ANDERSONVILLE A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS

 FIFTEEN MONTHS A GUEST OF THE SO-CALLED SOUTHERN CONFEDERACY

 A PRIVATE SOLDIERS EXPERIENCE IN RICHMOND, ANDERSONVILLE, SAVANNAH, MILLEN BLACKSHEAR AND FLORENCE

 BY JOHN McELROY Late of Co. L. 16th Ill Cav. 1879

VOLUME 3. 

CHAPTER XLIII. 

DIFFICULTY OF EXERCISING--EMBARRASSMENTS OF A MORNING WALK--THE RIALTOOF THE PRISON--CURSING THE SOUTHERN CONFEDERACY--THE STORY OF THE BATTLEOF SPOTTSYLVANIA COURTHOUSE. 

Certainly, in no other great community, that ever existed upon the faceof the globe was there so little daily ebb and flow as in this. Dull asan ordinary Town or City may be; however monotonous, eventless, evenstupid the lives of its citizens, there is yet, nevertheless, a flowevery day of its life-blood--its population towards its heart, and an ebbof the same, every evening towards its extremities. These recurringtides mingle all classes together and promote the general healthfulness, as the constant motion hither and yon of the ocean's waters purify andsweeten them. 

The lack of these helped vastly to make the living mass inside theStockade a human Dead Sea--or rather a Dying Sea--a putrefying, stinkinglake, resolving itself into phosphorescent corruption, like those rottingsouthern seas, whose seething filth burns in hideous reds, and ghastlygreens and yellows. 

Being little call for motion of any kind, and no room to exercisewhatever wish there might be in that direction, very many succumbedunresistingly to the apathy which was so strongly favored by despondencyand the weakness induced by continual hunger, and lying supinely on thehot sand, day in and day out, speedily brought themselves into such acondition as invited the attacks of disease. 

It required both determination and effort to take a little walkingexercise. The ground was so densely crowded with holes and other devicesfor shelter that it took one at least ten minutes to pick his way throughthe narrow and tortuous labyrinth which served as paths for communicationbetween different parts of the Camp. Still further, there was nothing tosee anywhere or to form sufficient inducement for any one to make solaborious a journey. One simply encountered at every new step the sameunwelcome sights that he had just left; there was a monotony in themisery as in everything else, and consequently the temptation to sit orlie still in one's own quarters became very great. 

I used to make it a point to go to some of the remoter parts of theStockade once every day, simply for exercise. One can gain some idea ofthe crowd, and the difficulty of making one's way through it, when I saythat no point in the prison could be more than fifteen hundred feet fromwhere I staid, and, had the way been clear, I could have walked thitherand back in at most a half an hour, yet it usually took me from two tothree hours to make one of these journeys. 

This daily trip, a few visits to the Creek to wash all over, a few gamesof chess, attendance upon roll call, drawing rations, cooking and eatingthe same, "lousing" my fragments of clothes, and doing some little dutiesfor my sick and helpless comrades, constituted the daily routine formyself, as for most of the active youths in the prison. 

The Creek was the great meeting point for all inside the Stockade. All able to walk were certain to be there at least once during the day, and we made it a rendezvous, a place to exchange gossip, discuss thelatest news, canvass the prospects of exchange, and, most of all, to curse the Rebels. Indeed no conversation ever progressed very farwithout both speaker and listener taking frequent rests to say bitterthings as to the Rebels generally, and Wirz, Winder and Davis inparticular. 

A conversation between two boys--strangers to each other who came to theCreek to wash themselves or their clothes, or for some other purpose, would progress thus:

First Boy--"I belong to the Second Corps, --Hancock's, [the Army of thePotomac boys always mentioned what Corps they belonged to, where theWestern boys stated their Regiment. ] They got me at Spottsylvania, whenthey were butting their heads against our breast-works, trying to geteven with us for gobbling up Johnson in the morning, "--He stops suddenlyand changes tone to say: "I hope to God, that when our folks getRichmond, they will put old Ben Butler in command of it, with orders tolimb, skin and jayhawk it worse than he did New Orleans. "

Second Boy, (fervently :) "I wish to God he would, and that he'd catchold Jeff. , and that grayheaded devil, Winder, and the old Dutch Captain, strip 'em just as we were, put 'em in this pen, with just the rationsthey are givin' us, and set a guard of plantation niggers over 'em, withorders to blow their whole infernal heads off, if they dared so much asto look at the dead line. "

First Boy--(returning to the story of his capture. ) "Old Hancock caughtthe Johnnies that morning the neatest you ever saw anything in your life. After the two armies had murdered each other for four or five days in theWilderness, by fighting so close together that much of the time you couldalmost shake hands with the Graybacks, both hauled off a little, and layand glowered at each other. Each side had lost about twenty thousand menin learning that if it attacked the other it would get mashed fine. So each built a line of works and lay behind them, and tried to nag theother into coming out and attacking. At Spottsylvania our lines andthose of the Johnnies weren't twelve hundred yards apart. The ground wasclear and clean between them, and any force that attempted to cross it toattack would be cut to pieces, as sure as anything. We laid there threeor four days watching each other--just like boys at school, who shakefists and dare each other. At one place the Rebel line ran out towardsus like the top of a great letter 'A. ' The night of the 11th of May itrained very hard, and then came a fog so thick that you couldn't see thelength of a company. Hancock thought he'd take advantage of this. We were all turned out very quietly about four o'clock in the morning. Not a bit of noise was allowed. We even had to take off our canteens andtin cups, that they might not rattle against our bayonets. The groundwas so wet that our footsteps couldn't be heard. It was one of thosedeathly, still movements, when you think your heart is making as muchnoise as a bass drum. 

"The Johnnies didn't seem to have the faintest suspicion of what wascoming, though they ought, because we would have expected such an attackfrom them if we hadn't made it ourselves. Their pickets were out just alittle ways from their works, and we were almost on to them before theydiscovered us. They fired and ran back. At this we raised a yell anddashed forward at a charge. As we poured over the works, the Rebels camedouble-quicking up to defend them. We flanked Johnson's Divisionquicker'n you could say 'Jack Robinson, ' and had four thousand of 'em inour grip just as nice as you please. We sent them to the rear underguard, and started for the next line of Rebel works about a half a mileaway. But we had now waked up the whole of Lee's army, and they all camestraight for us, like packs of mad wolves. Ewell struck us in thecenter; Longstreet let drive at our left flank, and Hill tackled ourright. We fell back to the works we had taken, Warren and Wright came upto help us, and we had it hot and heavy for the rest of the day and partof the night. The Johnnies seemed so mad over what we'd done that theywere half crazy. They charged us five times, coming up every time justas if they were going to lift us right out of the works with the bayonet. About midnight, after they'd lost over ten thousand men, they seemed tounderstand that we had pre-empted that piece of real estate, and didn'tpropose to allow anybody to jump our claim, so they fell back sullen liketo their main works. When they came on the last charge, our Brigadierwalked behind each of our regiments and said:

"Boys, we'll send 'em back this time for keeps. Give it to 'em by theacre, and when they begin to waver, we'll all jump over the works and gofor them with the bayonet. '

"We did it just that way. We poured such a fire on them that the bulletsknocked up the ground in front just like you have seen the deep dust in aroad in the middle of Summer fly up when the first great big drops of arain storm strike it. But they came on, yelling and swearing, officersin front waving swords, and shouting--all that business, you know. Whenthey got to about one hundred yards from us, they did not seem to becoming so fast, and there was a good deal of confusion among them. Thebrigade bugle sounded:

"Stop firing. "

"We all ceased instantly. The rebels looked up in astonishment. OurGeneral sang out:

"Fix bayonets!' but we knew what was coming, and were already executingthe order. You can imagine the crash that ran down the line, as everyfellow snatched his bayonet out and slapped it on the muzzle of his gun. Then the General's voice rang out like a bugle:

"Ready!--FORWARD! CHARGE!'

"We cheered till everything seemed to split, and jumped over the works, almost every man at the same minute. The Johnnies seemed to have beenpuzzled at the stoppage of our fire. When we all came sailing over theworks, with guns brought right, down where they meant business, they wereso astonished for a minute that they stood stock still, not knowingwhether to come for us, or run. We did not allow them long to debate, but went right towards them on the double quick, with the bayonetslooking awful savage and hungry. It was too much for Mr. Johnny Reb'snerves. They all seemed to about face' at once, and they lit out ofthere as if they had been sent for in a hurry. We chased after 'em asfast as we could, and picked up just lots of 'em. Finally it began to bereal funny. A Johnny's wind would begin to give out he'd fall behind hiscomrades; he'd hear us yell and think that we were right behind him, ready to sink a bayonet through him'; he'd turn around, throw up hishands, and sing out:

"I surrender, mister! I surrender!' and find that we were a hundred feetoff, and would have to have a bayonet as long as one of McClellan'sgeneral orders to touch him. 

"Well, my company was the left of our regiment, and our regiment was theleft of the brigade, and we swung out ahead of all the rest of the boys. In our excitement of chasing the Johnnies, we didn't see that we hadpassed an angle of their works. About thirty of us had become separatedfrom the company and were chasing a squad of about seventy-five or onehundred. We had got up so close to them that we hollered:

"'Halt there, now, or we'll blow your heads off. '

"They turned round with, 'halt yourselves; you ---- Yankee ---- ----'

"We looked around at this, and saw that we were not one hundred feet awayfrom the angle of the works, which were filled with Rebels waiting forour fellows to get to where they could have a good flank fire upon them. There was nothing to do but to throw down our guns and surrender, and wehad hardly gone inside of the works, until the Johnnies opened on ourbrigade and drove it back. This ended the battle at Spottsylvania CourtHouse. "

Second Boy (irrelevantly. ) "Some day the underpinning will fly out fromunder the South, and let it sink right into the middle kittle o' hell. "

First Boy (savagely. ) "I only wish the whole Southern Confederacy washanging over hell by a single string, and I had a knife. "

CHAPTER XLIV. 

REBEL MUSIC--SINGULAR LACK OF THE CREATIVE POWER AMONG THE SOUTHERNERS--CONTRAST WITH SIMILAR PEOPLE ELSEWHERE--THEIR FAVORITE MUSIC, AND WHEREIT WAS BORROWED FROM--A FIFER WITH ONE TUNE. 

I have before mentioned as among the things that grew upon one withincreasing acquaintance with the Rebels on their native heath, wasastonishment at their lack of mechanical skill and at their inability tograpple with numbers and the simpler processes of arithmetic. Anothercharacteristic of the same nature was their wonderful lack of musicalability, or of any kind of tuneful creativeness. 

Elsewhere, all over the world, people living under similar conditions tothe Southerners are exceedingly musical, and we owe the great majority ofthe sweetest compositions which delight the ear and subdue the senses tounlettered song-makers of the Swiss mountains, the Tyrolese valleys, theBavarian Highlands, and the minstrels of Scotland, Ireland and Wales. 

The music of English-speaking people is very largely made up of thesecontributions from the folk-songs of dwellers in the wilder and moremountainous parts of the British Isles. One rarely goes far out of theway in attributing to this source any air that he may hear thatcaptivates him with its seductive opulence of harmony. Exquisitemelodies, limpid and unstrained as the carol of a bird in Spring-time, and as plaintive as the cooing of a turtle-dove seems as natural productsof the Scottish Highlands as the gorse which blazons on their hillsidesin August. Debarred from expressing their aspirations as people ofbroader culture do--in painting, in sculpture, in poetry and prose, thesemountaineers make song the flexible and ready instrument for thecommunication of every emotion that sweeps across their souls. 

Love, hatred, grief, revenge, anger, and especially war seems to tunetheir minds to harmony, and awake the voice of song in them hearts. Thebattles which the Scotch and Irish fought to replace the luckless Stuartsupon the British throne--the bloody rebellions of 1715 and 1745, left arich legacy of sweet song, the outpouring of loving, passionate loyaltyto a wretched cause; songs which are today esteemed and sung wherever theEnglish language is spoken, by people who have long since forgotten whatburning feelings gave birth to their favorite melodies. 

For a century the bones of both the Pretenders have moldered in aliensoil; the names of James Edward, and Charles Edward, which were oncetrumpet blasts to rouse armed men, mean as little to the multitude oftoday as those of the Saxon Ethelbert, and Danish Hardicanute, yet theworld goes on singing--and will probably as long as the English languageis spoken--"Wha'll be King but Charlie?" "When Jamie Come Hame, " "Overthe Water to Charlie, " "Charlie is my Darling, " "The Bonny Blue Bonnetsare Over the Border, " "Saddle Your Steeds and Awa, " and a myriad otherswhose infinite tenderness and melody no modern composer can equal. 

Yet these same Scotch and Irish, the same Jacobite English, transplantedon account of their chronic rebelliousness to the mountains of Virginia, the Carolinas, and Georgia, seem to have lost their tunefulness, as somefine singing birds do when carried from their native shores. 

The descendants of those who drew swords for James and Charles at PrestonPans and Culloden dwell to-day in the dales and valleys of theAlleganies, as their fathers did in the dales and valleys of theGrampians, but their voices are mute. 

As a rule the Southerners are fond of music. They are fond of singingand listening to old-fashioned ballads, most of which have never beenprinted, but handed down from one generation to the other, like the'Volklieder' of Germany. They sing these with the wild, fervidimpressiveness characteristic of the ballad singing of unlettered people. Very many play tolerably on the violin and banjo, and occasionally one isfound whose instrumentation may be called good. But above this hightthey never soar. The only musician produced by the South of whom therest of the country has ever heard, is Blind Tom, the negro idiot. Nocomposer, no song writer of any kind has appeared within the borders ofDixie. 

It was a disappointment to me that even the stress of the war, thepassion and fierceness with which the Rebels felt and fought, could notstimulate any adherent of the Stars and Bars into the production of asingle lyric worthy in the remotest degree of the magnitude of thestruggle, and the depth of the popular feeling. Where two millionScotch, fighting to restore the fallen fortunes of the worse thanworthless Stuarts, filled the world with immortal music, eleven millionof Southerners, fighting for what they claimed to be individual freedomand national life, did not produce any original verse, or a bar of musicthat the world could recognize as such. This is the fact; and anundeniable one. Its explanation I must leave to abler analyststhan I am. 

Searching for peculiar causes we find but two that make the South differfrom the ancestral home of these people. These two were Climate andSlavery. Climatic effects will not account for the phenomenon, becausewe see that the peasantry of the mountains of Spain and the South ofFrance as ignorant as these people, and dwellers in a still moreenervating atmosphere-are very fertile in musical composition, and theirsongs are to the Romanic languages what the Scotch and Irish ballads areto the English. 

Then it must be ascribed to the incubus of Slavery upon the intellect, which has repressed this as it has all other healthy growths in theSouth. Slavery seems to benumb all the faculties except the passions. The fact that the mountaineers had but few or no slaves, does not seem tobe of importance in the case. They lived under the deadly shadow of theupas tree, and suffered the consequences of its stunting theirdevelopment in all directions, as the ague-smitten inhabitant of theRoman Campana finds every sense and every muscle clogged by the filteringin of the insidious miasma. They did not compose songs and music, because they did not have the intellectual energy for that work. 

The negros displayed all the musical creativeness of that section. Their wonderful prolificness in wild, rude songs, with strangelymelodious airs that burned themselves into the memory, was one of thesalient characteristics of that down-trodden race. Like the Russianserfs, and the bondmen of all ages and lands, the songs they made andsang all had an undertone of touching plaintiveness, born of ages of dumbsuffering. The themes were exceedingly simple, and the range of subjectslimited. The joys, and sorrows, hopes and despairs of love'sgratification or disappointment, of struggles for freedom, contests withmalign persons and influences, of rage, hatred, jealousy, revenge, suchas form the motifs for the majority of the poetry of free and strongraces, were wholly absent from their lyrics. Religion, hunger and toilwere their main inspiration. They sang of the pleasures of idling in thegenial sunshine; the delights of abundance of food; the eternal happinessthat awaited them in the heavenly future, where the slave-driver ceasedfrom troubling and the weary were at rest; where Time rolled around inendless cycles of days spent in basking, harp in hand, and silken clad, in golden streets, under the soft effulgence of cloudless skies, glowingwith warmth and kindness emanating from the Creator himself. Had theirmasters condescended to borrow the music of the slaves, they would havefound none whose sentiments were suitable for the ode of a peopleundergoing the pangs of what was hoped to be the birth of a new nation. 

The three songs most popular at the South, and generally regarded asdistinctively Southern, were "The Bonnie Blue Flag, " "Maryland, MyMaryland, " and "Stonewall Jackson Crossing into Maryland. " The first ofthese was the greatest favorite by long odds. Women sang, men whistled, and the so-called musicians played it wherever we went. While in thefield before capture, it was the commonest of experiences to have Rebelwomen sing it at us tauntingly from the house that we passed or nearwhich we stopped. If ever near enough a Rebel camp, we were sure to hearits wailing crescendo rising upon the air from the lips or instruments ofsome one more quartered there. At Richmond it rang upon us constantlyfrom some source or another, and the same was true wherever else we wentin the so-called Confederacy. 

All familiar with Scotch songs will readily recognize the name and air asan old friend, and one of the fierce Jacobite melodies that for a longtime disturbed the tranquility of the Brunswick family on the Englishthrone. The new words supplied by the Rebels are the merest doggerel, and fit the music as poorly as the unchanged name of the song fitted toits new use. The flag of the Rebellion was not a bonnie blue one; buthad quite as much red and white as azure. It did not have a single star, but thirteen. 

Near in popularity was "Maryland, My Maryland. " The versification ofthis was of a much higher Order, being fairly respectable. The air isold, and a familiar one to all college students, and belongs to one ofthe most common of German household songs:

 O, Tannenbaum! O, Tannenbaum, wie tru sind deine Blatter! Da gruenst nicht nur zur Sommerseit, Nein, auch in Winter, when es Schneit, etc. 

which Longfellow has finely translated, O, hemlock tree! O, hemlock tree! how faithful are thy branches!Green not alone in Summer time, But in the Winter's float and rime. O, hemlock tree O, hemlock tree! how faithful are thy branches. Etc. 

The Rebel version ran:

 MARYLAND. 

The despot's heel is on thy shore, Maryland!His touch is at thy temple door, Maryland!Avenge the patriotic goreThat flecked the streets of Baltimore, And be the battle queen of yore, Maryland! My Maryland!

Hark to the wand'ring son's appeal, Maryland!My mother State, to thee I kneel, Maryland!For life and death, for woe and weal, Thy peerless chivalry reveal, And gird thy beauteous limbs with steel, Maryland! My Maryland!

Thou wilt not cower in the duet, Maryland!Thy beaming sword shall never rust Maryland!Remember Carroll's sacred trust, Remember Howard's warlike thrust--And all thy slumberers with the just, Maryland! My Maryland!

Come! 'tis the red dawn of the day, Maryland!Come! with thy panoplied array, Maryland!With Ringgold's spirit for the fray, With Watson's blood at Monterey, With fearless Lowe and dashing May, Maryland! My Maryland!

Comet for thy shield is bright and strong, Maryland!Come! for thy dalliance does thee wrong, Maryland!Come! to thins own heroic throng, That stalks with Liberty along, And give a new Key to thy song, Maryland! My Maryland!

Dear Mother! burst the tyrant's chain, Maryland!Virginia should not call in vain, Maryland!She meets her sisters on the plain--'Sic semper' 'tis the proud refrain, That baffles millions back amain, Maryland!Arise, in majesty again, Maryland! My Maryland!

I see the blush upon thy cheek, Maryland!But thou wast ever bravely meek, Maryland!But lo! there surges forth a shriekFrom hill to hill, from creek to creek--Potomac calls to Chesapeake, Maryland! My Maryland!

Thou wilt not yield the vandal toll. Maryland!Thou wilt not crook to his control, Maryland!Better the fire upon thee roll, Better the blade, the shot, the bowl, Than crucifixion of the soul, Maryland! My Maryland!

I hear the distant Thunder hem, Maryland!The Old Line's bugle, fife, and drum. Maryland!She is not dead, nor deaf, nor dumb--Hnzza! she spurns the Northern scum!She breathes--she burns! she'll come! she'll come!Maryland! My Maryland!

"Stonewall Jackson Crossing into Maryland, " was another travesty, ofabout the same literary merit, or rather demerit, as "The Bonnie BlueFlag. " Its air was that of the well-known and popular negro minstrelsong, "Billy Patterson. " For all that, it sounded very martial andstirring when played by a brass band. 

We heard these songs with tiresome iteration, daily and nightly, duringour stay in the Southern Confederacy. Some one of the guards seemed tobe perpetually beguiling the weariness of his watch by singing in allkeys, in every sort of a voice, and with the wildest latitude as to airand time. They became so terribly irritating to us, that to this day theremembrance of those soul-lacerating lyrics abides with me as one of thechief of the minor torments of our situation. They were, in fact, nearlyas bad as the lice. 

We revenged ourselves as best we could by constructing fearfully wicked, obscene and insulting parodies on these, and by singing them withirritating effusiveness in the hearing of the guards who were inflictingthese nuisances upon us. 

Of the same nature was the garrison music. One fife, played by anasthmatic old fellow whose breathings were nearly as audible as hisnotes, and one rheumatic drummer, constituted the entire band for thepost. The fifer actually knew but one tune "The Bonnie Blue Flag"--and did not know that well. But it was all that he had, and he played itwith wearisome monotony for every camp call--five or six times a day, and seven days in the week. He called us up in the morning with it for areveille; he sounded the "roll call" and "drill call, " breakfast, dinnerand supper with it, and finally sent us to bed, with the same dreary wailthat had rung in our ears all day. I never hated any piece of music as Icame to hate that threnody of treason. It would have been such a reliefif the old asthmatic who played it could have been induced to learnanother tune to play on Sundays, and give us one day of rest. He didnot, but desecrated the Lord's Day by playing as vilely as on the rest ofthe week. The Rebels were fully conscious of their musical deficiencies, and made repeated but unsuccessful attempts to induce the musicians amongthe prisoners to come outside and form a band. 

CHAPTER XLV. 

AUGUST--NEEDLES STUCK IN PUMPKIN SEEDS--SOME PHENOMENA OF STARVATION--RIOTING IN REMEMBERED LUXURIES. 

"Illinoy, " said tall, gaunt Jack North, of the One Hundred and FourteenthIllinois, to me, one day, as we sat contemplating our naked, and sadlyattenuated underpinning; "what do our legs and feet most look most like?"

"Give it up, Jack, " said I. 

"Why--darning needles stuck in pumpkin seeds, of course. " I never hearda better comparison for our wasted limbs. 

The effects of the great bodily emaciation were sometimes very startling. Boys of a fleshy habit would change so in a few weeks as to lose allresemblance to their former selves, and comrades who came into prisonlater would utterly fail to recognize them. Most fat men, as most largemen, died in a little while after entering, though there were exceptions. One of these was a boy of my own company, named George Hillicks. Georgehad shot up within a few years to over six feet in hight, and then, assuch boys occasionally do, had, after enlisting with us, taken on such adevelopment of flesh that we nicknamed him the "Giant, " and he became apretty good load for even the strongest horse. George held his fleshthrough Belle Isle, and the earlier weeks in Andersonville, but June, July, and August "fetched him, " as the boys said. He seemed to melt awaylike an icicle on a Spring day, and he grew so thin that his hight seemedpreternatural. We called him "Flagstaff, " and cracked all sorts of jokesabout putting an insulator on his head, and setting him up for atelegraph pole, braiding his legs and using him for a whip lash, lettinghis hair grow a little longer, and trading him off to the Rebels for asponge and staff for the artillery, etc. We all expected him to die, and looked continually for the development of the fatal scurvy symptoms, which were to seal his doom. But he worried through, and came out atlast in good shape, a happy result due as much as to anything else to hishaving in Chester Hayward, of Prairie City, Ill. , --one of the mostdevoted chums I ever knew. Chester nursed and looked out for George withwife-like fidelity, and had his reward in bringing him safe through ourlines. There were thousands of instances of this generous devotion toeach other by chums in Andersonville, and I know of nothing that reflectsany more credit upon our boy soldiers. 

There was little chance for any one to accumulate flesh on the rations wewere receiving. I say it in all soberness that I do not believe that ahealthy hen could have grown fat upon them. I am sure that anygood-sized "shanghai" eats more every day than the meager half loaf that wehad to maintain life upon. Scanty as this was, and hungry as all were, very many could not eat it. Their stomachs revolted against the trash;it became so nauseous to them that they could not force it down, evenwhen famishing, and they died of starvation with the chunks of theso-called bread under their head. I found myself rapidly approaching thiscondition. I had been blessed with a good digestion and a talent forsleeping under the most discouraging circumstances. These, I have nodoubt, were of the greatest assistance to me in my struggle forexistence. But now the rations became fearfully obnoxious to me, and itwas only with the greatest effort--pulling the bread into little piecesand swallowing each, of these as one would a pill--that I succeeded inworrying the stuff down. I had not as yet fallen away very much, but asI had never, up, to that time, weighed so much as one hundred andtwenty-five pounds, there was no great amount of adipose to lose. It wasevident that unless some change occurred my time was near at hand. 

There was not only hunger for more food, but longing with an intensitybeyond expression for alteration of some kind in the rations. The changeless monotony of the miserable saltless bread, or worse mush, for days, weeks and months, became unbearable. If those wretched muleteams had only once a month hauled in something different--if they hadcome in loaded with sweet potatos, green corn or wheat flour, there wouldbe thousands of men still living who now slumber beneath those melancholypines. It would have given something to look forward to, and rememberwhen past. But to know each day that the gates would open to admit thesame distasteful apologies for food took away the appetite and raisedone's gorge, even while famishing for something to eat. 

We could for a while forget the stench, the lice, the heat, the maggots, the dead and dying around us, the insulting malignance of our jailors;but it was, very hard work to banish thoughts and longings for food fromour minds. Hundreds became actually insane from brooding over it. Crazymen could be found in all parts of the camp. Numbers of them wanderedaround entirely naked. Their babblings and maunderings about somethingto eat were painful to hear. I have before mentioned the case of thePlymouth Pilgrim near me, whose insanity took the form of imagining thathe was sitting at the table with his family, and who would go through theshow of helping them to imaginary viands and delicacies. The cravingsfor green food of those afflicted with the scurvy were, agonizing. Largenumbers of watermelons were brought to the prison, and sold to those whohad the money to pay for them at from one to five dollars, greenbacks, apiece. A boy who had means to buy a piece of these would be followedabout while eating it by a crowd of perhaps twenty-five or thirtylivid-gummed scorbutics, each imploring him for the rind when he wasthrough with it. 

