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The Pursuit, Capture, Death & Burial of JOHN W. BOOTH
Chapter 3.
The United States Detective Bureau, Chief of Detectives Colonel  
La FAYETTE C. BAKER's first step was the publication over his own 
name of a handbill offering $30,000 reward for the capture of the 
fugitives.  Twenty thousand dollars of this amount was subscribed 
by the city of Washington, and the other $10,000 Colonel BAKER 
offered on his own account, as authorized by the War Department.  
To this handbill minute descriptions of BOOTH and the unknown 
person who attempted the assassination of Secretary Seward were 
appended.  Hardly had the bills been posted when the United 
States Government authorized the publication of additional 
rewards to the amount of $100,000 for the capture of JOHN WILKS 
BOOTH, JOHN H. SURRATT, and DAVID C. HEROLD. 

JOHN H. SURRATT at that time being suspected of direct complicity 
in the assassination.  Three States increased this sum by $25,000 
each, and many individuals and companies, shocked by the awful atrocity 
of the crime, offered rewards in varying amounts.  Fabulous stories 
were told of the wealth which the assassin's captor would receive, 
the sums being placed anywhere from $500,000 to $1,000,000.  This 
prospect of winning a fortune at once sent hundreds of detectives, 
recently discharged Union officers and soldiers, and a vast host of 
mere adventurers--the flotsam of Washington--into the field, and the 
whole of southern Maryland and eastern Virginia was scoured and ransacked 
until it seemed as if a jack-rabbit could not have escaped.  And yet, 
at the end of ten days, the assassins were still at large.

BOOTH was accompanied in his flight by a callow, stage-struck youth 
named DAVID C. HEROLD, who was bound to the older man by the ties 
of a marvelous personal magnetism which the actor exercised as a part 
of his art.  Two hours after the assassination the fugitives reached 
Mrs. Surratt's tavern, where HEROLD secured a carbine, two flasks 
of whisky, and a field- glass.  They imparted the information with 
some show of pride that they had just killed the President of the 
United States.  By the time BOOTH's broken leg had begun to give him 
excruciating pain, and the two rode without delay to the house of 
Dr. SAMUEL A. MUDD, a southern sympathizer of the most pronounced 
type.  Here the assassin's leg was set and splinted, for lack of better 
material, with bits of an old cigar-box.  Rude crutches were whittled 
out by a friend of Dr. Mudd's, and on the following day BOOTH and 
his deluded follower rode on to the southward.

For more than a week they were hidden in a swamp near Fort Tobacco 
by SAMUEL COX and THOMAS BROWN, both of whom were stanch Confederates.  Here 
they were compelled to kill their horses for fear that a whinny might 
reveal their presence to their eager pursuers.  After many attempts 
Brown was able to send the fugitives across the river in a little 
boat, for which BOOTH paid $300.  Once in Virginia, and among Southerners, 
BOOTH felt that they would be safe; but in this supposition he was 
sorely disappointed.  At least one prominent Confederate treated them 
as murderers and outcasts, and they were compelled to accept the help 
of negroes and to skulk and cower under assumed names. . . .

Colonel BAKER sent THEODORE WOODALL, one of the detectives, into 
lower Maryland, accompanied by an expert telegrapher named BECKWITH, 
who was to attach his instrument to the wires at any convenient point 
and report frequently to the headquarters at Washington.  These men 
had been out less than two days when they discovered a voluble negro 
who told them quite promptly that two men answering to the description 
of BOOTH and HEROLD had crossed the Potomac below Port Tobacco on 
Saturday night (April 22d) in a fishingboat.  This evidence which 
had already been spurned by a company of troops, was regarded as of 
so much importance, that the negro was hurried to Washington by the 
next boat, where Colonel BAKER questioned him closely, afterward showing 
him a large number of photographs.  He at once selected the pictures 
of BOOTH and HEROLD as being the persons whom he had seen in the boat.  
Colonel BAKER decided that the clue was of the first importance, and, after 
a hurried conference with Secretary of War EDWIN M. STANTON, he 
sent a request to General WINFIELD SCOTT HANCOCK for a detachment 
of cavalry to guard his men in the pursuit. . . .

