In a short time he returned, seemingly in the same mood, and with well-feigned indignation, handed over the coat. On examination I found a newspaper in one of the pockets which contained an account of the evacuation of Corinth, the surrender of Island No. 10, and the bombardment of Fort Pillow, New Orleans, and other important information of which we had previously known nothing! This little artifice and its successful management, while it furnished me with very cheering intelligence, also gave me an elevated opinion of Tom’s native talents.
Other prisoners continued to arrive, many of whom had been wounded in the battle of Shiloh, and new quarters were prepared for them. They were incarcerated in an old stone building not far from our prison, and although wounded and almost famished, were compelled to lie upon the hard floor, their wounds undressed, and their physical wants unattended to. I obtained permission to visit them, and as I entered the house my eyes were pained by a sight that beggars description. Eighteen prisoners, “crushed by pain and smart,” occupied the room. There were men in that room who had been wounded for two weeks, and who, during that whole time, had not received the slightest attention. The result had been that their wounds were tainted with putrid flesh, and alive with crawling maggots! I obtained a list of their names at the time, but, as the reader will hereafter learn, was subsequently compelled to burn it. The only apology the rebel authorities could offer for this brutal neglect was that they were too busily employed in attending to the wants of their own to look to the welfare of others.
Many of the men died, some from their wounds, and others from disease. The sad and sickening scenes of prison life daily harrowed up the soul’s keener susceptibilities, and one by one they yielded up their lives a sacrifice for liberty.
On one occasion, I heard the guards engaged in an animated discussion concerning their participation in the war. One of them remarked:
“Bill, you and I are both poor men, and what in the name of God are we fighting for?”
“Why, Tom, you haven’t turned traitor to the Confederacy, have you?”
“No,” said he, “I can’t say that I have, but I’d like mighty well to know what profit this whole thing will be to us poor people. I have a family, you know; and I have been forced to leave them, and here I am. You know how everything hes riz. There’s flour now, and you can’t git a barrel for less nor forty dollars, and pork is fifty dollars a hundred, and there aint a bit of salt to be got for love nor money. Now, I’d jist like to know what a man’s family is going to do under such circumstances?”
Bill answered by saying:
“This war aint a-going to last long. How’ll them fellers do without cotton. They’ll have to give in afore two months, for all their manufactures have stopped now.”
“Don’t you believe a word of that ’ere stuff. It’s all gammon, I tell you. They can do without us a great deal better nor we can do without them. They’ve got the whole world to resort to, and can git their supplies anywhere they please.”