We thought of food all day, and were visited with torturing dreams of itat night. One of the pleasant recollections of my pre-military life wasa banquet at the "Planter's House, " St. Louis, at which I was a boyishguest. It was, doubtless, an ordinary affair, as banquets go, but to methen, with all the keen appreciation of youth and first experience, itwas a feast worthy of Lucullus. But now this delightful reminiscencebecame a torment. Hundreds of times I dreamed I was again at the"Planter's. " I saw the wide corridors, with their mosaic pavement;I entered the grand dining-room, keeping timidly near the friend to whosekindness I owed this wonderful favor; I saw again the mirror-lined walls, the evergreen decked ceilings, the festoons and mottos, the tablesgleaming with cutglass and silver, the buffets with wines and fruits, the brigade of sleek, black, white-aproned waiters, headed by one who hadpresence enough for a major General. Again I reveled in all the daintiesand dishes on the bill-of-fare; calling for everything that I dared to, just to see what each was like, and to be able to say afterwards that Ihad partaken of it; all these bewildering delights of the firstrealization of what a boy has read and wondered much over, and longedfor, would dance their rout and reel through my somnolent brain. Then Iwould awake to find myself a half-naked, half-starved, vermin-eatenwretch, crouching in a hole in the ground, waiting for my keepers tofling me a chunk of corn bread. 

Naturally the boys--and especially the country boys and new prisoners--talked much of victuals--what they had had, and what they would haveagain, when they got out. Take this as a sample of the conversationwhich might be heard in any group of boys, sitting together on the sand, killin lice and talking of exchange:

Tom--"Well, Bill, when we get back to God's country, you and Jim and Johnmust all come to my house and take dinner with me. I want to give you asquare meal. I want to show you just what good livin' is. You know mymother is just the best cook in all that section. When she lays herselfout to get up a meal all the other women in the neighborhood just standback and admire!"

Bill--"O, that's all right; but I'll bet she can't hold a candle to mymother, when it comes to good cooking. "

Jim--"No, nor to mine. "

John--(with patronizing contempt. ) "O, shucks! None of you fellers wereever at our house, even when we had one of our common weekday dinners. "

Tom--(unheedful of the counter claims. ) I hev teen studyin' up the dinnerI'd like, and the bill-of-fare I'd set out for you fellers when you comeover to see me. First, of course, we'll lay the foundation like with anice, juicy loin roast, and some mashed potatos. 

Bill--(interrupting. ) "Now, do you like mashed potatos with beef? Theway may mother does is to pare the potatos, and lay them in the pan alongwith the beef. Then, you know, they come out just as nice and crisp, andbrown; they have soaked up all the beef gravy, and they crinkle betweenyour teeth--"

Jim--"Now, I tell you, mashed Neshannocks with butter on 'em is plentygood enough for me. "

John--"If you'd et some of the new kind of peachblows that we raised inthe old pasture lot the year before I enlisted, you'd never say anotherword about your Neshannocks. "

Tom--(taking breath and starting in fresh. ) "Then we'll hev some friedSpring chickens, of our dominick breed. Them dominicks of ours have thenicest, tenderest meat, better'n quail, a darned sight, and the way mymother can fry Spring chickens----"

Bill--(aside to Jim. ) "Every durned woman in the country thinks she can'spry ching frickens;' but my mother---"

John--"You fellers all know that there's nobody knows half as much aboutchicken doin's as these 'tinerant Methodis' preachers. They give 'emchicken wherever they go, and folks do say that out in the newsettlements they can't get no preachin', no gospel, nor nothin', untilthe chickens become so plenty that a preacher is reasonably sure ofhavin' one for his dinner wherever he may go. Now, there's old PeterCartwright, who has traveled over Illinoy and Indianny since the YearOne, and preached more good sermons than any other man who ever set onsaddle-bags, and has et more chickens than there are birds in a bigpigeon roost. Well, he took dinner at our house when he came up todedicate the big, white church at Simpkin's Corners, and when he passedup his plate the third time for more chicken, he sez, sez he:--I've etat a great many hundred tables in the fifty years I have labored in thevineyard of the Redeemer, but I must say, Mrs. Kiggins, that your way offrying chickens is a leetle the nicest that I ever knew. I only wishthat the sisters generally would get your reseet. ' Yes, that's what hesaid, --'a leetle the nicest. '"

Tom--"An' then, we'll hev biscuits an' butter. I'll just bet fivehundred dollars to a cent, and give back the cent if I win, that we havethe best butter at our house that there is in Central Illinoy. You can'tnever hev good butter onless you have a spring house; there's no use oftalkin'--all the patent churns that lazy men ever invented--all the fancymilk pans an' coolers, can't make up for a spring house. Locations for aspring house are scarcer than hen's teeth in Illinoy, but we hev one, andthere ain't a better one in Orange County, New York. Then you'll seedome of the biscuits my mother makes. "

Bill--"Well, now, my mother's a boss biscuit-maker, too. "

Jim--"You kin just gamble that mine is. "

John--"O, that's the way you fellers ought to think an' talk, but mymother----"

Tom--(coming in again with fresh vigor) "They're jest as light an' fluffyas a dandelion puff, and they melt in your month like a ripe Bartlettpear. You just pull 'em open--Now you know that I think there's nothin'that shows a person's raisin' so well as to see him eat biscuits an'butter. If he's been raised mostly on corn bread, an' common doins, 'an' don't know much about good things to eat, he'll most likely cut hisbiscuit open with a case knife, an' make it fall as flat as one o'yesterday's pancakes. But if he is used to biscuits, has had 'em oftenat his house, he'll--just pull 'em open, slow an' easy like, then he'lllay a little slice of butter inside, and drop a few drops of clear honeyon this, an' stick the two halves back, together again, an--"

"Oh, for God Almighty's sake, stop talking that infernal nonsense, " roarout a half dozen of the surrounding crowd, whose mouths have beenwatering over this unctuous recital of the good things of the table. "You blamed fools, do you want to drive yourselves and everybody elsecrazy with such stuff as that. Dry up and try to think of somethingelse. "

CHAPTER XLVI. 

SURLY BRITON--THE STOLID COURAGE THAT MAKES THE ENGLISH FLAG A BANNER OFTRIUMPH--OUR COMPANY BUGLER, HIS CHARACTERISTICS AND HIS DEATH--URGENTDEMAND FOR MECHANICS--NONE WANT TO GO--TREATMENT OF A REBEL SHOEMAKER--ENLARGEMENT OF THE STOCKADE--IT IS BROKEN BY A STORM--THE WONDERFUL SPRING. 

Early in August, F. Marriott, our Company Bugler, died. Previous tocoming to America he had been for many years an English soldier, and Iaccepted him as a type of that stolid, doggedly brave class, which formsthe bulk of the English armies, and has for centuries carried the Britishflag with dauntless courage into every land under the sun. Rough, surlyand unsocial, he did his duty with the unemotional steadiness of amachine. He knew nothing but to obey orders, and obeyed them under allcircumstances promptly, but with stony impassiveness. With the commandto move forward into action, he moved forward without a word, and withface as blank as a side of sole leather. He went as far as ordered, halted at the word, and retired at command as phlegmatically as headvanced. If he cared a straw whether he advanced or retreated, if itmattered to the extent of a pinch of salt whether we whipped the Rebelsor they defeated us, he kept that feeling so deeply hidden in therecesses of his sturdy bosom that no one ever suspected it. In theexcitement of action the rest of the boys shouted, and swore, andexpressed their tense feelings in various ways, but Marriott might aswell have been a graven image, for all the expression that he suffered toescape. Doubtless, if the Captain had ordered him to shoot one of thecompany through the heart, he would have executed the command accordingto the manual of arms, brought his carbine to a "recover, " and at theword marched back to his quarters without an inquiry as to the cause ofthe proceedings. He made no friends, and though his surliness repelledus, he made few enemies. Indeed, he was rather a favorite, since he wasa genuine character; his gruffness had no taint of selfish greed in it;he minded his own business strictly, and wanted others to do the same. When he first came into the company, it is true, he gained the enmity ofnearly everybody in it, but an incident occurred which turned the tide inhis favor. Some annoying little depredations had been practiced on theboys, and it needed but a word of suspicion to inflame all their mindsagainst the surly Englishman as the unknown perpetrator. The feelingintensified, until about half of the company were in a mood to kill theBugler outright. As we were returning from stable duty one evening, some little occurrence fanned the smoldering anger into a fierce blaze;a couple of the smaller boys began an attack upon him; others hastened totheir assistance, and soon half the company were engaged in the assault. 

He succeeded in disengaging himself from his assailants, and, squaringhimself off, said, defiantly:

"Dom yer cowardly heyes; jest come hat me one hat a time, hand hI'llwollop the 'ole gang uv ye's. "

One of our Sergeants styled himself proudly "a Chicago rough, " and was asvain of his pugilistic abilities as a small boy is of a father who playsin the band. We all hated him cordially--even more than we did Marriott. 

He thought this was a good time to show off, and forcing his way throughthe crowd, he said, vauntingly:

"Just fall back and form a ring, boys, and see me polish off the---fool. "

The ring was formed, with the Bugler and the Sergeant in the center. Though the latter was the younger and stronger the first round showed himthat it would have profited him much more to have let Marriott'schallenge pass unheeded. As a rule, it is as well to ignore allinvitations of this kind from Englishmen, and especially from those who, like Marriott, have served a term in the army, for they are likely to beso handy with their fists as to make the consequences of an acceptancemore lively than desirable. 

So the Sergeant found. "Marriott, " as one of the spectators expressedit, "went around him like a cooper around a barrel. " He planted hisblows just where he wished, to the intense delight of the boys, whoyelled enthusiastically whenever he got in "a hot one, " and their delightat seeing the Sergeant drubbed so thoroughly and artistically, worked anentire revolution in his favor. 

Thenceforward we viewed his eccentricities with lenient eyes, and becamerather proud of his bull-dog stolidity and surliness. The wholebattalion soon came to share this feeling, and everybody enjoyed hearinghis deep-toned growl, which mischievous boys would incite by some pettyannoyances deliberately designed for that purpose. I will mentionincidentally, that after his encounter with the Sergeant no one everagain volunteered to "polish" him off. 

Andersonville did not improve either his temper or his communicativeness. He seemed to want to get as far away from the rest of us as possible, and took up his quarters in a remote corner of the Stockade, among utterstrangers. Those of us who wandered up in his neighborhood occasionally, to see how he was getting along, were received with such scant courtesy, that we did not hasten to repeat the visit. At length, after none of ushad seen him for weeks, we thought that comradeship demanded anothervisit. We found him in the last stages of scurvy and diarrhea. Chunksof uneaten corn bread lay by his head. They were at least a week old. The rations since then had evidently been stolen from the helpless man bythose around him. The place where he lay was indescribably filthy, andhis body was swarming with vermin. Some good Samaritan had filled hislittle black oyster can with water, and placed it within his reach. For a week, at least, he had not been able to rise from the ground;he could barely reach for the water near him. He gave us such a glare ofrecognition as I remembered to have seen light up the fast-darkening eyesof a savage old mastiff, that I and my boyish companions once found dyingin the woods of disease and hurts. Had he been able he would have drivenus away, or at least assailed us with biting English epithets. Thus hehad doubtless driven away all those who had attempted to help him. We did what little we could, and staid with him until the next afternoon, when he died. We prepared his body, in the customary way: folded thehands across his breast, tied the toes together, and carried it outside, not forgetting each of us, to bring back a load of wood. 

The scarcity of mechanics of all kinds in the Confederacy, and the urgentneeds of the people for many things which the war and the blockadeprevented their obtaining, led to continual inducements being offered tothe artizans among us to go outside and work at their trade. Shoemakersseemed most in demand; next to these blacksmiths, machinists, molders andmetal workers generally. Not a week passed during my imprisonment that Idid not see a Rebel emissary of some kind about the prison seeking toengage skilled workmen for some purpose or another. While in Richmondthe managers of the Tredegar Iron Works were brazen and persistent intheir efforts to seduce what are termed "malleable iron workers, " toenter their employ. A boy who was master of any one of the commonertrades had but to make his wishes known, and he would be allowed to goout on parole to work. I was a printer, and I think that at least adozen times I was approached by Rebel publishers with offers of a parole, and work at good prices. One from Columbia, S. C. , offered me twodollars and a half a "thousand" for composition. As the highest pricefor such work that I had received before enlisting was thirty cents athousand, this seemed a chance to accumulate untold wealth. Since a manworking in day time can set from thirty-five to fifty "thousand" a week, this would make weekly wages run from eighty-seven dollars and fiftycents to one hundred and twenty-five dollars--but it was in Confederatemoney, then worth from ten to twenty cents on the dollar. 

Still better offers were made to iron workers of all kinds, to shoemakers, tanners, weavers, tailors, hatters, engineers, machinists, millers, railroad men, and similar tradesmen. Any of these could havemade a handsome thing by accepting the offers made them almost weekly. As nearly all in the prison had useful trades, it would have been ofimmense benefit to the Confederacy if they could have been induced towork at them. There is no measuring the benefit it would have been tothe Southern cause if all the hundreds of tanners and shoemakers in theStockade could have, been persuaded to go outside and labor in providingleather and shoes for the almost shoeless people and soldiery. Themachinists alone could have done more good to the Southern Confederacythan one of our brigades was doing harm, by consenting to go to therailroad shops at Griswoldville and ply their handicraft. The lack ofmaterial resources in the South was one of the strongest allies our armshad. This lack of resources was primarily caused by a lack of skilledlabor to develop those resources, and nowhere could there be found afiner collection of skilled laborers than in the thirty-three thousandprisoners incarcerated in Andersonville. 

All solicitations to accept a parole and go outside to work at one'strade were treated with the scorn they deserved. If any mechanic yieldedto them, the fact did not come under my notice. The usual reply toinvitations of this kind was:

"No, Sir! By God, I'll stay in here till I rot, and the maggots carry meout through the cracks in the Stockade, before I'll so much as raise mylittle finger to help the infernal Confederacy, or Rebels, in any shapeor form. "

In August a Macon shoemaker came in to get some of his trade to go backwith him to work in the Confederate shoe factory. He prosecuted hissearch for these until he reached the center of the camp on the NorthSide, when some of the shoemakers who had gathered around him, apparentlyconsidering his propositions, seized him and threw him into a well. He was kept there a whole day, and only released when Wirz cut off therations of the prison for that day, and announced that no more would beissued until the man was returned safe and sound to the gate. 

The terrible crowding was somewhat ameliorated by the opening in July ofan addition--six hundred feet long--to the North Side of the Stockade. This increased the room inside to twenty acres, giving about an acre toevery one thousand seven hundred men, --a preposterously contracted areastill. The new ground was not a hotbed of virulent poison like the oldshowever, and those who moved on to it had that much in their favor. 

The palisades between the new and the old portions of the pen were leftstanding when the new portion was opened. We were still suffering agreat deal of inconvenience from lack of wood. That night the standingtimbers were attacked by thousands of prisoners armed with every speciesof a tool to cut wood, from a case-knife to an ax. They worked thelive-long night with such energy that by morning not only every inch ofthe logs above ground had disappeared, but that below had been dug up, and there was not enough left of the eight hundred foot wall oftwenty-five-foot logs to make a box of matches. 

One afternoon--early in August--one of the violent rain storms common tothat section sprung up, and in a little while the water was falling intorrents. The little creek running through the camp swelled upimmensely, and swept out large gaps in the Stockade, both in the west andeast sides. The Rebels noticed the breaches as soon as the prisoners. Two guns were fired from the Star Tort, and all the guards rushed out, and formed so as to prevent any egress, if one was attempted. Taken bysurprise, we were not in a condition to profit by the opportunity untilit was too late. 

The storm did one good thing: it swept away a great deal of filth, andleft the camp much more wholesome. The foul stench rising from the campmade an excellent electrical conductor, and the lightning struck severaltimes within one hundred feet of the prison. 

Toward the end of August there happened what the religously inclinedtermed a Providential Dispensation. The water in the Creek wasindescribably bad. No amount of familiarity with it, no increase ofintimacy with our offensive surroundings, could lessen the disgust at thepolluted water. As I have said previously, before the stream entered theStockade, it was rendered too filthy for any use by the contaminationsfrom the camps of the guards, situated about a half-mile above. Immediately on entering the Stockade the contamination became terrible. The oozy seep at the bottom of the hillsides drained directly into it allthe mass of filth from a population of thirty-three thousand. Imaginethe condition of an open sewer, passing through the heart of a city ofthat many people, and receiving all the offensive product of so dense agathering into a shallow, sluggish stream, a yard wide and five inchesdeep, and heated by the burning rays of the sun in the thirty-seconddegree of latitude. Imagine, if one can, without becoming sick at thestomach, all of these people having to wash in and drink of this foulflow. 

There is not a scintilla of exaggeration in this statement. That it iswithin the exact truth is demonstrable by the testimony of any man--Rebelor Union--who ever saw the inside of the Stockade at Andersonville. I amquite content to have its truth--as well as that of any other statementmade in this book--be determined by the evidence of any one, no matterhow bitter his hatred of the Union, who had any personal knowledge of thecondition of affairs at Andersonville. No one can successfully deny thatthere were at least thirty-three thousand prisoners in the Stockade, andthat the one shallow, narrow creek, which passed through the prison, wasat once their main sewer and their source of supply of water for bathing, drinking and washing. With these main facts admitted, the reader'scommon sense of natural consequences will furnish the rest of thedetails. 

It is true that some of the more fortunate of us had wells; thanks to ourown energy in overcoming extraordinary obstacles; no thanks to ourgaolers for making the slightest effort to provide these necessities oflife. We dug the wells with case and pocket knives, and half canteens toa depth of from twenty to thirty feet, pulling up the dirt in pantaloonslegs, and running continual risk of being smothered to death by thecaving in of the unwalled sides. Not only did the Rebels refuse to giveus boards with which to wall the wells, and buckets for drawing thewater, but they did all in their power to prevent us from digging thewells, and made continual forays to capture the digging tools, becausethe wells were frequently used as the starting places for tunnels. Professor Jones lays special stress on this tunnel feature in histestimony, which I have introduced in a previous chapter. 

The great majority of the prisoners who went to the Creek for water, wentas near as possible to the Dead Line on the West Side, where the Creekentered the Stockade, that they might get water with as little filth init as possible. In the crowds struggling there for their turn to take adip, some one nearly every day got so close to the Dead Line as to arousea suspicion in the guard's mind that he was touching it. The suspicionwas the unfortunate one's death warrant, and also its execution. As thesluggish brain of the guard conceived it he leveled his gun; the distanceto his victim was not over one hundred feet; he never failed his aim; thefirst warning the wretched prisoner got that he was suspected oftransgressing a prison-rule was the charge of "ball-and-buck" that torethrough his body. It was lucky if he was, the only one of the groupkilled. More wicked and unjustifiable murders never were committed thanthese almost daily assassinations at the Creek. 

One morning the camp was astonished beyond measure to discover thatduring the night a large, bold spring had burst out on the North Side, about midway between the Swamp and the summit of the hill. It poured outits grateful flood of pure, sweet water in an apparently exhaustlessquantity. To the many who looked in wonder upon it, it seemed as truly aheaven-wrought miracle as when Moses's enchanted rod smote the parchedrock in Sinai's desert waste, and the living waters gushed forth. 

The police took charge of the spring, and every one was compelled to takehis regular turn in filling his vessel. This was kept up during ourwhole stay in Andersonville, and every morning, shortly after daybreak, a thousand men could be seen standing in line, waiting their turns tofill their cans and cups with the precious liquid. 

I am told by comrades who have revisited the Stockade of recent years, that the spring is yet running as when we left, and is held in most piousveneration by the negros of that vicinity, who still preserve thetradition of its miraculous origin, and ascribe to its water wonderfulgrace giving and healing properties, similar to those which piousCatholics believe exist in the holy water of the fountain at Lourdes. 

I must confess that I do not think they are so very far from right. If I could believe that any water was sacred and thaumaturgic, it wouldbe of that fountain which appeared so opportunely for the benefit of theperishing thousands of Andersonville. And when I hear of people bringingwater for baptismal purposes from the Jordan, I say in my heart, "Howmuch more would I value for myself and friends the administration of thechrismal sacrament with the diviner flow from that low sand-hill inWestern Georgia. "

CHAPTER XLVII. 

"SICK CALL, " AND THE SCENES THAT ACCOMPANIED IT--MUSTERING THE LAME, HALTAND DISEASED AT THE SOUTH GATE--AN UNUSUALLY BAD CASE--GOING OUT TO THEHOSPITAL--ACCOMMODATION AND TREATMENT OF THE PATIENTS THERE--THE HORRIBLESUFFERING IN THE GANGRENE WARD--BUNGLING AMPUTATIONS BY BLUNDERINGPRACTITIONERS--AFFECTION BETWEEN A SAILOR AND HIS WARD--DEATH OF MY COMRADE. 

Every morning after roll-call, thousands of sick gathered at the SouthGate, where the doctors made some pretense of affording medical relief. The scene there reminded me of the illustrations in my Sunday-Schoollessons of that time when "great multitudes came unto Him, " by the shoresof the Sea of Galilee, "having with them those that were lame, blind, dumb, maimed, and many others. " Had the crowds worn the flouting robesof the East, the picture would have lacked nothing but the presence ofthe Son of Man to make it complete. Here were the burning sands andparching sun; hither came scores of groups of three or four comrades, laboriously staggering under the weight of a blanket in which they hadcarried a disabled and dying friend from some distant part of theStockade. Beside them hobbled the scorbutics with swollen and distortedlimbs, each more loathsome and nearer death than the lepers whom Christ'sdivine touch made whole. Dozens, unable to walk, and having no comradesto carry them, crawled painfully along, with frequent stops, on theirhands and knees. Every form of intense physical suffering that it ispossible for disease to induce in the human frame was visible at thesedaily parades of the sick of the prison. As over three thousand (threethousand and seventy-six) died in August, there were probably twelvethousand dangerously sick at any given time daring the month; and a largepart of these collected at the South Gate every morning. 

Measurably-calloused as we had become by the daily sights of horroraround us, we encountered spectacles in these gatherings which no amountof visible misery could accustom us to. I remember one especially thatburned itself deeply into my memory. It was of a young man not overtwenty-five, who a few weeks ago--his clothes looked comparatively new--had evidently been the picture of manly beauty and youthful vigor. He had had a well-knit, lithe form; dark curling hair fell over aforehead which had once been fair, and his eyes still showed that theyhad gleamed with a bold, adventurous spirit. The red clover leaf on hiscap showed that he belonged to the First Division of the Second Corps, the three chevrons on his arm that he was a Sergeant, and the stripe athis cuff that he was a veteran. Some kind-hearted boys had found him ina miserable condition on the North Side, and carried him over in ablanket to where the doctors could see him. He had but little clothingon, save his blouse and cap. Ulcers of some kind had formed in hisabdomen, and these were now masses of squirming worms. It was so muchworse than the usual forms of suffering, that quite a little crowd ofcompassionate spectators gathered around and expressed their pity. The sufferer turned to one who lay beside him with:

"Comrade: If we were only under the old Stars and Stripes, we wouldn'tcare a G-d d--n for a few worms, would we?"

This was not profane. It was an utterance from the depths of a braveman's heart, couched in the strongest language at his command. It seemedterrible that so gallant a soul should depart from earth in thismiserable fashion. Some of us, much moved by the sight, went to thedoctors and put the case as strongly as possible, begging them to dosomething to alleviate his suffering. They declined to see the case, but got rid of us by giving us a bottle of turpentine, with directions topour it upon the ulcers to kill the maggots. We did so. It must havebeen cruel torture, and as absurd remedially as cruel, but our hero sethis teeth and endured, without a groan. He was then carried out to thehospital to die. 

I said the doctors made a pretense of affording medical relief. It washardly that, since about all the prescription for those inside theStockade consisted in giving a handful of sumach berries to each of thosecomplaining of scurvy. The berries might have done some good, had therebeen enough of them, and had their action been assisted by proper food. As it was, they were probably nearly, if not wholly, useless. Nothingwas given to arrest the ravages of dysentery. 

A limited number of the worst cases were admitted to the Hospital eachday. As this only had capacity for about one-quarter of the sick in theStockade, new patients could only be admitted as others died. It seemed, anyway, like signing a man's death warrant to send him to the Hospital, as three out of every four who went out there died. The following fromthe official report of the Hospital shows this:

Total number admitted ......................................... 12, 900Died ................................................. 8, 663Exchanged ............................................ 828Took the oath of allegiance .......................... 25Sent elsewhere ....................................... 2, 889

Total ................................................ 12, 400

Average deaths, 76 per cent. 

Early in August I made a successful effort to get out to the Hospital. Ihad several reasons for this: First, one of my chums, W. W. Watts, ofmy own company, had been sent out a little whale before very sick withscurvy and pneumonia, and I wanted to see if I could do anything for him, if he still lived: I have mentioned before that for awhile after ourentrance into Andersonville five of us slept on one overcoat and coveredourselves with one blanket. Two of these had already died, leaving aspossessors of-the blanket and overcoat, W. W. Watts, B. B. Andrews, andmyself. 

Next, I wanted to go out to see if there was any prospect of escape. I had long since given up hopes of escaping from the Stockade. All ourattempts at tunneling had resulted in dead failures, and now, to make uswholly despair of success in that direction, another Stockade was builtclear around the prison, at a distance of one hundred and twenty feetfrom the first palisades. It was manifest that though we might succeedin tunneling past one Stockade, we could not go beyond the second one. 

I had the scurvy rather badly, and being naturally slight in frame, I presented a very sick appearance to the physicians, and was passed outto the Hospital. 

While this was a wretched affair, it was still a vast improvement on theStockade. About five acres of ground, a little southeast of theStockade, and bordering on a creek, were enclosed by a board fence, around which the guard walked, trees shaded the ground tolerably well. There were tents and flies to shelter part of the sick, and in these werebeds made of pine leaves. There were regular streets and alleys runningthrough the grounds, and as the management was in the hands of our ownmen, the place was kept reasonably clean and orderly for Andersonville. 

