance.
I tell you, I was badly mangled
and had a big hole cut in my head,
but I thought it was all right,
for I was free once more,
that is, I was in my mind,
for it was not but a short time
before I heard the dogs,
and we had to go,
but we kept away from them
for five days and five nights
when we were recaptured.
we were almost starved and nearly frozen had nothing to eat but raw corn and no fire and wallowing through the swamp in the month of december
if it was down south the weather was awful cold for it would freeze icicles on the trees from three to four inches in length we were taken back to meridian and then transferred to cahaba
when we got there it was the same old story fresh fish i was in prison about one month and then succeeded in getting out again by cutting a hole through the wall next to the river
john corliss and myself got out but were caught before we had hardly got a start we were north of selma when recaptured and were put in a large hall about eighteen feet from the ground we managed to get a hole through the brick wall through the brick wall
brick wall, doing our work with an old knife and a piece of round iron, I think a piece of a
poker. We got out all right, but did not get out of the city, and were recaptured and taken back
to Cahaba. In March 1865, the water from the river flooded the prison to the depth of three
or four feet, in consequence of which we were ordered for exchange. The next move was to place us on a
stern-wheel steamer with four large cannons on the bow, but before we reached our destination,
the boys had all the four guns spiked with old files they found on the boat.
At last we arrived at camp four miles from Vicksburg, and were there when President
Lincoln was assassinated. In a day or two after this, we were taken to Vicksburg and put
on board the steamboat Sultana.
Everything went smoothly until we reached Memphis, Tennessee,
where they unloaded a large quantity of sugar that was in the hold of the boat.
I, for one, helped.
Now, if my memory serves me right,
there were about 2,300 people on board the sultana.
We left Memphis in the evening,
went across the river to a coaling station,
and took on a large quantity of coal.
I was asleep when we left,
and was lying on the promenade deck between the smokestacks.
I did not hear the explosion.
I think I was stunned.
For the first I recollected, I heard someone calling,
For God's sake, cut the deck, I am burning to death.
Then I tried to find out where I was,
and when I did, I found I was in the coal in front of the arches.
The deck I had laid on was on top of me.
My arms were scalded, and the hot steam was so low.
thick I could hardly breathe, and in fact, I gave up. My partner, John Coralus, was lying across my
legs and was dead, killed by the deck falling on him. I then heard someone say,
Jack, you can get out this way. It was some comrade helping his bunk made out. This is the last
I can recollect until someone put his hand on my shoulder and said, What will I do? I cannot swim.
i looked around and my god what a sight there were three or four hundred all in a solid mass in the water and all trying to get on top
i guess that nearly all were drowned but that was not the worst sight the most horrid of all was to see the men fast in the wreck and burning to death such screaming and yelling i never heard before or since it makes me shiver to think of it
at this time i was sitting on the bow of the boat with my arm around the flagstaff facing the tennessee shore at length the flames burned it down and i was forced to take to the water i turned around and got in the water on the arkansas side
there were some amusing things transpired for instance one man was on a beer keg and he would crawl up on it and pray he got up a little too far
and over he went still hanging to it.
He came up on the other side of it,
and the first thing I heard him say was,
Damn this thing, it will drown me yet.
I drifted away from him
and could hear some poor soul say,
My God, I cannot hold out any longer,
and down he would go.
All this time I kept up good courage,
and was sure I could get out all right.
I got close to the islands,
but could not make the trees.
The islands were all overflowed,
and some of the boys got in the treetops.
I could hear someone calling,
Morgan, here is your mule!
It was a mule that saved my life,
and a dead one at that.
I was almost a goner
when I saw a dark object in the water
and made for it,
and it was a dead mule,
one that was blown off the boat.
He was dead, but not quite cold.
I crawled up on him and was there when I was picked up at Fort Pickens,
three miles below Memphis.
I was unconscious at the time, being chilled through,
having been in the water about four hours.
I was put in an ambulance and taken to Memphis to a hotel
and remained there for six or seven days.
Was then sent to Camp Chase, Columbus, Ohio,
and from there to Jackson, Michigan.
From Jackson to Charlotte.
my home. Three months after I was weighed and my weight was 109 pounds.
My present occupation is shoe clerk and my post office address, 720 Karuna Ave, Owasso, Michigan.
End of Section 102.
Section 103
Peter Roselow
I was born in France, October 28, 1849, and enlisted in the service of the United States,
October 6, 1862, at Maori Town, Highland County, Ohio, in Company E, 50th Ohio
Volunteer Infantry, and took to the field almost as soon as we reached Camp Denison, Ohio,
and participated in all the marches and battles of the Regist.
regiment, including Perryville and the Atlanta campaign.
At Atlanta was sent back to take care of Hood and fell back until we reached Franklin, Tennessee.
There I was captured on that bloody battlefield, November 30, 1864, and taken in the front line,
together with seven others of my company, and 62 of the regiment.
I was then taken back to Columbia, Tennessee, and guarded in the Stone Fort, where I was,
I almost froze to death.
We eight had to lie under one blanket,
having lost all we had in the fight.
It was very cold.
About the time that the rebels got whipped at Nashville,
they made us get out of the old stone fort in a hurry
and marched us through mud, water, and rain
to the Tennessee River,
where they ferried us across in pontoon boats,
then put us on the cars,
and we went to Corinth and then to Meridian, Mississippi.
They kept us there until after New Year's, and then we went to Selma, Alabama,
where they put us in prison overnight and gave us hardtack for rations,
the last we had until we reached our lines a few months later.
The following morning we marched to Cahaba, Alabama,
where they searched every one of us and turned us into the prison.
There we stayed two days before we received any rations,
and when we did get them there was not much being a pint of corn-meal and a taste of meat about this time i had to go out on the skirmish line every day so as to keep our little friends from getting too numerous else they would have carried us away
i refer to the faithful grayback so it went on until the mutiny but i had no hand in that had to do without rations for three days and pass in
entirely naked before the rebels on account of it.
Then all was well till the prison overflowed.
I think it was on March 1st when we had to hunt a dry place to lie down in.
I succeeded the first and second night, but after that none was to be found.
The rebels now took pity on us by taking us downtown to get cordwood
and fix up a scaffold out of the water.
That evening we were to take.
taken out again, put on board a steamboat, carried down the river some miles, loaded a boat full
of cordwood, got extra rations, then returned to Cahaba and unloaded part of the wood.
We then made ready to go back in the prison, but the order was countermanded.
We slept on the boat that night and got some more extra rations.
They tasted good on that dry boat.
The morning followed we started.
for Selma, Alabama. They put us in a dry prison, and the next week we were under parole of honor,
and when everything was in readiness, marched us out of prison on board a train of cars,
and started us for Meridian and Jackson, Mississippi. From here we marched on foot to Big Black River,
where we beheld the glorious stars and stripes once again. We cheered and shouted until hoarse,
then we had a square meal of Uncle Sam's gruel,
and then marched across the bridge and bid farewell to Rebeldom forever.
We were then marched within about five miles of Vicksburg, Mississippi,
where we bunked in the parole camp.
This was on March 19, 1865.
We were kept in parole camp till about April 25th,
on which date we were taken aboard the ill-fated sultana,
and on the second night after embarking,
we arrived at Memphis, Tennessee.
After unloading a cargo of sugar,
we took on coal, then started,
and when about eight miles up the river,
the disaster took place.
I was lying with two comrades
on the cabin floor forward,
between the stairway and the fore part of the boat.
Was sound asleep,
but was suddenly awakened by the explosion.
After I had recovered
from the first shock, I climbed down on the lower deck, by means of ropes and spikes,
to the front part of the boat, for the stairway was blockaded, and the upper deck or floor
had fallen on it.
Imagine, if you can, the scene that followed.
No pen or tongue can portray it.
Imagine yourself in the midst of about two thousand souls, all crowded on a steamboat
torn to pieces by the explosion of her boiler in the dead of the night.
if i remember right all the after part of the deck was blown overboard and the forward part of the deck fell in how many were killed i cannot tell then in a few minutes the fire broke out and the boat was all ablaze
i saw many men mangled some with arms and legs broken others scalded and screaming in their agony while others would be fighting over a piece of timber or plank
and some crying or praying some jumping in the water to escape from the fire and drowning it was a scene i never care to witness again
there were seven of our company on the boat and five of them perished if it had not been for the grace of god we too would have perished after i had got down on the lower deck i waited for a favorable opportunity to save myself
after a large number of the men had made their escape or were drowned i watched for a clear space in the river for i was afraid some one would catch hold of me and i would share the fate of the others
i jumped off into the river and swam away as fast as i could for a short distance then i took it slow for i had a mile or two to go i got hold of some pieces of plank tied together with a pair of suspenders
doubtless the work of some poor fellow who had perished.
I put them under my left arm and steered with my right
until I reached the timber where I expected to find dry land,
but was disappointed,
for the water was so deep that we could not touch the bottom with rails and poles.
I say we, because there were others within speaking distance of me.
So we had to climb a sapling tree and roost there.
I was almost chilled to death.
If I had not held on to the sapling with one hand
and rubbed myself briskly with the other,
I could not have survived.
After some time, however, I got warmed up
and did the best I could to keep the mosquitoes from eating me up.
When the sun came up, it warmed me,
and I waited patiently for help,
which did not come till about ten o'clock that morning.
When the first steamboat made its appearance,
it cheered up the poor boys and we shouted,
but it stopped way below us.
So did the second, third, and fourth,
but the fifth one, the little picket boat,
came boldly up to where we were
and sent out its boats and picked us all up.
We then started from Memphis,
where I was taken to the soldier's home.
Others were taken to private dwellings,
and some to the hospital, where I was taken later.
As luck would have it, here I met my comrade,
the only other one of the seven.
The others were all lost.
This was about April 27, 1865.
In a day or two we got some new clothing and blankets,
and then were taken aboard the Bell of St. Louis
and steamed up to Cairo, Illinois,
where we landed the next day late in the afternoon.
i could not repress a shout of joy when i again set my foot on land for i was afraid of boats and water from there i went to camp chase ohio and was discharged on may twentieth eighteen sixty five
occupation farming post office address maoris town ohio end of section one hundred and three section one hundred and four of loss of the sultana by chester
D. Berry. This Librovoc's recording is in the public domain.
Section 104.
Robert Rule
I enlisted in the service of the United States as a private at Nashville, Tennessee,
June 10, 1863, in Company A, 3rd Regiment Tennessee Cavalry, and was captured at
Sulphotressel, Alabama, in September 1864, and confined in the Cahaba prison.
At the time of the explosion, I, with several others, was on top of the boat, and we climbed down by a rope to the deck.
One of my company and myself threw a trough in the river and jumped in.
I did not catch hold of the trough, but got onto a plank with six others.
We floated down the river two miles and came to some bushes.
We all grabbed on to them, but one of my comrades lost his hold of the plank.
and was drowned.
The next morning we were picked up by a boat and taken to Memphis.
Occupation, farming.
Post office address, Rockford, Blount County, Tennessee.
End of Section 104.
Section 105 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry.
This Libervox recording is in the public domain.
Section 105.
Russell. I enlisted at Somerset, Kentucky, June 1863, as a private and company C., third Tennessee
cavalry, and was captured at sulfur branch trestle, Alabama, I think, in September 1864, and
confined in the Cahaba prison. Was released about one month previous to the explosion. I took the boat
at Vicksburg, about the 26th of April.
stopped at Memphis and unloaded hogs heads of sugar. I was asleep when we left there,
but was awakened when the explosion took place. A party of us threw a staging overboard,
got upon it, and were rescued at Memphis and taken to a hospital. From there we went to
Cairo, Illinois, then to Indianapolis, Indiana, and on to Columbus, Ohio.
Was discharged from the service in June 1865.
Occupation, Farming.
Post Office, Morgantown, Tennessee.
End of Section 105.
Section 106 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry.
This Libervox recording is in the public domain.
Section 106.
S.F. Sanders.
I was born in Farmington, Illinois, April 16, 1845.
and enlisted in the service of the United States at Bushnell, Illinois, May 12, 1864, in Company I, 137th Regiment Illinois Volunteers,
was captured at Memphis, Tennessee, August 21, 1864, and confined in the Cahab, Alabama Prison.
The Western boys were sent to Springfield, Illinois, several days before the Sultana was loaded.
I was nursing the sick in the barracks
and did not leave Vicksburg until the last boatload,
and so far as I have ever known,
I was the only Illinois boy on the boat.
I had charge of sixteen sick comrades
who were sleeping in front of the cabin.
I had just laid down when the explosion took place.
About daylight I was pushed off
from the stern of the boat into the water.
