“I am willing to take your word for it,” said the latter, who no doubt knew that Captain Wilkins had given the valise a thorough examination. “I was going to suggest that you had better wrap its contents in your blanket and leave the grip behind. It will only be in your way, and you don’t want too much luggage on the march.”
Marcy thought the suggestion a good one, and with the officer’s permission he fell out long enough to act upon it. By the time he took his place in line again the prisoners who were to be sent away were all assembled in the yard, and the commander and Captain Fletcher had come out of the jail. The few unfortunates who remained behind were suspected of being deserters, and they were to be detained until their record could be investigated. Captain Fletcher handed his book to the strange officer, who proceeded to call the roll a second time, for he had to receipt for the men committed to his care as if they had been so many bags of corn. When this had been done the prisoners were marched through the gate into one of Williamston’s principal streets, the guards with loaded muskets on their shoulders fell in on both sides of them, and their weary journey, which was to end at a point more than three hundred miles away, was fairly begun.
They were nearly three weeks on the road, and during that time not an incident happened that was worthy of record. Marcy afterward said that all he could remember was that he was hungry all the time, and too tired and sleepy to think of escape, even if it had been safe to attempt it. Their veteran guards, who accompanied them no farther than Raleigh, told them that from that point they would travel by rail, and so they did as far as the rails went; but miles of the road-bed had to be traversed on foot because the road itself had been torn up by raiding parties of Union cavalry, who, after heating the rails red-hot, had wrapped them around trees or twisted them into such fantastic shapes that nothing but a rolling-mill could have straightened them out again.
At Raleigh a company of militia took charge of the conscripts (that was what everyone called them and what they called themselves now), and then their sufferings began. Their new guards were absolutely without feeling. The commanding officer either could not or would not keep them supplied with food, nor would he permit them to leave the ranks long enough to get a drink of water. Marcy, who found it hard to keep up under such circumstances, wanted to try what power there might be in one of his gold pieces, but Bowen would not listen to it.
“Not for the world would I have these ruffians know that you have good money in your pocket,” said he earnestly. “They would make some excuse to shoot you in order to get it. Hold fast to every dollar of it, for you will see the time when you will need it worse than you think you do now.”
It was not until they arrived within a few miles of their destination that Marcy and his companions learned where they were going, and what they were expected to do when they got there. Some of the militia who were doing guard duty at the Millen prison pen had been ordered to Savannah, and the conscripts were to take their places; but beyond the fact that Millen was situated somewhere in the eastern part of Georgia, a few miles south of Waynesborough, their ignorant guards could not tell them a thing about it.
“It must be pretty close to the coast, and that’s the way we’ll go when we get ready to make a break,” said Marcy.
“And what would we do if we succeeded in reaching the coast?” demanded Bowen. “It would be the worst move we could make, for it would take us right into danger. There are no Union war ships stationed off the Georgia coast, and even if there were, how could we get out to them? No, sir. We’ll go the other way and strike for the Mississippi.”
“And cross three States?” exclaimed Marcy, astounded at the proposition. “Why, it must be four or five hundred miles in a straight line.”
“No matter if it’s a thousand,” said Bowen obstinately. “We’ll be safe if we go that way, and we’ll be captured and shot if we go the other. If we can only pass Macon I’ll be among friends.”