There was also some improvement in the food. Rice in some degreereplaced the nauseous and innutritious corn bread, and if served insufficient quantities, would doubtless have promoted the recovery of manymen dying from dysenteric diseases. We also received small quantities of"okra, " a plant peculiar to the South, whose pods contained amucilaginous matter that made a soup very grateful to those sufferingfrom scurvy. 

But all these ameliorations of condition were too slight to even arrestthe progress of the disease of the thousands of dying men brought outfrom the Stockade. These still wore the same lice-infested garments asin prison; no baths or even ordinary applications of soap and watercleaned their dirt-grimed skins, to give their pores an opportunity toassist in restoring them to health; even their long, lank and mattedhair, swarming with vermin, was not trimmed. The most ordinary andobvious measures for their comfort and care were neglected. If a manrecovered he did it almost in spite of fate. The medicines given werescanty and crude. The principal remedial agent--as far as my observationextended--was a rank, fetid species of unrectified spirits, which, I wastold, was made from sorgum seed. It had a light-green tinge, and wasabout as inviting to the taste as spirits of turpentine. It was given tothe sick in small quantities mixed with water. I had had some experiencewith Kentucky "apple-jack, " which, it was popularly believed among theboys, would dissolve a piece of the fattest pork thrown into it, but thatseemed balmy and oily alongside of this. After tasting some, I ceased towonder at the atrocities of Wirz and his associates. Nothing would seemtoo bad to a man who made that his habitual tipple. 

[For a more particular description of the Hospital I must refer my readerto the testimony of Professor Jones, in a previous chapter. ]

Certainly this continent has never seen--and I fervently trust it willnever again see--such a gigantic concentration of misery as that Hospitaldisplayed daily. The official statistics tell the story of this withterrible brevity: There were three thousand seven hundred and nine in theHospital in August; one thousand four hundred and eighty-nine--nearlyevery other man died. The rate afterwards became much higher than this. 

The most conspicuous suffering was in the gangrene wards. Horrible soresspreading almost visibly from hour to hour, devoured men's limbs andbodies. I remember one ward in which the alterations appeared to bealtogether in the back, where they ate out the tissue between the skinand the ribs. The attendants seemed trying to arrest the progress of thesloughing by drenching the sores with a solution of blue vitriol. Thiswas exquisitely painful, and in the morning, when the drenching was goingon, the whole hospital rang with the most agonizing screams. 

But the gangrene mostly attacked the legs and arms, and the led more thanthe arms. Sometimes it killed men inside of a week; sometimes theylingered on indefinitely. I remember one man in the Stockade who cut hishand with the sharp corner of a card of corn bread he was lifting fromthe ration wagon; gangrene set in immediately, and he died four daysafter. 

One form that was quit prevalent was a cancer of the lower one corner ofthe mouth, and it finally ate the whole side of the face out. Of coursethe sufferer had the greatest trouble in eating and drinking. For thelatter it was customary to whittle out a little wooden tube, and fastenit in a tin cup, through which he could suck up the water. As this mouthcancer seemed contagious, none of us would allow any one afflicted withit to use any of our cooking utensils. The Rebel doctors at the hospitalresorted to wholesale amputations to check the progress of the gangrene. 

They had a two hours session of limb-lopping every morning, each of whichresulted in quite a pile of severed members. I presume more bunglingoperations are rarely seen outside of Russian or Turkish hospitals. Their unskilfulness was apparent even to non-scientific observers likemyself. The standard of medical education in the South--as indeed ofevery other form of education--was quite low. The Chief Surgeon of theprison, Dr. Isaiah White, and perhaps two or three others, seemed to begentlemen of fair abilities and attainments. The remainder were of thatclass of illiterate and unlearning quacks who physic and blister the poorwhites and negros in the country districts of the South; who believe theycan stop bleeding of the nose by repeating a verse from the Bible; whothink that if in gathering their favorite remedy of boneset they cut thestem upwards it will purge their patients, and if downward it will vomitthem, and who hold that there is nothing so good for "fits" as a blackcat, killed in the dark of the moon, cut open, and bound while yet warm, upon the naked chest of the victim of the convulsions. 

They had a case of instruments captured from some of our field hospitals, which were dull and fearfully out of order. With poor instruments andunskilled hands the operations became mangling. 

In the Hospital I saw an admirable illustration of the affection which asailor will lavish on a ship's boy, whom he takes a fancy to, and makeshis "chicken, " as the phrase is. The United States sloop "Water Witch"had recently been captured in Ossabaw Sound, and her crew brought intoprison. One of her boys--a bright, handsome little fellow of aboutfifteen--had lost one of his arms in the fight. He was brought into theHospital, and the old fellow whose "chicken" he was, was allowed toaccompany and nurse him. This "old barnacle-back" was as surly a growleras ever went aloft, but to his "chicken" he was as tender and thoughtfulas a woman. They found a shady nook in one corner, and any moment onelooked in that direction he could see the old tar hard at work atsomething for the comfort and pleasure of his pet. Now he was dressingthe wound as deftly and gently as a mother caring for a new-born babe;now he was trying to concoct some relish out of the slender materials hecould beg or steal from the Quartermaster; now trying to arrange theshade of the bed of pine leaves in a more comfortable manner; nowrepairing or washing his clothes, and so on. 

All the sailors were particularly favored by being allowed to bring theirbags in untouched by the guards. This "chicken" had a wonderful supplyof clothes, the handiwork of his protector who, like most good sailors, was very skillful with the needle. He had suits of fine white duck, embroidered with blue in a way that would ravish the heart of a finelady, and blue suits similarly embroidered with white. No belle everkept her clothes in better order than these were. When the duck came upfrom the old sailor's patient washing it was as spotless as new-fallensnow. 

I found my chum in a very bad condition. His appetite was entirely gone, but he had an inordinate craving for tobacco--for strong, black plug--which he smoked in a pipe. He had already traded off all his brassbuttons to the guards for this. I had accumulated a few buttons to bribethe guard to take me out for wood, and I gave these also for tobacco forhim. When I awoke one morning the man who laid next to me on the rightwas dead, having died sometime during the night. I searched his pocketsand took what was in them. These were a silk pocket handkerchief, agutta percha finger-ring, a comb, a pencil, and a leather pocket-book, making in all quite a nice little "find. " I hied over to the guard, andsucceeded in trading the personal estate which I had inherited from theintestate deceased, for a handful of peaches, a handful of hardly ripefigs, and a long plug of tobacco. I hastened back to Watts, expectingthat the figs and peaches would do him a world of good. At first I didnot show him the tobacco, as I was strongly opposed to his using it, thinking that it was making him much worse. But he looked at thetempting peaches and figs with lack-luster eyes; he was too far gone tocare for them. He pushed them back to me, saying faintly:

"No, you take 'em, Mc; I don't want 'em; I can't eat 'em!"

I then produced the tobacco, and his face lighted up. Concluding thatthis was all the comfort that he could have, and that I might as wellgratify him, I cut up some of the weed, filled his pipe and lighted it. He smoked calmly and almost happily all the afternoon, hardly speaking aword to me. As it grew dark he asked me to bring him a drink. I did so, and as I raised him up he said:

"Mc, this thing's ended. Tell my father that I stood it as long as Icould, and----"

The death rattle sounded in his throat, and when I laid him back it wasall over. Straightening out his limbs, folding his hands across hisbreast, and composing his features as best I could, I lay, down besidethe body and slept till morning, when I did what little else I couldtoward preparing for the grave all that was left of my long-sufferinglittle friend. 

CHAPTER XLVIII. 

DETERMINATION TO ESCAPE--DIFFERENT PLANS AND THEIR MERITS--I PREFER THEAPPALACHICOLA ROUTE--PREPARATIONS FOR DEPARTURE--A HOT DAY--THE FENCEPASSED SUCCESSFULLY PURSUED BY THE HOUNDS--CAUGHT--RETURNED TO THE STOCKADE. 

After Watt's death, I set earnestly about seeing what could be done inthe way of escape. Frank Harvey, of the First West Virginia Cavalry, a boy of about my own age and disposition, joined with me in the scheme. I was still possessed with my original plan of making my way down thecreeks to the Flint River, down the Flint River to where it emptied intothe Appalachicola River, and down that stream to its debauchure into thebay that connected with the Gulf of Mexico. I was sure of finding my wayby this route, because, if nothing else offered, I could get astride of alog and float down the current. The way to Sherman, in the otherdirection, was long, torturous and difficult, with a fearful gauntlet ofblood-hounds, patrols and the scouts of Hood's Army to be run. I had butlittle difficulty in persuading Harvey into an acceptance of my views, and we began arranging for a solution of the first great problem--how toget outside of the Hospital guards. As I have explained before, theHospital was surrounded by a board fence, with guards walking their beatson the ground outside. A small creek flowed through the southern end ofthe grounds, and at its lower end was used as a sink. The boards of thefence came down to the surface of the water, where the Creek passed out, but we found, by careful prodding with a stick, that the hole between theboards and the bottom of the Creek was sufficiently large to allow thepassage of our bodies, and there had been no stakes driven or otherprecautions used to prevent egress by this channel. A guard was postedthere, and probably ordered to stand at the edge of the stream, but itsmelled so vilely in those scorching days that he had consulted hisfeelings and probably his health, by retiring to the top of the bank, a rod or more distant. We watched night after night, and at last weregratified to find that none went nearer the Creak than the top of thisbank. 

Then we waited for the moon to come right, so that the first part of thenight should be dark. This took several days, but at last we knew thatthe next night she would not rise until between 9 and 10 o'clock, whichwould give us nearly two hours of the dense darkness of a moonless Summernight in the South. We had first thought of saving up some rations forthe trip, but then reflected that these would be ruined by the filthywater into which we must sink to go under the fence. It was notdifficult to abandon the food idea, since it was very hard to forceourselves to lay by even the smallest portion of our scanty rations. 

As the next day wore on, our minds were wrought up into exalted tensionby the rapid approach of the supreme moment, with all its chances andconsequences. The experience of the past few months was not such as tomentally fit us for such a hazard. It prepared us for sullen, uncomplaining endurance, for calmly contemplating the worst that couldcome; but it did not strengthen that fiber of mind that leads toventuresome activity and daring exploits. Doubtless the weakness of ourbodies reacted upon our spirits. We contemplated all the perils thatconfronted us; perils that, now looming up with impending nearness, tooka clearer and more threatening shape than they had ever done before. 

We considered the desperate chances of passing the guard unseen; or, ifnoticed, of escaping his fire without death or severe wounds. Butsupposing him fortunately evaded, then came the gauntlet of the houndsand the patrols hunting deserters. After this, a long, weary journey, with bare feet and almost naked bodies, through an unknown countryabounding with enemies; the dangers of assassination by the embitteredpopulace; the risks of dying with hunger and fatigue in the gloomy depthsof a swamp; the scanty hopes that, if we reached the seashore, we couldget to our vessels. 

Not one of all these contingencies failed to expand itself to all itsalarming proportions, and unite with its fellows to form a dreadfulvista, like the valleys filled with demons and genii, dragons and malignenchantments, which confront the heros of the "Arabian Nights, " when theyset out to perform their exploits. 

But behind us lay more miseries and horrors than a riotous imaginationcould conceive; before us could certainly be nothing worse. We would putlife and freedom to the hazard of a touch, and win or lose it all. 

The day had been intolerably hot. The sun's rays seemed to sear theearth, like heated irons, and the air that lay on the burning sand wasbroken by wavy lines, such as one sees indicate the radiation from a hotstove. 

Except the wretched chain-gang plodding torturously back and forward onthe hillside, not a soul nor an animal could be seen in motion outsidethe Stockade. The hounds were panting in their kennel; the Rebelofficers, half or wholly drunken with villainous sorgum whisky, werestretched at full length in the shade at headquarters; the half-cakedgunners crouched under the shadow of the embankments of the forts, theguards hung limply over the Stockade in front of their little perches;the thirty thousand boys inside the Stockade, prone or supine upon theglowing sand, gasped for breath--for one draft of sweet, cool, wholesomeair that did not bear on its wings the subtle seeds of rank corruptionand death. Everywhere was the prostration of discomfort--the inertia ofsluggishness. 

Only the sick moved; only the pain-racked cried out; only the dyingstruggled; only the agonies of dissolution could make life assert itselfagainst the exhaustion of the heat. 

Harvey and I, lying in the scanty shade of the trunk of a tall pine, andwith hearts filled with solicitude as to the outcome of what the eveningwould bring us, looked out over the scene as we had done daily for longmonths, and remained silent for hours, until the sun, as if weary withtorturing and slaying, began going down in the blazing West. The groansof the thousands of sick around us, the shrieks of the rotting ones inthe gangrene wards rang incessantly in our ears. 

As the sun disappeared, and the heat abated, the suspended activity wasrestored. The Master of the Hounds came out with his yelping pack, andstarted on his rounds; the Rebel officers aroused themselves from theirsiesta and went lazily about their duties; the fifer produced his crackedfife and piped forth his unvarying "Bonnie Blue Flag, " as a signal fordress parade, and drums beaten by unskilled hands in the camps of thedifferent regiments, repeated the signal. In time Stockade the mass ofhumanity became full of motion as an ant hill, and resembled it very muchfrom our point of view, with the boys threading their way among theburrows, tents and holes. 

It was becoming dark quite rapidly. The moments seemed galloping onwardtoward the time when we must make the decisive step. We drew from thedirty rag in which it was wrapped the little piece of corn bread that wehad saved for our supper, carefully divided it into two equal parts, and each took one and ate it in silence. This done, we held a finalconsultation as to our plans, and went over each detail carefully, thatwe might fully understand each other under all possible circumstances, and act in concert. One point we laboriously impressed upon each other, and that was; that under no circumstances were we to allow ourselves tobe tempted to leave the Creek until we reached its junction with theFlint River. I then picked up two pine leaves, broke them off to unequallengths, rolled them in my hands behind my back for a second, andpresenting them to Harney with their ends sticking out of my closed hand, said:

"The one that gets the longest one goes first. "

Harvey reached forth and drew the longer one. 

We made a tour of reconnaissance. Everything seemed as usual, andwonderfully calm compared with the tumult in our minds. The Hospitalguards were pacing their beats lazily; those on the Stockade weredrawling listlessly the first "call around" of the evening:

"Post numbah foah! Half-past seven o'clock! and a-l-l's we-l-ll!"

Inside the Stockade was a Babel of sounds, above all of which rose themelody of religious and patriotic songs, sung in various parts of thecamp. From the headquarters came the shouts and laughter of the Rebelofficers having a little "frolic" in the cool of the evening. The groansof the sick around us were gradually hushing, as the abatement of theterrible heat let all but the worst cases sink into a brief slumber, from which they awoke before midnight to renew their outcries. But thosein the Gangrene wards seemed to be denied even this scanty blessing. Apparently they never slept, for their shrieks never ceased. A multitudeof whip-poor-wills in the woods around us began their usual dismal cry, which had never seemed so unearthly and full of dreadful presages as now. 

It was, now quite dark, and we stole noiselessly down to the Creek andreconnoitered. We listened. The guard was not pacing his beat, as wecould not hear his footsteps. A large, ill-shapen lump against the trunkof one of the trees on the bank showed that he was leaning there restinghimself. We watched him for several minutes, but he did not move, andthe thought shot into our minds that he might be asleep; but it seemedimpossible: it was too early in the evening. 

Now, if ever, was the opportunity. Harney squeezed my hand, steppednoiselessly into the Creek, laid himself gently down into the filthywater, and while my heart was beating so that I was certain it could beheard some distance from me, began making toward the fence. He passedunder easily, and I raised my eyes toward the guard, while on my strainedear fell the soft plashing made by Harvey as he pulled himself cautiouslyforward. It seemed as if the sentinel must hear this; he could not helpit, and every second I expected to see the black lump address itself tomotion, and the musket flash out fiendishly. But he did not; the lumpremained motionless; the musket silent. 

When I thought that Harvey had gained a sufficient distance I followed. It seemed as if the disgusting water would smother me as I laid myselfdown into it, and such was my agitation that it appeared almostimpossible that I should escape making such a noise as would attract theguard's notice. Catching hold of the roots and limbs at the side of thestream, I pulled myself slowly along, and as noiselessly as possible. 

I passed under the fence without difficulty, and was outside, and withinfifteen feet of the guard. I had lain down into the creek upon my rightside, that my face might be toward the guard, and I could watch himclosely all the time. 

As I came under the fence he was still leaning motionless against thetree, but to my heated imagination he appeared to have turned and bewatching me. I hardly breathed; the filthy water rippling past me seemedto roar to attract the guard's attention; I reached my hand outcautiously to grasp a root to pull myself along by, and caught instead adry branch, which broke with a loud crack. My heart absolutely stoodstill. The guard evidently heard the noise. The black lump separateditself from the tree, and a straight line which I knew to be his musketseparated itself from the lump. In a brief instant I lived a year ofmortal apprehension. So certain was I that he had discovered me, and wasleveling his piece to fire, that I could scarcely restrain myself fromspringing up and dashing away to avoid the shot. Then I heard him take astep, and to my unutterable surprise and relief, he walked off fartherfrom the Creek, evidently to speak to the man whose beat joined his. 

I pulled away more swiftly, but still with the greatest caution, untilafter half-an-hour's painful effort I had gotten fully one hundred andfifty yards away from the Hospital fence, and found Harney crouched on acypress knee, close to the water's edge, watching for me. 

We waited there a few minutes, until I could rest, and calm my perturbednerves down to something nearer their normal equilibrium, and thenstarted on. We hoped that if we were as lucky in our next step as in thefirst one we would reach the Flint River by daylight, and have a goodlong start before the morning roll-call revealed our absence. We couldhear the hounds still baying in the distance, but this sound was toocustomary to give us any uneasiness. 

But our progress was terribly slow. Every step hurt fearfully. TheCreek bed was full of roots and snags, and briers, and vines trailedacross it. These caught and tore our bare feet and legs, renderedabnormally tender by the scurvy. It seemed as if every step was markedwith blood. The vines tripped us, and we frequently fell headlong. Westruggled on determinedly for nearly an hour, and were perhaps a milefrom the Hospital. 

The moon came up, and its light showed that the creek continued itscourse through a dense jungle like that we had been traversing, while onthe high ground to our left were the open pine woods I have previouslydescribed. 

We stopped and debated for a few minutes. We recalled our promise tokeep in the Creek, the experience of other boys who had tried to escapeand been caught by the hounds. If we staid in the Creek we were sure thehounds would not find our trail, but it was equally certain that at thisrate we would be exhausted and starved before we got out of sight of theprison. It seemed that we had gone far enough to be out of reach of thepacks patrolling immediately around the Stockade, and there could be butlittle risk in trying a short walk on the dry ground. We concluded totake the chances, and, ascending the bank, we walked and ran as fast aswe could for about two miles further. 

All at once it struck me that with all our progress the hounds sounded asnear as when we started. I shivered at the thought, and though nearlyready to drop with fatigue, urged myself and Harney on. 

An instant later their baying rang out on the still night air rightbehind us, and with fearful distinctness. There was no mistake now; theyhad found our trail, and were running us down. The change from fearfulapprehension to the crushing reality stopped us stock-still in ourtracks. 

At the next breath the hounds came bursting through the woods in plainsight, and in full cry. We obeyed our first impulse; rushed back intothe swamp, forced our way for a few yards through the flesh-tearingimpediments, until we gained a large cypress, upon whose great knees weclimbed--thoroughly exhausted--just as the yelping pack reached the edgeof the water, and stopped there and bayed at us. It was a physicalimpossibility for us to go another step. 

In a moment the low-browed villain who had charge of the hounds camegalloping up on his mule, tooting signals to his dogs as he came, on thecow-horn slung from his shoulders. 

He immediately discovered us, covered us with his revolver, and yelledout:

"Come ashore, there, quick: you---- ---- ---- ----s!"

There was no help for it. We climbed down off the knees and startedtowards the land. As we neared it, the hounds became almost frantic, and it seemed as if we would be torn to pieces the moment they couldreach us. But the master dismounted and drove them back. He was surly--even savage--to us, but seemed in too much hurry to get back to waste anytime annoying us with the dogs. He ordered us to get around in front ofthe mule, and start back to camp. We moved as rapidly as our fatigue andour lacerated feet would allow us, and before midnight were again in thehospital, fatigued, filthy, torn, bruised and wretched beyond descriptionor conception. 

The next morning we were turned back into the Stockade as punishment. 

CHAPTER XLIX. 

AUGUST--GOOD LUCK IN NOT MEETING CAPTAIN WIRZ--THAT WORTHY'S TREATMENT OFRECAPTURED PRISONERS--SECRET SOCIETIES IN PRISON--SINGULAR MEETING ANDITS RESULT--DISCOVERY AND REMOVAL OF THE OFFICERS AMONG THE ENLISTED MEN. 

Harney and I were specially fortunate in being turned back into theStockade without being brought before Captain Wirz. 

We subsequently learned that we owed this good luck to Wirz's absence onsick leave--his place being supplied by Lieutenant Davis, a moderatebrained Baltimorean, and one of that horde of Marylanders in the RebelArmy, whose principal service to the Confederacy consisted in workingthemselves into "bomb-proof" places, and forcing those whom theydisplaced into the field. Winder was the illustrious head of this crowdof bomb-proof Rebels from "Maryland, My Maryland!" whose enthusiasm forthe Southern cause and consistency in serving it only in such places aswere out of range of the Yankee artillery, was the subject of many bitterjibes by the Rebels--especially by those whose secure berths theypossessed themselves of. 

Lieutenant Davis went into the war with great brashness. He was one ofthe mob which attacked the Sixth Massachusetts in its passage throughBaltimore, but, like all of that class of roughs, he got his stomach fullof war as soon as the real business of fighting began, and he retired towhere the chances of attaining a ripe old age were better than in frontof the Army of the Potomac's muskets. We shall hear of Davis again. 

Encountering Captain Wirz was one of the terrors of an abortive attemptto escape. When recaptured prisoners were brought before him he wouldfrequently give way to paroxysms of screaming rage, so violent as toclosely verge on insanity. Brandishing the fearful and wonderfulrevolver--of which I have spoken in such a manner as to threaten theluckless captives with instant death, he would shriek out imprecations, curses; and foul epithets in French, German and English, until he fairlyfrothed at the mouth. There were plenty of stories current in camp of hishaving several times given away to his rage so far as to actually shootmen down in these interviews, and still more of his knocking boys downand jumping upon them, until he inflicted injuries that soon resulted indeath. How true these rumors were I am unable to say of my own personalknowledge, since I never saw him kill any one, nor have I talked with anyone who did. There were a number of cases of this kind testified to uponhis trial, but they all happened among "paroles" outside the Stockade, or among the prisoners inside after we left, so I knew nothing of them. 

One of the Old Switzer's favorite ways of ending these seances was toinform the boys that he would have them shot in an hour or so, and bidthem prepare for death. After keeping them in fearful suspense for hourshe would order them to be punished with the stocks, the ball-and-chain, the chain-gang, or--if his fierce mood had burned itself entirely out--as was quite likely with a man of his shallop' brain and vacillatingtemper--to be simply returned to the stockade. 

Nothing, I am sure, since the days of the Inquisition--or still later, since the terrible punishments visited upon the insurgents of 1848 by theAustrian aristocrats--has been so diabolical as the stocks andchain-gangs, as used by Wirz. At one time seven men, sitting in thestocks near the Star Fort--in plain view of the camp--became objects ofinterest to everybody inside. They were never relieved from theirpainful position, but were kept there until all of them died. I thinkit was nearly two weeks before the last one succumbed. What theyendured in that time even imagination cannot conceive--I do not thinkthat an Indian tribe ever devised keener torture for its captives. 

The chain-gang consisted of a number of men--varying from twelve totwenty-five, all chained to one sixty-four pound ball. They were alsostationed near the Star Fort, standing out in the hot sun, without aparticle of shade over them. When one moved they all had to move. They were scourged with the dysentery, and the necessities of some oneof their number kept them constantly in motion. I can see themdistinctly yet, tramping laboriously and painfully back and forward overthat burning hillside, every moment of the long, weary Summer days. 

A comrade writes to remind me of the beneficent work of the MasonicOrder. I mention it most gladly, as it was the sole recognition on thepart of any of our foes of our claims to human kinship. The churches ofall denominations--except the solitary Catholic priest, Father Hamilton, --ignored us as wholly as if we were dumb beasts. Lay humanitarians wereequally indifferent, and the only interest manifested by any Rebel in thewelfare of any prisoner was by the Masonic brotherhood. The Rebel Masonsinterested themselves in securing details outside the Stockade in thecookhouse, the commissary, and elsewhere, for the brethren among theprisoners who would accept such favors. Such as did not feel inclined togo outside on parole received frequent presents in the way of food, andespecially of vegetables, which were literally beyond price. Materialswere sent inside to build tents for the Masons, and I think such as madethemselves known before death, received burial according to the rites ofthe Order. Doctor White, and perhaps other Surgeons, belonged to thefraternity, and the wearing of a Masonic emblem by a new prisoner waspretty sure to catch their eyes, and be the means of securing for thewearer the tender of their good offices, such as a detail into theHospital as nurse, ward-master, etc. 

I was not fortunate enough to be one of the mystic brethren, and somissed all share in any of these benefits, as well as in any others, and I take special pride in one thing: that during my whole imprisonmentI was not beholden to a Rebel for a single favor of any kind. The Rebeldoes not live who can say that he ever gave me so much as a handful ofmeal, a spoonful of salt, an inch of thread, or a stick of wood. From first to last I received nothing but my rations, except occasionaltrifles that I succeeded in stealing from the stupid officers chargedwith issuing rations. I owe no man in the Southern Confederacy gratitudefor anything--not even for a kind word. 