I climbed on the rudder,
remained there for some time with eleven others until it got too hot for us fortunately for us we made our way to a platform on one side of the boat and were rescued by rebels on a raft
occupation physician post office address holdridge nebraska end of section one hundred and six section one hundred and seven of loss of the sultana by chester d berry this libravon
recordings in the public domain section 107 c s schmutz i was born in congress ohio on the 22nd of july 1846 enlisted in the service of the united states at congress ohio on the second of august eighteen sixty two in company i one hundred and second ohio volunteer infantry was captured at athens alabama on the twenty five
24th of September 1864 and confined in Kahaba until the 24th of March 1865 when I was released and sent to Vicksburg, Mississippi.
My experience in regard to the explosion of the ill-fated sultana is as follows.
In the afternoon of April 26, 1865, we arrived at the city of Memphis, Tennessee,
where was unloaded a number of hogsheads of sugar, which I think was well.
one of the causes of the explosion. There were about 2,300 persons on board. A great many of the
soldiers were on the upper decks, and as the boat came round a bend of the river, it would
careen, the water rushing to one side of the boilers, the others would become heated,
and as the boat rided, the water would rush to the heated boilers, thus causing the explosion.
Before leaving the wharf at Memphis, I went asleep,
but I remember being awakened by the boat coaling up some distance up the river.
I soon went asleep again, and the next I knew,
I felt a burning and falling sensation,
and remember calling, What's the matter?
Being a good swimmer, I had no fear.
My first impression was that I had been thrown into the river,
and I tried to swim to the boat.
i soon found many in the river like myself that the boiler had exploded never entered my mind presently i saw flames and knew then that the boat was on fire
in the meantime i came across some wreckage of the boat among which was a piece of a cracker box it was sufficient to support me i also found out that i was scalded about the face and every now and then plunged my face into the water
to cool it off. I made no effort to swim ashore as I knew the river had overflowed its banks,
and I did not relish the idea of climbing a tree to get out of the water, when I had nothing on
but my shirt. That would be very unpleasant. I took my chance going down the river,
as I knew we could not be far above Memphis. I had for companion a while a man who was moon-eyed
and could not see at night.
He was floating on a long board
and generously offered to share his board with me,
but I had all the support I needed.
After I had been in the water about two hours,
I heard someone rowing a boat, and I called for help.
The reply was,
Here's one!
Then I saw the boatman row towards me,
and they pulled me in the boat.
I now found I was badly scalded on my left side,
and back. After picking out of the river a few more of my unfortunate comrades, the boat rode for the
shore, and we were landed and taken to a convalescent camp, where I continued to suffer the most
excruciating pain. I ran up and down in the cool air to relieve the pain. I felt easy going
against the wind, but returning it was excruciating. I was urged to lie down, but for a time
refused. Finally, I yielded after putting on a pair of cotton drawers and shirt. I lay down on a
cot that had been prepared for me. Soon afterwards, an ambulance came and took me to Gaioso
Hospital, where I lay for ten days, during which time I fully recovered, and getting transportation
I was sent to Columbus, Ohio, where I was discharged from the service. My present occupation is
clerk. Post office address, Worcester, Ohio.
End of Section 108 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry.
This Libravox recording is in the public domain.
Section 108. C.G. Seabury.
I was born in Verona, Oneida County, New York, in 1844, and enlisted at Quincy, Michigan, November.
17, 1862, in Company B. 8th Michigan Cavalry.
Was captured near Mount Pleasant, Tennessee, November 20th, 1864, and confined in the Meridian,
Mississippi and Cahaba, Alabama prisons.
Post Office, Coloma, Michigan.
End of Section 108.
Section 109 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry.
This Liverpool recording is in the public domain.
Section 109.
W. R. Shaw.
I was born in Clark County, Ohio, February 27, 1836,
and enlisted in the service of the United States at Cable, Ohio, July 16, 1862,
in Company E, 95th Regiment, Ohio Volunteer Infantry.
Was captured at Gun Town Town,
Mississippi, June 12, 1864, and confined in five prisons, namely, Andersonville, Millen, Savannah,
Blackshear, and Thomasville. I swam from the burning wreck to the Tennessee shore, securing a window
shutter to help me, got into the woods, caught hold of a limb of a bush, and held on until daylight.
Then I swam to a log about 25 yards distant and got upon it.
I was picked up by the steamer Silver Spray.
Occupation, dealer in general merchandise.
Address, Cable, Ohio.
End of Section 110 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry.
This Libervox recording is in the public domain.
Section 110
I.N. Schaefer
Born in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, December 5, 1833, and enlisted in the service of the United
States at Canton, Ohio, September 5, 1862, in Company E, 115th, Ohio Volunteer Infantry.
Was captured at Nashville, Tennessee, December 4th, 1863, and confined in the Meridian
Andersonville and Cahaba prisons.
I floated down the river on a door to Memphis and was picked up by Negro troops.
Occupation Taylor.
Post office address.
Canton, Ohio.
End of Section 110.
Section 111 of Loss of the Sultan by Chester D. Berry.
This Libervox recording is in the public domain.
Section 111.
PATon Shields
I enlisted in Company D.
31st Regiment Ohio Volunteer Infantry.
When the explosion of the Sultana
took place on the morning of the 27th of April 1865
on the Mississippi River,
I was on the hurricane deck,
attending to a sick comrade,
and, at his request,
had just lain down with him only a few minutes
when the explosion occurred.
I was slightly scalded but remained on deck until the flames became so hot that I could remain no longer.
I then jumped from the wheelhouse into the water, a distance of perhaps 35 feet.
I struck on my feet and at once began swimming.
After going a distance of about three miles, I caught hold of a piece of weather-beaten board about six feet long,
which proved to be a great help to me.
i continued swimming and floating with the current until i was seven miles below the wreck when i was picked up more dead than alive by a yawl from the gunboat essex and have never seen one well hour since
as soon as i was able to travel i left memphis and went on board a steamer for cairo illinois remaining there one night and took the train from matoon illinois where we were met at the depot by the citizens with hot
coffee and a bonafal supper. I then proceeded to Indianapolis, from there to Camp
Chase, Ohio, reported to Colonel Richardson, and was discharged from the service.
End of Section 111. Section 112 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry.
This Libervox recording is in the public domain.
Section 112. A. Shoeemaker.
i was born in canal winchester ohio march third eighteen forty five and enlisted in the service of the united states at elmore ohio november twenty ninth eighteen sixty one in company e seventy second regiment ohio volunteer infantry
and was captured at Gunn Town, Mississippi, June 10, 1864,
and confined in Andersonville, Savannah, and Lawton prisons.
I do not think it worthwhile to give my Sultana experience.
My post office address is Carroll, Ohio.
End of Section 112.
Section 113 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry.
This Libervox recording is in the public domain.
Section 113.
W. T. Shummered
I was born in Clermont County, Ohio, July 25, 1835,
and enlisted in the service of the United States at Camp Clay, Ohio,
September 11, 1862, in Company A, 7th Regiment, Ohio Volunteer Cavalry,
and was captured between Nashville and Columbia, Tennessee, November 27, 1864,
and confined in the Meridian Mississippi and Cahaba, Alabama prisons.
After being a prisoner five months, on the 23rd of April 1865,
I, with about 2,000 prisoners of war,
was driven like so many sheep on board the sultana at Vicksburg.
We went to Memphis and stopped and unloaded some freight,
then to the coal docks and took on some coal.
We then proceeded up the river about eight miles
when her boilers exploded.
This was about the 27th of April 1865,
about two o'clock a.m.
I and twelve comrades lay side by side asleep
just in front of the boilers on the lower deck.
The first that I knew I was holding to a chain at the bow of the boat,
had a bump on the back of my head,
was badly scalded on the side of my head and face, and my feet also.
I tried to climb up several times on the boat, not knowing what had happened.
At length a man caught and pulled me up,
then I saw what had happened.
Of the twelve men who laid beside me, there was but one saved.
beside myself.
This was John Bell of the same company and regiment.
I stayed on the boat until 8 a.m., as I could not swim,
then with 13 comrades left the boat on a small raft
and was taken back to Memphis,
and soon after went to Camp Chase, Ohio, my native state.
On Saturday the 20th of May was discharged and went home.
Occupation, farming.
Post office address, Brazilton, Kansas.
End of Section 113.
Section 114 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry.
This Libervox recording is in the public domain.
Section 114.
J. L. Slick.
I was born in Monroe County, Michigan, 1844,
and enlisted in the service of the United States at Detroit.
february twenty second eighteen sixty four in company a eighteenth regiment michigan infantry and was captured at ath september twenty fourth eighteen sixty four and confined in the cahaba alabama prison
when the explosion occurred i was thrown against the wheelhouse and knocked insensible when i came to i helped a comrade on a board six inches wide and four feet long and as he was no
swimmer, I took charge of the craft. We landed on a log at 7 o'clock a.m.
and while there, I drew a comrade out of the water who had his leg scalded so badly that the
flesh dropped off. Occupation Merchant. Post office address, Lambertsville, Michigan.
End of Section 115 of Loss of the Sultan by Chester D. Berry.
This Librovoc's recording is in the public domain.
Section 115.
Commodore Smith
I was born in Holmes Township, Crawford County, State of Ohio, on the 18th day of January, 1842.
Removed with my father's family to Hillsdale County, State of Michigan, in the fall of 1854.
My great-great-grandfather and my grandfather were soldiers.
in their day, and my father, Isaac Smith, and his three sons and son-in-law,
participated in the late War for the Union of the States and America.
Father was a member of Company C. of the First Michigan Volunteer Infantry.
He was born of Scotch and English parentage in the year AD 1809 in eastern Virginia,
being at the time of his enlistment in October 1861, 52 years of age.
he received a wound in the head and was taken a prisoner of war on the third day of the notorious seven days battle before richmond virginia under the command of general george b mcclellan
was taken to richmond and confined in that hell-hole commonly called liby prison for a period of about three months he was soon afterwards paroled and sent to exchange camp near alexandria virginia where after
eight days from exposure, starvation, and disease contracted while a prisoner, he died.
Peace be to his ashes, whilst his blood cryeth aloud for vengeance and just retribution
against the rebel hordes that caused his suffering and death.
My eldest brother, Columbus Smith, was a member of Company I, 18th Regiment Michigan Volunteer
Infantry, and enlisted August 11, 1862,
and died at Lexington, Kentucky, of typhoid pneumonia, December 28, 1862.
My youngest brother, James Henry Smith, was a member of Company K., 27th Regiment, Michigan Volunteer Infantry.
He served to the close of the war and was discharged with his regiment.
He died at Cambria, Hillsdale County, Michigan, from the effects of LaGrip, December 31, 1891.
my eldest sister's husband andrew a ewing was a member of company second regiment michigan volunteer infantry
he served to the close of the war and was discharged with his regiment and is still living at this date april tenth eighteen ninety two in hillsdale county state of michigan and long may he live to enjoy reunions with his old comrades
i myself was a member of company f eighteenth michigan volunteer infantry i enlisted august eleventh eighteen sixty two at hillsdale hillsdale county state of michigan
was captured september twenty fourth eighteen sixty four by consolidated bands of guerrillas at athens alabama the notorious rebel general n b forest being in chief command
i was taken to kahaba alabama and there confined in prison for a period of nearly six months and was reduced to a mere skeleton
my weight when captured was a hundred and seventy-five pounds and when i reached our lines at vicksburg mississippi march sixteenth eighteen sixty five my weight was ninety-four pounds although i had not been sick a day while in prison
we remained at vicksburg until april twenty fifth or twenty sixth when we to the number of two thousand three hundred and thirty three souls all prisoners were taken on board the ill-fated sultch hannah
at the time her boilers exploded i was lying sound asleep on the lower deck just back of the rear hatchway to the hold i was not long in waking up for i was nearly buried with dead and wounded comrade
legs, arms, heads, and all parts of human bodies and fragments of the wrecked upper decks.
I struggled to my feet and tried to go forward on the boat,
but could not, on account of the wreckage and carnage of human freight,
which now covered the lower deck.
The surface of the river, for rods about the boat,
was covered with the same kind of wreckage.
I remained on board the hull of the boat for perhaps twenty or thirty minutes,
throwing overboard all the loose boards and timbers and everything that would float to assist those in the water and save them from drowning if possible and now occurred the hardest task of my life
the boat was on fire and the wounded begged us to throw them overboard choosing to drown instead of being roasted to death while our hearts went out in sympathy for our suffering and dying comrades we performed our sad but solemn duty
i say we because there were others besides myself who were fortunate enough not to be hurt or blown overboard by the explosion and they too were doing all they could to alleviate the sufferings of their unfortunate comrades
we waited hoping but in vain to be rescued from the burning wreck when at length the last shadow of hope had expired and we were forced to leave the burning boat and try our luck in the seething fo'n
cold and turbulent waters of the mighty Mississippi,
and this too at about two o'clock in the morning,
and almost total darkness prevailing,
except the light from the burning rack,
we proceeded to perform carefully, but hurriedly,
the most heart-rending task that human beings could be called upon to perform.
