THE WHIPPING POST—TORTURING NEGROES—STARVING OUR PRISONERS—THE CHARLESTON JAIL—OUR OFFICERS VINDICATED.
At Augusta we were put in close confinement again, under the tender auspices of a man named Bridges—a New York Yankee. He certainly can boast, hereafter, of one thing: the discovery of the smallest amount of food which is required to support human life. We were in the jail at Augusta 57 days, and at the end of that time, were so starved as to be mere shadows of what we were. I could no longer walk steadily, and felt as weak as when just beginning to walk after a severe attack of typhoid fever.
At the end of that time, Captain Bradford, the rebel Provost Marshal, came to see me, and we had a very pleasant conversation. He said that he used to be a scout in their service, and had been promoted for meritorious service. He informed us that our case had been submitted to their Secretary of War, and that the order was "close confinement during the war." Capt. Dearing also used to call and see us, once in a while; and the Catholic priest there, Rev. Father Dugan, once called to see me; aside from these, we never saw any one but the turnkeys, unless it was a prisoner, or some one who wanted to see a prisoner, while we were there. In the cell opposite mine was a man confined for whipping a negro to death, while in that on my right, was a negro charged with murder; in a neighboring cell was a Yankee confined for bigamy; nearly over my head, in the second story, was a negro woman, held for attempting to poison her mistress; and somewhere near her was an Italian soldier, in the Federal service, whom the rebels claimed as a deserter from their army. The "big room" was filled with rebel deserters, thieves, pickpockets and all sorts of petty villains.
In the next cell above mine, was an "institution" which has been a curse to our country, and a disgrace to our own character as freemen; and an "institution" which has been the witness of more agonizing torture in the South, than any of us can imagine—the whipping post—that ready means of inflicting terrible and summary punishment, without any trial or other law, than the caprice of the master, or mistress. I did not see this machine, because I never got up there; but managed to draw an accurate description of it from Luck, a negro, who was undergoing sentence upon it, and had been whipped upon it repeatedly. He described it as being made of heavy square timbers, in the form of a cross; and at the ends of the arms were iron fetters, made to clasp around the wrist, and hold them outstretched; and at the bottom were similar irons to secure the feet. The victim is first stripped naked, then stretched upon the cross, and made fast, when a turnkey plies a whip, with a short handle, and a broad heavy strap, punched full of holes for a lash, and which is, altogether, about two feet and a half long. The strap strikes flatwise, and wherever there is a hole through it, a blister raises in the skin; and if it be a heavy blow the edge of the leather around the openings cuts the skin open, around the blister, and the wounds bleed profusely.
There was scarcely a day that there was not one whipped, while I was in that jail; and sometimes there were as many as six flogged in one day; and generally from three to five. I have counted the blows at times, and once they numbered one hundred and eighty-seven, when the punishment was stopped, by the victim becoming insensible. He must have been a very robust man, for most generally when they were whipped so hard, they would faint under from twenty to forty lashes—according to the force with which they were laid on. It was the custom, the turnkey said, for the careful master to stand by, to regulate that matter to suit himself. I could generally give a close estimate of the age of the slave they were punishing, by the sound of the voice. Sometimes the pleading would be heavy and strong, as though it came from a large man; at other times I could hear the wailing cries of a feeble, and sometimes of a healthy young woman; and occasionally I heard children screaming under the terrible torture; and once in a while I would recognize the trembling voice of an old man. Their struggles would, at times, be almost superhuman, as they writhed in their iron manacles; and I have often stopped my ears to shut out their heart-rending supplications for mercy. This whipping was generally done by a young man named Evans, a turnkey, and the head jailor Bridges, who, as previously stated, was originally from New York. The young man, who was in jail for helping to whip the negro to death, said that they only struck him eighteen blows; but that after he was let down, they allowed him to drink too much water, and that killed him.
"Oh," he said, "they kin stand several hundred, ef you don't let 'em git too much water, while they are hot."
Filled, as this jail was, with all sorts of villains, guilty of every degree of crime, it was certainly a hard place for any man to find himself.
When we had been there fifty-seven days, we were taken by a Captain Gunn, under a strong guard, to Charleston, and there turned over to Maj.-Gen. Jones, who, I am sorry to have to say it, robbed us of two hundred and eighty dollars in Confederate money. Well, it wasn't much in quantity, and was worth perhaps less in value, but it really looked mean for a Major General to steal from us what even the militia allowed us to keep. At Gen. Jones' quarters, Captain Gunn and guard left us. They had treated us like gentlemen, and when we were hungry they divided their own rations with us, for the authorities gave us NONE to travel on. I wonder how they would have liked their men traveled on empty stomachs? On the train I saw Dr. Todd, President Lincoln's brother-in-law, and he seemed like a very clever man and a gentleman. He gave each of us a nice, light roll and some ham; nevertheless, he was a strong "secesh." When a command of rebel soldiers began to talk roughly to us, he would say:
"Come, boys, let us be generous to prisoners."