Speaking of secret society pins recalls a noteworthy story which has beentold me since the war, of boys whom I knew. At the breaking out ofhostilities there existed in Toledo a festive little secret society, such as lurking boys frequently organize, with no other object than funand the usual adolescent love of mystery. There were a dozen or somembers in it who called themselves "The Royal Reubens, " and were headedby a bookbinder named Ned Hopkins. Some one started a branch of theOrder in Napoleon, O. , and among the members was Charles E. Reynolds, of that town. The badge of the society was a peculiarly shaped gold pin. Reynolds and Hopkins never met, and had no acquaintance with each other. When the war broke out, Hopkins enlisted in Battery H, First OhioArtillery, and was sent to the Army of the Potomac, where he wascaptured, in the Fall of 1863, while scouting, in the neighborhood ofRichmond. Reynolds entered the Sixty-Eighth Ohio Volunteer Infantry, and was taken in the neighborhood of Jackson, Miss. , --two thousand milesfrom the place of Hopkins's capture. At Andersonville Hopkins became oneof the officers in charge of the Hospital. One day a Rebel Sergeant, whocalled the roll in the Stockade, after studying Hopkins's pin a minute, said:

"I seed a Yank in the Stockade to-day a-wearing a pin egzackly like thatere. "

This aroused Hopkins's interest, and he went inside in search of theother "feller. " Having his squad and detachment there was littledifficulty in finding him. He recognized the pin, spoke to its wearer, gave him the "grand hailing sign" of the "Royal Reubens, " and it was dulyresponded to. The upshot of the matter was that he took Reynolds outwith him as clerk, and saved his life, as the latter was going down hillvery rapidly. Reynolds, in turn, secured the detail of a comrade of theSixty-Eighth who was failing fast, and succeeded in saving his life--allof which happy results were directly attributable to that insignificantboyish society, and its equally unimportant badge of membership. 

Along in the last of August the Rebels learned that there were betweentwo and three hundred Captains and Lieutenants in the Stockade, passingthemselves off as enlisted men. The motive of these officers wastwo-fold: first, a chivalrous wish to share the fortunes and fate of theirboys, and second, disinclination to gratify the Rebels by the knowledgeof the rank of their captives. The secret was so well kept that none ofus suspected it until the fact was announced by the Rebels themselves. They were taken out immediately, and sent to Macon, where thecommissioned officers' prison was. It would not do to trust suchpossible leaders with us another day. 

CHAPTER L. 

FOOD--THE MEAGERNESS, INFERIOR QUALITY, AND TERRIBLE SAMENESS--REBEL TESTIMONY ON THE SUBJECT--FUTILITY OF SUCCESSFUL EXPLANATION. 

I have in other places dwelt upon the insufficiency and the nauseousnessof the food. No words that I can use, no insistence upon this theme, cangive the reader any idea of its mortal importance to us. 

Let the reader consider for a moment the quantity, quality, and varietyof food that he now holds to be necessary for the maintenance of life andhealth. I trust that every one who peruses this book--that every one infact over whom the Stars and Stripes wave--has his cup of coffee, hisbiscuits and his beefsteak for breakfast--a substantial dinner of roastor boiled--and a lighter, but still sufficient meal in the evening. In all, certainly not less than fifty different articles are set beforehim during the day, for his choice as elements of nourishment. Let himscan this extended bill-of-fare, which long custom has made socommon-place as to be uninteresting--perhaps even wearisome to think about--and see what he could omit from it, if necessity compelled him. After areluctant farewell to fish, butter, eggs, milk, sugar, green andpreserved fruits, etc. , he thinks that perhaps under extraordinarycircumstances he might be able to merely sustain life for a limitedperiod on a diet of bread and meat three times a day, washed down withcreamless, unsweetened coffee, and varied occasionally with additions ofpotatos, onions, beans, etc. It would astonish the Innocent to have oneof our veterans inform him that this was not even the first stage ofdestitution; that a soldier who had these was expected to be on thesummit level of contentment. Any of the boys who followed Grant toAppomattox Court House, Sherman to the Sea, or "Pap" Thomas till hisglorious career culminated with the annihilation of Hood, will tell himof many weeks when a slice of fat pork on a piece of "hard tack" had todo duty for the breakfast of beefsteak and biscuits; when another sliceof fat pork and another cracker served for the dinner of roast beef andvegetables, and a third cracker and slice of pork was a substitute forthe supper of toast and chops. 

I say to these veterans in turn that they did not arrive at the firststages of destitution compared with the depths to which we were dragged. The restriction for a few weeks to a diet of crackers and fat pork wascertainly a hardship, but the crackers alone, chemists tell us, containall the elements necessary to support life, and in our Army they werealways well made and very palatable. I believe I risk nothing in sayingthat one of the ordinary square crackers of our Commissary Departmentcontained much more real nutriment than the whole of our average ration. 

I have before compared the size, shape and appearance of the daily halfloaf of corn bread issued to us to a half-brick, and I do not yet know ofa more fitting comparison. At first we got a small piece of rusty baconalong with this; but the size of this diminished steadily until at lastit faded away entirely, and during the last six months of ourimprisonment I do not believe that we received rations of meat above ahalf-dozen times. 

To this smallness was added ineffable badness. The meal was ground verycoarsely, by dull, weakly propelled stones, that imperfectly crushed thegrains, and left the tough, hard coating of the kernels in large, sharp, mica-like scales, which cut and inflamed the stomach and intestines, like handfuls of pounded glass. The alimentary canals of all compelledto eat it were kept in a continual state of irritation that usuallyterminated in incurable dysentery. 

That I have not over-stated this evil can be seen by reference to thetestimony of so competent a scientific observer as Professor Jones, and Iadd to that unimpeachable testimony the following extract from thestatement made in an attempted defense of Andersonville by Doctor R. Randolph Stevenson, who styles himself, formerly Surgeon in the Army ofthe Confederate States of America, Chief Surgeon of the ConfederateStates Military Prison Hospitals, Andersonville, Ga. :

V. From the sameness of the food, and from the action of the poisonousgases in the densely crowded and filthy Stockade and Hospital, the bloodwas altered in its constitution, even, before the manifestation of actualdisease. 

In both the well and the sick, the red corpuscles were diminished; and inall diseases uncomplicated with inflammation, the fibrinous element wasdeficient. In cases of ulceration of the mucous membrane of theintestinal canal, the fibrinous element of the blood appeared to beincreased; while in simple diarrhea, uncomplicated with ulceration, anddependent upon the character of the food and the existence of scurvy, it was either diminished or remained stationary. Heart-clots were verycommon, if not universally present, in the cases of ulceration of theintestinal mucous membrane; while in the uncomplicated cases of diarrheaand scurvy, the blood was fluid and did not coagulate readily, and theheart-clots and fibrinous concretions were almost universally absent. From the watery condition of the blood there resulted various serouseffusions into the pericardium, into the ventricles of the brain, andinto the abdominal cavity. 

In almost all cases which I examined after death, even in the mostemaciated, there was more or less serous effusion into the abdominalcavity. In cases of hospital gangrene of the extremities, and in casesof gangrene of the intestines, heart-clots and firm coagula wereuniversally present. The presence of these clots in the cases ofhospital gangrene, whilst they were absent in the cases in which therewere no inflammatory symptoms, appears to sustain the conclusion thathospital gangrene is a species of inflammation (imperfect and irregularthough it may be in its progress), in which the fibrinous element andcoagulability of the blood are increased, even in those who are sufferingfrom such a condition of the blood and from such diseases as arenaturally accompanied with a decrease in the fibrinous constituent. 

VI. The impoverished condition of the blood, which led to serouseffusions within the ventricles of the brain, and around the brain andspinal cord, and into the pericardial and abdominal cavities, wasgradually induced by the action of several causes, but chiefly by thecharacter of the food. 

The Federal prisoners, as a general rule, had been reared upon wheatbread and Irish potatos; and the Indian corn so extensively used at theSouth, was almost unknown to them as an article of diet previous to theircapture. Owing to the impossibility of obtaining the necessary sieves inthe Confederacy for the separation of the husk from the corn-meal, therations of the Confederate soldiers, as well as of the Federal prisoners, consisted of unbolted corn-flour, and meal and grist; this circumstancerendered the corn-bread still more disagreeable and distasteful to theFederal prisoners. While Indian meal, even when prepared with the husk, is one of the most wholesome and nutritious forms of food, as has beenalready shown by the health and rapid increase of the Southernpopulation, and especially of the negros, previous to the present war, and by the strength, endurance and activity of the Confederate soldiers, who were throughout the war confined to a great extent to unboltedcorn-meal; it is nevertheless true that those who have not been rearedupon corn-meal, or who have not accustomed themselves to its usegradually, become excessively tired of this kind of diet when suddenlyconfined to it without a due proportion of wheat bread. Large numbersof the Federal prisoners appeared to be utterly disgusted with Indiancorn, and immense piles of corn-bread could be seen in the Stockade andHospital inclosures. Those who were so disgusted with this form of foodthat they had no appetite to partake of it, except in quantitiesinsufficient to supply the waste of the tissues, were, of course, in thecondition of men slowly starving, notwithstanding that the onlyfarinaceous form of food which the Confederate States produced insufficient abundance for the maintenance of armies was not withheld fromthem. In such cases, an urgent feeling of hunger was not a prominentsymptom; and even when it existed at first, it soon disappeared, and wassucceeded by an actual loathing of food. In this state the muscularstrength was rapidly diminished, the tissues wasted, and the thin, skeleton-like forms moved about with the appearance of utter exhaustionand dejection. The mental condition connected with long confinement, with the most miserable surroundings, and with no hope for the future, also depressed all the nervous and vital actions, and was especiallyactive in destroying the appetite. The effects of mental depression, and of defective nutrition, were manifested not only in the slow, feeblemotions of the wasted, skeleton-like forms, but also in such lethargy, listlessness, and torpor of the mental faculties as rendered theseunfortunate men oblivious and indifferent to their afflicted condition. In many cases, even of the greatest apparent suffering and distress, instead of showing any anxiety to communicate the causes of theirdistress, or to relate their privations, and their longings for theirhomes and their friends and relatives, they lay in a listless, lethargic, uncomplaining state, taking no notice either of their owndistressed condition, or of the gigantic mass of human misery by whichthey were surrounded. Nothing appalled and depressed me so much as thissilent, uncomplaining misery. It is a fact of great interest, thatnotwithstanding this defective nutrition in men subjected to crowdingand filth, contagious fevers were rare; and typhus fever, which issupposed to be generated in just such a state of things as existed atAndersonville, was unknown. These facts, established by myinvestigations, stand in striking contrast with such a statement as thefollowing by a recent English writer:

"A deficiency of food, especially of the nitrogenous part, quickly leadsto the breaking up of the animal frame. Plague, pestilence and famineare associated with each other in the public mind, and the records ofevery country show how closely they are related. The medical history ofIreland is remarkable for the illustrations of how much mischief may beoccasioned by a general deficiency of food. Always the habitat of fever, it every now and then becomes the very hot-bed of its propagation anddevelopment. Let there be but a small failure in the usual imperfectsupply of food, and the lurking seeds of pestilence are ready to burstinto frightful activity. The famine of the present century is but tooforcible and illustrative of this. It fostered epidemics which have notbeen witnessed in this generation, and gave rise to scenes of devastationand misery which are not surpassed by the most appalling epidemics of theMiddle Ages. The principal form of the scourge was known as thecontagious famine fever (typhus), and it spread, not merely from end toend of the country in which it had originated, but, breaking through allboundaries, it crossed the broad ocean, and made itself painfullymanifest in localities where it was previously unknown. Thousands fellunder the virulence of its action, for wherever it came it struck down aseventh of the people, and of those whom it attacked, one out of nineperished. Even those who escaped the fatal influence of it, were leftthe miserable victims of scurvy and low fever. "

While we readily admit that famine induces that state of the system whichis the most susceptible to the action of fever poisons, and thus inducesthe state of the entire population which is most favorable for the rapidand destructive spread of all contagious fevers, at the same time we areforced by the facts established by the present war, as well as by a hostof others, both old and new, to admit that we are still ignorant of thecauses necessary for the origin of typhus fever. Added to the imperfectnature of the rations issued to the Federal prisoners, the difficultiesof their situation were at times greatly increased by the sudden anddesolating Federal raids in Virginia, Georgia, and other States, whichnecessitated the sudden transportation from Richmond and other pointsthreatened of large bodies of prisoners, without the possibility of muchprevious preparation; and not only did these men suffer in transitionupon the dilapidated and overburdened line of railroad communication, but after arriving at Andersonville, the rations were frequentlyinsufficient to supply the sudden addition of several thousand men. And as the Confederacy became more and more pressed, and when powerfulhostile armies were plunging through her bosom, the Federal prisoners ofAndersonville suffered incredibly during the hasty removal to Millen, Savannah, Charleston, and other points, supposed at the time to be securefrom the enemy. Each one of these causes must be weighed when an attemptis made to estimate the unusual mortality among these prisoners of war. 

VII. Scurvy, arising from sameness of food and imperfect nutrition, caused, either directly or indirectly, nine-tenths of the deaths amongthe Federal prisoners at Andersonville. 

Not only were the deaths referred to unknown causes, to apoplexy, toanasarca, and to debility, traceable to scurvy and its effects; and notonly was the mortality in small-pox, pneumonia, and typhoid fever, and inall acute diseases, more than doubled by the scorbutic taint, but eventhose all but universal and deadly bowel affections arose from the samecauses, and derived their fatal character from the same conditions whichproduced the scurvy. In truth, these men at Andersonville were in thecondition of a crew at sea, confined in a foul ship upon salt meat andunvarying food, and without fresh vegetables. Not only so, but theseunfortunate prisoners were men forcibly confined and crowded upon a shiptossed about on a stormy ocean, without a rudder, without a compass, without a guiding-star, and without any apparent boundary or to theirvoyage; and they reflected in their steadily increasing miseries thedistressed condition and waning fortunes of devastated and bleedingcountry, which was compelled, in justice to her own unfortunate sons, tohold these men in the most distressing captivity. 

I saw nothing in the scurvy which prevailed so universally atAndersonville, at all different from this disease as described by variousstandard writers. The mortality was no greater than that which hasafflicted a hundred ships upon long voyages, and it did not exceed themortality which has, upon me than one occasion, and in a much shorterperiod of time, annihilated large armies and desolated beleagueredcities. The general results of my investigations upon the chronicdiarrhea and dysentery of the Federal prisoners of Andersonville weresimilar to those of the English surgeons during the war against Russia. 

IX. Drugs exercised but little influence over the progress and fataltermination of chronic diarrhea and dysentery in the Military Prison andHospital at Andersonville, chiefly because the proper form of nourishment(milk, rice, vegetables, anti-scorbutics, and nourishing animal andvegetable soups) was not issued, and could not be procured in sufficientquantities for the sick prisoners. 

Opium allayed pain and checked the bowels temporarily, but the frail damwas soon swept away, and the patient appears to be but little better, if not the worse, for this merely palliative treatment. The root of thedifficulty could not be reached by drugs; nothing short of the wantingelements of nutrition would have tended in any manner to restore the toneof the digestive system, and of all the wasted and degenerated organs andtissues. My opinion to this effect was expressed most decidedly to themedical officers in charge of these unfortunate men. The correctness ofthis view was sustained by the healthy and robust condition of theparoled prisoners, who received an extra ration, and who were able tomake considerable sums by trading, and who supplied themselves with aliberal and varied diet. 

X. The fact that hospital gangrene appeared in the Stockade first, andoriginated spontaneously, without any previous contagion, and occurredsporadically all over the Stockade and Prison Hospital, was proofpositive that this disease will arise whenever the conditions ofcrowding, filth, foul air, and bad diet are present. 

The exhalations from the Hospital and Stockade appeared to exert theireffects to a considerable distance outside of these localities. The origin of gangrene among these prisoners appeared clearly to dependin great measure upon the state of the general system, induced by diet, exposure, neglect of personal cleanliness; and by various externalnoxious influences. The rapidity of the appearance and action of thegangrene depended upon the powers and state of the constitution, as wellas upon the intensity of the poison in the atmosphere, or upon the directapplication of poisonous matter to the wounded surface. This was furtherillustrated by the important fact, that hospital gangrene, or a diseaseresembling this form of gangrene, attacked the intestinal canal ofpatients laboring under ulceration of the bowels, although there were nolocal manifestations of gangrene upon the surface of the body. This modeof termination in cases of dysentery was quite common in the foulatmosphere of the Confederate States Military Prison Hospital; and in thedepressed, depraved condition of the system of these Federal prisoners, death ensued very rapidly after the gangrenous state of the intestineswas established. 

XI. A scorbutic condition of the system appeared to favor the origin offoul ulcers, which frequently took on true hospital gangrene. 

Scurvy and gangrene frequently existed in the same individual. In suchcases, vegetable diet with vegetable acids would remove the scorbuticcondition without curing the hospital gangrene. . . Scurvy consistsnot only in an alteration in the constitution of the blood, which leadsto passive hemorrhages from the bowels, and the effusion into the varioustissues of a deeply-colored fibrinous exudation; but, as we haveconclusively shown by postmortem examination, this state is attended withconsistence of the muscles of the heart, and the mucous membrane of thealimentary canal, and of solid parts generally. We have, according tothe extent of the deficiency of certain articles of food, every degree ofscorbutic derangement, from the most fearful depravation of the bloodand the perversion of every function subserved by the blood to thoseslight derangements which are scarcely distinguishable from a state ofhealth. We are as yet ignorant of the true nature of the changes of theblood and tissues in scurvy, and wide field for investigation is open forthe determination the characteristic changes--physical, chemical, andphysiological--of the blood and tissues, and of the secretions andexcretions of scurvy. Such inquiries would be of great value in theirbearing upon the origin of hospital gangrene. Up to the present war, the results of chemical investigations upon the pathology of the blood inscurvy were not only contradictory, but meager, and wanting in thatcareful detail of the cases from which the blood was abstracted whichwould enable us to explain the cause of the apparent discrepancies indifferent analyses. Thus it is not yet settled whether the fibrin isincreased or diminished in this disease; and the differences which existin the statements of different writers appear to be referable to theneglect of a critical examination and record of all the symptoms of thecases from which the blood was abstracted. The true nature of thechanges of the blood in scurvy can be established only by numerousanalyses during different stages of the disease, and followed up bycarefully performed and recorded postmortem examinations. With such datawe could settle such important questions as whether the increase offibrin in scurvy was invariably dependent upon some local inflammation. 

XII. Gangrenous spots, followed by rapid destruction of tissue, appearedin some cases in which there had been no previous or existing wound orabrasion; and without such well established facts, it might be assumedthat the disease was propagated from one patient to another in everycase, either by exhalations from the gangrenous surface or by directcontact. 

In such a filthy and crowded hospital as that of the Confederate, StatesMilitary Prison of Camp Sumter, Andersonville, it was impossible toisolate the wounded from the sources of actual contact of the gangrenousmatter. The flies swarming over the wounds and over filth of everydescription; the filthy, imperfectly washed, and scanty rags; the limitednumber of sponges and wash-bowls (the same wash-bowl and sponge servingfor a score or more of patients), were one and all sources of suchconstant circulation of the gangrenous matter, that the disease mightrapidly be propagated from a single gangrenous wound. While the factalready considered, that a form of moist gangrene, resembling hospitalgangrene, was quite common in this foul atmosphere in cases of dysentery, both with and without the existence of hospital gangrene upon thesurface, demonstrates the dependence of the disease upon the state of theconstitution, and proves in a clear manner that neither the contact ofthe poisonous matter of gangrene, nor the direct action of the poisonedatmosphere upon the ulcerated surface, is necessary to the development ofthe disease; on the other hand, it is equally well-established that thedisease may be communicated by the various ways just mentioned. It isimpossible to determine the length of time which rags and clothingsaturated with gangrenous matter will retain the power of reproducing thedisease when applied to healthy wounds. Professor Brugmans, as quoted byGuthrie in his commentaries on the surgery of the war in Portugal, Spain, France, and the Netherlands, says that in 1797, in Holland, 'charpie, 'composed of linen threads cut of different lengths, which, on inquiry, itwas found had been already used in the great hospitals in France, and hadbeen subsequently washed and bleached, caused every ulcer to which it wasapplied to be affected by hospital gangrene. Guthrie affirms in the samework, that the fact that this disease was readily communicated by theapplication of instruments, lint, or bandages which had been in contactwith infected parts, was too firmly established by the experience ofevery one in Portugal and Spain to be a matter of doubt. There are factsto show that flies may be the means of communicating malignant pustules. Dr. Wagner, who has related several cases of malignant pustule producedin man and beasts, both by contact and by eating the flesh of diseasedanimals, which happened in the village of Striessa in Saxony, in 1834, gives two very remarkable cases which occurred eight days after any beasthad been affected with the disease. Both were women, one of twenty-sixand the other of fifty years, and in them the pustules were well marked, and the general symptoms similar to the other cases. The latter patientsaid she had been bitten by a fly upon the back d the neck, at which partthe carbuncle appeared; and the former, that she had also been bittenupon the right upper arm by a gnat. Upon inquiry, Wagner found that theskin of one of the infected beasts had been hung on a neighboring wall, and thought it very possible that the insects might have been attractedto them by the smell, and had thence conveyed the poison. 

[End of Dr. Stevenson's Statement]

 .......................... 

The old adage says that "Hunger is the best sauce for poor food, " buthunger failed to render this detestable stuff palatable, and it became soloathsome that very many actually starved to death because unable toforce their organs of deglutition to receive the nauseous dose and passit to the stomach. I was always much healthier than the average of theboys, and my appetite consequently much better, yet for the last monththat I was in Andersonville, it required all my determination to crowdthe bread down my throat, and, as I have stated before, I could only dothis by breaking off small bits at a time, and forcing each down as Iwould a pill. 

A large part of this repulsiveness was due to the coarseness and foulnessof the meal, the wretched cooking, and the lack of salt, but there was astill more potent reason than all these. Nature does not intend that manshall live by bread alone, nor by any one kind of food. She indicatesthis by the varying tastes and longings that she gives him. If his bodyneeds one kind of constituents, his tastes lead him to desire the foodthat is richest in those constituents. When he has taken as much as hissystem requires, the sense of satiety supervenes, and he "becomes tired"of that particular food. If tastes are not perverted, but allowed a freebut temperate exercise, they are the surest indicators of the way topreserve health and strength by a judicious selection of alimentation. 

In this case Nature was protesting by a rebellion of the tastes againstany further use of that species of food. She was saying, as plainly asshe ever spoke, that death could only be averted by a change of diet, which would supply our bodies with the constituents they so sadly needed, and which could not be supplied by corn meal. 

How needless was this confinement of our rations to corn meal, andespecially to such wretchedly prepared meal, is conclusively shown by theRebel testimony heretofore given. It would have been very little extratrouble to the Rebels to have had our meal sifted; we would gladly havedone it ourselves if allowed the utensils and opportunity. It would havebeen as little trouble to have varied our rations with green corn andsweet potatos, of which the country was then full. 

A few wagon loads of roasting ears and sweet potatos would have banishedevery trace of scurvy from the camp, healed up the wasting dysentery, and saved thousands of lives. Any day that the Rebels had chosen theycould have gotten a thousand volunteers who would have given their solemnparole not to escape, and gone any distance into the country, to gatherthe potatos and corn, and such other vegetables as were readilyobtainable, and bring, them into the camp. 

Whatever else may be said in defense of the Southern management ofmilitary prisons, the permitting seven thousand men to die of the scurvyin the Summer time, in the midst of an agricultural region, filled withall manner of green vegetation, must forever remain impossible ofexplanation. 

CHAPTER LI. 

SOLICITUDE AS TO THE FATE OF ATLANTA AND SHERMAN'S ARMY--PAUCITY OF NEWS--HOW WE HEARD THAT ATLANTA HAD FALLEN--ANNOUNCEMENT OF A GENERALEXCHANGE--WE LEAVE ANDERSONVILLE. 

We again began to be exceedingly solicitous over the fate of Atlanta andSherman's Army: we had heard but little directly from that front forseveral weeks. Few prisoners had come in since those captured in thebloody engagements of the 20th, 22d, and 28th of July. In spite of theirconfident tones, and our own sanguine hopes, the outlook admitted of verygrave doubts. The battles of the last week of July had been looked at itin the best light possible--indecisive. Our men had held their own, it is true, but an invading army can not afford to simply hold its own. Anything short of an absolute success is to it disguised defeat. Then weknew that the cavalry column sent out under Stoneman had been so badlyhandled by that inefficient commander that it had failed ridiculously inits object, being beaten in detail, and suffering the loss of itscommander and a considerable portion of its numbers. This had beenfollowed by a defeat of our infantry at Etowah Creek, and then came along interval in which we received no news save what the Rebel paperscontained, and they pretended no doubt that Sherman's failure was alreadydemonstrated. Next came well-authenticated news that Sherman had raisedthe siege and fallen back to the Chattahoochee, and we felt something ofthe bitterness of despair. For days thereafter we heard nothing, thoughthe hot, close Summer air seemed surcharged with the premonitions of awar storm about to burst, even as nature heralds in the same way aconcentration of the mighty force of the elements for the grand crash ofthe thunderstorm. We waited in tense expectancy for the decision of thefates whether final victory or defeat should end the long and arduouscampaign. 

At night the guards in the perches around the Stockade called out everyhalf hour, so as to show the officers that they were awake and attendingto their duty. The formula for this ran thus:

"Post numbah 1; half-past eight o'clock, and a-l-l 's w-e-l-l!"

Post No. 2 repeated this cry, and so it went around. 

One evening when our anxiety as to Atlanta was wrought to the highestpitch, one of the guards sang out:

"Post numbah foah--half past eight o'clock--and Atlanta's--gone--t-o--hell. "

The heart of every man within hearing leaped to his mouth. We lookedtoward each other, almost speechless with glad surprise, and then gaspedout:

"Did 'you hear THAT?"

The next instant such a ringing cheer burst out as wells spontaneouslyfrom the throats and hearts of men, in the first ecstatic moments ofvictory--a cheer to which our saddened hearts and enfeebled lungs hadlong been strangers. It was the genuine, honest, manly Northern cheer, as different from the shrill Rebel yell as the honest mastiff'sdeep-voiced welcome is from the howl of the prowling wolf. 