That of throwing overboard into the jaws of certain death by drowning,
those comrades who were unable on account of broken bones and lungs and lest,
limbs to help themselves. Some were so badly scalded by the hot water and steam from the
exploded boiler that the flesh was falling from their bones. Those comrades who were doubly
endeared to us through mutual suffering and starvation while we were penned up in the rebel hell-holes,
or so-called Confederate prisons, and who instead of throwing them thus overboard,
we were wanting to render every kindness to dress their wounds and soothe their sufferings.
But, alas, this was impossible.
The only alternative was to toss them overboard.
Reader of this narrative,
do you not think that this was a hard task for us to perform?
If not, just hearken to this a moment.
Listen to the heartfelt prayers of those suffering and wounded comrades
and hear their dying requests as they commended their wives, children, fathers, mothers,
sisters, and brothers to God's kind care and keeping,
and hear them thanking us for our kindness to them,
notwithstanding the pain they were suffering.
They fully realized the fact that their last day, hour, and even last minute to live had come,
and then to hear the gurgling sounds, the dying groans,
and see them writhing in the day,
in the water, and finally see them sink to rise no more until the morning when all shall
come forth.
Was this not heart-rending to us?
My heart, even now, after 27 years, nearly stand still while I write this sad story.
After we had thus cared for the helpless ones, I leaped over the burning wreck into the mighty
waters and headed for Memphis, Tennessee, which from this point was a very small one.
about seven miles down the river. I was a good swimmer, and after encountering several whirlpools
and being carried around and around in them, each time being carried back into the center of the
river, by hard struggling, keeping a cool head, and using my dexterity as a swimmer, I finally
reached a point half a mile above the city of Memphis, where I lodged in a tree out in the
flats of the river. The water at this point was about twenty feet deep. I remained in the tree
until a boat came, just at dawn, and picked me up together with twenty-seven others.
Was afterwards taken to the city, where the Christian Commission cared for us until we were
able to resume our journey homeward to God's country, as we called it, there to meet our loved
ones, from whom we had long been parted, and once more to enjoy the blessings of a free
and united country, which we had so dearly bought, the price being blood.
Occupation Hardware Merchant
Post Office address, Remus, Michigan
End of Section 115
Section 116 of Loss of the Sultan by Chester D. Berry
This Libervox recording is in the public domain.
Section 116.
Truman Smith
I was born in Newcastle, Pennsylvania, February 6, 1848,
and enlisted in the service of the United States at Gun Plains, Allegan County, Michigan, August 4, 1864, in Company B, 8th Regiment, Michigan Cavalry.
On the 24th of November, we met the enemy,
near Henryville, Tennessee.
There was but a handful of us against the army of hood and forest.
As the firing grew sharp,
orders came for us to mount and retreat to the barricade,
but my horse was gone.
I made my escape into the woods with the rebel cavalry in close pursuit.
Fortune favored me.
There was a small marsh just ahead,
and I went through the mire and came out on the opposite side.
The rebel cavalry tried to follow me, but the horses mired.
I thought I would try and find my regiment.
I stayed at the house of a union man all night,
and then started next morning for Columbia, Tennessee.
On my way I came across a wagon train, which I supposed was our own,
but approved to be a rebel train.
I rode two miles, and under the pretense of joining a rebel army that was passing, got off.
i then went to the house of a union man who gave me a blanket and some provisions and conducted me to a cave saying it would not be safe for me to stay at the house as there were so many rebels around
i remained there two days and then started for the woods but was met not ten feet away by some rebels of course i had to surrender they took my arms and robbed me of everything
then i was taken to their camp the night was very dark and i slipped past the guard and made my escape but was soon captured again by a squad of rebel cavalry they hurried us on until we reached columbia where they put us in fort mizner
there were about one thousand seven hundred union prisoners there the rebels were on one side of duck river and the union forces on the other
we remained here several days until hood was defeated at nashville our rations consisted of corn on the cob from once to twice a day we left in december for the tennessee river
the ground was covered with ice and some of the boys had no shoes on you could track them by the blood from their feet we forded streams and camps where night overtook us
we crossed the tennessee river and here about four hundred escaped the rebels pricked us with bayonets and drove us like cattle to corinth where we stayed a day or two and then started for meridian arriving there on the twenty fifth of december
There were two stockades, one for union prisoners and one for rebel deserters.
A squad of us were put in the latter place.
A day or two later we started for Kahaba, reaching there about the 1st of January.
We were put in prison with about 3,000 others.
Our rations here consisted of about a pint of meal, ground cob and all, and that moldy.
Once in ten days we would receive about two ounces of meat to the man.
This we cut up in bits and made porridge with our meal.
There was one attempt made to liberate the prisoners worthy of note.
The author of the scheme was Captain Hanchett.
His idea was to overpower the guards, take their guns, and fight our way out.
About 1 o'clock a.m., when everything was still, and the guards had made their round,
we heard a cry for help.
They had succeeded in capturing the interior guard,
but as they made for the door,
the bar was dropped in place and we were securely trapped.
A long struggle ensued before the guards
found out the leader of the revolt.
They furnished neither rations nor allowed us to build a fire
until our leader should be produced.
For three days we had nothing to eat and no fire,
and then Captain Hanchett gave himself up, saying it was better that he should die than should
hundreds, who would surely perish in their famished condition.
They took him out, tried him by court-martial, and sentenced him to be shot.
He never gave away those who were associated with him in the plot to liberate the prisoners.
We remained at Meridian until March.
One day an order came for three hundred men to load a boat with wood.
we went down the alabama river about seven miles when the boat went ashore and we were taken off to load wood we carried steadily until we had some two hundred cords aboard this occupied the whole day and we then started back to kahaba
we were permitted to stay on the boat that night in the morning we were taken to selma and put in the stockade we remaining there but a few days when the other prison
from Kahaba were sent there.
We crossed the river the same night, and then took the train for Meridian, Mississippi,
arriving there just at dark, and found ourselves back in the old stockade once more.
The following morning we took the train for Jackson, reaching there about night.
Now we were nearing our lines, and learned that our troops were near the Black River, less than 40 miles.
miles. We were several days making the march. What a glorious sight met our eyes when we got there.
On the opposite side floated the stars and stripes. Orders were to go into camp for the night,
but I stole away and swam across the river and was once more under the old flag.
Everything was excitement here. News came of the fall of Richmond and the surrender of Lee.
Everybody was wild with joy
And the thought of a speedy return to our homes
Salutes were fired from all the forts
Our joy, however, was of short duration
For on the 14th of April, as we got up in the morning
We found the colors at half-mast
It was some time before we knew the cause
And then we learned that President Lincoln had been assassinated
All thought of home was banished for the time
time being, and every man swore revenge. Everything was gloomy till about the 24th of April,
when word came to get ready to go home. Everybody was ready. It was a short march to Vicksburg,
where, Lashed to the Wharf, was the ill-fated steamer sultana, on which a still greater horror was
at store for the boys. We numbered about two thousand two hundred from Castle Morgan and Andersonville,
the greater part from Castle Morgan.
When we boarded the sultana,
every foot of her deck was covered with men
who had fought starvation, vermin, and filth.
Memphis was reached without accident,
and we got off the boat and went to the soldier's arrest,
where I got something to eat.
It was about midnight when the boat again got started up the river,
and just after everybody had got settled down to sleep,
except those in charge of the boat,
there was a crash and all at once confusion.
Someone cried out that the rebels had fired on to us.
I thought a shell had exploded near me, but found it was hot steam.
I jumped up, threw off the blankets, and found that the boat was wrecked.
The boilers had exploded, and the boat was on fire.
I started around to see what the chances were for getting ashore.
The fire was burning fire.
fast and furious, and men who were buried beneath the wreck were crying for help.
When the fire lit up the water, men could be seen in every direction, and also pieces of the wreck.
The first one of our company that I met after the explosion was Henry Norton.
He had lost a bundle of clothes and swore that he would shoot the man who stole them.
I told him he had better let the clothes go and make up his mind to swim ashore.
He said not until he found his clothes.
He was an excellent swimmer and thought he could swim ashore in a few minutes.
I left him there and went to look around.
I saw that the pilot house was gone and that one stack lay across the deck.
The fire was making great headway and men were begging for God's sake to have someone help them.
It was getting so hot that I concluded to leave the boat.
i looked around for something to hold me up in the water but could find nothing as we were on the hurricane deck and had slept on the wheelhouse the only thing that i could see was an empty pork barrel and thinking perhaps that would hold me threw it into the water and jumped in after it
at this time i had all my clothes on my barrel was worthless and sank i started to swim but found that someone had hold of me
and I could not get loose. We had a struggle in the water, and I freed myself by giving him my blouse.
The night was dark, and I could not see which way to go. I swam but a few feet when I found myself
with four or five others. It seemed as though we all wanted to get hold of each other.
I succeeded in getting the rest of my clothes off and got rid of my company. It was only a few
minutes before someone had hold of me again. This time I came near drowning. I kept getting away from
the boat, and about an hour after it blew up, I heard someone calling for help. I had a piece of four-foot
wood that would keep me up nicely. I swam towards the comrade and found it was Henry Norton. I gave him
the piece of wood and swam away. He must have been chilled through, for he was found clinging.
to the piece of wood.
I swam on trying to make shore.
There was a large tree floating down the river,
and on the roots were three or four men.
They were singing the star-spangled banner.
As I swam away, I heard someone coughing,
and swam toward him.
As I came near, he kept swimming away.
I called him and asked what regiment he belonged to.
He asked what I wanted to know for.
I told him I would write to his people in case he drowned, and I should get out.
He said I must not come any closer, and we made a bargain, that if one should die and the other get ashore,
the survivor should write the parents and let them know.
We kept swimming till near daylight, when someone cried, halt.
We swam toward shore, and as we came closer, the command to halt was repeated.
I replied that we could not as we were in the water.
Finally we got to shore and we were told to get out,
but my limbs were so benumbed that I could not.
The man came to the water's edge,
took me by the arm and pulled me ashore,
but I could not stand on my feet.
He called his comrade, who was in the tent,
and they together picked me up and put me in their bed,
and then went back and rescued my comrade.
They built a fire and rubbed us and gave us some clothes.
After a while we saw a boat coming up the river, and we hailed it.
It had started to pick up the survivors of the wreck.
I was the first and my comrade next.
The first thing after we got on the boat, they brought me a tin cup of whiskey, which I drank.
I had got so that I could walk by this time.
We kept going up the river, picking up men and making them comfortable.
as possible. We picked up about 100 and started for Memphis, reaching there about 8 o'clock.
The dock was covered with ladies belonging to the Christian and sanitary commissions,
who gave us each a pair of drawers and a shirt. I started uptown, but at the first block I came to,
there was a great crowd, and they wanted to know if I was on the boat. I said yes, and they gave me a suit of
clothes and $13 in money.
From there I went to the soldiers' arrest, and was afterwards sent to the hospital.
I called for paper and wrote a letter home, giving a detailed account of the disaster.
Then I became sick and was unconscious.
What became of the clothes and money I never knew.
I was taken care of by Comrade White.
My journey to Columbus must have been a tedious one,
here we met several of our regiment and among them was charles seabury he having his hands and face badly burned from the fire on the boat we also met ezra spencer
present occupation captain number five steamer grand rapids fire department post office address number five engine house grand rapids michigan
End of Section 116.
Section 117 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry.
This Libervox recording is in the public domain.
Section 117.
Edward Sorgon
I was born in Switzerland in 1842
and enlisted in the service of the United States
at Kenton, Ohio, April 16, 1861, in Company G, 4th Regiment, Ohio Volunteer Infantry,
and was captured at Gettysburg, July 2, 1863, and confined in the following prisons,
Bell Isle, Andersonville, Millen, Savannah, and Blackshear Station.
At the time of the explosion of the boiler of the Sultanah, I was knocked overboard and swam
and floated down the river to a little below Memphis, where I was picked up by three men in a skiff
and put on board one of our gunboats. This was about break of day. In the morning I was sent to a
hospital and remained there only a short time when I was sent to Columbus, Ohio.
Occupation, manufacturer, and dealer in furniture. Post Office address, Kenton, Ohio.
117. Section 118 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry.
This Librevox recording is in the public domain.
Section 118. M. H. Sprinkle.
I was born in Richland County, Ohio, September 15, 1841.
Enlisted in the service of the United States at Ashland, Ohio, on the 15th of April, 1841.
in Company B, 16th Regiment, Ohio Volunteer Infantry.
