CHAPTER XVI.
LIBERTY OR DEATH?
One morning the guard brought up four Federal soldiers, who were shut up in the front room. As soon as we were alone we resorted to our usual method of telegraphing to learn who they were. To our great surprise and pleasure we found that two of them—Coleman and Helbling—were of the Tenth Wisconsin, a regiment of our own brigade. They gave us many most interesting items of news,—among others, that our comrades had long since given us up for dead, and were vowing vengeance on our behalf. They were greatly surprised to find so many of us still alive. The other two were of the regular army, who had been captured on the coast of Florida. They remained with us until we were taken to Richmond long after. From them we gained a complete detail of the movements of our army since our departure. We were greatly grieved to find the military situation far less favorable than it had been four months before. The transfer of General Mitchel from Tennessee to the Atlantic coast we also regarded as unfavorable to our interests. These soldiers were the means shortly of leading us to a desperate resolution.
We frequently talked and plotted about escape. This is the one topic that prisoners never weary of. We long before resolved that if any movement was made towards a court-martial, we would make one desperate effort for life; for the result of the trials in the case of Andrews and our poor comrades assured us that this formality would not be undertaken for any other purpose than that of putting us to death, under a show of law. After the lapse of a considerable time we had hopes that they would not dispense with this ceremony, and that we would thus have warning which might be useful. But many of our number—those especially who were vigorous in health, and, therefore, were more ready for action—wished to make the attempt at any rate. But time rolled on, and the dreaded preparations for a trial were not made. Why we were left in this uncertain condition for four months we could not tell. It might be that, in the rush of military events, we were forgotten, or it might be that the rebel authorities considered the hanging of eight men as sufficient to show their estimate of the enormity of our crime. This latter view grew upon the minds of some to such a degree that we boldly resolved to test it, even if it did bring our fate more swiftly upon us,—resolving that if our action should result in calling a court-martial we would then break from our prison or die in the attempt. Indeed, the scanty fare, the uncertainty, and the longing for liberty had become so completely unendurable, that the prospects of perishing on the bayonets of the guard had little terror. But our resolution was to write a letter directly to Jefferson Davis, the President of the Confederacy, reciting our case, and asking to be put on the footing of prisoners of war. I acted as scribe, and used language as strong and yet respectful as possible. While writing, the whole party gathered around, and volunteered suggestions. Said Brown, "Be very humble to him, Pittenger. We can take all back, if we get out." Buffum raised quite a laugh by saying, "Tell him, Pittenger, that 'all we ask is to be let alone.'" This was an extract from one of Jefferson Davis' own addresses. But it did not go in the letter. The following is a copy of the document, obtained from the Confederate archives:
"Atlanta Jail, August 17, 1862.
"To His Excellency Jefferson Davis,
"President Confederate States of America."Respected Sir,—We are United States soldiers regularly detailed from our command to obey the orders of Andrews. He was a stranger to us, and we ignorant of his design, but, of course, we obeyed our officers. You are no doubt familiar with all we did, or can find it recorded in the trial of our comrades. Since then, Andrews himself and seven of us have been executed, and fourteen survive. Is this not enough for vengeance and for a warning to others? Would mercy in our case be misplaced? We have already been closely confined for more than four months. Will you not, sir, display a noble generosity by putting us on the same footing as prisoners of war, and permitting us to be exchanged, and thus show that in this terrible war the South still feels the claim of mercy and humanity?
"If you will be so good as to grant this request we will ever be grateful to you.
"Please inform us of your decision as soon as convenient."
Signed by all the survivors,—eight of the Twenty-first Ohio, one of the Second, and five of the Thirty-third, all of Sill's brigade, Mitchel's division.
This paper was forwarded from one officer to another in an ascending grade, and the indorsements on it, and the correspondence which followed, shed much light upon the position and fortunes of our party. But this light did not come to us until long after.
The letter was marked (erroneously as to its address), as follows:
"Petition from the survivors of Andrews' party, who took the engine on the Georgia State Railroad in April last, to Major-General Bragg, commanding Department No. 2."
The first indorsement is that of Colonel Lee, provost-marshal at Atlanta:
"Respectfully forwarded to General Staughton.