The shout was taken up all over the prison. Even those who had not heardthe guard understood that it meant that "Atlanta was ours and fairlywon, " and they took up the acclamation with as much enthusiasm as we hadbegun it. All thoughts of sleep were put to flight: we would have aseason of rejoicing. Little knots gathered together, debated the news, and indulged in the most sanguine hopes as to the effect upon the Rebels. In some parts of the Stockade stump speeches were made. I believe thatBoston Corbett and his party organized a prayer and praise meeting. In our corner we stirred up our tuneful friend "Nosey, " who sang againthe grand old patriotic hymns that set our thin blood to bounding, and made us remember that we were still Union soldiers, with higher hopesthan that of starving and dying in Andersonville. He sang theever-glorious Star Spangled Banner, as he used to sing it around thecamp fire in happier days, when we were in the field. He sang therousing "Rally Round the Flag, " with its wealth of patriotic fire andmartial vigor, and we, with throats hoarse from shouting; joined in thechorus until the welkin rang again. 

The Rebels became excited, lest our exaltation of spirits would lead toan assault upon the Stockade. They got under arms, and remained so untilthe enthusiasm became less demonstrative. 

A few days later--on the evening of the 6th of September--the RebelSergeants who called the roll entered the Stockade, and each assemblinghis squads, addressed them as follows:

"PRISONERS: I am instructed by General Winder to inform you that ageneral exchange has been agreed upon. Twenty thousand men will beexchanged immediately at Savannah, where your vessels are now waiting foryou. Detachments from One to Ten will prepare to leave early to-morrowmorning. "

The excitement that this news produced was simply indescribable. I haveseen men in every possible exigency that can confront men, and a largeproportion viewed that which impended over them with at least outwardcomposure. The boys around me had endured all that we suffered withstoical firmness. Groans from pain-racked bodies could not be repressed, and bitter curses and maledictions against the Rebels leaped unbidden tothe lips at the slightest occasion, but there was no murmuring orwhining. There was not a day--hardly an hour--in which one did not seesuch exhibitions of manly fortitude as made him proud of belonging to arace of which every individual was a hero. 

But the emotion which pain and suffering and danger could not develop, joy could, and boys sang, and shouted and cried, and danced as if in adelirium. "God's country, " fairer than the sweet promised land of Canaanappeared to the rapt vision of the Hebrew poet prophet, spread out inglad vista before the mind's eye of every one. It had come--at last ithad come that which we had so longed for, wished for, prayed for, dreamedof; schemed, planned, toiled for, and for which went up the last earnest, dying wish of the thousands of our comrades who would now know noexchange save into that eternal "God's country" where

 Sickness and sorrow, pain and death Are felt and feared no more. 

Our "preparations, " for leaving were few and simple. When the morningcame, and shortly after the order to move, Andrews and I picked ourwell-worn blanket, our tattered overcoat, our rude chessmen, and no lessrude board, our little black can, and the spoon made of hoop-iron, andbade farewell to the hole-in-the-ground that had been our home fornearly seven long months. 

My feet were still in miserable condition from the lacerations receivedin the attempt to escape, but I took one of our tent poles as a staff andhobbled away. We re-passed the gates which we had entered on thatFebruary night, ages since, it seemed, and crawled slowly over to thedepot. 

I had come to regard the Rebels around us as such measureless liars thatmy first impulse was to believe the reverse of anything they said to us;and even now, while I hoped for the best, my old habit of mind was sostrongly upon me that I had some doubts of our going to be exchanged, simply because it was a Rebel who had said so. But in the crowd ofRebels who stood close to the road upon which we were walking was a youngSecond Lieutenant, who said to a Colonel as I passed:

"Weil, those fellows can sing 'Homeward Bound, ' can't they?"

This set my last misgiving at rest. Now I was certain that we were goingto be exchanged, and my spirits soared to the skies. 

Entering the cars we thumped and pounded toilsomely along, after themanner of Southern railroads, at the rate of six or eight miles an hour. Savannah was two hundred and forty miles away, and to our impatient mindsit seemed as if we would never get there. The route lay the wholedistance through the cheerless pine barrens which cover the greater partof Georgia. The only considerable town on the way was Macon, which hadthen a population of five thousand or thereabouts. For scores of milesthere would not be a sign of a human habitation, and in the one hundredand eighty miles between Macon and Savannah there were only threeinsignificant villages. There was a station every ten miles, at whichthe only building was an open shed, to shelter from sun and rain a casualpassenger, or a bit of goods. 

The occasional specimens of the poor white "cracker" population that wesaw, seemed indigenous products of the starved soil. They suited theirpoverty-stricken surroundings as well as the gnarled and scrubbyvegetation suited the sterile sand. Thin-chested, round-shouldered, scraggy-bearded, dull-eyed and open-mouthed, they all looked alike--alllooked as ignorant, as stupid, and as lazy as they were poor and weak. They were "low-downers" in every respect, and made our rough and simple. Minded East Tennesseans look like models of elegant and culturedgentlemen in contrast. 

We looked on the poverty-stricken land with good-natured contempt, for wethought we were leaving it forever, and would soon be in one which, compared to it, was as the fatness at Egypt to the leanness of the desertof Sinai. 

The second day after leaving Andersonville our train struggled across theswamps into Savannah, and rolled slowly down the live oak shaded streetsinto the center of the City. It seemed like another Deserted Village, so vacant and noiseless the streets, and the buildings everywhere soovergrown with luxuriant vegetation: The limbs of the shade trees crashedalong and broke, upon the tops of our cars, as if no train had passedthat way for years. Through the interstices between the trees and clumpsof foliage could be seen the gleaming white marble of the monumentserected to Greene and Pulaski, looking like giant tombstones in a City ofthe Dead. The unbroken stillness--so different from what we expected onentering the metropolis of Georgia, and a City that was an important portin Revolutionary days--became absolutely oppressive. We could notunderstand it, but our thoughts were more intent upon the coming transferto our flag than upon any speculation as to the cause of the remarkablesomnolence of Savannah. 

Finally some little boys straggled out to where our car was standing, andwe opened up a conversation with them:

"Say, boys, are our vessels down in the harbor yet?"

The reply came in that piercing treble shriek in which a boy of ten ortwelve makes even his most confidential communications:

"I don't know. "

"Well, " (with our confidence in exchange somewhat dashed, ) "they intendto exchange us here, don't they?"

Another falsetto scream, "I don't know. "

"Well, " (with something of a quaver in the questioner's voice, ) "what arethey going to do, with us, any way?"

"O, " (the treble shriek became almost demoniac) "they are fixing up aplace over by the old jail for you. "

What a sinking of hearts was there then! Andrews and I would not give uphope so speedily as some others did, and resolved to believe, for awhileat least, that we were going to be exchanged. 

Ordered out of the cars, we were marched along the street. A crowd ofsmall boys, full of the curiosity of the animal, gathered around us as wemarched. Suddenly a door in a rather nice house opened; an angry-facedwoman appeared on the steps and shouted out:

"Boys! BOYS! What are you doin' there! Come up on the steps immejitely!Come away from them n-a-s-t-y things!"

I will admit that we were not prepossessing in appearance; nor were we ascleanly as young gentlemen should habitually be; in fact, I may as wellconfess that I would not now, if I could help it, allow a tramp, asdilapidated in raiment, as unwashed, unshorn, uncombed, and populous withinsects as we were, to come within several rods of me. Nevertheless, it was not pleasant to hear so accurate a description of our personalappearance sent forth on the wings of the wind by a shrill-voiced Rebelfemale. 

A short march brought us to the place "they were fixing for us by the oldjail. " It was another pen, with high walls of thick pine plank, whichtold us only too plainly how vain were our expectations of exchange. 

When we were turned inside, and I realized that the gates of anotherprison had closed upon me, hope forsook me. I flung our odious littlepossessions-our can, chess-board, overcoat, and blanket-upon the ground, and, sitting down beside them, gave way to the bitterest despair. I wanted to die, O, so badly. Never in all my life had I desiredanything in the world so much as I did now to get out of it. Had I hadpistol, knife, rope, or poison, I would have ended my prison life thenand there, and departed with the unceremoniousness of a French leave. I remembered that I could get a quietus from a guard with very littletrouble, but I would not give one of the bitterly hated Rebels thetriumph of shooting me. I longed to be another Samson, with the wholeSouthern Confederacy gathered in another Temple of Dagon, that I mightpull down the supporting pillars, and die happy in slaying thousands ofmy enemies. 

While I was thus sinking deeper and deeper in the Slough of Despond, thefiring of a musket, and the shriek of the man who was struck, attractedmy attention. Looking towards the opposite end of the pen I saw a guardbringing his still smoking musket to a "recover arms, " and, not fifteenfeet from him, a prisoner lying on the ground in the agonies of death. The latter had a pipe in his mouth when he was shot, and his teeth stillclenched its stem. His legs and arms were drawn up convulsively, and hewas rocking backward and forward on his back. The charge had struck himjust above the hip-bone. 

The Rebel officer in command of the guard was sitting on his horse insidethe pen at the time, and rode forward to see what the matter was. Lieutenant Davis, who had come with us from Andersonville, was alsositting on a horse inside the prison, and he called out in his usualharsh, disagreeable voice:

"That's all right, Cunnel; the man's done just as I awdahed him to. "

I found that lying around inside were a number of bits of plank--eachabout five feet long, which had been sawed off by the carpenters engagedin building the prison. The ground being a bare common, was destitute ofall shelter, and the pieces looked as if they would be quite useful inbuilding a tent. There may have been an order issued forbidding theprisoners to touch them, but if so, I had not heard it, and I imagine thefirst intimation to the prisoner just killed that the boards were not tobe taken was the bullet which penetrated his vitals. Twenty-five centswould be a liberal appraisement of the value of the lumber for which theboy lost his life. 

Half an hour afterward we thought we saw all the guards march out of thefront gate. There was still another pile of these same kind of pieces ofboard lying at the further side of the prison. The crowd around menoticed it, and we all made a rush for it. In spite of my lame feet Ioutstripped the rest, and was just in the act of stooping down to pickthe boards up when a loud yell from those behind startled me. Glancingto my left I saw a guard cocking his gun and bringing it up to shoot me. With one frightened spring, as quick as a flash, and before he couldcover me, I landed fully a rod back in the crowd, and mixed with it. The fellow tried hard to draw a bead on me, but I was too quick for him, and he finally lowered his gun with an oath expressive of disappointmentin not being able to kill a Yankee. 

Walking back to my place the full ludicrousness of the thing dawned uponme so forcibly that I forgot all about my excitement and scare, andlaughed aloud. Here, not an hour age I was murmuring because I couldfind no way to die; I sighed for death as a bridegroom for the coming ofhis bride, an yet, when a Rebel had pointed his gun at me, it had nearlyscared me out of a year's growth, and made me jump farther than I couldpossibly do when my feet were well, and I was in good conditionotherwise. 

CHAPTER LII. 

SAVANNAH--DEVICES TO OBTAIN MATERIALS FOR A TENT--THEIR ULTIMATE SUCCESS--RESUMPTION OF TUNNELING--ESCAPING BY WHOLESALE AND BEING RECAPTURED ENMASSE--THE OBSTACLES THAT LAY BETWEEN US AND OUR LINES. 

Andrews and I did not let the fate of the boy who was killed, nor my ownnarrow escape from losing the top of my head, deter us from fartherefforts to secure possession of those coveted boards. My readersremember the story of the boy who, digging vigorously at a hole, repliedto the remark of a passing traveler that there was probably no ground-hogthere, and, even if there was, "ground-hog was mighty poor eatin', anyway, " with:

"Mister, there's got to be a ground-hog there; our family's out o' meat!"

That was what actuated us: we were out of material for a tent. Oursolitary blanket had rotted and worn full of holes by its long doubleduty, as bed-clothes and tent at Andersonville, and there was animperative call for a substitute. 

Andrews and I flattered ourselves that when we matched our collective orindividual wits against those of a Johnny his defeat was pretty certain, and with this cheerful estimate of our own powers to animate us, we setto work to steal the boards from under the guard's nose. The Johnny hadmalice in his heart and buck-and-ball in his musket, but his eyes werenot sufficiently numerous to adequately discharge all the duties laidupon him. He had too many different things to watch at the same time. I would approach a gap in the fence not yet closed as if I intendedmaking a dash through it for liberty, and when the Johnny hadconcentrated all his attention on letting me have the contents of his gunjust as soon as he could have a reasonable excuse for doing so, Andrewswould pick u a couple of boards and slip away with them. Then I wouldfall back in pretended (and some real) alarm, and--Andrew would come upand draw his attention by a similar feint, while I made off with a couplemore pieces. After a few hours c this strategy, we found ourselves thepossessors of some dozen planks, with which we made a lean-to, thatformed a tolerable shelter for our heads and the upper portion of ourbodies. As the boards were not over five feet long, and the slope reducethe sheltered space to about four-and-one-half feet, it left the lowerpart of our naked feet and legs to project out-of-doors. Andrews used tolament very touchingly the sunburning his toe-nails were receiving. He knew that his complexion was being ruined for life, and all the Balmof a Thousand Flowers in the world would not restore his comely ankles tothat condition of pristine loveliness which would admit of theirintroduction into good society again. Another defect was that, like thefun in a practical joke, it was all on one side; there was not enough ofit to go clear round. It was very unpleasant, when a storm came up in adirection different from that we had calculated upon, to be compelled toget out in the midst of it, and build our house over to face the otherway. 

Still we had a tent, and were that much better off than three-fourths ofour comrades who had no shelter at all. We were owners of a brown stonefront on Fifth Avenue compared to the other fellows. 

Our tent erected, we began a general survey of our new abiding place. The ground was a sandy common in the outskirts of Savannah. The sand wascovered with a light sod. The Rebels, who knew nothing of our burrowingpropensities, had neglected to make the plank forming the walls of thePrison project any distance below the surface of the ground, and had putup no Dead Line around the inside; so that it looked as if everything wasarranged expressly to invite us to tunnel out. We were not the boys toneglect such an invitation. By night about three thousand had beenreceived from Andersonville, and placed inside. When morning came itlooked as if a colony of gigantic rats had been at work. There was atunnel every ten or fifteen feet, and at least twelve hundred of us hadgone out through them during the night. I never understood why all inthe pen did not follow our example, and leave the guards watching aforsaken Prison. There was nothing to prevent it. An hour's industriouswork with a half-canteen would take any one outside, or if a boy was toolazy to dig his own tunnel, he could have the use of one of the hundredothers that had been dug. 

But escaping was only begun when the Stockade was passed. The site ofSavannah is virtually an island. On the north is the Savannah River; tothe east, southeast and south, are the two Ogeechee rivers, and a chainof sounds and lagoons connecting with the Atlantic Ocean. To the west isa canal connecting the Savannah and Big Ogeechee Rivers. We foundourselves headed off by water whichever way we went. All the bridgeswere guarded, and all the boats destroyed. Early in the morning theRebels discovered our absence, and the whole garrison of Savannah wassent out on patrol after us. They picked up the boys in squads of fromten to thirty, lurking around the shores of the streams waiting for nightto come, to get across, or engaged in building rafts for transportation. By evening the whole mob of us were back in the pen again. As nobody waspunished for running away, we treated the whole affair as a lark, andthose brought back first stood around the gate and yelled derisively asthe others came in. 

That night big fires were built all around the Stockade, and a line ofguards placed on the ground inside of these. In spite of thisprecaution, quite a number escaped. The next day a Dead Line was put upinside of the Prison, twenty feet from the Stockade. This only increasedthe labor of burrowing, by making us go farther. Instead of being ableto tunnel out in an hour, it now took three or four hours. That nightseveral hundred of us, rested from our previous performance, and hopefulof better luck, brought our faithful half canteens--now scoured verybright by constant use-into requisition again, and before the morning. Dawned we had gained the high reeds of the swamps, where we lay concealeduntil night. 

In this way we managed to evade the recapture that came to most of thosewho went out, but it was a fearful experience. Having been raised in acountry where venomous snakes abounded, I had that fear and horror ofthem that inhabitants of those districts feel, and of which people livingin sections free from such a scourge know little. I fancied that theSouthern swamps were filled with all forms of loathsome and poisonousreptiles, and it required all my courage to venture into them barefooted. Besides, the snags and roots hurt our feet fearfully. Our hope was tofind a boat somewhere, in which we could float out to sea, and trust tobeing picked up by some of the blockading fleet. But no boat could wefind, with all our painful and diligent search. We learned afterwardthat the Rebels made a practice of breaking up all the boats along theshore to prevent negros and their own deserters from escaping to theblockading fleet. We thought of making a raft of logs, but had we hadthe strength to do this, we would doubtless have thought it too risky, since we dreaded missing the vessels, and being carried out to sea toperish of hunger. During the night we came to the railroad bridgeacross the Ogeechee. We had some slender hope that, if we could reachthis we might perhaps get across the river, and find better opportunitiesfor escape. But these last expectations were blasted by the discoverythat it was guarded. There was a post and a fire on the shore next us, and a single guard with a lantern was stationed on one of the middlespans. Almost famished with hunger, and so weary and footsore that wecould scarcely move another step, we went back to a cleared place on thehigh ground, and laid down to sleep, entirely reckless as to what becameof us. Late in the morning we were awakened by the Rebel patrol andtaken back to the prison. Lieutenant Davis, disgusted with the perpetualattempts to escape, moved the Dead Line out forty feet from the Stockade;but this restricted our room greatly, since the number of prisoners inthe pen had now risen to about six thousand, and, besides, it offeredlittle additional protection against tunneling. 

It was not much more difficult to dig fifty feet than it had been to digthirty feet. Davis soon realized this, and put the Dead Line back totwenty feet. His next device was a much more sensible one. A crowd ofone hundred and fifty negros dug a trench twenty feet wide and five feetdeep around the whole prison on the outside, and this ditch was filledwith water from the City Water Works. No one could cross this withoutattracting the attention of the guards. 

Still we were not discouraged, and Andrews and I joined a crowd that wasconstructing a large tunnel from near our quarters on the east side ofthe pen. We finished the burrow to within a few inches of the edge ofthe ditch, and then ceased operations, to await some stormy night, whenwe could hope to get across the ditch unnoticed. 

Orders were issued to guards to fire without warning on men who wereobserved to be digging or carrying out dirt after nightfall. Theyoccasionally did so, but the risk did not keep anyone from tunneling. Our tunnel ran directly under a sentry box. When carrying dirt away thebearer of the bucket had to turn his back on the guard and walk directlydown the street in front of him, two hundred or three hundred feet, tothe center of the camp, where he scattered the sand around--so as to giveno indication of where it came from. Though we always waited till themoon went down, it seemed as if, unless the guard were a fool, both bynature and training, he could not help taking notice of what was going onunder his eyes. I do not recall any more nervous promenades in my life, than those when, taking my turn, I received my bucket of sand at themouth of the tunnel, and walked slowly away with it. The mostdisagreeable part was in turning my back to the guard. Could I havefaced him, I had sufficient confidence in my quickness of perception, and talents as a dodger, to imagine that I could make it difficult forhim to hit me. But in walling with my back to him I was wholly at hismercy. Fortune, however, favored us, and we were allowed to go on withour work--night after night--without a shot. 

In the meanwhile another happy thought slowly gestated in Davis's allegedintellect. How he came to give birth to two ideas with no more than aweek between them, puzzled all who knew him, and still more that hesurvived this extraordinary strain upon the gray matter of the cerebrum. His new idea was to have driven a heavily-laden mule cart around theinside of the Dead Line at least once a day. The wheels or the mule'sfeet broke through the thin sod covering the tunnels and exposed them. Our tunnel went with the rest, and those of our crowd who wore shoes hadhumiliation added to sorrow by being compelled to go in and spade thehole full of dirt. This put an end to subterranean engineering. 

One day one of the boys watched his opportunity, got under the rationwagon, and clinging close to the coupling pole with hands and feet, wascarried outside. He was detected, however, as he came from under thewagon, and brought back. 

CHAPTER LIII. 

FRANK REVERSTOCK'S ATTEMPT AT ESCAPE--PASSING OFF AS REBEL BOY HE REACHESGRISWOLDVILLE BY RAIL, AND THEN STRIKES ACROSS THE COUNTRY FOR SHERMAN, BUT IS CAUGHT WITHIN TWENTY MILES OF OUR LINES. 

One of the shrewdest and nearest successful attempts to escape that cameunder my notice was that of my friend Sergeant Frank Reverstock, of theThird West Virginia Cavalry, of whom I have before spoken. Frank, whowas quite small, with a smooth boyish face, had converted to his own usea citizen's coat, belonging to a young boy, a Sutler's assistant, who haddied in Andersonville. He had made himself a pair of bag pantaloons anda shirt from pieces of meal sacks which he had appropriated from day today. He had also the Sutler's assistant's shoes, and, to crown all, hewore on his head one of those hideous looking hats of quilted calicowhich the Rebels had taken to wearing in the lack of felt hats, whichthey could neither make nor buy. Altogether Frank looked enough like aRebel to be dangerous to trust near a country store or a stable full ofhorses. When we first arrived in the prison quite a crowd of theSavannahians rushed in to inspect us. The guards had some difficulty inkeeping them and us separate. While perplexed with this annoyance, oneof them saw Frank standing in our crowd, and, touching him with hisbayonet, said, with some sharpness:

"See heah; you must stand back; you musn't crowd on them prisoners so. "

Frank stood back. He did it promptly but calmly, and then, as if hiscuriosity as to Yankees was fully satisfied, he walked slowly away up thestreet, deliberating as he went on a plan for getting out of the City. He hit upon an excellent one. Going to the engineer of a freight trainmaking ready to start back to Macon, he told him that his father wasworking in the Confederate machine shops at Griswoldville, near Macon;that he himself was also one of the machinists employed there, anddesired to go thither but lacked the necessary means to pay his passage. If the engineer would let him ride up on the engine he would do workenough to pay the fare. Frank told the story ingeniously, the engineerand firemen were won over, and gave their consent. 

No more zealous assistant ever climbed upon a tender than Frank proved tobe. He loaded wood with a nervous industry, that stood him in place ofgreat strength. He kept the tender in perfect order, and anticipated, as far as possible, every want of the engineer and his assistant. Theywere delighted with him, and treated him with the greatest kindness, dividing their food with him, and insisting that he should share theirbed when they "laid by" for the night. Frank would have gladly declinedthis latter kindness with thanks, as he was conscious that the quantityof "graybacks" his clothing contained did not make him a very desirablesleeping companion for any one, but his friends were so pressing that hewas compelled to accede. 

His greatest trouble was a fear of recognition by some one of theprisoners that were continually passing by the train load, on their wayfrom Andersonville to other prisons. He was one of the best known of theprisoners in Andersonville; bright, active, always cheerful, and foreverin motion during waking hours, --every one in the Prison speedily becamefamiliar with him, and all addressed him as "Sergeant Frankie. " If anyone on the passing trains had caught a glimpse of him, that glimpse wouldhave been followed almost inevitably with a shout of:

"Hello, Sergeant Frankie! What are you doing there?"

Then the whole game would have been up. Frank escaped this by persistentwatchfulness, and by busying himself on the opposite side of the engine, with his back turned to the other trains. 

At last when nearing Griswoldville, Frank, pointing to a large whitehouse at some distance across the fields, said:

"Now, right over there is where my uncle lives, and I believe I'll justrun over and see him, and then walk into Griswoldville. "

He thanked his friends fervently for their kindness, promised to call andsee them frequently, bade them good by, and jumped off the train. 

He walked towards the white house as long as he thought he could be seen, and then entered a large corn field and concealed himself in a thicket inthe center of it until dark, when he made his way to the neighboringwoods, and began journeying northward as fast as his legs could carryhim. When morning broke he had made good progress, but was terriblytired. It was not prudent to travel by daylight, so he gathered himselfsome ears of corn and some berries, of which he made his breakfast, andfinding a suitable thicket he crawled into it, fell asleep, and did notwake up until late in the afternoon. 

After another meal of raw corn and berries he resumed his journey, andthat night made still better progress. 

He repeated this for several days and nights--lying in the woods in theday time, traveling by night through woods, fields, and by-paths avoidingall the fords, bridges and main roads, and living on what he could gleanfrom the fields, that he might not take even so much risk as was involvedin going to the negro cabins for food. 

But there are always flaws in every man's armor of caution--even in soperfect a one as Frank's. His complete success so far had the naturaleffect of inducing a growing carelessness, which wrought his ruin. One evening he started off briskly, after a refreshing rest and sleep. He knew that he must be very near Sherman's lines, and hope cheered himup with the belief that his freedom would soon be won. 

Descending from the hill, in whose dense brushwood he had made his bedall day, he entered a large field full of standing corn, and made his waybetween the rows until he reached, on the other side, the fence thatseparated it from the main road, across which was another corn-field, that Frank intended entering. 

But he neglected his usual precautions on approaching a road, and insteadof coming up cautiously and carefully reconnoitering in all directionsbefore he left cover, he sprang boldly over the fence and strode out forthe other side. As he reached the middle of the road, his ears wereassailed with the sharp click of a musket being cocked, and the harshcommand:

"Halt! halt, dah, I say!"

Turning with a start to his left he saw not ten feet from him, a mountedpatrol, the sound of whose approach had been masked by the deep dust ofthe road, into which his horse's hoofs sank noiselessly. 

Frank, of course, yielded without a word, and when sent to the officer incommand he told the old story about his being an employee of theGriswoldville shops, off on a leave of absence to make a visit to sickrelatives. But, unfortunately, his captors belonged to that sectionthemselves, and speedily caught him in a maze of cross-questioning fromwhich he could not extricate himself. It also became apparent from hislanguage that he was a Yankee, and it was not far from this to theconclusion that he was a spy--a conclusion to which the proximity ofSherman's lines, then less than twenty miles distant-greatly assisted. 

By the next morning this belief had become so firmly fixed in the mindsof the Rebels that Frank saw a halter dangling alarmingly near, and heconcluded the wisest plan was to confess who he really was. 

It was not the smallest of his griefs to realize by how slight a chancehe had failed. Had he looked down the road before he climbed the fence, or had he been ten minutes earlier or later, the patrol would not havebeen there, he could have gained the next field unperceived, and two morenights of successful progress would have taken him into Sherman's linesat Sand Mountain. The patrol which caught him was on the look-out fordeserters and shirking conscripts, who had become unusually numeroussince the fall of Atlanta. 

He was sent back to us at Savannah. As he came into the prison gateLieutenant Davis was standing near. He looked sternly at Frank and hisRebel garments, and muttering, "By God, I'll stop this!" caught the coat by the tails, tore it to thecollar, and took it and his hat away from Frank. 