We were taken from the battlefield at Athens, Alabama, September 24, 1864,
where 350 of us, under Lieutenant Colonel Elliot,
held our own for six hours against 15,000 under Forest.
Our ammunition giving out, we were obliged to surrender,
became prisoners of war, and taken to Cahabar.
prison. To give a correct impression of one's sufferings would be impossible, except to those who
have endured the hardships of such a place. I, like all the others, had to give up my watch,
chain, and money, what I had not succeeded in hiding in my waistband. An officer came in and
exchanged my new hat for his old one, and detecting that I had on two pairs of pants,
pointed his revolver at me, and demanded the new pair, which I had been fortunate enough to secure only the day before.
Our food consisted of a pint of corn chop once a day, providing the guard did not forget us, which he did sometimes,
the longest time he forgot me was four days. We had nothing but the hard earth or boards on which to sleep.
Thinking I could make a better place than this for my head, I conceded. I could make a better place than this for my head,
I cut off my pants legs and filled one with the siftings of my corn chop,
giving the other one to a comrade for a light purpose.
We stayed in this prison until the 1st of April 1865.
A call was then made for 800 men to form in line.
I was one of the first to fall in, for I did not care where we were going.
It seemed that nothing worse could be given us than what we were receiving.
but our feelings can better be imagined than expressed when after lying two weeks in parole camp at vicksburg we heard that a boat was waiting at the river for us the report turned out to be true the boat was the ill-fated steamer sultana and she was headed for caro
eighteen of my company were upon the hurricane deck at the extreme stern of the boat of that number i know of but four that escaped the terrible accident of the morning of april twenty seventh on that morning about two o'clock one of the boilers exploded
the boat soon took fire and billy lockhart and myself threw at least fifty of those who had been wounded in the explosion overboard thinking it better that they should take their chances of drowning than be left to burn up which they would do if left on the boat
finally we were compelled to go as the deck was about to fall in i then noticed charlie ogden of my company who appeared to be standing in a dazed condition
i spoke to him telling him he must go or he would burn but he appeared to take no notice of what i said i felt the deck tottering and ran and sprang into the river
as i came to the surface the deck had fallen in and i have no doubt charlie perished in the flames as he had not made a move when i left him
i swam over to the west side of the river but the banks were too steep for me so the only alternative i had was to float down the stream which i could easily do or drown i chose the former but was nearly exhausted
on my way down the stream i came in contact with two men who were clinging to a trap-door about three feet square neither of them could swim and as i was floating so easily along they begged me to help them get out
i steadied their raft for them and pushed it along down stream we were going along fairly well when a drowning man seized my left leg i tried to kick him loose but failing to get him loose but failing
I let go the raft and tried to force him off, but could not,
and was obliged to drag that dead weight until we reached Memphis.
We were helped out of the water just above the wharf by citizens,
and the last I can recollect was they were trying to pry the dead man's grip
loose from my leg.
The next I knew I was on the boat and having a very hard chill.
The captain gave me some brandy, and I think I must have done.
drank at least a pint before I began to feel the effects, then I began to sweat profusely.
The citizens afterwards took me home with them and gave me a suit of clothes.
I stayed with them about nine days, finally starting up the river on the steamer Bell Memphis,
and reaching home on the 21st day of May, 1865.
My present occupation is that of a mason.
My post office address?
Eaton Rapids, Michigan.
End of Section 118.
Section 119 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry.
This Libervox recording is in the public domain.
Section 119.
E.J. Squire
I was born in Norwalk, Ohio, January 8, 1839,
and enlisted in the service of the United States at Monroeville.
Ohio, August 9, 1862, in Company D. 101st, Ohio Volunteer Infantry.
I was captured near Huntsville, Alabama, January 17, 1865, and confined in the Selma and
Cahaba, Alabama prisons.
Occupation, Dry Goods, and Boot and Shoe Dealer, Monroeville, Huron County, Ohio.
End of Section 119.
Section 120 of Loss of the Sultanate by Chester D. Berry
This Liber Vicar's recording is in the public domain.
Section 120
Joseph Stevens
I was born in Yorkshire, England in 1842,
and came to this country when a boy with my father, mother, and one sister.
My brother Thomas was born in Hillsdale, and mother died when he was a baby.
baby. Soon after her death, father went back to England to attend to some business and died there.
I, but a mere lad, took care of myself, sister, and baby brother by doing anything I could get to do.
June 20, 1861, when but 19 years old, I enlisted in Company E, Captain W. Lombard's Company
at Hillsdale, Michigan, and was mustered into the Fourth Michigan Infantry, in command of
Colonel D. A. Woodbury at Adrian, Michigan. The regiment left its rendezvous for Washington,
June 25th, arrived during the night of July 2nd, and went into camp near Georgetown,
where we joined the Army of the Potomac. We remained here in camp, but a few days,
and then were ordered to Bull Run, but were halted at Fairfax Courthouse,
nine miles this side, until further orders.
A message came from Washington to be delivered to General McDowell,
commanding the Union forces at Bull Run.
I was detailed to deliver it,
and was told to take the first horse I came across.
I captured a fine bay stallion from a rebel planter living nearby.
I mounted him and delivered my message.
When I arrived there, I found the army retreating towards Washington,
and we camped near there all winter.
In the following spring we went with General McClellan's army down in front of Richmond.
We were engaged in the Battle of Yorktown, defeated the Rebs, and then marched on towards Richmond.
At New Bridge, seven miles this side, our regiment was ordered to the front,
where we met the Louisiana Tigers and killed and captured half their number with but a small loss on our side.
In the seven days' fight in front of Richmond, I was captured and sent to Libby Prison.
I was there but a short time when I was exchanged on account of sickness
and was sent to Philadelphia Hospital, remaining there until I received my discharge when I went home.
I was home only one week, for as they were organizing a company in Hillsdale,
I re-enlisted in the first Michigan sharpshooters and encamped at Kalamazoo.
I was made sergeant of Company B, and being a veteran was appointed drillmaster.
Shortly after this, we were mustered into the regiment under command of Colonel C. V. De Land.
We assisted in driving Morgan out of Ohio and Indiana, and then returned to Dearborn, Michigan,
and proceeded under orders to Camp Douglas, Chicago, where we were placed on duty guarding a camp of rebel prisoners.
we remained in chicago nearly six months and then were ordered to annapolis maryland to join the army of the potomac we arrived there in due time and proceeded to warrenton junction
A few days later we marched across the Rapidson River, and the following two days were engaged in the Battle of the Wilderness, we sustaining a very small loss.
Marching with the army to Spotsylvania Courthouse, we participated in a three-day fight, suffering very severely.
From there we marched down to Cold Harbor, where we were engaged again, but being in the supporting line suffered but little.
We arrived in front of Petersburg, June 16, 1864,
and on the following day happened one of the most prominent events
in the history of this regiment.
At night, while charging into the Rebs,
I had a rooster tied to my belt that I had just captured,
intending to have a feast for supper.
But I was captured in that action,
still holding on to the rooster,
and it was eaten by the Johnny's.
The 14th New York heavy artillery,
was on our extreme left, and when the rebels came rushing out of the woods, charging upon us with a
terrible yell, the New York Regiment, like a flock of sheep, ran and left us. This left our extreme
left without any support, and the Rebs came upon us with a furious charge. But we met them with
cold steel and had a fierce struggle until we were overpowered and obliged to surrender,
leaving most of our regiment killed, wounded, and captured.
I was then taken to Petersburg to the Provost Marshal's office to be searched.
I had two twenty-dollar greenbacks hid on my person where they could not find them.
There I was put in a tobacco house, which was used as a temporary prison.
The next day a squad of us were detailed to go after some rations.
I was one of the first who volunteered to go.
thinking I would have a chance to escape, but they had us guarded too strong.
On our way, a party of women that were standing before a mansion spit in our faces.
I then said to the guard,
We wouldn't allow you men to be treated so in the north.
He replied,
Keep still, you damn yank, or I'll shoot you.
They kept us here a few days under Grant's fire.
One of the shells struck the roof of the tobacco house but injured no one.
From here we were loaded into the boxcars and sent to Andersonville Prison.
We were eight days on the road, and on arriving my money was all gone.
I had spent it for food.
We were then taken to the stockade, in which were imprisoned at that time
thirty thousand union men.
Here I met a number of my old comrades,
who were in my company, Fourth Michigan, captured the preceding year.
My friends warned me of a gang of raiders, men who had become desperate.
When new prisoners came, these men would rob the poor fellows, and sometimes cut their throats.
We formed a company to capture the leaders of this notorious gang.
We captured six of them, and turned them over to the rebels for safekeeping,
until we could send word to General Sherman
to ask what we could do with them.
His answer was,
Court-martial them, and do what you think best.
They were then court-martialed
and sentenced to be hung,
and the balance of the raiders to run the gauntlet.
We had a scaffold erected inside the stockade,
and then the rebels delivered them over to us.
We stood them in a row, each with a rope around his neck.
Our minister then offered a prayer for them,
and when he finished the trap fell,
but the rope broke and let one of them loose.
He ran through the crowd, but was soon brought back,
and seeing the rest hanging pleaded for mercy,
but the cry was,
String him up!
He was put upon the scaffold the second time,
and hung there with the others until sundown,
so everyone could have an opportunity of seeing.
them as a warning for the rest of the gang. They were taken down and buried all in one grave.
The food they gave us was corncobs, all ground up and made into mush, and there wasn't near enough
of that to keep the boys alive any length of time. Those that lived had to speculate by trading
their brass buttons, boots, etc., with the guards. There were from 100 to 150,
boys dying every day.
A large wagon, drawn by four mules, was used in drawing out the dead.
They were laid in as we pile cordwood and taken to the burying ground,
generally putting fifty in a grave,
and returning would bring mush in the same wagon,
where worms that came from the dead could be seen crawling all over it.
But we were starving, therefore we fought for it like hungry hogs.
the squad that i was in was quartered on the north side of the creek which ran through the prison the boys would dig wells in the daytime and at night would dig tunnels and attempt to escape
very few however ever succeeded for the rebs would set the bloodhounds on the track the hounds would tree them and wait for their masters to come to shoot the poor fellows down but sometimes would bring them back unharmed
one day there was a call for a detail of men to go to the hospital to help take care of the sick a friend by the name of william smith was quartermaster of the hospital
he had been captured a year before and was a comrade of mine out of company e fourth michigan by the aid of friend smith i was put on the detail list and was made wardmaster of one of the wards
the first day i was in there the rebel doctors left prescriptions to give the sick i killed seven boys that evening from the effects of that medicine
i told smith i couldn't do that work any longer and the next day i played off sick so as to get off duty and the doctors left me medicine to take but i wasn't prepared to die and so did not take any
i then commenced to make a kind of beer which is good for dysentery it was made of cornmeal molasses and water i would let it ferment and sour over night in a barrel and then deal it out to the boys a cupful only to each
this was much better than the rebels medicine it was the means of saving the lives of a good many boys i would trade this beer off for brass buttons and point
postage stamps, and then would take these and trade with the guards for sweet potatoes.
For doing this I was taken before words, the captain in command of the prison, and a villain
who would shoot our men down in cold blood. I expected to be dealt with the same, but fortunately
some of my friends, union men, were clerking for him, and when he was about to shoot me,
after taking an oath, with his revolver, the boys talked to him and begged him not to.
I was then searched and ordered back to the hog pen, where I remained for ten long months.
About the middle of April, 1865, there came an order for an exchange of prisoners.
Although my name was not called for exchange, I stole away,
secreted myself in a box car, and was carried through to Vicksburg, Mississippi.
with the others. I think where our exchange took place was at Black River Bridge near Vicksburg.
We then crossed the pontoon bridge into our lines and proceeded to get clothing and recruit up.
We remained there about ten days. I met my brother-in-law, William Finch, here. He had just been
exchanged from Cahaba prison in Alabama. On April 25, 1866,
about two thousand of us just released from rebel prisons were put aboard the ill-fated steamer sultana and started for home
we stopped at memphis tennessee to take in coal and unload three hundred hogsheads of sugar while there i and my brother-in-law took a walk up town to get something good to eat which we had not tasted for many a long day
when we returned we took our blankets and lay down on the hurricane deck next to the wheelhouse to sleep and dream of our dear ones at home and believing that in a few more hours we would be in their embrace
i at once fell asleep and did not awake until the boiler blew up six or seven miles above memphis the boat was soon in flames and the screaming and moaning from those that were injured was something terrible
Hundreds of them would jump into the water together, clench each other, and go down in one body.
My brother-in-law commenced fretting and crying, because he couldn't swim.
I could not swim either, and begged him not to get discouraged and give up,
for there was some hope yet of being saved.