Commanding Officer Lieutenant EDWARD P. DOHERTY of the 16th. New 
York Cavalry, with 25 men, and Sergeant BOSTON CORBETT second in 
command, reported to Colonel BAKER for duty.  He was directed to go 
with Colonel BAKER wherever they might order, and to protect them 
to the extent of his ability.  Without waiting even to secure a sufficient 
supply of rations, Lieutenant DOHERTY and his men galloped down to 
the Sixth Street dock, where they were hurried on board the Government 
tug John S. Ide.

It was a little after three o'clock in the afternoon of Monday, April 
24th, when the expedition started.  Seven hours later the tug reached 
Belle Plaine landing.  At this point there is a sharp bend in the 
river, and Colonel BAKER had advised his men to scour the strip of 
country stretching between it and the Rappahannock.

Again in their saddles, they struck across the country in the direction 
of Port Conway, a little town on the Rappahannock about twenty-two 
miles below Fredericksburg.  Between two and three o'clock in the 
afternoon they drew rein near a planter's house half a mile distant 
from the town, and ordered dinner for the men and feed for the horses.  
Colonel BAKER pushed on ahead to the bank of the Rappahannock.  Here, dozing 
in front of his little cottage in the sunshine, Colonel BAKER found 
a fisherman-ferryman whose name was ROLLINS.  He asked him if he 
had seen a lame man cross the river within the past few days.  Yes, 
he had, and there was another man with him.  In fact, Rollins said 
that he had ferried them across the river.

These men, as they afterward learned, were BAINBRIDGE and HEROLD; 
and BOOTH at that moment was less than half a mile away, lying on 
the grass in front of the Garrett house.  Indeed, he saw his pursuers 
distinctly as they passed his hiding-place, and commented on their 
dusty and saddle-worn appearance.  But they believed him to be in 
Bowling Green, fifteen miles away, and so they pushed on, leaving 
behind them the very man they so much desired to see.

It was near midnight when the party clattered into Bowling Green, 
and with hardly a spoken command, surrounded the dark, rambling old 
hotel.  Colonel BAKER stept boldly to the front door, while Lieutenant 
DOHERTY strode to the rear, from whence came the dismal barking of 
a dog.  Presently a light flickered on the fan-light, and some one 
opened the door a crack and inquired, in a frightened, feminine voice, 
what was wanted. Colonel BAKER thrust his toe inside, flung the door 
wide open, and was confronted by a woman.  At this moment Lieutenant 
DOHERTY came through from the back way, led by a stammering negro.  The 
woman admitted at once that there was a Confederate cavalryman sleeping 
in her house, and she promptly pointed out the room. Colonel BAKER 
and Lieutenant DOHERTY, candle in hand, at once entered.  Captain 
JETT sat up, staring at them.

"What do you want?"  he asked.

"We want you," answered Lieutenant DOHERTY; "you took BOOTH across 
the river, and you know where he is."

"You are mistaken in your man," he replied, crawling out of bed.

"You lie."  roared Lieutenant DOHERTY, springing forward, his pistol 
clicking close to Captian Jett's head.

By this time the cavalrymen were crowding into the room, and Captian 
Jett saw the candle-light glinting on their brass butons and on their 
drawn revolvers.

"Upon honor as a gentleman," he said, paling, "I will tell you 
all I know if you will shield me from complicity in the whole matter."

"Yes, if we get BOOTH," responded Lieutenant DOHERTY.

"BOOTH is at the Garrett house, three miles this side of Port Conway," 
he said; "if you came that way you may have frightened him off, for 
you must have passed the place."

In less than thirty minutes the pursuing party was doubling back over 
the road by which it had just come, bearing Captian Jett with it as 
a prisoner.  His bridle-reins were fastened to the men on each side 
of him, in the fear that he would make a dash to escape and alarm 
BOOTH and HEROLD.

It was a black night, no moon, no stars, and the dust rose in choking 
clouds.  For two days the men had eaten little and slept less, and 
they were so worn out that they could hardly sit their jaded horses.  And 
yet they plunged and stumbled onward through the darkness, over fifteen 
miles of meandering country road, reaching Garrett's farm at half-past 
three o'clock in the morning of April 26th.  Like many other Southern 
places, Garrett's house stood far back from the road, with a bridle-gate 
at the end of a long lane.  So exhausted were the cavalrymen, that 
some of them dropt down in the sand where their horses stopt and had 
to be kicked into wakefulness.  Rollins and Captian Jett were placed 
under guard, and Colonel BAKER and Lieutenant DOHERTY made a dash 
up the lane, some of the cavalrymen following.