There was a strange sequel to this episode. A few weeks afterward aspecial exchange for ten thousand was made, and Frank succeeded in beingincluded in this. He was given the usual furlough from the paroled campat Annapolis, and went to his home in a little town near Mansfield, O. 

One day while on the cars going--I think to Newark, O. , he saw LieutenantDavis on the train, in citizens' clothes. He had been sent by the RebelGovernment to Canada with dispatches relating to some of the raids thenharassing our Northern borders. Davis was the last man in the world tosuccessfully disguise himself. He had a large, coarse mouth, that madehim remembered by all who had ever seen him. Frank recognized himinstantly and said:

"You are Lieutenant Davis?"

Davis replied:

"You are totally mistaken, sah, I am -----. "

Frank insisted that he was right. Davis fumed and blustered, but thoughFrank was small, he was as game as a bantam rooster, and he gave Davis tounderstand that there had been a vast change in their relative positions;that the one, while still the same insolent swaggerer, had not regimentsof infantry or batteries of artillery to emphasize his insolence, and theother was no longer embarrassed in the discussion by the immense odds infavor of his jailor opponent. 

After a stormy scene Frank called in the assistance of some othersoldiers in the car, arrested Davis, and took him to Camp Chase--nearColumbus, O. , --where he was fully identified by a number of paroledprisoners. He was searched, and documents showing the nature of hismission beyond a doubt, were found upon his person. 

A court martial was immediately convened for his trial. 

This found him guilty, and sentenced him to be hanged as a spy. 

At the conclusion of the trial Frank stepped up to the prisoner and said:

"Mr. Davis, I believe we're even on that coat, now. "

Davis was sent to Johnson's Island for execution, but influences wereimmediately set at work to secure Executive clemency. What they wereI know not, but I am informed by the Rev. Robert McCune, who was thenChaplain of the One Hundred and Twenty-Eighth Ohio Infantry and the Postof Johnson's Island and who was the spiritual adviser appointed toprepare Davis for execution, that the sentence was hardly pronouncedbefore Davis was visited by an emissary, who told him to dismiss hisfears, that he should not suffer the punishment. 

It is likely that leading Baltimore Unionists were enlisted in his behalfthrough family connections, and as the Border State Unionists were thenpotent at Washington, they readily secured a commutation of his sentenceto imprisonment during the war. 

It seems that the justice of this world is very unevenly dispensed whenso much solicitude is shown for the life of such a man, and none at allfor the much better men whom he assisted to destroy. 

The official notice of the commutation of the sentence was not publisheduntil the day set for the execution, but the certain knowledge that itwould be forthcoming enabled Davis to display a great deal of bravado onapproaching what was supposed to be his end. As the reader can readilyimagine, from what I have heretofore said of him, Davis was the man toimprove to the utmost every opportunity to strut his little hour, and hedid it in this instance. He posed, attitudinized and vapored, so thatthe camp and the country were filled with stories of the wonderfulcoolness with which he contemplated his approaching fate. 

Among other things he said to his guard, as he washed himself elaboratelythe night before the day announced for the execution:

"Well, you can be sure of one thing; to-morrow night there will certainlybe one clean corpse on this Island. "

Unfortunately for his braggadocio, he let it leak out in some way that hehad been well aware all the time that he would not be executed. 

He was taken to Fort Delaware for confinement, and died there some timeafter. 

Frank Beverstock went back to his regiment, and served with it until theclose of the war. He then returned home, and, after awhile became abanker at Bowling Green, O. He was a fine business man and became veryprosperous. But though naturally healthy and vigorous, his systemcarried in it the seeds of death, sown there by the hardships ofcaptivity. He had been one of the victims of the Rebels' vaccination;the virus injected into his blood had caused a large part of his righttemple to slough off, and when it healed it left a ghastly cicatrix. 

Two years ago he was taken suddenly ill, and died before his friends hadany idea that his condition was serious. 

CHAPTER LIV. 

SAVANNAH PROVES TO BE A CHANGE FOR THE BETTER--ESCAPE FROM THE BRATS OFGUARDS--COMPARISON BETWEEN WIRZ AND DAVIS--A BRIEF INTERVAL OF GOODRATIONS--WINDER, THE MAN WITH THE EVIL EYE--THE DISLOYAL WORK OF A SHYSTER. 

After all Savannah was a wonderful improvement on Andersonville. We got away from the pestilential Swamp and that poisonous ground. Every mouthful of air was not laden with disease germs, nor every cup ofwater polluted with the seeds of death. The earth did not breedgangrene, nor the atmosphere promote fever. As only the more vigoroushad come away, we were freed from the depressing spectacle of every thirdman dying. The keen disappointment prostrated very many who had been ofaverage health, and I imagine, several hundred died, but there werehospital arrangements of some kind, and the sick were taken away fromamong us. Those of us who tunneled out had an opportunity of stretchingour legs, which we had not had for months in the overcrowded Stockade wehad left. The attempts to escape did all engaged in them good, eventhough they failed, since they aroused new ideas and hopes, set the bloodinto more rapid circulation, and toned up the mind and system both. I had come away from Andersonville with considerable scurvy manifestingitself in my gums and feet. Soon these signs almost wholly disappeared. 

We also got away from those murderous little brats of Reserves, who guarded us at Andersonville, and shot men down as they would stoneapples out of a tree. Our guards now were mostly, sailors, from theRebel fleet in the harbor--Irishmen, Englishmen and Scandinavians, asfree hearted and kindly as sailors always are. I do not think they everfired a shot at one of us. The only trouble we had was with that portionof the guard drawn from the infantry of the garrison. They had the samerattlesnake venom of the Home Guard crowd wherever we met it, and shot usdown at the least provocation. Fortunately they only formed a small partof the sentinels. 

Best of all, we escaped for a while from the upas-like shadow of Winderand Wirz, in whose presence strong men sickened and died, as when nearsome malign genii of an Eastern story. The peasantry of Italy believedfirmly in the evil eye. Did they ever know any such men as Winder andhis satellite, I could comprehend how much foundation they could have forsuch a belief. 

Lieutenant Davis had many faults, but there was no comparison between himand the Andersonville commandant. He was a typical young Southern man;ignorant and bumptious as to the most common matters of school-boyknowledge, inordinately vain of himself and his family, coarse in tastesand thoughts, violent in his prejudices, but after all with some streaksof honor and generosity that made the widest possible difference betweenhim and Wirz, who never had any. As one of my chums said to me:

"Wirz is the most even-tempered man I ever knew; he's always foamingmad. "

This was nearly the truth. I never saw Wirz when he was not angry;if not violently abusive, he was cynical and sardonic. Never, in mylittle experience with him did I detect a glint of kindly, generoushumanity; if he ever was moved by any sight of suffering its exhibitionin his face escaped my eye. If he ever had even a wish to mitigate thepain or hardship of any man the expression of such wish never fell on myear. How a man could move daily through such misery as he encountered, and never be moved by it except to scorn and mocking is beyond my limitedunderstanding. 

Davis vapored a great deal, swearing big round oaths in the broadest ofSouthern patois; he was perpetually threatening to:

"Open on ye wid de ahtillery, " but the only death that I knew him todirectly cause or sanction was that I have described in the previouschapter. He would not put himself out of the way to annoy and oppressprisoners, as Wirz would, but frequently showed even a disposition tohumor them in some little thing, when it could be done without danger ortrouble to himself. 

By-and-by, however, he got an idea that there was some money to be madeout of the prisoners, and he set his wits to work in this direction. One day, standing at the gate, he gave one of his peculiar yells that heused to attract the attention of the camp with:

"Wh-ah-ye!!"

We all came to "attention, " and he announced:

"Yesterday, while I wuz in the camps (a Rebel always says camps, ) some ofyou prisoners picked my pockets of seventy-five dollars in greenbacks. Now, I give you notice that I'll not send in any moah rations till themoney's returned to me. "

This was a very stupid method of extortion, since no one believed that hehad lost the money, and at all events he had no business to have thegreenbacks, as the Rebel laws imposed severe penalties upon any citizen, and still more upon any soldier dealing with, or having in his possessionany of "the money of the enemy. " We did without rations until night, when they were sent in. There was a story that some of the boys in theprison had contributed to make up part of the sum, and Davis took it andwas satisfied. I do not know how true the story was. At another timesome of the boys stole the bridle and halter off an old horse that wasdriven in with a cart. The things were worth, at a liberal estimate, one dollar. Davis cut off the rations of the whole six thousand of usfor one day for this. We always imagined that the proceeds went into hispocket. 

A special exchange was arranged between our Navy Department and that ofthe Rebels, by which all seamen and marines among us were exchanged. Lists of these were sent to the different prisons and the men called for. About three-fourths of them were dead, but many soldiers divining, thesituation of affairs, answered to the dead men's names, went away withthe squad and were exchanged. Much of this was through the connivance ofthe Rebel officers, who favored those who had ingratiated themselves withthem. In many instances money was paid to secure this privilege, and Ihave been informed on good authority that Jack Huckleby, of the EighthTennessee, and Ira Beverly, of the One Hundredth Ohio, who kept the bigsutler shop on the North Side at Andersonville, paid Davis five hundreddollars each to be allowed to go with the sailors. As for Andrews andme, we had no friends among the Rebels, nor money to bribe with, so westood no show. 

The rations issued to us for some time after our arrival seemed riotousluxury to what we had been getting at Andersonville. Each of us receiveddaily a half-dozen rude and coarse imitations of our fondly-rememberedhard tack, and with these a small piece of meat or a few spoonfuls ofmolasses, and a quart or so of vinegar, and several plugs of tobacco foreach "hundred. " How exquisite was the taste of the crackers andmolasses!

It was the first wheat bread I had eaten since my entry into Richmond--nine months before--and molasses had been a stranger to me for years. After the corn bread we had so long lived upon, this was manna. It seemsthat the Commissary at Savannah labored under the delusion that he mustissue to us the same rations as were served out to the Rebel soldiers andsailors. It was some little time before the fearful mistake came to theknowledge of Winder. I fancy that the news almost threw him into anapoplectic fit. Nothing, save his being ordered to the front, could havecaused him such poignant sorrow as the information that so much good foodhad been worse than wasted in undoing his work by building up the bodiesof his hated enemies. 

Without being told, we knew that he had been heard from when the tobacco, vinegar and molasses failed to come in, and the crackers gave way to cornmeal. Still this was a vast improvement on Andersonville, as the mealwas fine and sweet, and we each had a spoonful of salt issued to usregularly. 

I am quite sure that I cannot make the reader who has not had anexperience similar to ours comprehend the wonderful importance to us ofthat spoonful of salt. Whether or not the appetite for salt be, as somescientists claim, a purely artificial want, one thing is certain, andthat is, that either the habit of countless generations or some othercause, has so deeply ingrained it into our common nature, that it hascome to be nearly as essential as food itself, and no amount ofdeprivation can accustom us to its absence. Rather, it seemed that thelonger we did without it the more overpowering became our craving. I could get along to-day and to-morrow, perhaps the whole week, withoutsalt in my food, since the lack would be supplied from the excess I hadalready swallowed, but at the end of that time Nature would begin todemand that I renew the supply of saline constituent of my tissues, andshe would become more clamorous with every day that I neglected herbidding, and finally summon Nausea to aid Longing. 

The light artillery of the garrison of Savannah--four batteries, twenty-four pieces--was stationed around three sides of the prison, theguns unlimbered, planted at convenient distance, and trained upon us, ready for instant use. We could see all the grinning mouths through thecracks in the fence. There were enough of them to send us as high asthe traditional kite flown by Gilderoy. The having at his beck thisarray of frowning metal lent Lieutenant Davis such an importance in hisown eyes that his demeanor swelled to the grandiose. It became veryamusing to see him puff up and vaunt over it, as he did on everypossible occasion. For instance, finding a crowd of several hundredlounging around the gate, he would throw open the wicket, stalk in withthe air of a Jove threatening a rebellious world with the dread thundersof heaven, and shout:

"W-h-a-a y-e-e! Prisoners, I give you jist two minutes to cleah awayfrom this gate, aw I'll open on ye wid de ahtillery!"

One of the buglers of the artillery was a superb musician--evidently someold "regular" whom the Confederacy had seduced into its service, and hisinstrument was so sweet toned that we imagined that it was made ofsilver. The calls he played were nearly the same as we used in thecavalry, and for the first few days we became bitterly homesick everytime he sent ringing out the old familiar signals, that to us were soclosely associated with what now seemed the bright and happy days when wewere in the field with our battalion. If we were only back in thevalleys of Tennessee with what alacrity we would respond to that"assembly;" no Orderly's patience would be worn out in getting laggardsand lazy ones to "fall in for roll-call;" how eagerly we would attend to"stable duty;" how gladly mount our faithful horses and ride away to"water, " and what bareback races ride, going and coming. We would beeven glad to hear "guard" and "drill" sounded; and there would be musicin the disconsolate "surgeon's call:"

 "Come-get-your-q-n-i-n-i-n-e; come, get your quinine; It'll make you sad: It'll make you sick. Come, come. "

O, if we were only back, what admirable soldiers we would be!One morning, about three or four o'clock, we were awakened by the groundshaking and a series of heavy, dull thumps sounding oft seaward. Our silver-voiced bugler seemed to be awakened, too. He set the echoesringing with a vigorously played "reveille;" a minute later came anequally earnest "assembly, " and when "boots and saddles" followed, weknew that all was not well in Denmark; the thumping and shaking now hada significance. It meant heavy Yankee guns somewhere near. We heard thegunners hitching up; the bugle signal "forward, " the wheels roll off, and for a half hour afterwards we caught the receding sound of the buglecommanding "right turn, " "left turn, " etc. , as the batteries marchedaway. Of course, we became considerably wrought up over the matter, as we fancied that, knowing we were in Savannah, our vessels were tryingto pass up to the City and take it. The thumping and shaking continueduntil late in the afternoon. 

We subsequently learned that some of our blockaders, finding time bangingheavy upon their hands, had essayed a little diversion by knocking FortsJackson and Bledsoe--two small forts defending the passage of theSavannah--about their defenders' ears. After capturing the forts ourfolks desisted and came no farther. 

Quite a number of the old Raider crowd had come with us fromAndersonville. Among these was the shyster, Peter Bradley. They kept uptheir old tactics of hanging around the gates, and currying favor withthe Rebels in every possible way, in hopes to get paroles outside orother favors. The great mass of the prisoners were so bitter against theRebels as to feel that they would rather die than ask or accept a favorfrom their hands, and they had little else than contempt for thesetrucklers. The raider crowd's favorite theme of conversation with theRebels was the strong discontent of the boys with the manner of theirtreatment by our Government. The assertion that there was any suchwidespread feeling was utterly false. We all had confidence--as wecontinue to have to this day--that our Government would do everything forus possible, consistent with its honor, and the success of militaryoperations, and outside of the little squad of which I speak, not anadmission could be extracted from anybody that blame could be attached toany one, except the Rebels. It was regarded as unmanly andunsoldier-like to the last degree, as well as senseless, to revile ourGovernment for the crimes committed by its foes. 

But the Rebels were led to believe that we were ripe for revolt againstour flag, and to side with them. Imagine, if possible, the stupiditythat would mistake our bitter hatred of those who were our deadlyenemies, for any feeling that would lead us to join hands with thoseenemies. One day we were surprised to see the carpenters erect a rudestand in the center of the camp. When it was finished, Bradley appearedupon it, in company with some Rebel officers and guards. We gatheredaround in curiosity, and Bradley began making a speech. 

He said that it had now become apparent to all of us that our Governmenthad abandoned us; that it cared little or nothing for us, since it couldhire as many more quite readily, by offering a bounty equal to the paywhich would be due us now; that it cost only a few hundred dollars tobring over a shipload of Irish, "Dutch, " and French, who were only tooglad to agree to fight or do anything else to get to this country. [Thepeculiar impudence of this consisted in Bradley himself being aforeigner, and one who had only come out under one of the later calls, and the influence of a big bounty. ]

Continuing in this strain he repeated and dwelt upon the old lie, alwaysin the mouths of his crowd, that Secretary Stanton and General Halleckhad positively refused to enter upon negotiations for exchange, becausethose in prison were "only a miserable lot of 'coffee-boilers' and'blackberry pickers, ' whom the Army was better off without. "

The terms "coffee-boiler, " and "blackberry-pickers" were considered theworst terms of opprobrium we had in prison. They were applied to thatclass of stragglers and skulkers, who were only too ready to givethemselves up to the enemy, and who, on coming in, told some gauzy storyabout "just having stopped to boil a cup of coffee, " or to do somethingelse which they should not have done, when they were gobbled up. It isnot risking much to affirm the probability of Bradley and most of hiscrowd having belonged to this dishonorable class. 

The assertion that either the great Chief-of-Staff or the still greaterWar-Secretary were even capable of applying such epithets to the mass ofprisoners is too preposterous to need refutation, or even denial. No person outside the raider crowd ever gave the silly lie a moment'stoleration. 

Bradley concluded his speech in some such language as this:

"And now, fellow prisoners, I propose to you this: that we unite ininforming our Government that unless we are exchanged in thirty days, wewill be forced by self-preservation to join the Confederate army. "

For an instant his hearers seemed stunned at the fellow's audacity, andthen there went up such a roar of denunciation and execration that theair trembled. The Rebels thought that the whole camp was going to rushon Bradley and tear him to pieces, and they drew revolvers and leveledmuskets to defend him. The uproar only ceased when Bradley was hurriedout of the prisons but for hours everybody was savage and sullen, andfull of threatenings against him, when opportunity served. We never sawhim afterward. 

Angry as I was, I could not help being amused at the tempestuous rage ofa tall, fine-looking and well educated Irish Sergeant of an Illinoisregiment. He poured forth denunciations of the traitor and the Rebels, with the vivid fluency of his Hibernian nature, vowed he'd "give a yearof me life, be J---s, to have the handling of the dirty spalpeen for tenminutes; be G-d, " and finally in his rage, tore off his own shirt andthrew it on the ground and trampled on it. 

Imagine my astonishment, some time after getting out of prison, to findthe Southern papers publishing as a defense against the charges in regardto Andersonville, the following document, which they claimed to have beenadopted by "a mass meeting of the prisoners:"

"At a mass meeting held September 28th, 1864, by the Federal prisonersconfined at Savannah, Ga. , it was unanimously agreed that the followingresolutions be sent to the President of the United States, in the hopethat he might thereby take such steps as in his wisdom he may thinknecessary for our speedy exchange or parole:

"Resolved, That while we would declare our unbounded love for the Union, for the home of our fathers, and for the graves of those we venerate, wewould beg most respectfully that our situation as prisoners be diligentlyinquired into, and every obstacle consistent with the honor and dignityof the Government at once removed. 

"Resolved, That while allowing the Confederate authorities all due praisefor the attention paid to prisoners, numbers of our men are dailyconsigned to early graves, in the prime of manhood, far from home andkindred, and this is not caused intentionally by the ConfederateGovernment, but by force of circumstances; the prisoners are forced to gowithout shelter, and, in a great portion of cases, without medicine. 

"Resolved, That, whereas, ten thousand of our brave comrades havedescended into an untimely grave within the last six months, and as webelieve their death was caused by the difference of climate, the peculiarkind and insufficiency of food, and lack of proper medical treatment;and, whereas, those difficulties still remain, we would declare as ourfirm belief, that unless we are speedily exchanged, we have noalternative but to share the lamentable fate of our comrades. Must thisthing still go on! Is there no hope?

"Resolved, That, whereas, the cold and inclement season of the year isfast approaching, we hold it to be our duty as soldiers and citizens ofthe United States, to inform our Government that the majority of ourprisoners ate without proper clothing, in some cases being almost naked, and are without blankets to protect us from the scorching sun by day orthe heavy dews by night, and we would most respectfully request theGovernment to make some arrangement whereby we can be supplied withthese, to us, necessary articles. 

"Resolved, That, whereas, the term of service of many of our comradeshaving expired, they, having served truly and faithfully for the term oftheir several enlistments, would most respectfully ask their Government, are they to be forgotten? Are past services to be ignored? Not havingseen their wives and little ones for over three years, they would mostrespectfully, but firmly, request the Government to make somearrangements whereby they can be exchanged or paroled. 

"Resolved, That, whereas, in the fortune of war, it was our lot to becomeprisoners, we have suffered patiently, and are still willing to suffer, if by so doing we can benefit the country; but we must most respectfullybeg to say, that we are not willing to suffer to further the ends of anyparty or clique to the detriment of our honor, our families, and ourcountry, and we beg that this affair be explained to us, that we maycontinue to hold the Government in that respect which is necessary tomake a good citizen and soldier. 

 "P. BRADLEY, "Chairman of Committee in behalf of Prisoners. "

In regard to the above I will simply say this, that while I cannotpretend to know or even much that went on around me, I do not think itwas possible for a mass meeting of prisoners to have been held withoutmy knowing it, and its essential features. Still less was it possiblefor a mass meeting to have been held which would have adopted any sucha document as the above, or anything else that a Rebel would have foundthe least pleasure in republishing. The whole thing is a brazenfalsehood. 

CHAPTER LV. 

WHY WE WERE HURRIED OUT OF ANDERSONVILLE--THE OF THE FALL OF ATLANTA--OUR LONGING TO HEAR THE NEWS--ARRIVAL OF SOME FRESH FISH--HOW WE KNEWTHEY WERE WESTERN BOYS--DIFFERENCE IN THE APPEARANCE OF THE SOLDIERS OFTHE TWO ARMIES. 

The reason of our being hurried out of Andersonville under the falsepretext of exchange dawned on us before we had been in Savannah long. If the reader will consult the map of Georgia he will understand this, too. Let him remember that several of the railroads which now appearwere not built then. The road upon which Andersonville is situated wasabout one hundred and twenty miles long, reaching from Macon to Americus, Andersonville being about midway between these two. It had noconnections anywhere except at Macon, and it was hundreds of miles acrossthe country from Andersonville to any other road. When Atlanta fell itbrought our folks to within sixty miles of Macon, and any day they wereliable to make a forward movement, which would capture that place, andhave us where we could be retaken with ease. 

There was nothing left undone to rouse the apprehensions of the Rebels inthat direction. The humiliating surrender of General Stoneman at Maconin July, showed them what our, folks were thinking of and awakened theirminds to the disastrous consequences of such a movement when executed bya bolder and abler commander. Two days of one of Kilpatrick's swift, silent marches would carry his hard-riding troopers around Hood's rightflank, and into the streets of Macon, where a half hour's work with thetorch on the bridges across the Ocmulgee and the creeks that enter it atthat point, would have cut all of the Confederate Army of the Tennessee'scommunications. Another day and night of easy marching would bring hisguidons fluttering through the woods about the Stockade at Andersonville, and give him a reinforcement of twelve or fifteen thousand able-bodiedsoldiers, with whom he could have held the whole Valley of theChattahoochie, and become the nether millstone, against which Shermancould have ground Hood's army to powder. 

Such a thing was not only possible, but very probable, and doubtlesswould have occurred had we remained in Andersonville another week. 

Hence the haste to get us away, and hence the lie about exchange, for, had it not been for this, one-quarter at least of those taken on the carswould have succeeded in getting off and attempted to have reachedSherman's lines. 

The removal went on with such rapidity that by the end of September onlyeight thousand two hundred and eighteen remained at Andersonville, andthese were mostly too sick to be moved; two thousand seven hundred diedin September, fifteen hundred and sixty in October, and four hundred andeighty-five in November, so that at the beginning of December there wereonly thirteen hundred and fifty-nine remaining. The larger part of thosetaken out were sent on to Charleston, and subsequently to Florence andSalisbury. About six or seven thousand of us, as near as I remember, were brought to Savannah. 

 ....................... 

We were all exceedingly anxious to know how the Atlanta campaign hadended. So far our information only comprised the facts that a sharpbattle had been fought, and the result was the complete possession of ourgreat objective point. The manner of accomplishing this glorious end, the magnitude of the engagement, the regiments, brigades and corpsparticipating, the loss on both sides, the completeness of the victories, etc. , were all matters that we knew nothing of, and thirsted to learn. 

The Rebel papers said as little as possible about the capture, and thefacts in that little were so largely diluted with fiction as to convey noreal information. But few new, prisoners were coming in, and none ofthese were from Sherman. However, toward the last of September, ahandful of "fresh fish" were turned inside, whom our experienced eyesinstantly told us were Western boys. 

There was never any difficulty in telling, as far as he could be seen, whether a boy belonged to the East or the west. First, no one from theArmy of the Potomac was ever without his corps badge worn conspicuously;it was rare to see such a thing on one of Sherman's men. Then there wasa dressy air about the Army of the Potomac that was wholly wanting in thesoldiers serving west of the Alleghanies. 

The Army, of the Potomac was always near to its base of supplies, alwayshad its stores accessible, and the care of the clothing and equipments ofthe men was an essential part of its discipline. A ragged or shabbilydressed man was a rarity. Dress coats, paper collars, fresh woolenshirts, neat-fitting pantaloons, good comfortable shoes, and trim caps orhats, with all the blazing brass of company letters an inch long, regimental number, bugle and eagle, according to the Regulations, were ascommon to Eastern boys as they were rare among the Westerners. 

The latter usually wore blouses, instead of dress coats, and as a ruletheir clothing had not been renewed since the opening, of the campaign--and it showed this. Those who wore good boots or shoes generally had tosubmit to forcible exchanges by their captors, and the same was true ofhead gear. The Rebels were badly off in regard to hats. They did nothave skill and ingenuity enough to make these out of felt or straw, andthe make-shifts they contrived of quilted calico and long-leaved pine, were ugly enough to frighten horned cattle. 

I never blamed them much for wanting to get rid of these, even if theydid have to commit a sort of highway robbery upon defenseless prisonersto do so. To be a traitor in arms was bad certainly, but one neverappreciated the entire magnitude of the crime until he saw a Rebelwearing a calico or a pine-leaf hat. Then one felt as if it would be agreat mistake to ever show such a man mercy. 

The Army of Northern Virginia seemed to have supplied themselves withhead-gear of Yankee manufacture of previous years, and they then quittaking the hats of their prisoners. Johnston's Army did not have suchgood luck, and had to keep plundering to the end of the war. 