He started for one of the lifeboats, and I warned him to keep away from them,
for those in first were knocking everybody in the head,
that tried to get in.
That was probably where he lost his life.
I remained on the boat praying until the fire burned me off.
On falling into the river I sank, never expecting to rise again,
but by some means I came to the surface again and saw the captain tearing off window shutters
and throwing them into the river for the boys.
I now commenced swimming dog fashion, but my strength soon gave
out and I began to strangle. I yelled for help, and comrade Charles Tabor, one whose life I had
saved while in prison, heard and knew my voice, and swam away from the bail of hay in which he was
floating, caught me by the hair, and with the aid of other men who were on the bail, pulled me on top,
and thus in turn saving my life. I was chilled and lost consciousness, and when I came to,
I asked if it had been raining, for I was wet through.
We hung on to the bail and floated down six or eight miles below Memphis,
where we were picked up by a gunboat that was out for the purpose of rescuing survivors of the wreck.
The sisters of charity were there, ready to take care of us.
We were then taken to the hospital in Memphis, where I remained about two weeks.
I can well remember seeing the captain putting life preservers on his wife and little girl and letting them overboard.
The girl's life preserver slipped too far down, for she was found, drowned, floating with her feet upwards.
His wife was saved, and the captain lost his life in trying to save others.
We had a number of mules aboard the boat, and some of the boys hung on to their tails while they swam to shore.
Others would get out by means of planks and barrels.
This was one of the most terrible steamboat disasters that history is ever recorded, over 1,500 perishing.
I was taken to Camp Chase, Ohio, where I received my discharge, and then started for Hillsdale to meet my
brother and sister. I have left a great deal out, which I would like to have mentioned,
but thinking I am taking more space than as my share in your book, I will close.
Am now living in East Buffalo, New York, in livestock commission business,
under the firm name of Dunning and Stevens.
End of Section 120
Section 121 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry
This Librevox recording is in the public domain.
Section 121.
George W. Stewart
I enlisted in the service of the United States on the 6th of January, 1862, as a private
and company D of the 40th Regiment Indiana Veterans Volunteers.
Was on duty in the Army of the Cumberland until the Battle of Franklin, Tennessee,
which took place on the 30th day of November.
1864, where I was taken prisoner. I was captured at the time of the charge of the rebels under
General Pat Cleburne, and sent to the rear as a prisoner of war. I had $200 and a silver watch
worth $50 taken from me. From the battlefield I was taken to Columbus, Tennessee, and kept there
until the last of December, then marched to Corinth, Mississippi. From there, by rail to
Meridium, thence to Selma, Alabama, and finally to prison at Cahaba, Alabama.
In this prison there were about 2,500 prisoners, and we were all on short rations,
the customary treatment of prisoners by the Confederate States.
I cannot tell the date when I left the prison, but I think it was the last of February, 1865.
I was with the first detachment that went to Vicksburg, Mississippi, and a hard time we had of it.
We did a great deal of forced marching to get there.
I never can forgive the quartermaster for not giving us rations on the night we arrived at Black River.
He held the rations on one side of the river, and us on the other side.
Fourteen hours, without anything to eat.
We lay in camp until we were placed on board the sultana.
I had a jolly trip to Memphis.
Being the son of a steamboat captain, I was at home on the river.
At Memphis I was in town till midnight,
and was awake when the boat was at the coal yards.
At the time of the explosion,
I would sound asleep on the larboard wheelhouse water box on the hurricane deck.
When I awoke, I was standing about to.
ten feet from the box in a thick steam.
While there, my comrade, George A. Kent, came to me from the roof of the Texas and asked me what was up.
I told him that the boat had blown up, and if she did not catch on fire, we were all right.
Just at that moment the fire burst out where the chimneys had stood.
I then told him we would have to swim or burn.
I urged him to go with me to the Texas
to see if we could obtain anything to swim upon.
We started together, and that is the last I saw of him.
I got two bed slats,
and went aft of the wheelhouse on the hurricane deck
and witnessed the drowning of hundreds of men.
I saw the stage plank go overboard,
loaded with men, and go under with them.
When it arose, there were only two or three clinging to it.
I kept my post aft of the wheelhouse until the fire forced me to jump.
I at once swam away from the boat and would not let anyone come near me.
By the light of the burning wreck, I could see timber on the south or east bank up the stream from me,
and I believed that I held my own against the current for over one hour
when I discovered the boat was drifting, and I was not going to the timber.
I then changed my route and went with the current
and landed on an island three miles above Memphis,
just at daylight, and fought mosquitoes until half-past ten o'clock
when I was taken on board a steamer to Memphis.
The next day I went down to the river and met Captain Carmer
and with him to New Albany, thence to see my parents in Kentucky.
Was discharged on the 29th of May 1865,
at Indianapolis.
Occupation, farming.
Post office address, Wellington, Kansas.
End of Section 121.
Section 122 of Loss of the Sultana by Chester D. Berry.
This Libervox recording is in the public domain.
Section 122.
Samuel Stubberfield.
I was born in McCain County, Pennsylvania,
September 9, 1843. When I was about two years of age, my parents moved to Ottawa, County, Ohio,
from there to Williams County, Ohio, and in 1854, I, with my parents, moved to Wright Township,
in Hillsdale County, Michigan, where I lived at the breaking out of the rebellion.
I enlisted in the service of the United States on the 26th of July 1862 in Company F,
18th Michigan Infantry for three years, or during the war, unless sooner discharged.
I left the state September 4th for Cincinnati, Ohio, where we took up our line of march through Kentucky.
Reaching Lexington, I spent most of the winter in the hospital and convalescent camp,
and about the first of April 1863 left the state with my regiment for Nashville, Tennessee,
where I remained about 14 months.
I then left for Decatur, Alabama, and was one of the detail that routed the rebels at Pond
Spring on the 29th of June 1864, capturing nine wagons and two ambulances that the rebels had taken
from an Indiana regiment sometime before this, and also one of their wagons and two of their
ambulances, was also one of the detail that helped to route the rebels at court-eastern.
Alabama on the 27th of July 1864, losing only one man from my company.
On the 24th of September, I was in the detachment ordered to reinforce the fort at Athens, Alabama.
When we got within a mile of the place, we were attacked by an overwhelming force of rebels at about six o'clock in the morning,
and we had to fight our way until 12 o'clock.
as we neared the fort that we were to reinforce we received grape canister and shell from the fort its commander having surrendered it and our little band with it without our knowledge
but our small force four hundred fought the rebel general forest's force six long hours before surrendering when we were completely surrounded and were finally compelled to give in
we afterwards took up our line of march for that miserable prison kehaba alabama at which place we arrived october sixth eighteen sixty four and remained there until the fourth of march eighteen sixty five
when i left the prison the water was from six inches to four and one-half feet deep all over the entire enclosure had been so for seven days and had been six inches deeper
i slept two nights on a sixteen-inch wall which was fifteen feet above the water and some of the boys did their cooking among the braces of the roof
on the date before stated march fourth i got aboard a steamer and steamed down the alabama river up the tom bigby river as far as navigable and then by rail to meridian
from thence we were sent to jackson mississippi and from there we marched to vicksburg where we went into parole camp march sixteenth eighteen sixty five
on the twenty fifth of april eighteen sixty five was placed on board the steamer sultana which was to carry us homeward to friends and loved ones
but alas hundreds passed on to the city of death to await mothers fathers sisters brothers and lovers whom they had expected to meet in a few days but were destined to pass over the river whence no parting ever comes
we reached memphis on the twenty-sixth of april and while unloading sugar there the staging parted one half turning over catching my right foot and leg to the knee and bruising my foot badly
it soon swelled as full as the skin could hold and pained me badly when the explosion took place at two o'clock a m april twenty seventh i could not bear any weight on my foot but was compelled to leave the boat
being forced off by the flames.
I picked up a four-by-four scantling,
which someone had discarded,
and went to the rear part of the boat,
jumped off into the river,
and sank for a moment in that chilling ice-cold water.
On coming to the surface again,
I struck out in the same direction that most of the others did,
but thinking I had not acted wisely,
I turned around to go in the opposite direction,
when someone caught hold of my frail bark.
not feeling like parting company with my little craft so soon i clutched it with all my might and eventually succeeded in releasing it i then struck out in the direction of some trees reaching the little cottonwoods just at daylight
the little trees were so frail however and the water so deep that my little craft with what trees i could get hold of would not keep me out of the water
and i was compelled to remain here until about eleven o'clock in the morning of april twenty seventh when i was picked up by the steamer silver spray and taken to the hospital at memphis tennessee
i remained in the hospital until about the middle of may when i was sent to the soldiers home where i was discharged the service and reached my home on the nineteenth of may eighteen sixty five my occupation is farming
End of Section 122.
Section 123 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry.
This Libervovacht recording is in the public domain.
Section 123. Perry S. Somerville.
I was born in Clay County, Indiana, on the 4th of March, 1846.
Enlisted on the 5th of December 1861 in Company K.
Indiana Cavalry.
I was captured at Stilesboro, Georgia, September 13, 1864, while out with the forage train.
When we were attacked by the enemy, I jumped from the wagon and fell between the wheels.
The hind wheels passed over my right leg, breaking it.
I was put on a mule and rode till noon, then I was put in a wagon and hauled two days in it.
When we got to Jacksonville, Alabama, I was left at the hospital for a few days before sending me on.
The man that kept the hospital gave me a fine comb, which was the means of catching at least
50,000 inmates of the prison, and his lady gave me a $10 bill.
I was then taken to Talladega, Alabama, and placed in a cell about 14 feet square.
There were about 12 rebels in with me.
i was there a few days and was sent to selma alabama and was again put in jail but this time in a larger and cleaner one i was kept there a few days when i was sent to
the last of september i was put in the prison with some tennesseeans as i entered the prison the boys hallooed fresh fish an article i was standing in need of at that time
i put in a part of the day taking in my situation and looking for the old man brown who was taken prisoner with me night came on and i had no place to lie down only on the ground and without blankets
The only article I had in the shape of a bed was my crutches, which I used for a pillow.
The nights were very cold.
Next morning, my clothes looked more like pepper and salt goods than blue.
I had amusement for a few hours in using my thumbnails.
I hadn't been in this prison long before my leg was so bad that I was taken out to the hospital,
but to see the dead carried out every morning was too much.
for me and I went back to the stockade. I made me a knife out of a piece of hoop iron while
out, so Brown and I were in very good shape as he had a railroad spike to split wood with,
and I had a knife to eat mush with. We were better fixed than the average of the prisoners.
Wood as well as provisions was scarce. We would split our wood up very fine to make a quick fire
to make our mush or gruel.
Wood being so scarce,
I worked up one of my crutches
to cook with before I was able to do without it.
I next burned a part of the other one,
and one night I failed to lie on my cane,
and some fellow stole it,
with which to cook his breakfast.
That left me in a bad fix.
Our prison was furnished with river water.
The water passed through the city in pipes
to a hydrant outside the prison,
where the stock came to drink. The people would wash there, and then the water would pass down
through the prison for us to drink and cook with, but still it was one of the purest articles
we got. I was standing near a comrade one day, who happened to get his foot on the dead line,
the guard above shot at his foot, barely missing it, and the ball glanced back striking
the roof. I saw a number of men shot, and one of the men shot, and one of the guard above shot at his foot,
man killed by having a bayonet run through him. He suffered the most before he died of any man I ever
saw. Some time in February, the boys undertook to break out. They were successful in capturing the
inside guards, but the rebels ran their artillery up to the prison gate and said,
they would rake the prison in five minutes if we didn't lie down. One of the guards reported
that he had wounded one of the boys,
and the next morning the officers ordered us
to give up the leaders of the mutiny.
That being denied,
they then called for the wounded man
and said, if refused,
they would strip us and have him at all events.
Being again refused,
they proceeded to examine us,
making us strip off naked,
pass out through the gangway
between two officers,
with our clothing rolled in a bundle,
and held on our...
heads, turn around once, and then pass out in plain view of the city. The man was wounded in the
hand, so they didn't get him. Their next resort was to starve us. They stopped our meal for three
or four days, but found that would not do, and when we got our meal and beef, we did not take time
to cook it. The beef was sour in the bargain. Some time in March, the Alabama River arose, and
and flooded the city and our prison.
The water was from two to five feet deep all over the prison.
They took out about 700 prisoners and sent them up to Selma, Alabama.
The rest remained in the prison.
The boys floated in wood and made bunks to sit on,
four or five sitting on one bunk.
The water became so filthy that we would wade out to the stockade
and hold our cups to catch the clean water
as it came through the cracks.
They allowed us to go on the deadline for that purpose.
The officers of the prison would come into the prison in canoes.