Garrett's house was an old-fashioned Southernmansion, somewhat dilapidated, 
with a wide, hospitable piazza reaching its full length in front, 
and barns and tobacco houses looming big and dark apart. Colonel BAKER 
leapt from his horse to the steps, and thundered on the door.  A moment 
later a window close at hand was cautiously raised, and a man thrust 
his head out.  Before he could say a word Colonel BAKER seized him 
by the arm.

"Open the door; be quick about it."

The old man tremblingly complied, and Colonel BAKER slipt inside, 
closing the door behind him.  A candle was quickly lighted, and then  
Colonel BAKER demanded of Garrett to reveal the hiding-place of the 
two men who had been staying in his house.

"They're gone to the woods," he said, paling and beginning to tremble.

"Don't tell me that,"  he said; "they are here."


Lieutenant DOHERTY now came in with young Garrett.

"Don't injure father," said the young man; "I will tell you all 
about it.  The men did go to the woods last evening when some cavalry 
went by, but the came back and wanted us to take them over to Louisa 
Court House.  We said we could not leave home before morning, if at 
all.  We were becoming suspicious of them, and father told them they 
could not stay with us--"

"Where are they now?" interrupted Colonel BAKER.

"In the barn; my brother locked them in for fear they would steal 
the horses.  He is now keeping watch in the corn-crib."

It was plain that the Garretts did not know the identity of the men 
who had been imposing on their hospitality.  Consequently, Colonel 
BAKER asked no more questions, but taking young Garrett's arm, he 
made a dash toward the barn.  Lieutenant DOHERTY ordered the cavalrymen 
to follow, and formed them in such positions around the barn that 
no one could escape.  By this time the soldiers had found the boy 
in the crib, and had brought him up with the key.  BAKER unlocked 
the door, and told young Garrett that, inasmuch as the two men were 
his guests, he must go inside and induce them to come out and surrender.  
The young man objected most vigorously.

"They are armed to the teeth," he faltered; "and they'll shoot 
me down."

But he appreciated the fact that he was looking into the black mouth 
of Colonel BAKER's revolver, and hastily slid through the doorway.  There 
was a sudden rustling of corn-blades, and the sound of voices in low 
conversation.  All around the barn the soldiers were picketed, wrapt 
in inky blackness and uttering no sound.  In the midst of a little 
circle of candle-light Colonel BAKER stood at the doorway with drawn 
revolver.  Lieutenant DOHERTY had gone to the rear of the barn.  During 
the heat and excitement of the chase he had assumed command of the 
cavalrymen, somewhat to the umbrage of Lieutenant DOHERTY, who kept 
himself in the background during the remainder of the night.  Further 
away, around the house, Garrett's family huddled together trembling 
and frightened.

Suddenly from the barn a clear, high voice rang out, the voice of 
the tragedian in his last play.

"You have betrayed me, sir; leave this barn or I will shoot you."

Colonel BAKER now called to the men in the barn, or-dering them to 
turn over their arms to young Garrett, and to surrender at once.

"If you don't," threatened Colonel BAKER, "we shall burn the barn, 
and have a bonfire and a shooting match."

At that Garrett came running to the door and begged to be let out.  He 
said he would do anything he could, but he didn't want to risk his 
life in the presence of two such desperate men.  BAKER therefore opened 
the door, and Garrett came out with a bound.  He turned and pointed 
to the candle which Colonel BAKER had been carrying since he left 
the house.

"Put that out or he will shoot you by its light," he whispered in 
a frightened voice.

Colonel BAKER placed the candle on the ground at a little distance 
from the door so that it would light all the space in front of the 
barn.  Then he called again to BOOTH to surrender.  In a full, clear, 
ringing voice -- a voice that smacked of the stage -- BOOTH replied:

"There is a man here who wishes very much to surrender," and then 
they heard him say to HEROLD, "Leave me, will you?  Go; I don't want 
you to stay."

At the door HEROLD was whimpering: "Let me out; I know nothing of 
this man in here."