Another thing about the Army of the Potomac was the variety of theuniforms. There were members of Zouave regiments, wearing baggy breechesof various hues, gaiters, crimson fezes, and profusely braided jackets. I have before mentioned the queer garb of the "Lost Ducks. " (Les EnfantsPerdu, Forty-eighth New York. )

One of the most striking uniforms was that of the "Fourteenth Brooklyn. "They wore scarlet pantaloons, a blue jacket handsomely braided, and a redfez, with a white cloth wrapped around the head, turban-fashion. As a large number of them were captured, they formed quite a picturesquefeature of every crowd. They were generally good fellows and gallantsoldiers. 

Another uniform that attracted much, though not so favorable, attentionwas that of the Third New Jersey Cavalry, or First New Jersey Hussars, as they preferred to call themselves. The designer of the uniform musthave had an interest in a curcuma plantation, or else he was a fanaticalOrangeman. Each uniform would furnish occasion enough for a dozen NewYork riots on the 12th of July. Never was such an eruption of theyellows seen outside of the jaundiced livery of some Eastern potentate. Down each leg of the pantaloons ran a stripe of yellow braid one andone-half inches wide. The jacket had enormous gilt buttons, and wasembellished with yellow braid until it was difficult to tell whether itwas blue cloth trimmed with yellow, or yellow adorned with blue. Fromthe shoulders swung a little, false hussar jacket, lined with the sameflaring yellow. The vizor-less cap was similarly warmed up with the hueof the perfected sunflower. Their saffron magnificence was like thegorgeous gold of the lilies of the field, and Solomon in all his glorycould not have beau arrayed like one of them. I hope he was not. I wantto retain my respect for him. We dubbed these daffodil cavaliers"Butterflies, " and the name stuck to them like a poor relation. 

Still another distinction that was always noticeable between the twoarmies was in the bodily bearing of the men. The Army of the Potomac wasdrilled more rigidly than the Western men, and had comparatively few longmarches. Its members had something of the stiffness and precision ofEnglish and German soldiery, while the Western boys had the long, "reachy" stride, and easy swing that made forty miles a day a rathercommonplace march for an infantry regiment. 

This was why we knew the new prisoners to be Sherman's boys as soon asthey came inside, and we started for them to hear the news. Invitingthem over to our lean-to, we told them our anxiety for the story of thedecisive blow that gave us the Central Gate of the Confederacy, and askedthem to give it to us. 

CHAPTER LVI. 

WHAT CAUSED THE FALL OF ATLANTA--A DISSERTATION UPON AN IMPORTANTPSYCHOLOGICAL PROBLEM--THE BATTLE OF JONESBORO--WHY IT WAS FOUGHT--HOW SHERMAN DECEIVED HOOD--A DESPERATE BAYONET CHARGE, AND THE ONLYSUCCESSFUL ONE IN THE ATLANTA CAMPAIGN--A GALLANT COLONEL AND HOW HEDIED--THE HEROISM OF SOME ENLISTED MEN--GOING CALMLY INTO CERTAIN DEATH. 

An intelligent, quick-eyed, sunburned boy, without an ounce of surplusflesh on face or limbs, which had been reduced to gray-hound condition bythe labors and anxieties of the months of battling between Chattanoogaand Atlanta, seemed to be the accepted talker of the crowd, since all therest looked at him, as if expecting him to answer for them. He did so:

"You want to know about how we got Atlanta at last, do you? Well, if youdon't know, I should think you would want to. If I didn't, I'd wantsomebody to tell me all about it just as soon as he could get to me, forit was one of the neatest little bits of work that 'old Billy' and hisboys ever did, and it got away with Hood so bad that he hardly knew whathurt him. 

"Well, first, I'll tell you that we belong to the old Fourteenth OhioVolunteers, which, if you know anything about the Army of the Cumberland, you'll remember has just about as good a record as any that trains aroundold Pap Thomas--and he don't 'low no slouches of any kind near him, either--you can bet $500 to a cent on that, and offer to give back thecent if you win. Ours is Jim Steedman's old regiment--you've all heardof old Chickamauga Jim, who slashed his division of 7, 000 fresh men intothe Rebel flank on the second day at Chickamauga, in a way that madeLongstreet wish he'd staid on the Rappahannock, and never tried to get upany little sociable with the Westerners. If I do say it myself, Ibelieve we've got as good a crowd of square, stand-up, trust'em-every-minute-in-your-life boys, as ever thawed hard-tack and sowbelly. We gotall the grunters and weak sisters fanned out the first year, and sincethen we've been on a business basis, all the time. We're in a mightygood brigade, too. Most of the regiments have been with us since weformed the first brigade Pap Thomas ever commanded, and waded with himthrough the mud of Kentucky, from Wild Cat to Mill Springs, where he gaveZollicoffer just a little the awfulest thrashing that a Rebel Generalever got. That, you know, was in January, 1862, and was the firstvictory gained by the Western Army, and our people felt so rejoiced overit that--"

"Yes, yes; we've read all about that, " we broke in, "and we'd like tohear it again, some other time; but tell us now about Atlanta. "

"All right. Let's see: where was I? O, yes, talking about our brigade. It is the Third Brigade, of the Third Division, of the Fourteenth Corps, and is made up of the Fourteenth Ohio, Thirty-eighth Ohio, TenthKentucky, and Seventy-fourth Indiana. Our old Colonel--George P. Este--commands it. We never liked him very well in camp, but I tell youhe's a whole team in a fight, and he'd do so well there that all wouldtake to him again, and he'd be real popular for a while. "

"Now, isn't that strange, " broke in Andrews, who was given to fits ofspeculation of psychological phenomena: "None of us yearn to die, but thesurest way to gain the affection of the boys is to show zeal in leadingthem into scrapes where the chances of getting shot are the best. Courage in action, like charity, covers a multitude of sins. I haveknown it to make the most unpopular man in the battalion, the mostpopular inside of half an hour. Now, M. (addressing himself to me, ) youremember Lieutenant H. , of our battalion. You know he was a very fancyyoung fellow; wore as snipish' clothes as the tailor could make, had goldlace on his jacket wherever the regulations would allow it, decorated hisshoulders with the stunningest pair of shoulder knots I ever saw, and soon. Well, he did not stay with us long after we went to the front. Hewent back on a detail for a court martial, and staid a good while. Whenhe rejoined us, he was not in good odor, at all, and the boys weren't atall careful in saying unpleasant things when he could hear them, A littlewhile after he came back we made that reconnaissance up on the VirginiaRoad. We stirred up the Johnnies with our skirmish line, and while thefiring was going on in front we sat on our horses in line, waiting forthe order to move forward and engage. You know how solemn such momentsare. I looked down the line and saw Lieutenant H. At the right ofCompany --, in command of it. I had not seen him since he came back, andI sung out:

"'Hello, Lieutenant, how do you feel?'

"The reply came back, promptly, and with boyish cheerfulness:

"'Bully, by ----; I'm going to lead seventy men of Company into actiontoday!'

"How his boys did cheer him. When the bugle sounded--'forward, trot, 'his company sailed in as if they meant it, and swept the Johnnies off inshort meter. You never heard anybody say anything against Lieutenantafter that. "

"You know how it was with Captain G. , of our regiment, " said one of theFourteenth to another. "He was promoted from Orderly Sergeant to aSecond Lieutenant, and assigned to Company D. All the members of CompanyD went to headquarters in a body, and protested against his being put intheir company, and he was not. Well, he behaved so well at Chickamaugathat the boys saw that they had done him a great injustice, and all thosethat still lived went again to headquarters, and asked to take all backthat they had said, and to have him put into the company. "

"Well, that was doing the manly thing, sure; but go on about Atlanta. "

"I was telling about our brigade, " resumed the narrator. "Of course, wethink our regiment's the best by long odds in the army--every fellowthinks that of his regiment--but next to it come the other regiments ofour brigade. There's not a cent of discount on any of them. 

"Sherman had stretched out his right away to the south and west ofAtlanta. About the middle of August our corps, commanded by Jefferson C. Davis, was lying in works at Utoy Creek, a couple of miles from Atlanta. We could see the tall steeples and the high buildings of the City quiteplainly. Things had gone on dull and quiet like for about ten days. This was longer by a good deal than we had been at rest since we leftResaca in the Spring. We knew that something was brewing, and that itmust come to a head soon. 

"I belong to Company C. Our little mess--now reduced to three by theloss of two of our best soldiers and cooks, Disbrow and Sulier, killedbehind head-logs in front of Atlanta, by sharpshooters--had one fellowthat we called 'Observer, ' because he had such a faculty of picking upnews in his prowling around headquarters. He brought us in so much ofthis, and it was generally so reliable that we frequently made up hisabsence from duty by taking his place. He was never away from a fight, though. On the night of the 25th of August, 'Observer' came in with thenews that something was in the wind. Sherman was getting awful restless, and we had found out that this always meant lots of trouble to ourfriends on the other side. 

"Sure enough, orders came to get ready to move, and the next night we allmoved to the right and rear, out of sight of the Johnnies. Our wellbuilt works were left in charge of Garrard's Cavalry, who concealed theirhorses in the rear, and came up and took our places. The whole armyexcept the Twentieth Corps moved quietly off, and did it so nicely thatwe were gone some time before the enemy suspected it. Then the TwentiethCorps pulled out towards the North, and fell back to the Chattahoochie, making quite a shove of retreat. The Rebels snapped up the baitgreedily. They thought the siege was being raised, and they poured overtheir works to hurry the Twentieth boys off. The Twentieth fellows letthem know that there was lots of sting in them yet, and the Johnnies werenot long in discovering that it would have been money in their pockets ifthey had let that 'moon-and-star' (that's the Twentieth's badge, youknow) crowd alone. 

"But the Rebs thought the rest of us were gone for good and that Atlantawas saved. Naturally they felt mighty happy over it; and resolved tohave a big celebration--a ball, a meeting of jubilee, etc. Extra trainswere run in, with girls and women from the surrounding country, and theyjust had a high old time. 

"In the meantime we were going through so many different kinds of tacticsthat it looked as if Sherman was really crazy this time, sure. Finallywe made a grand left wheel, and then went forward a long way in line ofbattle. It puzzled us a good deal, but we knew that Sherman couldn't getus into any scrape that Pap Thomas couldn't get us out of, and so it wasall right. 

"Along on the evening of the 31st our right wing seemed to have runagainst a hornet's nest, and we could hear the musketry and cannon speakout real spiteful, but nothing came down our way. We had struck therailroad leading south from Atlanta to Macon, and began tearing it up. The jollity at Atlanta was stopped right in the middle by the appallingnews that the Yankees hadn't retreated worth a cent, but had broken outin a new and much worse spot than ever. Then there was no end of troubleall around, and Hood started part of his army back after us. 

"Part of Hardee's and Pat Cleburne's command went into position in frontof us. We left them alone till Stanley could come up on our left, andswing around, so as to cut off their retreat, when we would bag every oneof them. But Stanley was as slow as he always was, and did not come upuntil it was too late, and the game was gone. 

"The sun was just going down on the evening of the 1st of September, whenwe began to see we were in for it, sure. The Fourteenth Corps wheeledinto position near the railroad, and the sound of musketry and artillerybecame very loud and clear on our front and left. We turned a little andmarched straight toward the racket, becoming more excited every minute. We saw the Carlin's brigade of regulars, who were some distance ahead ofus, pile knapsacks, form in line, fix bayonets, and dash off witharousing cheer. 

"The Rebel fire beat upon them like a Summer rain-storm, the ground shookwith the noise, and just as we reached the edge of the cotton field, wesaw the remnant of the brigade come flying back out of the awful, blasting shower of bullets. The whole slope was covered with dead andwounded. "

"Yes, " interrupts one of the Fourteenth; "and they made that chargeright gamely, too, I can tell you. They were good soldiers, and wellled. When we went over the works, I remember seeing the body of a littleMajor of one of the regiments lying right on the top. If he hadn't beenkilled he'd been inside in a half-a-dozen steps more. There's no mistakeabout it; those regulars will fight. "

"When we saw this, " resumed the narrator, "it set our fellows fairlywild; they became just crying mad; I never saw them so before. The ordercame to strip for the charge, and our knapsacks were piled in half aminute. A Lieutenant of our company, who was then on the staff of Gen. Baird, our division commander, rode slowly down the line and gave us ourinstructions to load our guns, fix bayonets, and hold fire until we wereon top of the Rebel works. Then Colonel Este sang out clear and steadyas a bugle signal:

"'Brigade, forward! Guide center! MARCH!!'

"And we started. Heavens, how they did let into us, as we came up intorange. They had ten pieces of artillery, and more men behind thebreastworks than we had in line, and the fire they poured on us wassimply withering. We walked across the hundreds of dead and dying of theregular brigade, and at every step our own men fell down among them. General Baud's horse was shot down, and the General thrown far over hishead, but he jumped up and ran alongside of us. Major Wilson, ourregimental commander, fell mortally wounded; Lieutenant Kirk was killed, and also Captain Stopfard, Adjutant General of the brigade. LieutenantsCobb and Mitchell dropped with wounds that proved fatal in a few days. Captain Ugan lost an arm, one-third of the enlisted men fell, but we wentstraight ahead, the grape and the musketry becoming worse every step, until we gained the edge of the hill, where we were checked a minute bythe brush, which the Rebels had fixed up in the shape of abattis. Justthen a terrible fire from a new direction, our left, swept down the wholelength of our line. The Colonel of the Seventeenth New York--as gallanta man as ever lived saw the new trouble, took his regiment in on the run, and relieved us of this, but he was himself mortally wounded. If ourboys were half-crazy before, they were frantic now, and as we got out ofthe entanglement of the brush, we raised a fearful yell and ran at theworks. We climbed the sides, fired right down into the defenders, andthen began with the bayonet and sword. For a few minutes it was simplyawful. On both sides men acted like infuriated devils. They dashed eachother's brains out with clubbed muskets; bayonets were driven into men'sbodies up to the muzzle of the gun; officers ran their swords throughtheir opponents, and revolvers, after being emptied into the faces of theRebels, were thrown with desperate force into the ranks. In our regimentwas a stout German butcher named Frank Fleck. He became so excited thathe threw down his sword, and rushed among the Rebels with his bare fists, knocking down a swath of them. He yelled to the first Rebel he met:

"Py Gott, I've no patience mit you, ' and knocked him sprawling. He caught hold of the commander of the Rebel Brigade, and snatched himback over the works by main strength. Wonderful to say, he escapedunhurt, but the boys will probably not soon let him hear the last of, "Py Gott, I've no patience mit you. '

"The Tenth Kentucky, by the queerest luck in the world, was matchedagainst the Rebel Ninth Kentucky. The commanders of the two regimentswere brothers-in-law, and the men relatives, friends, acquaintances andschoolmates. They hated each other accordingly, and the fight betweenthem was more bitter, if possible, than anywhere else on the line. The Thirty-Eighth Ohio and Seventy-fourth Indiana put in some work thatwas just magnificent. We hadn't time to look at it then, but the deadand wounded piled up after the fight told the story. 

"We gradually forced our way over the works, but the Rebels were game tothe last, and we had to make them surrender almost one at a time. The artillerymen tried to fire on us when we were so close we could layour hands on the guns. 

"Finally nearly all in the works surrendered, and were disarmed andmarched back. Just then an aid came dashing up with the information thatwe must turn the works, and get ready to receive Hardee, who wasadvancing to retake the position. We snatched up some shovels lyingnear, and began work. We had no time to remove the dead and dying Rebelson the works, and the dirt we threw covered them up. It proved a falsealarm. Hardee had as much as he could do to save his own hide, and theaffair ended about dark. 

"When we came to count up what we had gained, we found that we hadactually taken more prisoners from behind breastworks than there were inour brigade when we started the charge. We had made the only reallysuccessful bayonet charge of the campaign. Every other time since weleft Chattanooga the party standing on the defensive had been successful. Here we had taken strong double lines, with ten guns, seven battle flags, and over two thousand prisoners. We had lost terribly--not less thanone-third of the brigade, and many of our best men. Our regiment wentinto the battle with fifteen officers; nine of these were killed orwounded, and seven of the nine lost either their limbs or lives. The Thirty-Eighth Ohio, and the other regiments of the brigade lostequally heavy. We thought Chickamauga awful, but Jonesboro discountedit. "

"Do you know, " said another of the Fourteenth, "I heard our Surgeontelling about how that Colonel Grower, of the Seventeenth New York, who came in so splendidly on our left, died? They say he was a WallStreet broker, before the war. He was hit shortly after he led hisregiment in, and after the fight, was carried back to the hospital. While our Surgeon was going the rounds Colonel Grower called him, andsaid quietly, 'When you get through with the men, come and see me, please. '

"The Doctor would have attended to him then, but Grower wouldn't let him. After he got through he went back to Grower, examined his wound, and toldhim that he could only live a few hours. Grower received the newstranquilly, had the Doctor write a letter to his wife, and gave him histhings to send her, and then grasping the Doctor's hand, he said:

"Doctor, I've just one more favor to ask; will you grant it?'

"The Doctor said, 'Certainly; what is it?'

"You say I can't live but a few hours?'

"Yes; that is true. '

"And that I will likely be in great pain!'

"I am sorry to say so. '

"Well, then, do give me morphia enough to put me to sleep, so that I willwake up only in another world. '

"The Doctor did so; Colonel Grower thanked him; wrung his hand, bade himgood-by, and went to sleep to wake no more. "

"Do you believe in presentiments and superstitions?" said another of theFourteenth. There was Fisher Pray, Orderly Sergeant of Company I. Hecame from Waterville, O. , where his folks are now living. The day beforewe started out he had a presentiment that we were going into a fight, andthat he would be killed. He couldn't shake it off. He told theLieutenant, and some of the boys about it, and they tried to ridicule himout of it, but it was no good. When the sharp firing broke out in frontsome of the boys said, 'Fisher, I do believe you are right, ' and henodded his head mournfully. When we were piling knapsacks for thecharge, the Lieutenant, who was a great friend of Fisher's, said:

"Fisher, you stay here and guard the knapsacks. '

"Fisher's face blazed in an instant. 

"No, sir, ' said he; I never shirked a fight yet, and I won't begin now. '

"So he went into the fight, and was killed, as he knew he would be. Now, that's what I call nerve. "

"The same thing was true of Sergeant Arthur Tarbox, of Company A, " saidthe narrator; "he had a presentiment, too; he knew he was going to bekilled, if he went in, and he was offered an honorable chance to stayout, but he would not take it, and went in and was killed. "

"Well, we staid there the next day, buried our dead, took care of ourwounded, and gathered up the plunder we had taken from the Johnnies. The rest of the army went off, 'hot blocks, ' after Hardee and the rest ofHood's army, which it was hoped would be caught outside of entrenchments. But Hood had too much the start, and got into the works at Lovejoy, aheadof our fellows. The night before we heard several very loud explosionsup to the north. We guessed what that meant, and so did the TwentiethCorps, who were lying back at the Chattahoochee, and the next morning theGeneral commanding--Slocum--sent out a reconnaissance. It was met by theMayor of Atlanta, who said that the Rebels had blown up their stores andretreated. The Twentieth Corps then came in and took 'possession of theCity, and the next day--the 3d--Sherman came in, and issued an orderdeclaring the campaign at an end, and that we would rest awhile andrefit. 

"We laid around Atlanta a good while, and things quieted down so that itseemed almost like peace, after the four months of continual fighting wehad gone through. We had been under a strain so long that now we boyswent in the other direction, and became too careless, and that's how wegot picked up. We went out about five miles one night after a lot ofnice smoked hams that a nigger told us were stored in an old cottonpress, and which we knew would be enough sight better eating for CompanyC, than the commissary pork we had lived on so long. We found the cottonpress, and the hams, just as the nigger told us, and we hitched up a teamto take them into camp. As we hadn't seen any Johnny signs anywhere, we set our guns down to help load the meat, and just as we all camestringing out to the wagon with as much meat as we could carry, a companyof Ferguson's Cavalry popped out of the woods about one hundred yards infront of us and were on top of us before we could say I scat. You seethey'd heard of the meat, too. "

CHAPTER LVII. 

A FAIR SACRIFICE--THE STORY OF ONE BOY WHO WILLINGLY GAVE HIS YOUNG LIFEFOR HIS COUNTRY. 

Charley Barbour was one of the truest-hearted and best-liked of myschool-boy chums and friends. For several terms we sat together on thesame uncompromisingly uncomfortable bench, worried over the sameboy-maddening problems in "Ray's Arithmetic-Part III. , " learned the samejargon of meaningless rules from "Greene's Grammar, " pondered over"Mitchell's Geography and Atlas, " and tried in vain to understand whyProvidence made the surface of one State obtrusively pink and anotherultramarine blue; trod slowly and painfully over the rugged road"Bullion" points out for beginners in Latin, and began to believe weshould hate ourselves and everybody else, if we were gotten up after themanner shown by "Cutter's Physiology. " We were caught together in thesame long series of school-boy scrapes--and were usually ferruledtogether by the same strong-armed teacher. We shared nearly everything--our fun and work; enjoyment and annoyance--all were generally meted outto us together. We read from the same books the story of the wonderfulworld we were going to see in that bright future "when we were men;" wespent our Saturdays and vacations in the miniature explorations of therocky hills and caves, and dark cedar woods around our homes, to gatherocular helps to a better comprehension of that magical land which we wereconvinced began just beyond our horizon, and had in it, visible to theeye of him who traveled through its enchanted breadth, all that"Gulliver's Fables, " the "Arabian Nights, " and a hundred books of traveland adventure told of. 

We imagined that the only dull and commonplace spot on earth was thatwhere we lived. Everywhere else life was a grand spectacular drama, fullof thrilling effects. 

Brave and handsome young men were rescuing distressed damsels, beautifulas they were wealthy; bloody pirates and swarthy murderers were beingfoiled by quaint spoken backwoodsmen, who carried unerring rifles;gallant but blundering Irishmen, speaking the most delightful brogue, and making the funniest mistakes, were daily thwarting cool anddetermined villains; bold tars were encountering fearful sea perils;lionhearted adventurers were cowing and quelling whole tribes ofbarbarians; magicians were casting spells, misers hoarding gold, scientists making astonishing discoveries, poor and unknown boysachieving wealth and fame at a single bound, hidden mysteries coming tolight, and so the world was going on, making reams of history with eachdiurnal revolution, and furnishing boundless material for the mostdelightful books. 

At the age of thirteen a perusal of the lives of Benjamin Franklin andHorace Greeley precipitated my determination to no longer hesitate inlaunching my small bark upon the great ocean. I ran away from home in atruly romantic way, and placed my foot on what I expected to be the firstround of the ladder of fame, by becoming "devil boy" in a printing officein a distant large City. Charley's attachment to his mother and his homewas too strong to permit him to take this step, and we parted in sorrow, mitigated on my side by roseate dreams of the future. 

Six years passed. One hot August morning I met an old acquaintance atthe Creek, in Andersonville. He told me to come there the next morning, after roll-call, and he would take me to see some person who was veryanxious to meet me. I was prompt at the rendezvous, and was soon joinedby the other party. He threaded his way slowly for over half an hourthrough the closely-jumbled mass of tents and burrows, and at lengthstopped in front of a blanket-tent in the northwestern corner. Theoccupant rose and took my hand. For an instant I was puzzled; then theclear, blue eyes, and well-remembered smile recalled to me my old-timecomrade, Charley Barbour. His story was soon told. He was a Sergeant ina Western Virginia cavalry regiment--the Fourth, I think. At the timeHunter was making his retreat from the Valley of Virginia, it was decidedto mislead the enemy by sending out a courier with false dispatches to becaptured. There was a call for a volunteer for this service. Charleywas the first to offer, with that spirit of generous self-sacrifice thatwas one of his pleasantest traits when a boy. He knew what he had toexpect. Capture meant imprisonment at Andersonville; our men had now apretty clear understanding of what this was. Charley took the dispatchesand rode into the enemy's lines. He was taken, and the false informationproduced the desired effect. On his way to Andersonville he was strippedof all his clothing but his shirt and pantaloons, and turned into theStockade in this condition. When I saw him he had been in a week ormore. He told his story quietly--almost diffidently--not seeming awarethat he had done more than his simple duty. I left him with the promiseand expectation of returning the next day, but when I attempted to findhim again, I was lost in the maze of tents and burrows. I had forgottento ask the number of his detachment, and after spending several days inhunting for him, I was forced to give the search up. He knew as littleof my whereabouts, and though we were all the time within seventeenhundred feet of each other, neither we nor our common acquaintance couldever manage to meet again. This will give the reader an idea of thethrong compressed within the narrow limits of the Stockade. Afterleaving Andersonville, however, I met this man once more, and learnedfrom him that Charley had sickened and died within a month after hisentrance to prison. 

So ended his day-dream of a career in the busy world. 

CHAPTER LVIII. 

WE LEAVE SAVANNAH--MORE HOPES OF EXCHANGE--SCENES AT DEPARTURE--"FLANKERS"--ON THE BACK TRACK TOWARD ANDERSONVILLE--ALARM THEREAT--AT THE PARTING OF TWO WAYS--WE FINALLY BRING UP AT CAMP LAWTON. 

On the evening of the 11th of October there came an order for onethousand prisoners to fall in and march out, for transfer to some otherpoint. 

Of course, Andrews and I "flanked" into this crowd. That was our usualway of doing. Holding that the chances were strongly in favor of everymovement of prisoners being to our lines, we never failed to be numberedin the first squad of prisoners that were sent out. The seductive mirageof "exchange" was always luring us on. It must come some time, certainly, and it would be most likely to come to those who were mostearnestly searching for it. At all events, we should leave no meansuntried to avail ourselves of whatever seeming chances there might be. There could be no other motive for this move, we argued, than exchange. The Confederacy was not likely to be at the trouble and expense ofhauling us about the country without some good reason--something betterthan a wish to make us acquainted with Southern scenery and topography. It would hardly take us away from Savannah so soon after bringing usthere for any other purpose than delivery to our people. 

The Rebels encouraged this belief with direct assertions of its truth. They framed a plausible lie about there having arisen some difficultyconcerning the admission of our vessels past the harbor defenses ofSavannah, which made it necessary to take us elsewhere--probably toCharleston--for delivery to our men. 

Wishes are always the most powerful allies of belief. There is littledifficulty in convincing a man of that of which he wants to be convinced. We forgot the lie told us when we were taken from Andersonville, andbelieved the one which was told us now. 