The river was still up when I waited out for exchange.
I, with the rest of the prisoners,
was taken by the way of Jackson, Mississippi,
and remained in parole camp four miles out from Vicksburg for a few weeks
when we were exchanged and put on the steamer, Sultanah, at Vicksburg.
my quarters were on the cabin deck on the guard on the left-hand side over and opposite the boilers we arrived at memphis early in the evening of april twenty sixth
there she unloaded a large amount of sugar after which she ran up to the coal barge to take on coal and that was the last i knew till i was in the river when she blew up i was thrown at least one hundred feet
the first thought that struck me was that she was running close to the shore and that i was dragged off by the limb of a tree i was very much excited for a few minutes and commenced to swim towards the boat calling for help but i had not gone far when i saw there was something the matter on board
i could see steam and fire and hear the screams of those on board so i commenced to swim down stream
i had not gone far before the boat was all in flames i managed to get hold of a rail which proved of much assistance to me and i could see by the light from the burning boat as many as twenty go into the river at once
as i was passing the islands i could see the timber on my right and left but i could not make to the shore some two miles above memphis i got a large plank which i drew across the end of my rail in front of me and held the rail with my feet and the plank with my hands
i lay so near the top of the water that i was almost freezing and when taken out of the water couldn't stand i was hurt in the breast
i was hurt in the breast and scalded on the back and spit blood for some time from the effects of the injury in my breast was rescued at memphis by a colored man who picked me up in a canoe and took me to a boat to get warm
after i had been there a few minutes a young man was brought in who was so badly scalded that his skin slipped off from the shoulders to the hands they wrapped him up in oil and he walked the floor
until a few minutes before his death.
There was a lady brought in also who had a husband and some children on board.
She was almost crazy.
I don't think she ever heard of them after that terrible morning.
As I was floating down the river, I met a gunboat,
but it didn't stop to pick me up.
Also, I saw a horse floating down the stream,
with six or eight men hanging on to him.
When I heard him coming, I tried to get to him,
but when i saw his load i kept clear for fear some of the boys would get all i had at that time in the world my rail and plank there was a man by the name of jerry perker of the second michigan cavalry swimming near me
all knew jerry and the boys as far as they could hear him would ask what he thought of our case he would cheer the boys by telling them to hold out and we would get out
i saw him after we got out he floated on a barrel i had on a pair of socks that bothered me more than anything else they worked partly off my feet and would catch on my rail which caused me to almost sink
my companion's name was kibs what became of him i have never learned he was cheerful except one talking about his little girl there were three of us from brazil indiana
Two were lost, I being the only one of them saved.
I was taken to the hospital.
After remaining there two or three days, we started for Camp Chase, Ohio.
But when we arrived at Indianapolis, Governor Morton, the war governor, stopped us Indiana soldiers.
My post office address is Brazil, Indiana.
My occupation is farming.
Section 124 of Loss of the Sultanna by Chester D. Berry.
This Librevox recording is in the public domain.
Section 124.
William Thayer
I was born in Watertown, New York, October 25, 1845,
and enlisted in the service of the United States at Adrian, Michigan, August 7, 1862,
in Company C, 18th Regiment Michigan Volunteer Infantry,
was captured at Athens, Alabama, September 24th, 1864,
and confined in the Cahaba, Alabama Prison.
I was lying in the alleyway of the second deck when the boat blew up.
I stayed on the boat until I saw two scantlings tied together with a pair of suspenders.
I thought they would help me along, and they did,
for I floated down the river for about six miles and then near the shore.
I climbed a tree and tied myself there with my shirt,
and about two o'clock p.m. I was picked up and taken to the hospital at Memphis.
Occupation farming.
Post office address, Fairfield, Michigan.
End of Section 125 of Loss of the Sultan by Chester D.B.
This Lubrovoc's recording is in the public domain.
Section 125
Marion Thomas
I was born in Monroe County, June 17, 1832,
and enlisted in the service of the United States at Kentucky, February 1, 1863,
in Company E, 3rd Tennessee Cavalry,
and was captured at Athens, Alabama, on the 23rd of September 1864,
and confined in the Kahaba prison.
After the sultana exploded, I was in the water four hours,
was taken on board a gunboat, more dead than alive.
Occupation farming.
Post office address, Maryville, Blount County, Tennessee.
End of Section 125.
Section 126 of Loss of the Sultana by Chester D. Berry.
This Libervox recording is in the public domain.
Section 126.
Samuel J. Thrasher
I was born in Hawkins County, East Tennessee on the 19th of November, 1839.
Enlisted at Louisville, Kentucky, February 8, 1863, in Company G, 6th Regiment, Kentucky Cavalry Volunteers.
Was captured near Tuscaloosa, Alabama,
March 31, 1865, and confined in a prison at Marion, Alabama.
On the evening of the 25th of April, 1865, at Vicksburg, Mississippi,
I was put on board the ill-fated sultana, which steamed up the great father of waters
until it reached Memphis, Tennessee, where it landed and put off some freight,
then went up the river to the coal yard, cold for Cairo, Illinois,
and then after proceeding about seven miles, the boiler of the boat exploded.
This occurred on the 27th of April 1865 at about half-past 2 a.m.
There being on board at the time 1,96 paroled soldiers,
a part of whom were killed by the explosion, and others crippled or maimed.
When the steamer caught fire, almost everyone on board
became frightened. The writer could not swim and thought his chance for life was slim and stood holding
to a small rope to keep the men from crowding him overboard. A comrade, Abraham Rhodes,
here said if we would not get excited, we could save ourselves. After the crowd quit surging,
so there was no danger of being knocked overboard, we got the cable rope and made it fast to the
rings on the bow of the boat and threw it over into the water. We then made a large chain
fast in the same way and threw it over. When the heat became so intense we could not stay on the
boat any longer, we went down into the water, under the bow of the boat, holding to the rope and
chain until the cabin burned down. There were several swimming around, and when they saw the chain
and rope, they laid hold of it.
After the cabin had burned down,
those who had got into the river
prepared to swim,
having on only shirt and drawers,
climbed back on the boat
and threw down a rope
which we put under our arms,
and they drew us up to the hull
of the burning steamer.
After all, we're put back on the hull,
we went to work and put out the fire,
so that it would not sink so quickly.
As we were drifting down the river,
We struck a grove of saplings.
We had made a small raft out of the timbers of the boat
and ran out a line, made fast to a sapling,
and stopped the boat or hull.
Some of my unfortunate companions went out to a house
that was surrounded by water,
got a large, hewed log, and fastened it to the raft,
brought it in, and took out as many as twelve at a time
by lying flat across the log.
The raft made some three or four trips before all were taken off.
The rider and one of the third Tennessee cavalry were the last to leave the boat,
and had not been off the hull but a short time when it went down.
After a while a picket boat came up and took us back to Memphis,
where we were cared for in the hospital.
From there we went by boat to Cairo, Illinois,
and then to Louisville, Kentucky, then to Nashville,
where I was mustered out on the 23rd day of July 1865.
Present post office address, Brown's Crossroads, Kentucky.
End of Section 126.
Section 127 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry.
This Librevox recording is in the public domain.
Section 127.
Caswell C. Tipton.
i was born in the year of our lord eighteen forty four enlisted in the service of the united states on the twenty first of september eighteen sixty two at blount county tennessee as a private in company b third regiment tennessee cavalry
was taken a prisoner at the battle of sulphur branch trestle alabama on the twenty fifth of september eighteen sixty four and confined in cahaba prison alabama
with others i was brought to vicksburg mississippi and sent north on the steamer sultana after the explosion of her boiler i remained on the boat but a short time
in company with six or seven other soldiers i made my escape on a plank that had been used in loading and unloading barrels we were in the water until about daylight when we were rescued by parties in a small boat opposite memphis tennessee
I was afterwards sent to Camp Chase, Ohio, and from that place to Nashville, Tennessee,
where I was discharged from the service on the 10th of June 1865.
My present post office address is Trundles Crossroads, Sevier County, Tennessee.
End of Section 127. Section 128 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry.
This Libre Vox recording is in the...
the public domain. Section 128. Wilson S. Tracy
I was born in Holmes County, Ohio, April 1, 1842, and enlisted in the service of the United
States at Worcester, Ohio, August 7, 1862, in Company H. 102nd Ohio Volunteer Infantry.
Was captured at Athens, Alabama, September 14, 1868.
and confined in the Kahaba Prison
Occupation Farming
Post Office
Fredericksburg, Wayne County, Ohio
End of Section 128
129 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry
This Librevox recording is in the public domain.
Section 129
Robert A. Trent
I was born in the year 1840 and enlisted in the service of the United States at Flatlick, Kentucky on the 11th of March 1862, as 4th Sargent and Company Clerk of Company B, First Regiment Tennessee Cavalry volunteers.
I was captured at Shoal Creek, Alabama, while in action, on the 5th day of November 1864, was taken to prison at Meridian.
and Mississippi, remaining there about two months, then sent to Cahaba, Alabama, where I was
detained until about the 1st of April, 1865, and then sent to Vicksburg, Mississippi.
About the 25th of April, 1865, I was placed on board the steamer Sultan, my destination being
Camp Chase, Ohio.
I, with many others, landed for a short time at Memphis, Tennessee, on the evening of
of the 26th of April. We started up the river about two o'clock in the morning of the 27th,
and when we were about nine miles above Memphis, the boiler of the boat exploded.
At the time of the explosion, I was very weak from sickness and could scarcely walk across the
boat. I had laid on some plank under the cabin, which was back of the wheelhouse, and soon
fell asleep. I was struck on the left side of the head with the head.
something which cut a gash about two inches in diameter to the skull, and I was knocked down
on some mules that were under me. The lights were all out, and it was pitch dark. I saw what
was the trouble in an instant. The people all seemed excited, and hundreds of them were
jumping into the river. I remained on the boat as long as possible, knowing that it would
be sure death for me among the crowd that was in the water, for they were fighting.
and clinging to one another and making all sorts of noise.
When they got out of the way, I jumped into the water on the Tennessee side of the boat
and swam about seven miles when I got hold of some brush.
This is the last that I remember until late in the evening
when I awoke and found myself in the hospital at Memphis,
where I remained several days, unable to get out.
But, by the help of God and kind physicians, I recovered.
i am very sorry that i do not know their names so i can thank them for their kindness toward me i was discharged from the service in may eighteen sixty five at nashville tennessee
end of section one hundred and twenty nine section one hundred and thirty of loss of the sultana by chester d berry this libervox recording is in the public domain section one hundred and thirty is
Isaac van Nyes.
I was born in Wayne County, Indiana, January 8, 1838.
I enlisted in the service of the United States on the 23rd of April, 1861, at Richmond, Indiana,
as a private in Company D, 57th Indiana Veteran Volunteer Infantry for three years.
Re-enlisted as Veteran Volunteer Infantry, January 1, 1816.
in the same company and regiment.
I was captured at Franklin, Tennessee, November 30, 1864,
and exchanged April 1, 1865 at Black River, near Vicksburg, Mississippi.
Was confined at Meridian, Mississippi, most of the time, while a prisoner.
After lying in parole camp at Vicksburg for a few weeks,
was sent north on the ill-fated steamer Sultanah, April 2,000.
25, 1865. We, to the number of about 2,300 prisoners, were marched from the camp and loaded on the
sultana at Vicksburg. When we were crowded on the vessel, I think it was six times its capacity.
We were huddled together like sheep for the slaughter, many as yet suffering from battle wounds,
and most of them emaciated from starvation in prison pens, as all conversed.
with andersonville can testify now however they were en route for home the cruel war was over and their cause triumphant
the visions of loved ones greeting their return and of dear familiar scenes and the quiet peaceful life were again theirs to pursue all this filled their hearts with joy making their bearing in conversation a study in human nature rare even in those stirring days
Memphis was reached on the 26th of April.
After coaling, the steamer proceeded.
So far, the presence of danger was not manifested,
nor was it in any sense anticipated.
That very night, however, at 2 o'clock a.m.,
just as we had made eight miles above Memphis,
suddenly and without any warning,
the boiler of the steamer exploded with terrific force.
and in a few minutes the boat burned to the water's edge no adequate cause for the explosion has ever been ascertained the steamer was running at her proper speed nine or ten miles an hour no peril seemed imminent and the event remains yet a mystery
the scene that followed the explosion was simply horrible beyond words to depict but it was of short duration as the glare of the burning
steamer that illuminated the sky and made visible the awful despair of the hour soon died away,
while darkness, all the more intense, settled down on the floating hulk, and the 2,300 victims of
the explosion, who, maimed or scalded, in addition to battle wounds, were borne down by the unpitying
flood, whose rapid current was strewn with the bodies of the dead and the dying, and but few, in fact,
but what were injured.
