Part 14 (2/2)

An extra guard, bearing a great number of ropes, came in the morning after the last trial, and we were called out of our cages. This was startling, as we had no hint of their purpose, and the word was even pa.s.sed around that we were all to be taken out and hanged immediately.

But one of the outside prisoners found an opportunity to inform us that he had overheard the commander saying that he was to remove us to prevent our capture in case of a sudden Federal dash upon Knoxville.

This convinced us that we were only to have another of our frequent changes of prisons.

In our cages here we had not been ironed, and, as our fetters had been used on some prisoners sent to Richmond, we were now obliged to content ourselves with a most liberal allowance of cotton rope. It was this provision for tying us which at first excited our apprehensions.

While we were being securely bound I had an amusing pa.s.sage-at-words with the adjutant, who was superintending that operation. I said to him, as politely as I could,--

”I suppose, sir, our destination is not known?”

”It is not known to you at any rate, sir,” was the gruff rejoinder.

This was noticed by the whole party, and I felt rather beaten; but a moment later came my chance for revenge. He turned again to me, and said, in a dictatorial manner,--

”Who was it that run your engine through?”

I bowed, and returned in the blandest tone, ”_That is not known to you at any rate, sir_.”

All the prisoners around roared with laughter, and the adjutant, reddening to the eyes, turned away, muttering that he believed I was the engineer myself!

When the process of tying was completed to the adjutant's satisfaction, we took our departure southward, and pa.s.sed through Chattanooga once more, but, to our satisfaction, did not stop there. We continued southward, in the direction of Atlanta. No rations were taken for us, as usual, and having on this occasion no guerrillas to buy us supplies, we were obliged to fast the whole time. At various stations the populace taunted us with Andrews' death, and charitably hoped we might soon meet the same fate. The remark was often made that we were going to Atlanta to be hanged there, as he had been! Captain Fry, Pierce, and a few other of the East Tennesseeans were taken along with us. Before we reached Chattanooga, we had, as I thought, an excellent chance to effect our escape. The journey was so slow that night came on, and our guard, wearied with the frequent delays, had relaxed their vigilance, and most of them slept by our sides. They exceeded us in numbers, and were armed, while we were tied. But our two months' experience had made us adepts in some of the poor, pitiful arts prisoners soon learn. We could communicate without exciting the suspicions of the soldiers, who were sitting in the very seats with us, and scarcely one of our number had failed to so ”settle himself” in the cotton ropes that they could have been thrown off at a moment's notice. To be ready at a signal, to dash out the two lights that burned in our car, each of us to seize the musket of the man nearest us while the train was in motion, to secure the doors, and let no one get out, or make any alarm, seemed to me easy enough. Then we could have uncoupled our car, and, _with the arms of our guard_, have started across the country towards the Union lines, which could not have been more than thirty or forty miles west of us. But George D. Wilson opposed the project with all his energy. He thought we might succeed, but some would probably be killed in the scuffle, and all might be captured outside, and then our case be made much worse, while by simply remaining quiet, we were sure of a speedy exchange. He had talked for hours with the captain of our guard, who was certain that our case had been virtually decided in our favor. He encouraged Wilson by saying that he had heard officers high in authority say that it had been necessary to execute Mr. Andrews, as he was a Confederate citizen, and as an example; but that this was enough, and that no other would suffer anything worse than possibly, if no favorable exchange could be arranged, the penalty of being kept to the close of the war. This, in Wilson's opinion, was not far distant. Wilson's opposition made us regretfully yield the attempt. Could the future have been foreseen our decision would undoubtedly have been reversed.

Atlanta, we found, was our destination. Here, almost in the centre of the rebel States, the Confederates were as yet free from interruption by Union armies. Andrews had already perished in this city, and here our own fate was to be determined. As we marched, with ropes bound tightly round our hands and pinioning our arms, from the depot to the Atlanta city jail, a crowd gathered around us, as usual, and a man, calling himself the mayor of the city, addressed himself first to Captain Fry, telling him that he knew his history and would soon have the pleasure of hanging him. Then turning to us, he boasted that he had put the rope around Andrews' neck and was waiting and anxious to do the same for us!

The city prison was much smaller than that at Knoxville, but was quite a large edifice. The lower story was occupied by the jailer and family.

The upper story contained four rooms, two on each side of an entry, into which the staircase from below led. We, in company with Captain Fry, were given one of these rooms. The other Tennesseeans brought from Knoxville with us were put into another, just across the entry from us.

Our comrades, who had been left behind at Chattanooga, had been in this building ever since the death of Andrews, and in the third room. The fourth room was on the same side as our own, and had a succession of occupants,--frequently negroes who had been in search of the North Star.

This jail was to be our home for many eventful months.

For some days our food was comparatively good and abundant. Turner, the jailer, was a kind man, and, in a mild way, of Union sentiments. He showed us all the favor in his power, and, indeed, became so much suspected that an odious old man named Th.o.e.r was sent to watch him. The change in our condition was at once manifest. Our fare became worse and more scanty than in any former prison. The constant vigilance of this spy kept the jailer from doing anything to mitigate our sufferings. But in this prison we had one great relief. Our ropes were removed and no chains or handcuffs put upon us. Within our prison-cell we were free.

Here we remained in quiet for a week, thinking the worst of our trials now over. Little did we imagine how fearful a storm was about to burst over us.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE CROWNING HORROR.

The event described in this chapter will never be effaced from the memory of any witness. Nothing more terrible or more gratuitously barbarous is recorded in the annals of civilized war. The seven men of whose death I am now to write were all young,--from eighteen to twenty-five. With good prospects, and well connected, they had entered the army at the bidding of patriotism, ready to endure every peril to insure the triumph of the old flag. Their only offence, when stripped of all technicality, was that of accepting a dangerous service proposed by their own officers. They had entered on this service in the same spirit that they would have obeyed an order to head a desperate charge on the enemy's fortifications. Had they perished in the enterprise itself, their fate would have been but the common fortune of war. But more than two months had pa.s.sed since they had been in the power of their enemies, who had repeatedly testified admiration for their heroism, as well as for their gallant bearing in captivity. Prominent officers had held friendly conversations with them and a.s.sured them of ultimate safety.

Now, without a moment's warning----. But I must not antic.i.p.ate the narration.

One day--the 18th of June, 1862--while amusing ourselves with games and stories in our prison-cell, we saw through the barred window a squadron of cavalry approaching. This only excited a languid curiosity at first, for it was a common thing to see bodies of hors.e.m.e.n in the streets; but soon we saw them halt before the gate of the high prison-wall and throw a line of soldiers completely round the building. This was no ordinary occurrence. What could it portend?

A moment after we heard the clink of the officers' swords as they ascended the prison stairway in unusual numbers, while we waited the event with deep solicitude. They paused at our door, which was unlocked by the jailer, and the names of the seven who had been tried at Knoxville were called over, one by one, and each man as he was called led out of the room. Samuel Robinson was very sick with fever, and was not able to rise without a.s.sistance, but two guards helped him to his feet, and he was taken out with the others. Then the door opposite to ours, on the other side of the hall, was opened, and the Tennesseeans in that room put with us, while our comrades, with the whole number of officers, went into the vacated room, and the door was closed.

With throbbing veins we asked one another the meaning of these strange proceedings. A confused sound was heard through the closed door opposite, as of some one reading, but we could distinguish no words.

Some of us supposed they were taken in there to receive their acquittal; others, still more sanguine, maintained that they were now being paroled, preparatory to an exchange.

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