"Bring out your arms and you can come," answered Colonel BAKER.

HEROLD denied having any arms, and BOOTH finally said: "He has no 
arms; the arms are mine, and I shall keep them."

By this time HEROLD was praying piteously to be let out.  He said 
he was afraid of being shot, and he begged to be allowed to surrender.  
Colonel BAKER opened the door a little, and told him to put out his hands.  
The moment they appeared Colonel BAKER seized them, whipt HEROLD out of 
the barn, and turned him over to the soldiers.

"You had better come, too," Colonel BAKER then said to BOOTH.

"Tell me who you are and what you want of me.  It may be I am taken 
by my friends."

"It makes no difference who we are," was the reply.   "We know 
you and we want you.  We have fifty well-armed men stationed around 
this barn.  You can not escape, and we do not wish to kill you."

There was a moment's pause, and then BOOTH said falteringly:

"Captain, this is a hard case, I swear.  I am lame.  Give me a chance.  Draw 
up your men twenty yards from here, and I will fight your whole command."

"We are not here to fight," said Colonel BAKER; "we are here to 
take you."

BOOTH then asked for time to consider, and BAKER told him that he 
could have two minutes, no more.  Presently he said:

"Captain, I believe you to be a brave and honorable man.  I have 
had half a dozen chances to shoot you.  I have a bead drawn on you 
now -- but I do not wish to kill you.  Withdraw your men from the 
door, and I'll go out.  Give me this chance for my life.  I will not 
be taken alive."

Even in his deep distress BOOTH had not forgotten to be theatrical.  If 
he must die he wish to die at the climax of a highly dramatic situation.

"Your time is up," said Colonel BAKER firmly;  "if you don't come 
out we shall fire the barn."

"Well, then, my brave boys," came the answer in clear, ringing tones 
that could be heard by the women who cowered on Garrett's porch, rods 
away, "you may prepare a stretcher for me."  Then, after a slight 
pause, he added, "One more stain on the glorious old banner."

Lieutenant DOHERTY now came around the corner of the barn and asked 
Colonel BAKER if he was ready.  Colonel BAKER nodded, and Lieutenant 
DOHERTY stepped noiselessly back, drew a handful of corn-blades through 
a crack in the barn, scratched a match, and in a moment the whole 
interior of the barn was brilliant with light. Colonel BAKER opened 
the door and peered in.  BOOTH had been leaning against the mow, but 
he now sprang forward, half blinded by the sudden glare of fire, his 
crutches under his arms, and his carbine leveled in the direction 
of the flames as if he would shoot the man who had set them going.  But 
he could not see into the darkness outside.  He hesitated, then reeled 
forward again.  An old table was near at hand.  He caught hold of 
it as tho to cast it top down on the fire, but he was not quick enough.  
Dropping one crutch, he hobbled toward the door.

About the middle of the barn he stopt, drew himself up to his full 
height, and seemed to take in the entire situation.  His hat was gone, 
and his wavy, dark hair was tossed back from his high white forehead; 
his lips were firmly comprest, and, if he was pale, the ruddy glow 
of the firelight concealed that fact.  In his full, dark eyes there 
was an expression of mingled hatred, terror, and the defiance of a 
tiger hunted to his lair.  In one hand he held a carbine, in the other 
a revolver, and his belt contained another revolver anda bowie-knife.  He 
seemed prepared to fight to the end, no matter what numbers opposed 
him.  By this time the flames in the dry corn-blades had mounted to 
the rafters of the dingy old building, arching the hunted assassin 
in a glow of fire more brilliant than the lighting of any theater 
in which he had ever played.  And for once in his life, JOHN WILKES 
BOOTH was a great actor.  He was in the last scene of his last play.  The 
curtain soon would drop.

Suddenly BOOTH threw aside his remaining crutch, dropt his carbine, 
raised his revolver, and made a spring for the door.  It was his evident 
intention to shoot down any one who might bar his way, and make a 
dash for liberty, fighting as he ran.

There came a shot that sounded above the roar of the flames.  BOOTH 
leapt in the air and pitched forward on his face.  Colonel BAKER was 
upon him in an instant, grasping both his arms to prevent the use 
of the revolver.  But this precaution was entirely unnecessary.  BOOTH 
would struggle no more.  Another moment and Lieutenant DOHERTY and 
the soldiers came rushing in. Colonel BAKER turned the wounded man 
over and felt for his heart.