This casualty transpired in time of intense excitement
and never had the attention it ought to have had,
following closely as it did the assassination of President Lincoln
and the close of the war.
Death and destruction had been in the land for four years,
and nearly 400,000 had already given up their lives
in defense of the national flag
that it might wave over a free country.
I had been in prison and witnessed the awful scenes there, and on many a battlefield.
I thought I had seen all the horrors of war, but this disaster was the most heart-rending of any I had seen in my four years' service.
I was on the hurricane deck in rear of the pilot house, asleep when the explosion occurred.
I was so shocked that I couldn't tell what had happened for a moment, but soon found
that the boat had been blown to pieces in front of the pilot house,
and those that could work were fighting the fire
to keep the rest of the vessel from burning,
but it was soon given up to the flames.
I couldn't swim and was trying to make up my mind
whether it would be better to stay on the boat and burn
or to drown in the deep water below.
After reflection I came to the conclusion
I would stand on the deck
and saw by the light of the burning vessel
that the water was full of drowning men and floating dead bodies.
As the flames commenced burning around me, however,
and began heating me up, I changed my mind,
and thought I would try the water, as most of them had gone down.
With this resolve I went to the pilot house,
and pulling off a loose board, put it under my arm,
and went to the edge of the deck.
Here I found that the side wheel had burned off,
into the water, and some timbers from above had drifted there.
I concluded to make the jump for the water holding onto my board,
and if I failed with it, I would have a chance on the wheelhouse.
I jumped into the river and went down.
It seemed to me a half of a mile in the water,
and when I came to the surface again, my board was gone,
but I managed to catch on to the wheel,
and thus saved myself from drowning this time.
i was so close to the burning boat that i had to let myself down in the water to keep from being burned while thus situated i managed to get two pieces of timber together by tying them with my suspenders around one end and nailing a board across the other end with a chunk of wood
all the time lowering myself into the water every few minutes to keep from being burned when i had completed my little raft i jumped astride it
it, pushed off from the burning boat and floated down the stream.
I had a board which served as an oar to guide my bark after it floated out of the main current.
I landed on the Arkansas side of the river about five miles from the burning hulk.
Soon after I left, the hull burned through and went down, taking everything in its reach.
As I was among the last that left the boat, I saw one thousand,
six hundred go down to a watery grave.
Most of them made a rush for the water, some thinking that they could swim, and in that way
attempted their escape, but many of them would catch on to each other, and they went down by
the hundreds. Under all circumstances, you will find men ready to joke and to receive them.
As I was floating down the stream, I came near a man floating on a small piece of timber who
said,
Say, Pard, give me a chew of tobacco.
I feel like if I had a chew, I could make it to the shore all right.
I told him I was going down to Memphis for a load
and would give him some on my return,
but the poor fellow never got home.
I was picked up about eight o'clock a.m.
and taken to the hospital at Memphis for treatment,
as I was exhausted and scalded.
I remained there about two weeks,
and then was sent north to.
to our capital, where I was furloughed home for a few days to see my loved ones.
There was a general order from the War Department to muster out all paroled prisoners,
and we were soon called to answer to the last red tape roll call after almost four years of service.
The history of the regiment was our history.
We had participated in its hardships, its labors, its duties, and its countless privations.
in the charge of many a battle-field we had borne our part this closed our active service and prison life and we could say that we had performed the duty that we owed to our country
i was discharged from the service on the sixteenth day of june eighteen sixty five at indianapolis indiana as captain of my company i have for the last three years been unable to follow my trade
and am still unable to do any business.
End of Section 130.
Section 131 of Loss of the Sultan by Chester D. Berry.
This Librevox recording is in the public domain.
Section 131.
J.W. VanSkoiv.
I was born in Richland County, Ohio, June 27, 1836.
I enlisted in the service of the U.S.
United States in Company A. 64th Regiment Ohio Volunteer Infantry at Camp Buckingham,
November 30, 1861. I was captured at the Battle of Franklin, Tennessee on the 30th of November
1864 in the rear of Hood's Army. The next day we were searched and robbed of everything of value
that was not taken when we were first captured. I had my knapsack over,
coat, two good blankets, and haversack taken from me. We were then marched back to the old
fort at Columbia that we had destroyed. We marched from there to Cherokee Station on the Memphis
and Charleston Railroad. From there were shipped to Corinth, Mississippi, marching through to
Meridian, and from there were taken to Andersonville Prison. I was one of the boys that S.H. Rodabaw
bought out of Andersonville.
I was to give a German comrade $10.
He was lost on the sultana.
I was laying on the cabin deck,
which is over the boilers,
asleep at the time of the explosion.
Part of the cabin and deck kitchen
were blown off into the river,
and Hugh Bratton,
Joseph Wagoner and myself,
and I think Kennedy,
were blown into the river.
I was stunned so that I did not realize anything.
When I came to, I was under the water.
I swam around until I found a board about four feet long and about one-half-foot wide
and floated down within 400 yards of Memphis when I was picked up by some parties in a skiff.
I was scarcely out of the water until I was entirely helpless.
The parties who picked me up said they never expected I would.
revive. I had no clothing on except shirt and drawers when rescued. At the time of the explosion,
I was jammed in my breast, which caused me to spit blood for several days. I was taken to the
Gaioso Hospital, where I remained but a few days, and was then sent to Camp Chase, Ohio,
to be discharged from the service. My occupation is that of a real estate agent.
End of Section 131.
Section 132 of Loss of the Sultanna by Chester D. Berry.
This Librevox recording is in the public domain.
Section 132.
Alonzo A. Van Vlack.
I was born in Reading, Michigan on the 8th of October 1843.
I enlisted in the service of the United States on August 5, 1862, at 1.4.
Woodbridge in Company F of the 18th Michigan Volunteer Infantry.
I was taken prisoner near Athens, Alabama, on the 24th of September 1864,
by General Forests cavalry, and was sent from Athens to Cahaba Prison,
where I suffered everything but death.
My legs were one raw sore from my knees down to my feet, with scurvy.
In March, we left for Vicksburg, Mississippi,
and after remaining there until the twenty fifth of april eighteen sixty five we were placed on board the steamer sultana we were all happy with the thought of soon seeing our loved ones at home
but at the dead hour of midnight when all or nearly all were soundly sleeping on her broad decks one of her boilers exploded nearly one thousand seven hundred were lost i was sleeping on the hurricane deck just forward of the
wheelhouse and was knocked senseless by a piece of the deck falling on me after I came to a
terrible sight met my eyes the boat was all in flames and the water was covered with men
my first thought was to get a door out of the cabin I looked down into the cabin and there
saw women and children running to and fro and screaming for help I shouted to them
that they would try and run the boat on shore,
but there was so much confusion that they could not hear me.
At last I got a barrel, but soon threw it away,
as I thought that would be a poor thing to use in the water.
I then slid down on one of the posts back of the wheel,
stood on the lattice work,
and took off my clothes except shirt, drawers, and stockings.
Then I watched my chance to jump into the river.
When all looked clear, I leaped in, and soon came to the surface and struck out for the Tennessee shore.
I saw some men drown so close to me that I could place my hand upon their heads as they were going down.
While in the water, I found a bale of hay with three or four men hanging on to it.
As I made up to them, they fought me off, but I clinched on and rested for a moment and then left them.
I had gone about one half of a mile from the boat
when I found a small board, painted white on one side,
which helped me to get to the shore.
I got quite near the Tennessee shore,
but a strong current set in and took me farther from the shore.
I got tangled in some grape vines that were floating in the river
and came near sinking.
I managed to get out of the vines,
then the current carried me nearer,
the Arkansas shore. I could look back and see that the boat was in flames and see the fire drive those
left on board off by the hundreds. When it was getting daylight, I struck a snag about ten rods from
the timber and floodwood. I rested a little, then swam for the floodwood. The water came near drawing me
under I was so weak. I crawled up on the logs, nearly dead. I then looked back and saw
men drowning and calling for help. After daylight, steamers came up the river and picked us up.
I was taken to the hospital at Memphis, where I was doctored and clothed, and when able to travel,
was sent with others to Camp Chase, Ohio. The Michigan men were then sent to Jackson, Michigan,
and from there we went home on furlough.
Was afterwards ordered to Detroit,
where I was discharged from the service
on the 1st of July 1865 as a private.
My present occupation is farming.
Post office address, Cambria, Michigan.
End of Section 132.
Section 133 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry.
This Libravox recording is in the public domain.
Section 133.
Albert Varnel
I was born at Knoxville, Tennessee on the 5th of March 1839.
I enlisted in the service of the United States at Nashville, Tennessee, September 25, 1863,
as a corporal in Company I, 3rd Regiment Tennessee Cavalry.
I was taken prisoner at the...
Battle of Sulphor Branch Tressel, Alabama, on the 25th of September 1864, and taken to
Cahaba prison, where I was held as a prisoner for six months and seven days.
While here I had to stand in water up to my waist for seven days and nights.
From here we were taken to Big Black River, where we were exchanged.
I remained some time at this place.
I boarded the sultana at Vicksburg, Mrs.
with about 2,350 other soldiers who were on their way to Cairo, Illinois.
The boat blew up about eight miles above Memphis, Tennessee.
The boiler burst about three o'clock in the morning of the 27th of April, 1865.
The scene was horrible to look upon.
I was slumbering on the deck when a terrible shock awoke me,
and I found myself in the hull of the boat.
I then crawled out and saw such great excitement that it seemed to me there was no hope of escape for me,
but I made up my mind to save myself if I could.
I then got hold of a piece of plank and looked for some chance to get through the drowning mass.
At length I saw the way open and struck out for the Arkansas shore.
I swam something near seven miles before I could find timber of any kind on which I might
rest. Finally, I found a log about a mile above Memphis, and crawling upon it, remained there
until daylight, when I was taken off by a boat to the soldiers home at Memphis.
While there I was unconscious two or three days, and when I came to myself, I found that the left
side of my face was scalded so as to put out my eye, or nearly so.
From here I was taken to Camp Chase, Ohio, and thence to Nashville, Tennessee, where I was discharged from the service of the United States.
End of Section 133.
Section 134 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry.
This Libervox recording is in the public domain.
Section 134.
G.W. Watt
I was born in Coshawton County, Ohio, July 19, 1841, and enlisted in the service of the United States at Adamsville on the 5th of August 1862 in Company E. 97th Ohio Volunteer Infantry.
Was captured at Franklin, Tennessee, November 30, 1864, and confined in the Selma, Alabama and Andersonville prisons.
into the water and got hold of a bale of hay and floated down the river.
I was in the water a long time and was finally picked up by a gunboat.
Occupation Blacksmith.
Reside in Muskingham County, Ohio.
End of Section 134.
Section 135 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry.
This Libervox recording is in the public domain.
Section 135.
William Went.
I was born in Prussia, Germany, March 11, 1844, and enlisted in the service of the United States
at Romeo, Michigan, May 25, 1863, in Company L. 8th Regiment, Michigan Cavalry, and was captured
at Knoxville, Tennessee, November 15, 1863, and confined in the Pemberton Hospital and Libby, Anderson
Millen and Blackshear, Georgia prisons.
At the time of the explosion, I was on the hurricane deck,
next to the stairway leading up from the cabin deck.
There was just room for four of us.
There were John P. Day, Company L., 8th Regiment, Michigan Cavalry,
George Meade, 21st Regiment, Michigan Infantry,
John Keiney, 8th Regiment Michigan Cavalry,
and myself. I was awakened on the 27th of April 1865 by the water splashing over my head.
Thinking that the boys were throwing water, I jumped up to see who it was when I heard the cry of
fire. Then I spoke to my mates and told them to get up, for the boat was on fire, at the same time
getting my clothes ready, still being half asleep. John Kinney got up and said,
stepped backwards and fell into the river.
George Meade did likewise, and I have never seen them since.
I did not see John P. Day until we met in Memphis after we were picked up.
When I got wide awake, the boat was burning quite fast.
I took in the situation at once.
I was not able to swim.
I started to go down to the cabin deck, but the stairs were gone, so I walked down.
on the wreckage towards the water's edge.
There were some that had pieces of the deck,
and I tried to get on with them,
but they were already crowded.
I got a blind from one of the cabin doors and went back.
It seemed to me as though the boat was lying on its side.
Just as I was going to let myself into the water,
I came in contact with something that seemed to be a scantling,
and for fear that the blind would be insufficient to hold me up,
I took that also.
Now came the difficulty to get out of the crowd,
for it was very densely crowded on that side of the boat.
I had no sooner got onto my blind,
then someone jumped onto my back,
taking me down under the water and losing my hat,
but I stuck to the blind and scantling.
