When the morning freight train which left this city reached Big Shanty, Lieutenant-Colonels R. F. Maddox and C. P. Phillips took the engine and a few cars, with fifty picked men, well armed, and followed on as rapidly as possible. They passed over all difficulties, and got as far as Calhoun, where they learned the fugitives had taken the woods, and were pursued by plenty of men, with the means to catch them if it were possible.

One gentleman who went upon the train from Calhoun, who has furnished us with many of these particulars, and who, by the way, is one of the most experienced railroad men in Georgia, says too much praise cannot be bestowed on Fuller and Murphy, who showed a cool judgment and forethought in this extraordinary affair, unsurpassed by anything he ever knew in a railroad emergency. This gentleman, we learn from another, offered, on his own account, one hundred dollars reward on each man, for the apprehension of the villains.

We do not know what Governor Brown will do in this case, or what is his custom in such matters; but if such a thing is admissible, we insist upon Fuller and Murphy being promoted to the highest honors on the road; if not by actually giving them the highest position, at least let them be promoted by brevet. Certainly their indomitable energy, and quick, correct judgment and decision in the many difficult contingencies connected with this unheard-of emergency, has saved all the railroad bridges above Ringgold from being burned; the most daring scheme that this revolution has developed has been thwarted, and the tremendous results which, if successful, can scarcely be imagined, much less described, have been averted. Had they succeeded in burning the bridges, the enemy at Huntsville would have occupied Chattanooga before Sunday night. Yesterday they would have been in Knoxville, and thus had possession of all East Tennessee. Our forces at Knoxville, Greenville, and Cumberland Gap, would, ere this, have been in the hands of the enemy. Lynchburg, Virginia, would have been moved upon at once. This would have given them possession of the Valley of Virginia, and Stonewall Jackson could have been attacked in the rear. They would have possession of the railroad leading to Charlottesville and Orange Court House, as well as the South Side Railroad leading to Petersburg and Richmond. They might have been able to unite with McClellan's forces, and attack Jo. Johnston's army, front and flank. It is not by any means improbable that our army in Virginia would have been defeated, captured, or driven out of the State this week.

Then reinforcements from all the Eastern and Southeast portion of the country would have been cut off from Beauregard. The enemy have Huntsville now, and with all these designs accomplished, his army would have been effectually flanked. The mind and heart shrink appalled at the awful consequences that would have followed the success of this one act. When Fuller, Murphy, and Cain started from Big Shanty on foot, to capture that fugitive engine, they were involuntarily laughed at by the crowd, serious as the matter was—and to most observers it was indeed most ludicrous; but that footrace saved us, and prevented the consummation of these tremendous consequences.

One fact we must not omit to mention, is the valuable assistance rendered by Peter Bracken, the engineer on the down freight train which Fuller and Murphy turned back. He ran his engine fifty and a half miles—two of them backing the whole freight train up to Adairsville—made twelve stops, coupled to the two cars which the fugitives had dropped, and switched them off on sidings—all this, in one hour and five minutes.

We doubt if the victory of Manasses or Corinth were worth as much to us as the frustration of this grand coup d' etat. It is not by any means certain that the annihilation of Beauregard's whole army at Corinth would be so fatal a blow to us as would have been the burning of the bridges at that time and by these men.

When we learned by a private telegraph dispatch, a few days ago, that the Yankees had taken Huntsville, we attached no great importance to it. We regarded it merely as a dashing foray of a small party to destroy property, tear up the road, &c., a la Morgan. When an additional telegram announced the Federal force there to be from 17,000 to 20,000, we were inclined to doubt—though coming from a perfectly honorable and upright gentleman, who would not be apt to seize upon a wild report to send here to his friends. The coming to that point with a large force, where they would be flanked on either side by our army, we regarded as a most stupid and unmilitary act. We now understand it all. They were to move upon Chattanooga and Knoxville as soon as the bridges were burnt, and press on into Virginia as far as possible, and take all our forces in that State in the rear. It was all the deepest laid scheme, and on the grandest scale, that ever emanated from the brains of any number of Yankees combined. It was one that was also entirely practicable on almost any day for the last year. There were but two miscalculations in the whole programme; they did not expect men to start out afoot to pursue them, and they did not expect these pursuers on foot to find Major Cooper's old "Yonah" standing there all ready fired up. Their calculations on every other point were dead certainties, and would have succeeded perfectly.