"G. W. Lee,
"Commanding Post.""Headquarters Department No. 2, "Chattanooga, August 21, 1862
"Adjutant-General C. S. Army, Richmond, Va.
"Sir,—I have the honor to inclose herewith the petition of W. W. Brown and others, soldiers of the Twenty-first and Second Ohio Regiments, U.S.A., and to request information in the matter. I am, sir, very respectfully,
"Your obedient servant,
"Braxton Bragg,
"General Commanding."
The next indorsement shows a favorable disposition—at least in part:
[Indorsement.]
"Respectfully submitted to the President.
"I recommend that they be respited until further orders, and detained as hostages for our own people in the hands of the enemy.
"G. W. Randolph,
"Secretary of War."
The Secretary of War seems to have had the impression that we had been also tried, and that sentence of death was pending over us. Under such circumstances a respite would have been a valuable boon.
But President Davis is inflexible:
[Indorsement.]
"Secretary of War, inquire whether there is anything to justify a discrimination between them and others who were executed for the same offence. J. D."
The inquiry thus ordered was at once begun:
[Indorsement.]
"Write to Major G. W. Lee, provost-marshal at Atlanta, and inquire why fourteen of the engine thieves were respited while the others were executed, and whether there is anything distinguishing their case.
"G. W. Randolph,
"Secretary of War."
Only the responses to these inquiries were preserved on file at Richmond, and are now in Washington. They show the degree of confusion and misunderstanding which prevailed at the rebel capital:
"Headquarters, Atlanta, Ga., Sept. 16, 1862.
"Hon. G. W. Randolph, Secretary of War, Richmond, Va.
"Sir,—Your communication of the 11th inst. is duly to hand. In reply, I have respectfully to say that the arrest, incarceration, trial, and execution of the prisoners you refer to occurred before I took charge of this post by your order. I found a number of prisoners on my arrival, and among them the men named in the petition transmitted.
"Inclosed I transmit the papers handed over to me by my predecessor. Since the reception of your letter I have endeavored to find Captain Foreacre, and ascertain something more, explaining what I was not conversant with in the transaction, but as his business takes him away from the city, I have not as yet had an interview with him. I will still seek occasion to find him, and give you all the information learned from him. You will please find inclosed the names of the engine-stealers and bridge-burners who are confined in the jail of this city. It is entirely out of my power to answer you as to 'why fourteen of the engine thieves were respited while the others were executed, and whether or not there is anything to justify a discrimination in their favor?' as I am not informed in relation to the proceedings of the court-martial that tried the men.
"I am, sir,
"Respectfully your obt. servt.,
"G. W. Lee,
"Commanding Post, and Provost-Marshal."
The inclosures consist of the seven death-sentences, one of which has already been given, and the following lists, which show a number of glaring errors. According to the first we had all been court-martialled, but only the seven sentenced. The second is wrong in the placing of several names. The manner in which the word "spies" is interlined in the "charges" of the first list is also suggestive.
"List of Prisoners sent to Atlanta, Ga., June 13, 1862, from Knoxville, Tenn., by command of Major-General E. Kirby Smith:
| Names. | Residence. | Charges: | ||||
| Spies, | ||||||
| 1. | Wilson Brown | Ohio. | Court-martialled | and sentenced | Engine | stealing. |
| 2. | Marion Ross | " | " | " | " | " |
| 3. | W. H. Campbell | " | " | " | " | " |
| 4. | John Scott | " | " | " | " | " |
| 5. | Perry G. Shadrach | " | " | " | " | " |
| 6. | G. D. Wilson | " | " | " | " | " |
| 7. | Samuel Slavens | " | " | " | " | " |
| 8. | S. Robinson | " | " | " | " | " |
| 9. | E. H. Mason | " | " | " | " | |
| 10. | Wm. Knight | " | " | " | " | |
| 11. | Robt. Buffins | " | " | " | " | |
| 12. | Wm. Pettinger | " | " | " | " | |
| 13. | Captain David Fry | Green Co., Tenn. | Bridge-burning and recruiting for | |||
| Federal army. | ||||||
| 14. | G. W. Barlow | Washington Co., Tenn. | Obstructing railroad track. | |||
| 15. | Thos. McCoy | Morgan Co., " | ||||
| Peter Pierce | Campbell Co., " | Prisoners of war— | ||||
| John Barker | Estill Co., " | Federal soldiers. | ||||
| Bennet Powers | Lincoln Co., " | |||||
"Respectfully submitted by order.
