He found him with little difficulty, and took him out.
The luckless Charley was tried by court martial, found, guilty, sentenced to be shot, and while waiting execution was confined in the jail.

Before the sentence could be carried into effect Sherman came so close to the City that it was thought best to remove the prisoners.

In the confusion Charley managed to make his escape, and at the moment the battle of Pocataligo opened, was lying concealed between the two lines of battle, without knowing, of course, that he was in such a dangerous locality.
After the firing opened, he thought it better to lie still than run the risk from the fire of both sides, especially as he momentarily expected our folks to advance and drive the Rebels away.

But the reverse happened; the Johnnies drove our fellows, and, finding Charley in his place of concealment, took him for one of Foster's men, and sent him to Florence, where he staid until we went through to our lines.
Our days went by as stupidly and eventless as can be conceived.
We had grown too spiritless and lethargic to dig tunnels or plan escapes.
We had nothing to read, nothing to make or destroy, nothing to work with, nothing to play with, and even no desire to contrive anything for amusement.

All the cards in the prison were worn out long ago.