This would have eclipsed anything Captain Morgan ever attempted. To think of a parcel of Federal soldiers, officers and privates, coming down into the heart of the Confederate States—for they were here in Atlanta and at Marietta—(some of them got on the train at Marietta that morning, and others were at Big Shanty;) of playing such a serious game on the State Road, which is under the control of our prompt, energetic and sagacious Governor, known as such all over America; to seize the passenger train on his road, right at Camp McDonald, where he has a number of Georgia regiments encamped, and run off with it; to burn the bridges on the same road, and to go safely through to the Federal lines—all this would have been a feather in the cap of the man or men who executed it.

Let this be a warning to the railroad men and everybody else in the Confederate States. Let an engine never be left alone a moment. Let additional guards be placed at our bridges. This is a matter we specially urged in the Confederacy long ago. We hope it will now be heeded. Further, let a sufficient guard be placed to watch the government stores in this city; and let increased vigilance and watchfulness be put forth by the watchmen. We know one solitary man who is guarding a house in this city, which contains a lot of bacon. Two or three men could throttle and gag him, and set fire to the house at any time; and worse, he conceives that there is no necessity for a guard, as he is sometimes seen off duty for a few moments, fully long enough for an incendiary to burn the house he watches. Let Mr. Shakelford, whom we know to be watchful and attentive to his duties, take the responsibility at once of placing a well-armed guard of sufficient force around every house containing government stores. Let this be done without waiting for instructions from Richmond.

One other thought. The press is requested by the Government to keep silent about the movements of the army, and a great many things of the greatest interest to our people. It has, in the main, patriotically complied. We have complied in most cases, but our judgment was against it all the while. The plea is that the enemy will get the news if it is published in our papers. Now, we again ask, what's the use? The enemy get what information they want. They are with us and pass among us almost daily. They find out from us what they want to know, by passing through our country unimpeded. It is nonsense—it is folly, to deprive our own people of knowledge they are entitled to and ought to know, for fear the enemy will find it out. We ought to have a regular system of passports over all our roads, and refuse to let any man pass who could not give a good account of himself, come well vouched for, and make it fully appear that he is not an enemy, and that he is on legitimate business. This would keep information from the enemy far more effectually than any reticence of the press, which ought to lay before our people the full facts in everything of a public nature.



CHAPTER VI.

Stupendous "Man Hunt"—My Own Adventures—Playing Acrobat—Perilous Crossing of a River—Hunger—The Bloodhounds—Flying for Life—No Sun or Star to Guide me—Traveling in a Circle—Nearing Chattanooga—Lost in Deadened Timber—Glimpse of the Moon—Fatigue Produces Phantoms—Dreadful Storm—I Sleep and enter Fairy Land—Glorious Visions—Reality—A Picket—Romance Faded—Horrible Situation—Day Dawn—No Relief.

On leaving the train, I confess for a moment my heart sunk within me. I was alone, for no one happened to strike off in the same direction I did. I knew not where I was—whether fifteen or fifty miles from Chattanooga[2]—neither had I the most indefinite idea of the lay of the country. I only knew that north or northwest would bring me to our forces; but the sun did not shine, to give me even the points of the compass.

[2] The description of places and distances given in the preceding chapter, was mostly obtained from Confederates, who afterward visited and talked with us.