"Wm. M. Churchwell,
"Colonel, and Provost-Marshal."
"List of Prisoners in Atlanta City Jail, September 16, 1862.
| ENGINE-STEALERS. | |
| M. J. Hawkins, | W. Reddick, |
| J. Parrott, | D. A. Dorsey, |
| W. Bensinger, | J. K. Porter, |
| A. Wilson, | M. Wood, |
| E. H. Mason, | W. W. Brown, |
| W. Knight, | R. Bufman, |
| W. Pettinger, | David Fry, |
| J. J. Barker. | |
| BRIDGE-BURNERS. | |
| T. McCoy, | P. Pierce, |
| B. Powers, | Jno. Walls, |
| Jno. Green, | R. White, |
| H. Mills, | J. Tompkins, |
| G. D. Barlow, | Jno. Wollam." |
The next day Provost-Marshal Lee wrote again as follows:
"Headquarters, Atlanta, Ga.,
"September 17, 1862."Hon. G. W. Randolph, Secretary of War, Richmond, Va.
"Sir,—I respectfully forward to you hereby all that I have been enabled to obtain from my predecessor, Captain Foreacre.
"The documents relating to the cases, so far as I know anything about them, were forwarded to you on yesterday.
"I am, sir, very respectfully,
"Your obedient servant,
"G. W. Lee,
"Commanding Post, and Provost-Marshal."
The following letter, inclosed from Captain Foreacre, is wrong in saying that some of the party had been tried but not sentenced. Yet this was the obvious belief of the Confederate authorities:
"Atlanta, Ga., September 16, 1862.
"Hon. G. W. Randolph, Secretary of War, Richmond, Va.
"Dear Sir,—Your letter of September 11, 1862, to Major Lee, provost-marshal, has been shown me by him, and, as far as I am acquainted with the matter, General Smith only sent from Knoxville instructions and orders to have seven of them hung, which was promptly attended to by myself.
"The remaining fourteen were reported to this office only for safe-keeping,—some having been tried, but not sentenced, and others not tried. The only office which can properly answer your inquiry is that of Major-General E. K. Smith.
"I have the honor to remain,
"Your obedient servant,
"G. I. Foreacre."
No record of any further inquiry remains. Whether the matter was there dropped, or orders issued for opening the whole question by a court-martial, remains uncertain. But these documents make it almost certain that all the party, or at least the twelve who were sent to Knoxville, were destined to be tried and condemned; that at the abrupt breaking up of the court, no record was put on file of the cause of the interruption; and that the authorities at Atlanta and Richmond expected the court at Knoxville, which they assumed to have finished its work, to give orders for our disposal. That court never reconvened. Its members were dispersed all over the South. The commanding general, E. Kirby Smith, was transferred to a distant department. We were forgotten, and thus the strange respite we enjoyed is explained. But would it continue?
Some of the Confederate officers had formed a theory of their own to account for the death of seven of our number and the sparing of the remainder. They assumed that those put to death were volunteers, while the others were detailed by their officers. But there were no grounds for such a supposition.
While this correspondence was in progress, Colonel Lee came to our door one day, and had a long talk with us about our expedition and prison experiences. He finally told us of receiving a letter from the Secretary of War at Richmond asking why we had not all been executed! He asked us the reason, and one of the party, who had not totally forgotten his experience of duplicity in the early part of our enterprise, said that it had been thought that there were some mitigating circumstances in our case. The marshal said that he could give no reason, but had referred the Secretary to the court-martial at Knoxville, and that he was now awaiting orders concerning us. On our request he promised to visit us again when he should receive an answer from Richmond. We told him of the manner in which our comrades had been put to death without warning. He admitted the wrong, but disclaimed responsibility for it, as it occurred before he came into command.