"He must have shot himself,"said Lieutenant DOHERTY.

"No," replied Colonel BAKER; "I saw him every moment after the fire 
was lighted.  The man who did do the shooting goes back to Washington 
in irons for disobedience of orders."

In the excitement that followed the firing of the barn, Sergeant Boston 
Corbett, an eccentric had stationed at on the corners, saw BOOTH through 
the slats, a crutch under one arm, trying to hold and aim his carbine 
with the other. Breaking Secretary STANTON's orders to bring BOOTH 
back alive, Corbett suddenly, compulsively, fired and the bullet struck 
BOOTH in the back of the head, in almost the exactly the same place 
Lincoln had been hit.

After Corbett had shot BOOTH, and just as day was breaking, he was 
crossing the lawn in front of Garrett's house.  Lieutenant DOHERTY 
hailed him, and demanded the reason why he had fired against orders.  
Sergeant Corbett took the position of a soldier, saluted, and pointed 
heavenward.

"God Almighty directed me," he said.

"Well," was Lieutenant DOHERTY's answer, as he turned away, "I guess 
He did, or you couldn't have hit BOOTH through that crack in the barn."

He afterward told Colonel BAKER that he knew BOOTH's movement meant 
death either for him (BAKER) or for BOOTH. Years latter Corbett became 
insane, and was confined in a Kansas asylum. 

BOOTH's body was caught up and carried out of the barn and laid under 
an apple-tree not far away.  Water was dashed in his face, and  Colonel 
BAKER tried to make him drink, but he seemed unable to swallow.  Presently, 
however, he opened his eyes and seemed to understand the situation.  His 
lips moved, and Colonel BAKER bent down to hear what he might say.

"Tell mother -- tell mother --" he faltered, and then became unconscious 
again.  The flames of the burning barn now grew so intense that 
it was necessary to remove the dying man to the piazza of the 
house, where he was laid on a mattress provided by Mrs. Garrett.  
A cloth wet in brandy was applied to his lips, and under its 
influence he revived a little.  Then he opened his eyes and said 
with deep bitterness:

"Oh, kill me! kill me quick!"

"No, BOOTH," said Colonel BAKER, "we don't want you to die.  You were 
shot against orders."  

Then he was unconscious again for several minutes, and they thought 
he never would speak again.  But his breast heaved, and he acted as 
if he wisht to say something.  Colonel BAKER placed his ear at the 
dying man's mouth, and BOOTH faltered:

"Tell my mother...  Tell my mother I died for my country."  ...I 
did what I thought was best."

When BOOTH's collar was removed it was found that the bullet had 
struck the assassin under the ear, in almost the exact location 
that his own had struck the President.  The great nerve of the 
spinal column had been severed, resulting in instant paralysis of 
the entire body below the wound.

BOOTH asked that his paralyzed arms be lifted so he could see his 
hands. With a feeling of pity and tenderness, Colonel BAKER 
lifted the limp hand, but it fell back again as if dead at his 
side.  BOOTH seemed conscious of the movement, he turned his eyes 
and muttered his last words: "Useless -- useless" -- and he was 
dead. Two and a half hours after CORBETT'S shot was fired.

About 20 minutes before BOOTH's death, Lieutenant DOHERTY had 
started for Washington, taking with him BOOTH's fire arms, his 
diary, and other articles found on his person.  While the 
Garretts were preparing breakfast for the hungry men, BOOTH's 
body was wrapt in a saddle blanket and the blanket stoutly sewed 
together.  The body was then placed in an ancient and decrepit 
market wagon owned by an old colored man, who had been forced 
into the service somewhat against his will.  Without waiting for 
breakfast, Colonel BAKER, accompanied by a Corporal, set out over 
the road for Belle Plaine on the Virginia shore where a boat was 
waiting, the negro driving the old horse as rapidly as he 
could. . . .

On one of the hardest hills the king-bolt of the rickety old wagon 
gave out with a snap; the front lurched heavily forward.  The big 
letters "U. S." on the blanket were wet with the assassin BOOTH's 
blood, which had also trickled down over the axle and dribbled for 
miles along the road.  The negro driver crawled under the wagon to 
repair the break, and some of the blood fell on his hand.  He sprang 
back, shrieking in terror.