I supposed that the country would be aroused, and a vigorous pursuit made, but my worst anticipations proved far short of the reality. It was Saturday, the 12th of April, and was a general muster-day for the conscripts over the whole country; but as soon as the news of our raid was received, drill was suspended, and every one turned out in search of us. Then was organized the most stupendous man-hunt that ever took place in the South. Horsemen hurried at full speed along every road, and proclaimed the news as they went. Each planter, with his dependents, for at least fifty miles in every direction, took his bloodhounds and scoured the woods. Every cross-road, every river, ford, or ferry, was at once picketed by bodies of cavalry. Large rewards were offered, and thousands of soldiers pursued us, in addition to the universal uprising of the citizens. The only partially known object of the expedition imparted a tone of romantic exaggeration to it, and made the people doubly anxious to solve the mystery. The feeling in northern Georgia may be best conceived by imagining what would be the excitement in the immediate vicinity, if a party of Confederates would seize a train near Philadelphia, and attempt to run it through Baltimore, especially if the movements of their armies should be such as would lead to the belief that this was only part of a grand scheme!

I will now give a personal sketch of my own adventures after leaving the train. It was still moving when I jumped off,—fast enough to make me perform several inconvenient gyrations on reaching the ground. Most of the party were ahead of me. Three had taken the eastern side of the road, and the remainder the opposite side. I followed the example of the latter, and soon reached the cover of the stunted pines that grew near the road. Feeling the necessity of getting away as far as possible before the enemy could pursue us on foot, I struck off at a rapid rate.

Soon I passed the little brook that ran along the foot of the hill, and pressed on up its steep side. There were three of my comrades not far from me on the left, but I could not overtake them, and still proceeded alone. I knew that pursuit would be rapid and instantaneous. I seemed to hear the tread of cavalry in every breeze that sighed through the branches of the naked forest!

The country was rough and uneven. On the bottoms, and by the streams, were a few pines; but on the mountain spurs, which here are a low continuation of the Cumberland range, the timber is mostly oak and other varieties, which were not then in foliage. This was a great disadvantage, because it left no hiding place, and exposed us to the view of the watchful eyes of our enemies.

Soon I found myself in the bend of a little river that empties into the Tennessee at Chattanooga. It was swollen by continuous rains, and for some time I searched along its bank for a place to cross the turbulent stream; but, seeing none, and believing that death was behind, I committed myself to its angry current, and, after being thoroughly soaked, and almost washed away, I succeeded in reaching the opposite side. Here the bank rose in an almost perpendicular precipice of more than a hundred feet in hight. I dared not recross the stream, for I knew the enemy could not be far behind, and, therefore, I clambered up the precipice. Several times when near the top did I feel my grasp giving way; but as often did some bush or projecting rock afford me the means of saving myself. At last, after the most imminent danger, I reached the top utterly exhausted, pulled myself out of sight, and breathed for a while.

I had had no breakfast or dinner, and had spent not only that day, but many preceding ones, in the most fatiguing exertion. I was very faint and sick, and almost out of hope. I had no guide even in the direction of home, for the sun still lingered behind an impenetrable veil.

While I thus lay and mused on the unenviable situation in which I found myself placed, a sound reached my ears that again sent the blood leaping wildly through my veins. It was the distant baying of a bloodhound! Never again will I read the story of human beings, of any color, pursued by these revolting instruments of man's most savage "inhumanity to man," with indifference!

I started to my feet, and a few moments' listening confirmed my first impression. It was true. They were after us with their bloodhounds! not one pack alone, but all in the country, as the widening circle, from which echoed their dismal baying, revealed but too plainly. There was no longer safety in idleness, and I at once started up, and hurried off, as nearly at right angles to the railroad as I could ascertain by the whistling of the trains, which seemed to be moving in great numbers, and much excited. The fearful barking of the dogs also gave me a clue to avoid them. Faint and weak as I was, excitement supplied the place of strength, and I rapidly placed a considerable distance between myself and pursuers.

Away across the hills and streams I sped, I knew not how far—I only knew that the noise of the dogs grew fainter and fainter as the evening wore on. I had distanced them, and began to breathe freer. I even indulged the hope of being able ultimately to work my way to the lines, and still think I might have done so, had the weather been clear enough to permit my traveling by the sun or stars.