We waited anxiously for his return for several days, but waited in vain. It was urged that we had heard enough already, and that now, if ever, we ought to strike for life. But I was of another opinion. The enterprise of escaping was of enormous difficulty, and success, at the best, doubtful. I did not think that, in our enfeebled condition, after six months of terrible hardship and partial starvation, we were the men we had been. It was my judgment that nothing but the certainty of death on the one hand could give the necessary vigor, spring, and desperation to command success on the other. Despair might nerve us to throw ourselves with resistless fury on the bayonets of the guards, but this fury would come only when the last hope was dead. My reasoning prevailed, and we waited a little longer.
But evidence came soon that ended hesitation. More of the guard was kept on duty at once, and greater vigilance was everywhere apparent. We fancied that the old jailer regarded us with unusual compassion. But through the stove-pipe, from our friends in the other room, came the decisive information. The prisoners there saw the provost-marshal ride up to the gate, have the jailer called out, and heard him give orders to watch those engine-thieves closely, as he had been notified that a court was ordered for their trial. The same evening the jailer said to them that he was very sorry for the poor Yankees in the other room, for every man of them would be hung! This word was conveyed to us, and longer doubt would have been folly.
We were now ready for the emergency, and had fully discussed and settled our plans. We were in the upper story of the jail. Our room was entered by a double door,—one of heavy plank, and one of iron slats. If this was opened, we would only be in the entry, and would have still to go down-stairs into a hall and pass another door before we could gain the jail-yard. This, in turn, was surrounded by a board fence eight or ten feet high, and having but a single gate, which was usually closed. Seven fully-armed soldiers were constantly on guard, with an unknown reserve close at hand. We could depend on help from no one of the prisoners except Captain Fry, so that we were but fifteen, and even two or three of these were too sick to be of great value in a fight. Then we were in the skirts of the town, fully a mile from the nearest woods. One advantage, and the only one on which I relied, was that of surprise. We knew what we were to do, and the strong motive that impelled it.
All plans looking to sawing out and swinging to the ground at night, as in Chattanooga, had been canvassed and rejected. What we meant to do was to break out in open daylight and overpower the guards. The most favorable time was when the doors were opened for bringing in our supper, which was a little before sundown, as by starting then we would soon have the cover of darkness. It was arranged to seize the jailer when he came to remove the pans in which our supper was brought, and to keep him perfectly quiet while all the doors were being unlocked, for we wished to release all the other prisoners. At the same moment the other members of the party, divided into two squads, were to cautiously descend the stairway, pounce upon the guards, and take their guns from them. If this was done in perfect quiet, the guards were to be locked up, and we, taking their arms, would march out on our homeward journey. As soon as discovered we were to break into parties of two and strike out for Union territory by widely-diverging lines.
All our plans were completed. We had patched our clothes as well as possible, and made cloth moccasins to protect our feet, many of our shoes being worn out. We only waited the coming of the appointed hour.
Slowly the sun sunk down the west; slowly the shadows lengthened in the east, till the gloomy shade of the jail had nearly reached the crest of the hill that usually marked our supper-time. We bade each other a solemn farewell, for we knew not if we should ever meet again on earth, or how many of us might be cold and lifeless before the stars shone out. We prayed fervently, though we dared not kneel or speak aloud. Captain Fry, who was tender-hearted as a child, wept at the parting. He had two large coats, and as he could not take both with him in the expected rush, he generously gave one to me. I needed it extremely, for I was very nearly destitute of clothing. He and I were to be companions, according to a previous arrangement.
Everything was put in readiness. I had carefully piled in a corner such of the books belonging to the minister as we still retained, and had written him a note of thanks for them. Anything that could be used as a weapon was now put within reach.
At last the supper-hour came. We could not afford to lose a morsel of the scanty food, and ate it in silence. The jailer was not accustomed to come into the room, but merely opened the door and admitted the negroes who bore the pans filled with corn-bread. Old Thoer, the watchman whom everybody hated, was fortunately away. It was well, or he might have suffered. Turner we respected, and were determined not to injure if we could help it. After the jailer had given their food to the inmates of the other rooms he came back to ours and swung open the creaking door to remove the food-pans. This was the signal.
