A CONFEDERATE COURT-MARTIAL.
Before describing the adventures of Wollam—Andrews' companion in flight from the Chattanooga prison—we will turn towards the twelve prisoners destined for Knoxville, where a yet more fearful tragedy was in preparation.
On parting from our comrades we were escorted to the cars by Colonel Cleiburne, where we found, much to our gratification, that we were to be guarded by a party of Morgan's guerrillas, whose exploits were then greatly celebrated. Cleiburne recommended us to the humane care of these partisans, saying, "These prisoners are men, like other men, and gentlemen too, and I want them treated as such." This charge from the generous Irishman, for such he was, did much to secure courteous treatment from our guard. Indeed, the position of the irregular soldiers who served under the guerrilla chief was such as to make them admire rather than blame the bold enterprise that led to our capture. They were themselves in citizen's dress, and were not always careful to provide uniforms before penetrating into the Federal lines. A considerable number of their comrades had been captured under such circumstances, and were, by every rule of right, equally liable with ourselves to be treated as criminals. Indeed, the position of some of their captured comrades was still more questionable, for they had assumed the United States uniform whenever they found it to their advantage. The inconsistency of the rebel government in treating our party so harshly is conclusively shown by the fact that they had passed laws for the encouragement of just such irregular warfare.
But we have no complaint to make of these dashing guerrillas. They were very indignant to see us in irons, and offered to be responsible for our safe-keeping if these were removed; but this was not allowed.
As was common in our removals from prison to prison, we had been started without any rations,—not so much, I presume, from wanton cruelty as because it was no one's especial business to furnish provisions. As the journey occupied twenty-four hours (and we were hungry to begin with), our privation would have been considerable but for the generosity of Morgan's men. They bought pies and whatever else they could find at the station eating-houses, and literally feasted us. From the time of our capture we had not experienced such treatment, and only hoped that these generous enemies might have charge of us as long as we remained in Confederate territory,—a hope which was not realized. We never met them again.
We arrived in Knoxville shortly after noon, having spent the night on the cars, and were marched through the hot, dusty streets to the city jail,—an old building of peculiar architecture,—solid, square, and massive, presenting quite an imposing appearance. It was used as a military prison, and was filled from top to bottom with ragged, dirty-looking prisoners. Some Union men, and several rebel soldiers who had been captured while attempting to desert, were with them. These constituted the less-valued class of prisoners, and were permitted to range over most of the building, which, however, was completely encircled outside, and watched in every passage-way, by a strong guard.
The class of prisoners whose offences were considered of a more aggravated character were shut up in cages. There were five of these cages, two of which were at once cleared for our reception. The smaller was seven by nine feet, and four of us were put in it. The larger was perhaps ten by twelve, and held the remaining eight.
We arrived at Knoxville in the latter part of May, and remained until June 10. Outside, the weather was intensely warm, but the enormous mass of iron and stone in the walls of the prison made it comparatively cool within. The days here spent were not altogether unpleasant. Our food was scanty and of indifferent quality, but as long as we were allowed hope I did not feel much disposed to complain of this. Besides, many of the Union men of Knoxville, who visited us, were liberal in the gift of money, and by employing the services of those prisoners who were less strictly guarded, we were able to get many an extra loaf of bread.
We here became acquainted with some Tennesseeans who were long our companions. One of the most remarkable was an old man named Pierce. He presented a most peculiar appearance, having at some period of his history received a terrible blow with a gun-barrel, which left a permanent gash more than an inch deep clear across the forehead from the nose to his hair. From this circumstance he was variously known in the prison as "Forked Head," "Old Gun-barrel," etc. He presented the singular combination of great piety and great profanity, singing hymns and cursing the Confederacy with equal zeal. But his friendship for Union soldiers knew no bounds, and, being very bold, he was able to render us many valuable services.
Another East Tennesseean, more widely known, was Captain Fry, of Greenville, a town near the Virginia boundary. He was confined in a cage, and considered by our guards almost equally criminal with ourselves. Early in the war he had gathered a number of his neighbors, and, running the gauntlet of guarded roads, succeeded in reaching our army in Kentucky. Here he was appointed captain of his recruits, and remained for some time. When an advance into East Tennessee through Cumberland Gap was contemplated, the Union general asked him to return to his home, organize the loyal citizens of that vicinity, burn the bridges on the Richmond and Knoxville Railroad, and then to keep possession of the mountainous region till our forces could arrive. With the most explicit assurances of speedy aid, he departed on his perilous mission. Success on his part was rapid and complete. He raised fifteen hundred men, obstructed all communications, burned the bridges, and seriously threatened Knoxville itself. A very small Union reinforcement could then have rendered invaluable services, and all the men needed for the work were assembled not far from Cumberland Gap. But the attention of the military authorities was then turned in another direction, and the plan of advancing into East Tennessee was accordingly abandoned. No word of the change reached Fry, who struggled on alone. But the odds were too great. An overwhelming force of the enemy was thrown upon him, and after several contests he and his brave men were forced to disperse. A few succeeded in reaching the loyal lines, and these mostly enlisted in our army. Others were captured, and many of them hanged as rebels! General Leadbetter was very conspicuous in this savage work. Fry himself passed the whole winter in hiding among the wild mountains of that section, and in the spring mustered several hundred of those who were fugitives like himself, and tried to reach the Union lines. Near the border he was overtaken by a superior rebel force, and after a severe contest he was defeated, wounded, and taken prisoner. This was on the 5th of March, 1862, and he was kept in solitary confinement until placed with us on the 11th of June following. Captain Fry's subsequent fortunes were closely united with those of our party—indeed, with my own—and will be related in due time.