As I descended the long slope of a wooded hill into a wild, solitary valley, I saw a rude hut, and a man in the garden beside it. I approached him to inquire the road to Chattanooga, though that was the last place I wished to go. The answer was, that it was only eight miles. This was nearer than I liked to be, as I rightly judged the pursuit would be most vigorous in that vicinity. However, I continued my journey in that direction, until out of sight, and then climbed up the hill at right angles to my former course. I traveled this way for some time, when an incident occurred that would have been amusing, had it been less vexatious.

I had often heard that persons who were lost would naturally travel in a circle, but did not attach a great deal of credit to the assertion. Now I had the proof. I had crossed a road, and left it for something like an hour, during which time I walked very fast, when, to my surprise, I came to the same place again.

I was considerably annoyed to thus lose my labor, but struck over the hill in what I supposed to be the right direction. Judge of my astonishment when, after an hour or more of hard walking, I found myself at precisely the same spot again! So much time had been lost, that I now could hear the bloodhounds once more. I was perplexed beyond measure. A few steps further brought me to the same river I had crossed hours before. In sheer desperation I took the first road I came to, and followed it a long time, almost regardless of where it should lead, or whom I should meet.

Thus I pressed forward till twilight was deepening into darkness, when I met a negro driving a team. From him I learned that I was within four miles of Chattanooga; words can not describe the tide of vexation, disappointment, and anger that swept over my breast, when I found that in spite of my most determined efforts I was steadily approaching the lion's mouth. But it was no use to give way to despair. Learning from the negro the direction of both Ringgold and Chattanooga, I resolved to make an effort to reach the Tennessee river some eight or ten miles below Chattanooga. For this purpose, I struck across the fields in the proper course.

For some time now I did well enough, but before long I came to a large field of deadened timber. When I had crossed this, I was again completely lost. Soon, however, I reached a road which seemed to lead right, which I followed with renewed vigor for several miles. At last I met three men on horseback; it was too dark to tell whether they were negroes or white men, but I ventured to ask them:

"How far is it to Chattanooga?"

"Three miles!"

"Is this the road?"

"Yes, sah! right ahead."

I had afterwards reason to believe that these were men sent out to arrest us, and that they did not stop me just because I was going right to Chattanooga!

But it was evident that I was again on the wrong road. Indeed, it seemed as if I was so hopelessly bewildered that it was impossible for me to travel any but the wrong road. As soon as the horsemen got out of sight, I turned and followed them three or four miles, when I came to a large road running at right angles with my own, which terminated where it joined the other. I deliberated for some time as to which end of this new road I should take. I had no guide to direct me, for my old road was too crooked even to give me the direction of the dreaded Chattanooga.

Many a time have I wished for a sight of the moon and stars. Long before the clash of arms was heard in our land, before the thunder and the wailing of battle had filled a nation with weeping, have I waited and wished for the parting away of the tedious clouds, that, with my telescope, I might gaze on the wonders and beauties of the worlds above. But never did I bend a more anxious eye to the darkened firmament, than in my solitary wanderings over the Georgia hills that memorable night. But all in vain; no North Star appeared to point with beam of hope to the land of the free.

At length I started off on the road that I thought most likely to lead me in the right direction; but as usual I had the misfortune of being wrong; for after I had gone a long distance, the moon broke through a rift in the clouds, and for a moment poured her light down on the dark forest through which I was passing. That one glance was enough to show me that I was heading back toward the railroad I had left in the morning. Wearily I turned and retraced my tedious steps.

One of my feet had been injured by an accident three mouths before, and now pained me excessively. Still I dragged myself along. My nerves had become completely exhausted by the long-continued tension they had sustained, and now played me many fantastic tricks, which became more vivid as the night waned away. I passed the place where I had made the wrong choice of roads, and still toiled on.

The rain fell in torrents now. I was thinly clad, and as the wind, which was blowing quite hard, drove the falling showers against me, my teeth chattered, and I shivered to the bone. I passed many houses, and feared the barking of the dogs might betray me to watchers within; but my fears were groundless. The storm, which was then howling fearfully through the trees, served to keep most of those who sought our lives, within doors. Even the barking of the bloodhounds was heard but seldom, and then far in the distance. I seemed to have the lonely, fearful, stormy night to myself.