It was a thrilling moment! On the action of the next few seconds hung the issues of life or death. I confess that for one instant the blood flowed to my heart with a sharp, piercing throb, and there came a sudden and terrible fear lest the fever-weakened body would not in this crisis obey the dictates of will. But this ceased before the door had swung wide enough open to admit the passage of a man. The others were pale but determined, and a single glance told me that there would be no faltering. As for Captain Fry, who was to initiate the movement,—supported by myself,—and whom I had seen weeping a few minutes before, he was perfectly calm, and his face wore a pleasant smile! As soon as the door had swung far enough he stepped adroitly through it as if this were the most natural thing in the world, and said, very quietly,—
"A pleasant evening, Mr. Turner."
"Yes,—rather—pleasant," responded the jailer, looking bewildered by this movement, as he no doubt was.
"We feel like taking a little walk this evening," continued the captain, while the door was forced clear back, and three of us stood abreast in it ready to spring.
The astonishment of the jailer now knew no bounds. "What?—how?—where?" he gasped, in broken ejaculations.
Fry's countenance grew darker as he clasped the old man in his arms, and said,—
"We have stayed as long as we can stand it, and are now going to leave and let the other prisoners out; so give up the keys, and make no noise about it, or it will be the worse for you!"
Turner tightened his grasp on the keys, whispered, hoarsely, "You can't do that," then threw himself back and began in a loud tone, "Guar—" when my hand closed across his mouth and stifled the incipient call for help. He bit my finger, but did no great damage.
Then came the rush of the prisoners,—quick, stealthy, cat-like. Not a sound was audible a dozen yards away. The negroes huddled in a corner of the room in stupid fright, but had sense enough to be quiet. Turner struggled violently, for he was a man of great strength, but Fry and I kept him mute; the keys were twisted from him, and Buffum was soon at work on the locks of the other doors. Quietly the assaulting column descended the stairway and burst out upon the guards outside. If they committed a fault, it was in being too quick. In one minute Buffum would have had the other doors unlocked, and then, throwing aside the disarmed jailer, Fry, Buffum, and myself, reinforced by all the prisoners who chose to go with us, would have stood by their side in the second charge. This trifling circumstance did make a considerable difference in the result,—at least, to some of us.
Seven sentinels were on duty,—three in the back yard, four in the front yard. The charge upon the former was completely successful, their guns being wrested from them before they knew their danger, and they were kept perfectly quiet under the threat—which would have been executed—of instant death.
The attack in the front yard was made with equal gallantry and skill, but not with equal success. Two rebels stood near the front door of the prison, and these were secured in the same manner as their comrades at the rear, and held in silence. Had the remaining two been close at hand, I have no doubt they would have fared as their comrades, and thus the unparalleled feat of twelve unarmed prisoners taking the loaded muskets from seven guards on their post would have been accomplished. But, unfortunately, the last two stood at the open gate. Their conduct was not brave but it was wise, for, without firing a shot, they ran out through the gate, screaming the alarm in tones that roused the whole neighborhood. The reserve guard was close at hand, and at once rushed to the rescue.
The whole action, from the time Fry stepped out of the door until the wild cry was raised at the gate, was probably less than sixty seconds. Fry and myself were preparing to secure the jailer, for we knew not yet that the attack was made. Buffum had opened two doors, and was working at the third when the wild, thrilling cry of alarm arose from below. Those within adjured him to open, and the brave man, though his own chances of life were lessening each second, worked till the door opened, and then violently flung it wide, with an impatient "there!" while he bounded down the stairway like a hunted deer.
All secrecy was at an end, and the only remaining hope was in headlong flight. Our comrades in the yard saw their peril, and were in a little better position than those of us who were still inside the jail. They let go their terrified enemies, flung away the guns, which now could only impede their flight, and, scaling the board fence, made for the woods nearly a mile away. Even for the foremost of them it was a fearful race. Rebel bullets whistled around their ears, but none of them was hit. Indeed, I am inclined to think that it was a fortunate thing for our comrades that the rebels had guns to carry, and stopped to fire whenever they came near a fugitive. Otherwise hundreds of fresh, vigorous soldiers—for there were soon hundreds on the scene—could have run down a dozen half-starved prisoners.