Finally got out of the crowd and drifted down with the current,
for it was very strong.
I had not been drifting long when I saw a light from a boat that was going down the river.
Some of the boys were hailing it.
I don't know whether any of them got on or not.
I kept floating on down the stream until I came in contact with some limbs of trees.
I grasped one of them, and it happened to be very lucky for me,
for the water was deep there, and my blind and scantling shot away from me.
it was just beginning to get light and i began to look around me many of the boys had landed here some on driftwood some on trees and some on a little log hut close by me
about ten o'clock a m a steamer came up the river and picked us up i was so benumbed that it rendered me helpless for a while they took me on board and carried me back to a hospital in memphis
occupation farming post office address kapak michigan end of section one hundred and thirty five section one hundred and thirty six of loss of the sultana by chester d berry
this librivox recording is in the public domain section one hundred and thirty six m c white i was born in cataragas county new york august eight eighteen forty four
I enlisted in the service of the United States in Company B. 8th Michigan Cavalry, December 2, 1862, at Quincy, Branch County, Michigan, and served until the close of the war as a private.
I was 16 years of age when I enlisted.
I served in the East Tennessee Campaign under General Burnside, was wounded November 18, 1863 at the Siege of Knoxville.
was with general sherman on the atlanta campaign until september when we were ordered to nicholasville kentucky to recruit and get remounted in october we were ordered to nashville tennessee my regiment was in the advance and met hood in his advance on nashville
i was taken prisoner by forest cavalry november twenty fourth eighteen sixty four near mount pleasant tennessee and was confined in a stone fort at columbia tennessee for two or three weeks until hood commenced his retreat when we were taken south
We landed at Meridian, Mississippi on Christmas Day, and remained there a few days when we were sent to Cahaba, Alabama, and confined in Castle Morgan until March, when we were paroled and sent to Vicksburg, Mississippi.
I was with the last squad that left Cahaba prison and reached Vicksburg March 24, 1865.
I remained at Vicksburg in the parole camp until I took passage on the ill-fated steamer.
Sultanna. When her boilers exploded, I was asleep on the hurricane deck, aft of the wheelhouse,
on the Arkansas side, and was not injured by the explosion. I thought at first a rebel battery
had fired on us, and that a shell had exploded on board. I heard the officers give orders
that we should remain quiet, for the boat was going ashore, but I soon saw that it was every
man for himself. I dressed and went below. The scenes were heart-rending. The wounded and dying were
begging for help. Some were praying. Others were taking God's name in vain, while those in the water
would catch hold of one another and go down in squads. The fire was getting so hot that I saw I must
soon be making my escape into the water. I was quite expert in the art of swimming and thought if I
could get away from the crowd, I might save myself, although I was quite weak, through having
been sick a great deal of the time while in prison. As I stopped to take a hurried glance around
me, I heard someone near me exclaim, For God's sake, someone helped me get this man out.
I turned and saw a lieutenant of a Kentucky regiment. He was a very large man and was called
Big Kentucky. He had found a man that was held fast by both feet, a large piece of the wreck having
fallen across them. I took hold and helped the lieutenant, but we could not release him,
and he was soon roasted by the intense heat. I then went to the edge of the boat,
removed my shoes and pulled my cap down, and then gave a plunge into the water with my clothes
on, as they would keep me warmer.
I was very fortunate in making my escape through the crowd without anyone catching hold of me,
and also in finding a plank, but I did not go far with it when a comrade grabbed it away from me.
He was about half drowned, and apparently crazy.
The plank would have answered for both of us if he had remained at one end.
I tried to reason with him, but on hearing my voice he would keep him.
keep coming for me, grabbing, and yelling. He got almost within reach of me, and I was afraid to
have him get hold of my clothes, for fear he would drown us both. So I left him with the plank and
struck out without any support. It was very dark, and all I could see was the burning steamer.
I could not tell which way to make for land, so I just floated on the water and let the current take
me. When it came daylight, I was going around a bend in the river, and the current carried me
towards the shore. I could see trees, but no land, as the water had risen very high and overflowed
its banks. I thought my only chance was to get to those trees. I was very cold and nearly exhausted.
When I got there, the first tree I came to, the water was up to the branches. I was up to the branches. I
I threw my arms over a limb and had just strength enough to hang on to it.
It was some time before I could climb up out of the water.
I found that I had gone down the river six miles and landed on the Arkansas side.
As it grew light, I could see comrades all around me, some in trees, some in driftwood,
and most all were destitute of any clothing.
And to make it still worse, the gnats were so thick.
that they nearly ate us up. Then I was glad that I kept on my clothes, for a good many chilled to
death after getting out of the water before they were picked up by any of the boats. I was picked up by
the steamer Silver Spray after remaining in the tree about three hours. We were treated kindly on the boat,
bedclothing being taken from the staterooms and given to the boys to wrap around them.
We soon landed at Memphis, at which place the excitement was intense,
and it seemed to me as if everyone in the city was down to the wharf,
and nearly every hack, in charge of a soldier,
back down to the wharf boat, ready to take us to the hospital as fast as we were landed.
As we stepped from the gangplank into the wharf boat,
the first to greet us were the Sisters of Charity,
women of the Christian Commission.
God bless them.
They handed each of us a red-wollen shirt and drawers,
and as fast as we donned our red suits,
we stepped into a carriage and were driven rapidly to the hospital,
where all was done for us that could be to make us comfortable.
After remaining in Memphis a short time,
I was taken to Camp Chase, Ohio,
where I remained about two weeks.
From there I went to Jackson, Michigan,
where I received a furlough
and went home on the 9th of June 1865.
I reported at Detroit
and received an honorable discharge.
There were four of us that slept together
on the boat that night,
Henry Norton, Charles Seabury,
Truman Smith, and myself,
all of my company.
We all escaped but Norton, poor boy.
He was lost.
He had been my companion,
and bunkmate all through our service for the United States, and I felt his loss next to that of a brother.
My occupation is farming.
End of Section 136.
Section 137 of Loss of the Sultana by Chester D. Berry.
This Libervox recording is in the public domain.
Section 137.
Nathan S. Williams
I enlisted in the service.
of the United States in the state of Indiana, in Company B of the 5th Indiana Cavalry,
the 90th Regiment. I was captured near Macon, Georgia, the 31st of July 1864, together with about
500 of the command. We were taken to Andersonville Prison. We arrived there on the second day of
August, 1864, and remained there until the spring of 1865, when I was sent to Vicksburg,
I remained at Vicksburg until sent on board the steamer sultana, April 25, 1865.
We started up the river and got along without any trouble as far as Memphis, Tennessee.
There we went ashore for a few hours and got some refreshments.
At the ringing of the bell we all went on board the boat again.
The boat moved up the river a short distance to some coal barges so as to take on some coal.
some coal. At this place I laid down and soon fell asleep and did not awake until the explosion took
place. I received no injuries from the explosion, although the upper deck fell upon me. I got out from
under it safe. I went forward and caught hold of one of the ropes, which was fastened to the
bow of the boat. There I beheld a sight that I never want to be a witness of again. Men were scalded,
and burned, some with legs and arms off, and it seemed as if some were coming out of the fire
and from under the boiler, and many of them jumping into the river and drowning by squads.
I helped throw out the large stage plank, and intended to get on it myself, but so many men
jumped on it, I saw that it would not do for me to jump off then.
I helped throw off everything that was loose, letting the men go as fast as they wanted,
to, for many would not listen to reason. In a short time the way was made clear. All the fear I had
was that some drowning man would grab me and drown us both, and also the danger of my limbs
cramping and letting me down. But it was not long until I knew I must go, for the fire was
getting headway, and the boat was swinging around, which would bring the heat from the fire near me.
I succeeded in getting a plank eight feet long and eight inches wide.
I held it a short time thinking what was best to do.
I soon made up my mind that I could swim better with my clothes off,
so off they came.
Then I threw the plank into the water and jumped in after it
and struck out for what I thought was the timber on the Tennessee shore,
but the current took me down faster than I could go upstream,
and what I had thought was the main land was the island.
The mainland looked so far off when I looked back,
and from the light of the burning boat,
I could see land nearer on the opposite shore.
So I turned and took downstream,
never trying to swim fast,
only when I could get near some men who would try to get my plank.
When these men would come near me,
I would tell them that two could not be saved on a plank the size of the one I had,
and for them to keep the one they had and follow me and we would get out safely.
But no one got out where I did, some landing above and some below.
I reached the shore about daylight, but could not wade,
the water being over my head at that place,
but I found a log as I was swimming among the timbers that was fastened to a stump.
I crawled up on it and sat there rubbing myself until I was dry and warmer
and had got the blood to circulate more rapidly.
At sunrise a man came to me in a small dugout or canoe
and took me to a steamboat that was picking up men below
and some that were in the river.
Those on the boat were very kind to me,
assisting me onto the boat
and giving me a place near the fire
and a long-tailed coat to put on.
The boat soon rounded,
and we came to the wharf at Memphis.
The sight there was most terrible.
The bodies of the dying, wounded and scalded, were to be seen on every hand.
A lady gave me a shirt and a pair of drawers.
After I put them on, my strength was exhausted,
and I was carried to an ambulance and taken to the soldiers home.
Resting there a short time and getting some coffee to drink,
I got up and went downstairs and wrote a letter home.
I then started out in the street for the hospital to see how many of my company I could find.
I must have made a fine show with nothing on but a shirt and drawers, bareheaded and barefooted.
I did not go very far in this manner before a clotheier called me in and gave me a fair suit of clothes.
I then went on, but did not find many of my company.
Most of them were lost in the deep waters of the Mississippi, or had been consumed by the flame.
As I have before said, I received no injuries from the explosion, but resting so long on the plank caused a double hernia, thus making it necessary that I should wear a double truss.
I have been trying since 1881 to get a pension for this and other troubles, but as yet have not succeeded.
End of Section 137.
Section 138 of Loss of the Sultanah by Chester D. Berry.
This Librevox recording is in the public domain.
Section 138.
William H. Williams
I was born in Moscow, Michigan, December 4, 1842,
and enlisted in the service of the United States at Moscow, August 15, 1860.
in Company F. 18th Regiment of Michigan Volunteer Infantry.
Was captured at Athens, Alabama, September 24th, 1864,
hustled across the country to Cherokee Station,
there put on board some cattle cars and taken to Corinth, Mississippi.
From there was taken to Meridian, thence to Selma, Alabama,
and then down the river to Kahaba.
was kept there until about the 10th of April on cornmeal ground cob and all.
We were robbed of everything we had that was good for anything.
From Cahaba we were taken to Meridian and from there to Jackson, Mississippi,
and so on through Big Black River in the rear of Vicksburg.
I think it was about the 25th of April 1865 that we crowded aboard the ill-fated sultana
and started up the river for home sweet home.
But through some carelessness or devilishness,
many poor comrades were destined never to see their homes.
On the 28th, 27th, the boat exploded one of her boilers,
caught fire, and about 1,800 poor souls were launched into eternity,
and many a comrade's hopes were blasted.
I, for one, was lucky, and landed in the top of it,
of a cottonwood tree. At daybreak, some johnnies came and got me in a dugout,
took me to the Arkansas side, and cared for me the best they could.
My present occupation is buggy dealer.
Post office, Jonesville, Michigan.
End of Section 138.
Section 139 of Loss of the Sultan by Chester D. Berry.
This Librevox recording is in the public domain.
Section 139.
George N. Young.
I was born at Columbus, Ohio, February 12, 1844, and enlisted in the service of the United States
at that place, August 2, 1862, in Company A, 95th Regiment Ohio Volunteer Infantry,
and was captured at Guntown, Mississippi, June 10, 1864.
I was confined in the prisons at Anteastern.
Andersonville, Macon, Millen, Savannah, and the swamp at Blackshear, and Thomasville.
I was on board the sultana, but as I have already written my experience in a book published by Dr. J. Howes, I do not wish to give it again.
My present occupation is a merchant, and my post office address, Evans, Colorado.
End of Section 139.
Section 140.
of Loss of the Sultanna by Chester D. Berry.
This Libravox recording is in the public domain.
Section 140.
J.P. Zazer
I was born in Limaville, Stark County, Ohio, October 30, 1843,
and enlisted in the service of the United States at my native place, August 12, 1862,
in Company F. 115th, Ohio Volunteer Infantry.
was captured at blockhouse number one north carolina railroad december sixth eighteen sixty four and confined in the andersonville prison
at the time of the explosion i was lying asleep on the upper deck close to the bell the smokestack fell across it and split and one half of it fell over thereby killing sergeant smith who laid by me i jumped overboard and swam ashore
occupation contractor and builder post office canton ohio end of section one hundred and forty end of loss of the sultana by chester d berry