At last all thoughts gave way to the imperative necessity of repose. I reeled to a large log that lay by the side of the road, on the edge of a small patch of woodland, and crawling close under the side of it, not for shelter from the driving rain, but for concealment from my worse-dreaded human foes, I slept in peace.

Up to this time the image of that terrible night is graven on my memory with a scorching pen of fire. After this it changes, and with the exception of a few real incidents that aroused me from my trance, it floats before me in more than the voluptuous splendor of an opium-dream. The cause of this change is a curious chapter in mental philosophy. It was no doubt purely physical, resulting from want of sleep, fatigue, dampness, lack of food, and intense mental exertion. But let me narrate facts.

When I awoke, it was with a full realization of my position. But in addition to this, I seemed to hear some one whisper, as plainly as ever I heard human voice:

"Shoot him! shoot him! Let us shoot him before he wakes!"

My first impression was, that a party of rebels had discovered my hiding-place, and were about to murder me in my sleep, to save themselves further trouble. But the next thought brought a new suspicion, and I cautiously opened my eyes to test it, and see if my senses were really playing false.

Directly before me stood a small tree. The first glance showed a tree and nothing more. The next showed a score of angels, all clad in softest outlines, their heads nodding with feathery plumes above all beauty, and their wings slowly waving with borders of violet and pearl. The whole forest was suddenly transformed into a paradise of radiant glory, in which moved celestial beings of every order, all instinct with life, blushing with love, and bending their kindest regards on me. Ladies, too, were there, fairer than ever walked the fields of earth, embowered in roses; little cherubs with laughing faces, on cloudlets of amber and gold, floated around. Indeed, all that the imagination could conceive of beauty was comprised in that one gorgeous, glorious vision.

The most singular fact of all was, that although the brain and eye were thus impressed with that which had no real existence, I was perfectly calm and self-possessed, knowing the whole thing to be but a pleasing illusion. I did not in the least fear these figures of the brain, but on the contrary found them pleasant company. Not always, however, did they personate the same characters. Occasionally they would change to the old feudal knights, sometimes on horseback, sometimes on foot, but always clad in glittering armor.

The finest landscapes would start up from the cold, dull hills around, like mirages in the desert; panoramas of the most vivid action passed before me; even language was not denied to my visitants, whose voices were inexpressibly melodious; every thought that passed through my mind seemed sounded audibly at my side.

Thus through the visions of night and darkness I passed rapidly on, for now I felt refreshed and endowed with new strength. Even the merciless pelting of the cold rain seemed pleasant and luxurious as a cool bath in the parching heats of harvest. But beyond these illusions, another faculty seemed to penetrate and show me, though but dimly, the true face of the country.

Once the two became mingled, and very nearly involved me in a serious difficulty. At a cross-road, a considerable distance ahead, I saw what I at first supposed to be some more of my spectral friends, standing around a fire, the ruddy blaze of which served to render them clearly visible. They were not quite so beautiful as those I had seen before, but still I advanced carelessly toward them, and would probably have continued to do so, until too late for retreat, had not my progress been arrested by a sound of all others the least romantic. It was the squealing of a pig they had caught, and were killing, preparatory to roasting in the fire.

This at once drove away the seraphs and the angels, and left me in full possession of my faculties. I listened, and soon became convinced that they were a picket, sent out there to watch for just such persons as myself. They had some dogs with them, which, fortunately, were too much absorbed in the dying agonies of the poor pig to give attention to me.

I crawled cautiously away, and made a long circuit through the fields. A dog made himself exceedingly annoying by following and barking after me. I did not apprehend danger from him, for I yet had my trusty revolver, and had managed to keep it dry all the time; but I feared he would attract the attention of the picket, who might easily have captured me, for I was too weary to elude them.