"Oh," he groaned.  "It will neber, neber wash off.  It am de blood 
ob a murderer."

So horrified was he that he tried to leave his burden, wagon, horse, 
and all, and escape through the woods, but Colonel BAKER forced 
him to continue on the journey.  HEROLD  rode alongside the wagon 
between two soldiers, his legs tied to his stirups. Over and over 
he tried to explain how he had met BOOTH only by chance and new 
nothing of President LINCOLN'S murder. After thirty miles of heat 
and dust, up hill and down, they crept over the top of a sandy 
knoll, and Colonel BAKER saw the bluest blue of the Potomac 
glimmering through the trees.  It was just twilight, and the 
tinkle of cow-bells came up drowsily from the river-bank.  
BOOTH's body, wrapt in blue, was now gray with dust.  The body 
was placed in the boat, and, a few minutes later it was hoisted 
to the deck of the steamer John S. Ide to Alexander, VA. then 
taken by tug to the Washington Navy Yard by its Commanding Office 
Admiral J.B. MONTGOMERY. Colonel BAKER saw it properly under 
guard, and then sank in a stupor of sleep on the deck.  On 
reaching the Washington Navy yard it was 2:00 am on the morning 
of April 27, 1865. BOOTH's body and HEROLD were immediately 
transferred to the ironclad Montauk, which lay at anchor in the 
Washington Navy-Yard. There was another ship in the yard the 
Saugus where the other half of the suspected conspirators were 
held in chains.

BOOTHS body was laid on a carpenter's bench on the deck while, 
below HEROLD joined four other suspected conspirators in ridgid 
manacles and ankle chains with heavy balls attached. There was 
another ship in the yard the Saugus where the other half of the 
suspected conspirators were held in chains. 5. pg181

Lieutenant DOHERTY had brought the news of the capture to 
Washington, D.C. many hours before, and every town in the country 
was ringing with the tidings.  The moment the evidences of 
BOOTH's death --the diary, two revolvers, the carbine, the belt, 
and the compass -- were placed in Colonel BAKER's hands, he 
carried them to the office of the Secretary of War STANTON.

"I rushed into the room," relates Colonel BAKER, and said, "We 
have got BOOTH."  Secretary STANTON was distinguished during the 
whole war for his coolness, but I never saw such an exhibition of 
it in my life as at this time.  He put his hands over his eyes and 
lay for nearly a minute without saying a word.  Then he got up, put 
on his coat, and inquired how the capture had come about. . . .

Late in the afternoon of the second day after BOOTH's body was 
brought to Washington (April 28th) Colonel BAKER received orders 
from Secretary STANTON to dispose of the body in the way that 
seemed best to him, so that BOOTH's Confederate friends might 
never get it.  Taking his Cousin LUTHER B. BAKER with him, he 
started at once for the Navy Yard.  A big crowd had gather at the 
Navy Yard on shore and was straining its eyes to see what was 
done to dispose of BOOTHS's body. They reached the ironclad 
Montauk on which BOOTH's body reposed just as twilight was 
deepening into night.  The body was sewn again in its bloody 
winding-sheet and lowered into a small rowboat.  Hundreds of 
people stood watching on the shore, knowing that it was BOOTH's 
body, and determined to ascertain what was to be done with it.  
Colonel BAKER had brought with him a heavy ball and chain, which 
he placed in the boat by the side of the body, making no apparent 
attempt at secrecy.  He and Cousin BAKER stept into the little 
craft, and a few strokes of the oars sent it speeding out on the 
black Potomac in the gathering darkness.  It had passed from lip 
to lip that the body of BOOTH was to be sunk in the river, and 
the crowds followed eagerly along the shore until the little 
rowboat and its occupants disappeared.  It was a moonless, 
starless night, warm with mid-spring.  In the distance blinked 
the lights of the city, vieing with the near illumination of the 
river craft.  For nearly two miles the boat drifted silently.  
Its occupants spoke no word; there was not even the creak of an 
oar-lock.