Andrews and I hastily snatched our worldly possessions--our overcoat, blanket, can, spoon, chessboard and men, yelled to some of our neighborsthat they could have our hitherto much-treasured house, and running downto the gate, forced ourselves well up to the front of the crowd that wasbeing assembled to go out. 

The usual scenes accompanying the departure of first squads were beingacted tumultuously. Every one in the camp wanted to be one of thesupposed-to-be-favored few, and if not selected at first, tried to "flankin"--that is, slip into the place of some one else who had had betterluck. This one naturally resisted displacement, 'vi et armis, ' and thefights would become so general as to cause a resemblance to the famedFair of Donnybrook. The cry would go up:

"Look out for flankers!"

The lines of the selected would dress up compactly, and outsiders tryingto force themselves in would get mercilessly pounded. 

We finally got out of the pen, and into the cars, which soon rolled awayto the westward. We were packed in too densely to be able to lie down. We could hardly sit down. Andrews and I took up our position in onecorner, piled our little treasures under us, and trying to lean againsteach other in such a way as to afford mutual support and rest, dozedfitfully through a long, weary night. 

When morning came we found ourselves running northwest through a poor, pine-barren country that strongly resembled that we had traversed incoming to Savannah. The more we looked at it the more familiar itbecame, and soon there was no doubt we were going back to Andersonville. 

By noon we had reached Millen--eighty miles from Savannah, andfifty-three from Augusta. It was the junction of the road leading toMacon and that running to Augusta. We halted a little while at the "Y, "and to us the minutes were full of anxiety. If we turned off to theleft we were going back to Andersonville. If we took the right handroad we were on the way to Charleston or Richmond, with the chances infavor of exchange. 

At length we started, and, to our joy, our engine took the right handtrack. We stopped again, after a run of five miles, in the midst of oneof the open, scattering forests of long leaved pine that I have beforedescribed. We were ordered out of the cars, and marching a few rods, came in sight of another of those hateful Stockades, which seemed to beas natural products of the Sterile sand of that dreary land as itsdesolate woods and its breed of boy murderers and gray-headed assassins. 

Again our hearts sank, and death seemed more welcome than incarcerationin those gloomy wooden walls. We marched despondently up to the gates ofthe Prison, and halted while a party of Rebel clerks made a list of ournames, rank, companies, and regiments. As they were Rebels it was slowwork. Reading and writing never came by nature, as Dogberry would say, to any man fighting for Secession. As a rule, he took to them asreluctantly as if, he thought them cunning inventions of the NorthernAbolitionist to perplex and demoralize him. What a half-dozen boys takenout of our own ranks would have done with ease in an hour or so, theseRebels worried over all of the afternoon, and then their register of uswas so imperfect, badly written and misspelled, that the Yankee clerksafterwards detailed for the purpose, never could succeed in reducing itto intelligibility. 

We learned that the place at which we had arrived was Camp Lawton, but wealmost always spoke of it as "Millen, " the same as Camp Sumter isuniversally known as Andersonville. 

Shortly after dark we were turned inside the Stockade. Being the firstthat had entered, there was quite a quantity of wood--the offal from thetimber used in constructing the Stockade--lying on the ground. The nightwas chilly one we soon had a number of fires blazing. Green pitch pine, when burned, gives off a peculiar, pungent odor, which is never forgottenby one who has once smelled it. I first became acquainted with it onentering Andersonville, and to this day it is the most powerfulremembrance I can have of the opening of that dreadful Iliad of woes. On my journey to Washington of late years the locomotives are invariablyfed with pitch pine as we near the Capital, and as the well-rememberedsmell reaches me, I grow sick at heart with the flood of saddeningrecollections indissolubly associated with it. 

As our fires blazed up the clinging, penetrating fumes diffusedthemselves everywhere. The night was as cool as the one when we arrivedat Andersonville, the earth, meagerly sodded with sparse, hard, wirygrass, was the same; the same piney breezes blew in from the surroundingtrees, the same dismal owls hooted at us; the same mournfulwhip-poor-will lamented, God knows what, in the gathering twilight. What we both felt in the gloomy recesses of downcast hearts Andrewsexpressed as he turned to me with:

"My God, Mc, this looks like Andersonville all over again. "

A cupful of corn meal was issued to each of us. I hunted up some water. Andrews made a stiff dough, and spread it about half an inch thick on theback of our chessboard. He propped this up before the fire, and when thesurface was neatly browned over, slipped it off the board and turned itover to brown the other side similarly. This done, we divided itcarefully between us, swallowed it in silence, spread our old overcoat onthe ground, tucked chess-board, can, and spoon under far enough to be outof the reach of thieves, adjusted the thin blanket so as to get the mostpossible warmth out of it, crawled in close together, and went to sleep. This, thank Heaven, we could do; we could still sleep, and Nature hadsome opportunity to repair the waste of the day. We slept, and forgotwhere we were. 

CHAPTER LIX. 

OUR NEW QUARTERS AT CAMP LAWTON--BUILDING A HUT--AN EXCEPTIONALCOMMANDANT--HE IS a GOOD MAN, BUT WILL TAKE BRIBES--RATIONS. 

In the morning we took a survey of our new quarters, and found that wewere in a Stockade resembling very much in construction and dimensionsthat at Andersonville. The principal difference was that the uprightlogs were in their rough state, whereas they were hewed at Andersonville, and the brook running through the camp was not bordered by a swamp, buthad clean, firm banks. 

Our next move was to make the best of the situation. We were dividedinto hundreds, each commanded by a Sergeant. Ten hundreds constituted adivision, the head of which was also a Sergeant. I was elected by mycomrades to the Sergeantcy of the Second Hundred of the First Division. As soon as we were assigned to our ground, we began constructing shelter. For the first and only time in my prison experience, we found a fullsupply of material for this purpose, and the use we made of it showed howinfinitely better we would have fared if in each prison the Rebels haddone even so slight a thing as to bring in a few logs from thesurrounding woods and distribute them to us. A hundred or so of thesewould probably have saved thousands of lives at Andersonville andFlorence. 

A large tree lay on the ground assigned to our hundred. Andrews and Itook possession of one side of the ten feet nearest the butt. Other boysoccupied the rest in a similar manner. One of our boys had succeeded insmuggling an ax in with him, and we kept it in constant use day andnight, each group borrowing it for an hour or so at a time. It was asdull as a hoe, and we were very weak, so that it was slow work "niggeringoff"--(as the boys termed it) a cut of the log. It seemed as if beaverscould have gnawed it off easier and more quickly. We only cut an inch orso at a time, and then passed the ax to the next users. Making littlewedges with a dull knife, we drove them into the log with clubs, andsplit off long, thin strips, like the weatherboards of a house, and bythe time we had split off our share of the log in this slow and laboriousway, we had a fine lot of these strips. We were lucky enough to findfour forked sticks, of which we made the corners of our dwelling, androofed it carefully with our strips, held in place by sods torn up fromthe edge of the creek bank. The sides and ends were enclosed; wegathered enough pine tops to cover the ground to a depth of severalinches; we banked up the outside, and ditched around it, and then had themost comfortable abode we had during our prison career. It was truly ahouse builded with our own hands, for we had no tools whatever save theoccasional use of the aforementioned dull axe and equally dull knife. 

The rude little hut represented as much actual hard, manual labor aswould be required to build a comfortable little cottage in the North, but we gladly performed it, as we would have done any other work tobetter our condition. 

For a while wood was quite plentiful, and we had the luxury daily of warmfires, which the increasing coolness of the weather made importantaccessories to our comfort. 

Other prisoners kept coming in. Those we left behind at Savannahfollowed us, and the prison there was broken up. Quite a number alsocame in from--Andersonville, so that in a little while we had between sixand seven thousand in the Stockade. The last comers found all thematerial for tents and all the fuel used up, and consequently did notfare so well as the earlier arrivals. 

The commandant of the prison--one Captain Bowes--was the best of hisclass it was my fortune to meet. Compared with the senseless brutalityof Wirz, the reckless deviltry of Davis, or the stupid malignance ofBarrett, at Florence, his administration was mildness and wisdom itself. 

He enforced discipline better than any of those named, but has what theyall lacked--executive ability--and he secured results that they could notpossibly attain, and without anything, like the friction that attendedtheir efforts. I do not remember that any one was shot during our sixweeks' stay at Millen--a circumstance simply remarkable, since I do notrecall a single week passed anywhere else without at least one murder bythe guards. 

One instance will illustrate the difference of his administration fromthat of other prison commandants. He came upon the grounds of ourdivision one morning, accompanied by a pleasant-faced, intelligent-appearing lad of about fifteen or sixteen. He said to us:

"Gentlemen: (The only instance during our imprisonment when we receivedso polite a designation. ) This is my son, who will hereafter call yourroll. He will treat you as gentlemen, and I know you will do the same tohim. "

This understanding was observed to the letter on both sides. Young Bowesinvariably spoke civilly to us, and we obeyed his orders with a promptcheerfulness that left him nothing to complain of. 

The only charge I have to make against Bowes is made more in detail inanother chapter, and that is, that he took money from well prisoners forgiving them the first chance to go through on the Sick Exchange. How culpable this was I must leave each reader to decide for himself. I thought it very wrong at the time, but possibly my views might havebeen colored highly by my not having any money wherewith to procure myown inclusion in the happy lot of the exchanged. 

Of one thing I am certain: that his acceptance of money to bias hisofficial action was not singular on his part. I am convinced that everycommandant we had over us--except Wirz--was habitually in the receipt ofbribes from prisoners. I never heard that any one succeeded in bribingWirz, and this is the sole good thing I can say of that fellow. Againstthis it may be said, however, that he plundered the boys so effectuallyon entering the prison as to leave them little of the wherewithal tobribe anybody. 

Davis was probably the most unscrupulous bribe-taker of the lot. He actually received money for permitting prisoners to escape to ourlines, and got down to as low a figure as one hundred dollars for thissort of service. I never heard that any of the other commandants wentthis far. 

The rations issued to us were somewhat better than those ofAndersonville, as the meal was finer and better, though it was absurdedlyinsufficient in quantity, and we received no salt. On several occasionsfresh beef was dealt out to us, and each time the excitement createdamong those who had not tasted fresh meat for weeks and months waswonderful. On the first occasion the meat was simply the heads of thecattle killed for the use of the guards. Several wagon loads of thesewere brought in and distributed. We broke them up so that every man gota piece of the bone, which was boiled and reboiled, as long as a singlebubble of grease would rise to the surface of the water; every vestige ofmeat was gnawed and scraped from the surface and then the bone wascharred until it crumbled, when it was eaten. No one who has notexperienced it can imagine the inordinate hunger for animal food of thosewho had eaten little else than corn bread for so long. Our exhaustedbodies were perishing for lack of proper sustenance. Nature indicatedfresh beef as the best medium to repair the great damage already done, and our longing for it became beyond description. 

CHAPTER LX. 

THE RAIDERS REAPPEAR ON THE SCENE--THE ATTEMPT TO ASSASSINATE THOSE WHOWERE CONCERNED IN THE EXECUTION--A COUPLE OF LIVELY FIGHTS, IN WHICH THERAIDERS ARE DEFEATED--HOLDING AN ELECTION. 

Our old antagonists--the Raiders--were present in strong force in Millen. Like ourselves, they had imagined the departure from Andersonville wasfor exchange, and their relations to the Rebels were such that they wereall given a chance to go with the first squads. A number had beenallowed to go with the sailors on the Special Naval Exchange fromSavannah, in the place of sailors and marines who had died. On the wayto Charleston a fight had taken place between them and the real sailors, during which one of their number--a curly-headed Irishman named Dailey, who was in such high favor with the Rebels that he was given the place ofdriving the ration wagon that came in the North Side at Andersonville--was killed, and thrown under the wheels of the moving train, which passedover him. 

After things began to settle into shape at Millen, they seemed to believethat they were in such ascendancy as to numbers and organization thatthey could put into execution their schemes of vengeance against those ofus who had been active participants in the execution of theirconfederates at Andersonville. 

After some little preliminaries they settled upon Corporal "Wat" Payne, of my company, as their first victim. The reader will remember Payne asone of the two Corporals who pulled the trigger to the scaffold at thetime of the execution. 

Payne was a very good man physically, and was yet in fair condition. The Raiders came up one day with their best man--Pete Donnelly--andprovoked a fight, intending, in the course of it, to kill Payne. We, who knew Payee, felt reasonably confident of his ability to handle evenso redoubtable a pugilist as Donnelly, and we gathered together a littlesquad of our friends to see fair play. 

The fight began after the usual amount of bad talk on both sides, and wewere pleased to see our man slowly get the better of the New Yorkplug-ugly. After several sharp rounds they closed, and still Payne wasahead, but in an evil moment he spied a pine knot at his feet, which hethought he could reach, and end the fight by cracking Donnelly's headwith it. Donnelly took instant advantage of the movement to get it, threw Payne heavily, and fell upon him. His crowd rushed in to finishour man by clubbing him over the head. We sailed in to prevent this, and after a rattling exchange of blows all around, succeeded in gettingPayne away. 

The issue of the fight seemed rather against us, however, and the Raiderswere much emboldened. Payne kept close to his crowd after that, and aswe had shown such an entire willingness to stand by him, the Raiders--with their accustomed prudence when real fighting was involved--did notattempt to molest him farther, though they talked very savagely. 

A few days after this Sergeant Goody and Corporal Ned Carrigan, both ofour battalion, came in. I must ask the reader to again recall the factthat Sergeant Goody was one of the six hangmen who put the meal-sacksover the heads, and the ropes around the necks of the condemned. Corporal Carrigan was the gigantic prize fighter, who was universallyacknowledged to be the best man physically among the whole thirty-fourthousand in Andersonville. The Raiders knew that Goody had come inbefore we of his own battalion did. They resolved to kill him then andthere, and in broad daylight. He had secured in some way a shelter tent, and was inside of it fixing it up. The Raider crowd, headed by PeteDonnelly, and Dick Allen, went up to his tent and one of them called tohim:

"Sergeant, come out; I want to see you. "

Goody, supposing it was one of us, came crawling out on his hands andknees. As he did so their heavy clubs crashed down upon his head. He was neither killed nor stunned, as they had reason to expect. He succeeded in rising to his feet, and breaking through the crowd ofassassins. He dashed down the side of the hill, hotly pursued by them. Coming to the Creek, he leaped it in his excitement, but his pursuerscould not, and were checked. One of our battalion boys, who saw andcomprehended the whole affair, ran over to us, shouting:

"Turn out! turn out, for God's sake! the Raiders are killing Goody!"

We snatched up our clubs and started after the Raiders, but before wecould reach them, Ned Carrigan, who also comprehended what the troublewas, had run to the side of Goody, armed with a terrible looking club. The sight of Ned, and the demonstration that he was thoroughly aroused, was enough for the Raider crew, and they abandoned the field hastily. We did not feel ourselves strong enough to follow them on to their owndung hill, and try conclusions with them, but we determined to report thematter to the Rebel Commandant, from whom we had reason to believe wecould expect assistance. We were right. He sent in a squad of guards, arrested Dick Allen, Pete Donnelly, and several other ringleaders, tookthem out and put them in the stocks in such a manner that they werecompelled to lie upon their stomachs. A shallow tin vessel containingwater was placed under their faces to furnish them drink. 

They staid there a day and night, and when released, joined the RebelArmy, entering the artillery company that manned the guns in the fortcovering the prison. I used to imagine with what zeal they would send usover; a round of shell or grape if they could get anything like anexcuse. 

This gave us good riddance--of our dangerous enemies, and we had littlefurther trouble with any of them. 

The depression in the temperature made me very sensible of thedeficiencies in my wardrobe. Unshod feet, a shirt like a fishing net, and pantaloons as well ventilated as a paling fence might do very wellfor the broiling sun at Andersonville and Savannah, but now, with thethermometer nightly dipping a little nearer the frost line, it becameunpleasantly evident that as garments their office was purelyperfunctory; one might say ornamental simply, if he wanted to be verysarcastic. They were worn solely to afford convenient quarters formultitudes of lice, and in deference to the prejudice which has existedsince the Fall of Man against our mingling with our fellow creatures inthe attire provided us by Nature. Had I read Darwin then I should haveexpected that my long exposure to the weather would start a fine suit offur, in the effort of Nature to adapt me to my environment. But nomore indications of this appeared than if I had been a hairless dog ofMexico, suddenly transplanted to more northern latitudes. Providence didnot seem to be in the tempering-the-wind-to-the-shorn-lamb business, asfar as I was concerned. I still retained an almost unconquerableprejudice against stripping the dead to secure clothes, and so unlessexchange or death came speedily, I was in a bad fix. 

One morning about day break, Andrews, who had started to go to anotherpart of the camp, came slipping back in a state of gleeful excitement. At first I thought he either had found a tunnel or had heard some goodnews about exchange. It was neither. He opened his jacket and handed mean infantry man's blouse, which he had found in the main street, where ithad dropped out of some fellow's bundle. We did not make any extraexertion to find the owner. Andrews was in sore need of clothes himself, but my necessities were so much greater that the generous fellow thoughtof my wants first. We examined the garment with as much interest as evera belle bestowed on a new dress from Worth's. It was in fairpreservation, but the owner had cut the buttons off to trade to theguard, doubtless for a few sticks of wood, or a spoonful of salt. We supplied the place of these with little wooden pins, and I donned thegarment as a shirt and coat and vest, too, for that matter. The bestsuit I ever put on never gave me a hundredth part the satisfaction thatthis did. Shortly after, I managed to subdue my aversion so far as totake a good shoe which a one-legged dead man had no farther use for, anda little later a comrade gave me for the other foot a boot bottom fromwhich he had cut the top to make a bucket. 

 ........................... 

The day of the Presidential election of 1864 approached. The Rebels werenaturally very much interested in the result, as they believed that theelection of McClellan meant compromise and cessation of hostilities, while the re-election of Lincoln meant prosecution of the War to thebitter end. The toadying Raiders, who were perpetually hanging aroundthe gate to get a chance to insinuate themselves into the favor of theRebel officers, persuaded them that we were all so bitterly hostile toour Government for not exchanging us that if we were allowed to vote wewould cast an overwhelming majority in favor of McClellan. 

The Rebels thought that this might perhaps be used to advantage aspolitical capital for their friends in the North. They gave orders thatwe might, if we chose, hold an election on the same day of thePresidential election. They sent in some ballot boxes, and we electedJudges of the Election. 

About noon of that day Captain Bowes, and a crowd of tightbooted, broad-hatted Rebel officers, strutted in with the peculiar "Ef-yer-don't-b'lieve--I'm-a-butcher-jest-smell-o'-mebutes" swagger characteristic ofthe class. They had come in to see us all voting for McClellan. Instead, they found the polls surrounded with ticket pedlers shouting:

"Walk right up here now, and get your Unconditional-Union-Abraham-Lincoln-tickets!"

"Here's your straight-haired prosecution-of-the-war ticket. "

"Vote the Lincoln ticket; vote to whip the Rebels, and make peace withthem when they've laid down their arms. "

"Don't vote a McClellan ticket and gratify Rebels, everywhere, " etc. 

The Rebel officers did not find the scene what their fancy painted it, and turning around they strutted out. 

When the votes came to be counted out there were over seven thousand forLincoln, and not half that many hundred for McClellan. The latter gotvery few votes outside the Raider crowd. The same day a similar electionwas held in Florence, with like result. Of course this did not indicatethat there was any such a preponderance of Republicans among us. It meant simply that the Democratic boys, little as they might have likedLincoln, would have voted for him a hundred times rather than do anythingto please the Rebels. 

I never heard that the Rebels sent the result North. 

CHAPTER LXI. 

THE REBELS FORMALLY PROPOSE TO US TO DESERT TO THEM--CONTUMELIOUSTREATMENT OF THE PROPOSITION--THEIR RAGE--AN EXCITING TIME--AN OUTBREAKTHREATENED--DIFFICULTIES ATTENDING DESERTION TO THE REBELS. 

One day in November, some little time after the occurrences narrated inthe last chapter, orders came in to make out rolls of all those who wereborn outside of the United States, and whose terms of service hadexpired. 

We held a little council among ourselves as to the meaning of this, andconcluded that some partial exchange had been agreed on, and the Rebelswere going to send back the class of boys whom they thought would be ofleast value to the Government. Acting on this conclusion the greatmajority of us enrolled ourselves as foreigners, and as having served outour terms. I made out the roll of my hundred, and managed to give everyman a foreign nativity. Those whose names would bear it were assigned toEngland, Ireland, Scotland France and Germany, and the balance weredistributed through Canada and the West Indies. After finishing the rolland sending it out, I did not wonder that the Rebels believed the battlesfor the Union were fought by foreign mercenaries. The other rolls weremade out in the same way, and I do not suppose that they showed fivehundred native Americans in the Stockade. 

The next day after sending out the rolls, there came an order that allthose whose names appeared thereon should fall in. We did so, promptly, and as nearly every man in camp was included, we fell in as for otherpurposes, by hundreds and thousands. We were then marched outside, andmassed around a stump on which stood a Rebel officer, evidently waitingto make us a speech. We awaited his remarks with the greatestimpatience, but He did not begin until the last division had marched outand came to a parade rest close to the stump. 

It was the same old story:

"Prisoners, you can no longer have any doubt that your Government hascruelly abandoned you; it makes no efforts to release you, and refusesall our offers of exchange. We are anxious to get our men back, and havemade every effort to do so, but it refuses to meet us on any reasonablegrounds. Your Secretary of War has said that the Government can getalong very well without you, and General Halleck has said that you werenothing but a set of blackberry pickers and coffee boilers anyhow. 

"You've already endured much more than it could expect of you; you servedit faithfully during the term you enlisted for, and now, when it isthrough with you, it throws you aside to starve and die. You also canhave no doubt that the Southern Confederacy is certain to succeed insecuring its independence. It will do this in a few months. It nowoffers you an opportunity to join its service, and if you serve itfaithfully to the end, you will receive the same rewards as the rest ofits soldiers. You will be taken out of here, be well clothed and fed, given a good bounty, and, at the conclusion of the War receive a landwarrant for a nice farm. If you"--

But we had heard enough. The Sergeant of our division--a man with astentorian voice sprang out and shouted:

"Attention, first Division!"

We Sergeants of hundreds repeated the command down the line. Shouted he:

"First Division, about--"

Said we:

"First Hundred, about--"

"Second Hundred, about--"

"Third Hundred, about--"

"Fourth Hundred, about--" etc. , etc. 

Said he:--

"FACE!!"

Ten Sergeants repeated "Face!" one after the other, and each man in thehundreds turned on his heel. Then our leader commanded--

"First Division, forward! MARCH!" and we strode back into the Stockade, followed immediately by all the other divisions, leaving the orator stillstanding on the stump. 

The Rebels were furious at this curt way of replying. We had scarcelyreached our quarters when they came in with several companies, withloaded guns and fixed bayonets. They drove us out of our tents and huts, into one corner, under the pretense of hunting axes and spades, but inreality to steal our blankets, and whatever else they could find thatthey wanted, and to break down and injure our huts, many of which, costing us days of patient labor, they destroyed in pure wantonness. 

We were burning with the bitterest indignation. A tall, slender mannamed Lloyd, a member of the Sixty-First Ohio--a rough, uneducatedfellow, but brim full of patriotism and manly common sense, jumped up ona stump and poured out his soul in rude but fiery eloquence: "Comrades, "he said, "do not let the blowing of these Rebel whelps discourage you;pay no attention to the lies they have told you to-day; you know wellthat our Government is too honorable and just to desert any one whoserves it; it has not deserted us; their hell-born Confederacy is notgoing to succeed. I tell you that as sure as there is a God who reignsand judges in Israel, before the Spring breezes stir the tops of theseblasted old pines their Confederacy and all the lousy graybacks whosupport it will be so deep in hell that nothing but a search warrant fromthe throne of God Almighty can ever find it again. And the glorious oldStars and Stripes--"

Here we began cheering tremendously. A Rebel Captain came running up, said to the guard, who was leaning on his gun, gazing curiously at Lloyd:

"What in ---- are you standing gaping there for? Why don't you shoot the---- ---- Yankee son---- -- - -----?" and snatching the gun away fromhim, cocked and leveled it at Lloyd, but the boys near jerked the speakerdown from the stump and saved his life. 

We became fearfully, wrought up. Some of the more excitable shouted outto charge on the line of guards, snatch they guns away from them, andforce our way through the gate The shouts were taken up by others, and, as if in obedience to the suggestion, we instinctively formed inline-of-battle facing the guards. A glance down the line showed me anarray of desperate, tensely drawn faces, such as one sees who looks amen when they are summoning up all their resolution for some deed ofgreat peril. The Rebel officers hastily retreated behind the line ofguards, whose faces blanched, but they leveled the muskets and preparedto receive us. 

Captain Bowes, who was overlooking the prison from an elevation outside, had, however, divined the trouble at the outset, an was preparing to meetit. The gunners, who had shotted the pieces and trained them upon uswhen we came out to listen t the speech, had again covered us with them, and were ready to sweep the prison with grape and canister at the instantof command. The long roll was summoning the infantry regiments back intoline, and some of the cooler-headed among us pointed these facts out andsucceeded in getting the line to dissolve again into groups of muttering, sullen-faced men. When this was done, the guards marched out, by acautious indirect maneuver, so as not to turn their backs to us. 

It was believed that we had some among us who would like to availthemselves of the offer of the Rebels, and that they would try to informthe Rebels of their desires by going to the gate during the night andspeaking to the Officer-of-the-Guard. A squad armed themselves withclubs and laid in wait for these. They succeeded in catching several--snatching some of then back even after they had told the guard theirwishes in a tone so loud that all near could hear distinctly. TheOfficer-of-the-Guard rushed in two or three times in a vain attempt tosave the would be deserter from the cruel hands that clutched him andbore him away to where he had a lesson in loyalty impressed upon thefleshiest part of his person by a long, flexible strip of pine wielded byvery willing hands. 

After this was kept up for several nights different ideas began I toprevail. It was felt that if a man wanted to join the Rebels, the bestway was to let him go and get rid of him. He was of no benefit to theGovernment, and would be of none to the Rebels. After this norestriction was put upon any one who desired to go outside and take theoath. But very few did so, however, and these were wholly confined tothe Raider crowd.