Fry and myself started down-stairs together as soon as Buffum had opened the last door,—only a moment after the alarm had been given, but moments were more precious then than common months. The captain was a little in advance. His eagle eye took in the situation, as in two leaps he cleared the stairway. He saw there was no chance in the front yard, now filled with armed rebels, and darted to the back door, found a passage to the yard fence, scaled it just before a complete guard was stretched around the prison, was fired at on the fence, but descended in safety, and run in a different direction from the other fugitives. Finally, a soldier levelled his musket at him, and he fell. One of our own men who saw this, and no more, reported that he was killed, and we long mourned the brave man as dead. But this was only a stratagem to gain his breath for a moment. His pursuers turned towards other game, and he rose, and, after a second hard chase, gained the cover of the woods. Thirty days after he had reached Nashville in safety.
I was to have been his companion, according to the allotment we made before leaving the prison, and our boys almost envied me the advantage of being with so experienced a mountain traveller. But a moment's misfortune made this advantage unavailing, and doomed me to further sufferings. My eyes have always been defective, and especially sensitive to sudden variations of light. When I came from the dark prison room (the hall was equally dark) into full light, for a moment I could see nothing distinctly. I lost sight of Fry. It would not do to stand still, and I rushed for the prison-gate. Many a time defective vision has been a source of annoyance and vexation, but never so much as then. Before getting to the gate I could see better, and was confronted by two soldiers, who were tossing their guns about in a distracted manner, and crying, "What shall we do? Oh, what shall we do?" They did not look dangerous, and I ran by; but just in the gate I met a stream of fresh guards coming on the run. Of course they halted me, and equally, of course, I did not halt, but turned back towards the jail. There were other guards around, one of whom snapped his gun at me when not two yards away. I eluded them, got into the jail again, and out at the back door. This time I reached the top of the yard fence, but a dozen muskets were lifted from the outside to fire. To jump down on that side was inevitable death. One chance only remained. Possibly the gate now was not watched! I sprang back into the yard, and other guards were after me. The prison-door was open, and I entered, seeking to pass through it as before, and get outside the gate for a clear race. But the front door was now guarded also, and, as I turned, I found my pursuers in the back door. I was fairly trapped,—back in the prison again! It was a terrible situation. If I could crush between the two men who stood with loaded muskets in the door, their comrades were outside, and it was simply death to attack them. In sheer desperation, I turned my back upon them, not caring whether they fired or not, and walked up-stairs to a window, from which I could see something of the fearful race still going on, and note the streams of troops pouring towards the prison. My guards pointed their guns at me, but did not offer to come near, and when I walked from the hall window into a room,—not our own, but another which commanded a better view,—I found in it the four Federal soldiers, its former occupants, who had made no attempt to get away, the alarm and the rapid firing which followed convincing them that it was safer to remain where they were.
Parrott and Reddick were recaptured inside the wall, like myself. Buffum got over the wall about the same time as Captain Fry, but was less fortunate. A soldier singled him out, and squarely ran him down. When hardly able to drag another step, and with the inexorable armed runner within a rod of him, Buffum tried a "Yankee trick." (He was a native of Massachusetts.) Sinking down exhausted, he said, "I surrender. You can go on and get that other fellow," pointing to one a few rods away. "No," answered the man, with a great oath, "I've got you, and I mean to keep you." So he stood with his gun aimed until some of his comrades arrived, and poor Buffum was marched back to jail. Had the man taken his advice, and looked for a bird in the bush, the one in hand would doubtless have flown. Mason and Bensinger were also captured outside of the wall, making a recapture of six and an escape of nine,—a better result than I had supposed probable when we planned the attempt.