At Geeseborough Point the river widens and its shallows grow rank 
with rushes and marsh weeds.  Here the boat was driven toward shore 
until its speed was quenched in the mud of a little cove.  It was 
the loneliest of lonely spots on the Potomac --the burial ground 
of worn-out and condemned Government horses and mules --a place 
dreaded alike by white men and negroes.  For a time the two 
officers listened intently to make sure they were not followed.  
All was quiet on the Potomac.  No sounds reached their ears but 
the strident croak of bull-frogs and the lapping of the water on 
the sedgy shore.

Presently the boat was turned and pulled slowly back toward the city.  The 
utmost caution was observed to make no sound.  They dreaded even the 
lisping of the oars and the faint lapping of the water at the 
gunwales.  Suddenly against the sky loomed the huge black hulk of 
the Old Penitentiary on the Washington side of the Arsenal 
grounds.  A few more strokes and the boat reached the base of the 
grim, forbidding wall.  Silently they crept along until they came 
to a holelet into the solid masonry close to the water's edge.  
An officer who stood just inside of the opening, challenged the 
party in a low voice, and Colonel BAKER answered with the 
countersign.

They lifted the body from the boat and carried it through the hole 
in the masonry into a convict's cell.  A huge stone slab, worn with 
the fretting of many a prisoner, had been lifted up, and under it 
there was a shallow grave, dug only a few hours before.  A dim lantern 
outlined the damp walls of the cell and emphasized the shadows.  
Just at midnight BOOTH's with a guncase for a coffin, the 
shrouded body was lowered into the black hole, the stone slab was 
replaced over the unhonored grave, and the two BAKER officers 
crept back to their boat and returned to Washington, D.C.

It was believed that the body had been sunk in the Potomac, and for 
days the river was dragged by BOOTH's friends in the hope of finding 
it.  The newspapers gave circumstantial accounts of the watery burial, 
and Frank Leslie's Illustrated Weekly for May 20, 1865, had a full-page 
illustration showing Colonel BAKER and Lieutenant DOHERTY in the act 
of slipping the body over the edge of the boat into the river.  It 
was entitled "an authentic sketch."

For several years no one but Colonel BAKER, Lieutenant DOHERTY, and 
two or three other officers, knew of the disposition of BOOTH's body.  
Indeed, there were rumors, widely credited in certain parts of the 
country, that BOOTH never had been captured.  BOOTH's body would 
stay there in this grave for four yrars, until 1869, after 
continued pleas by brother EDWIN BOOTH and "Johnny's 
mother MARY A. (HOLMES) BOOTH, President JOHNSON allowed them to 
have the body and bury it in an unmarked grave in the family plot 
in Baltimore, MD. 5. pg182

(Source: By Ray Stannard Baker, Dated 1865, Source: Great Epochs 
in American History, Vol.9 Pg.38-55)

End of Chapter 3


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The Conspirators Index
 
Chap.
F.Name
L.Name
b. d.
Subject
01.
Abraham
Lincoln
1809-1865
Profile
02.
John W.
Booth
1838-1865
Profile
03.
John W.
Booth
1838-1865
Pursuit, Death & Burial
04.
The
Conspirators
 
Trial of the Assassins
05.
Samuel B.
Arnold
1834-1906
Profile
06.
George T.
Atzerodt
1832-1865
Profile
07.
David
Herold
1844-1865
Profile
08.
Samuel A.
Mudd
1833-1933
Profile
09.
Michael
O'Laughlin
1840-1867
Profile
10.
Lewis T.
Powell
18??-1865
Profile
11.
Edward "Ned"
Spangler
18??-18??
Profile
12.
Mary E. (Jenkins)
SURRATT
1817-1865
Profile
12.1
Mary E. (Jenkins)
SURRATT
1817-1865
Genealogy FGS
13.
John H., Jr.
SURRATT
1844-1916
Profile
13.1
John H., Jr.
SURRATT
1844-1916
1870 Lecture
13.2
John H., Jr.
SURRATT
1844-1916
Genealogy FGS
14.
The
Conspirators
 
End of Nightmare for the Doomed!
15.
The
Conspirators
 
Notes & Reference

E-Mail: Paul R. Sarrett, Jr., Auburn CA.

Text - Copyright © 1996, 1997, 1998, 1999 20000 Paul R. Sarrett, Jr.
Created: Dec. 01, 1996; Revised: Feb. 25, 2000