From the window of the front room where I then was I had a good view of the proceedings below. In a short time a large body of troops, including a regiment of cavalry, were drawn up in front of the jail. I heard Colonel Lee give his orders. He said, "Don't take one of the villains alive. Shoot them down wherever you find them," with many similar expressions, which were possibly meant for the benefit of those inside the prison as well as for the troops. He also ordered pickets to be placed at the ferries of the Chattahoochee, along the railroad, and also at all cross-roads,—an arrangement that pleased me, for we had agreed to avoid those very places. Our intention had been to travel in the night-time through the woods, and to cross the rivers on logs as far from ferries as possible.
Hearing some confused sounds of distress from the room of the Tennesseeans, I inquired the cause, and learned that a young man, named Barlow, who alone of their number had attempted to escape, had broken his ankle. This injury was received in jumping from the outside fence. He was driven back to the prison room, where surgical aid was refused, and he finally died after great suffering.
Of all who were up-stairs at the time the alarm was given, only Fry and one other man succeeded in escaping. The latter was a deserter from the rebel army, and being very active and fleet, reached the shelter of the woods in advance of all the fugitives.
From the window I could hear the guards, all night long, talking over their adventures. Generally they praised their own bravery liberally, but occasionally some one who had arrived later would suggest that it was not much to their credit to let unarmed men snatch their guns from them; but such suggestions were not kindly received, and the work of self-glorification went on. One of them expressed astonishment at the speed of the Yankees, who had been so long kept in jail; another accounted for it by the abundant practice in running Yankee soldiers had received in battle!
All night long I lay in a hammock which one of the regular soldiers had swung by the window, but now kindly resigned to me, and listened to the boastful conversation below.
"Sadly I thought of the morrow."
There was little reason to doubt that full vengeance would be dealt to each man who remained in the enemy's power. The news we had received, and which we had agreed in crediting, was the end of all hope. Death, which had stared us in the face so often, could not be far distant now. Another escape would scarcely be left by the aroused vigilance of the enemy within the realms of possibility. And such a death! No vision of glory to dazzle the sight, and hide the grim monster from view, or wreathe him in flowers. No eye of friends to behold the last struggle. No sympathy,—nothing but ignominy and an impenetrable darkness, beyond which no loving eye might ever pierce! But even as the cold horror of the scaffold, and the vision of the heartless, jeering crowd rose freshly before me, I looked out in the clear night, and up to the shining stars, and remembered that I had one Friend,—a Friend who would not fear to stand with me on the scaffold, and who had Himself tasted the bitterness of a public execution. Was it for me he had died,—to show me that no outward shame is too great to be borne by the true heart? With the thought came a still and heavenly peace, while my hope, finding no place on this side, overleaped the darkness of death and dwelt upon the scenes of promised happiness beyond. It is in such hours that the value and supporting power of religion is fully realized.
The next morning the jailer put me back into the room formerly occupied. When all had gathered, we were only six in number,—Mason, Buffum, Bensinger, Reddick, Parrott, and myself. We had enough to talk over for many hours. The jailer, too, had his story to tell. He said that some man put his hand over his mouth and nearly smothered him, but added, with great satisfaction, "I bit his finger terribly, and gave the rascal a mark he will carry to the grave with him." However, though he did bite hard, his teeth were not so sharp as he thought, and he had only managed to inflict a slight bruise. I kept my hand out of sight in his presence for a day or two, and he had no idea that I was the person of whom he complained, as his fright prevented his clearly distinguishing anything. He was rather cross for a while, and always brought up the guards when he came to feed us.
About the middle of the day some officers came to see us, and talked very roughly. With many threats, they demanded to know what direction our comrades had intended to travel. I was glad of this, as it assured me that some were still at large. They professed to have killed several, and declared that they meant to kill the others as fast as they were taken. In answer to their demand I told them the truth, as I thought that would do them as little good as anything else. I said,—
"They intend to try to get to the Union lines; and they said that it made little difference which way they went, for our forces have you so completely surrounded, that travelling in any course will do equally well."
Being unable to get anything more definite, they retired.
Not until our own release did we learn with certainty the fate of our eight comrades. Nothing in this whole story seems more wonderful than their adventures and ultimate success. Two went South, two West, and four others, in two groups, went Northward. To recite the adventures of all would detain us too long, but the reader will expect some account. We will give two of the four narratives in some detail, and the others more briefly.