At last he left me, and I again returned to the road. I had not gone far till I came to three horses hobbled down, which, no doubt, belonged to the picket behind, and had to make another circuit to avoid driving them away before me. On again reaching the road, I pressed on as fast as possible, hoping, before the morning light, to be beyond the circle of guarded roads, and the line of planters who were scouring the woods with their dogs. It was a vain hope, but I knew not then the gigantic plan of search which had been organized.

The visions which had made the lonely forest almost a paradise, now grew dimmer and dimmer. The roses faded, and all the forms of beauty vanished into thin air.

The chill horror of my situation froze deeper into my veins. I would find myself walking along, almost asleep, then would wander a short distance from the road to a secluded spot,—throw myself down on the flooded ground, and sleep a few minutes; then would awaken, almost drowned by the pitiless rain, and so sore and benumbed that I could scarcely stagger to my feet, and plod onward.

Thus that dreary night wore on; it seemed an age of horror, and placed a shuddering gulf between my present life and the past. But at last the cold gray of a clouded morning broke through the weeping sky. Day brought no relief. Every one I saw seemed to be a foe. Still I did not avoid them. I carefully washed all traces of that terrible night from my clothes. The wet did not matter, for the rain was still falling fast enough to account for that.



CHAPTER VII.

Sabbath—Continuous Rain—Press Onward—Observed—Arrested—Curious Examination—Equivocating for Life—Plans Foiled by Unexpected News—Plundered—Jail—Terrible Reflections—New and Hopeful Resolve—Unwelcome Visitors—Vigilance Committee Disappointed—Ordered to Chattanooga—A Mob—Chained to the Carriage—Escort—The Journey—Musings—Arrival—Another Mob—Benevolent Gentleman(?)—General Leadbetter—Andrews.

It was Sabbath morning, but it came not to me with the blessed calmness and peace that accompany it in my own sweet Ohio. I saw the people going to church, and longed to go with them, but dared not encounter the prying eyes that would have greeted a stranger, even if I had wished thus to loiter on my journey.

But why should I dwell longer on this dreary morning? why linger over its miseries, deepened by the faintness of the hope that they would ever cease, and give me again to the comfort and love of home? I wandered on till about noon, when I was observed by some one on the watch for strangers. This was just beyond Lafayette, Georgia. A party of pursuit was at once organized numbering twenty or more. I knew nothing of my danger, till they were within about fifty yards of me, when they ordered me to stop.

I put my hand on my pistol, and looked round. The country was level and open for some distance, and I was too weary to run, even if some of the party had not been mounted; therefore I made a virtue of necessity, and stopped, asking what they wanted. They replied that they wanted to talk with me awhile. Soon they came up, and a little, conceited man, who had the epaulets of a lieutenant, but whom they called major, undertook to question me. He was very bland about it, and apologized hugely for interrupting me, but said if I was a patriotic man, as he had no doubt I was, I would willingly undergo a slight inconvenience for the good of the Confederacy. I endeavored to imitate his politeness, and begged him to proceed in the performance of his duty, assuring him that he would find nothing wrong. He then searched me very closely for papers, looking over my money and pistol, but found nothing suspicious.

He next asked me who I was, where I came from, and where I was going. I told him that I was a citizen of Kentucky, who had been disgusted with the tyranny of Lincoln, and was ready to fight against it; that I came to Chattanooga, but would not enlist at that place, because most of the troops there were conscripts, and the few volunteers were very poorly armed. I told him all about where I had been in Chattanooga, and the troops there, for I had heard a good deal said about them as I went down on the cars to Marietta, on the previous Friday evening. I had also heard them praising the First Georgia, which was with Beauregard, and now told the Major that I wanted to join it. He then asked why I did not proceed at once to Corinth, without going so far around the country. I alleged that General Mitchel was in the way at Huntsville, and that I was merely making a circuit far enough around to be out of the danger of capture.

This seemed to be perfectly satisfactory to the little man, and turning to the crowd he said:

"We may as well let this fellow go on, for he seems to be all right."

These words rejoiced me, but my joy was premature. A dark-complexioned man, who sat on his horse, with his hat drawn down over his brows, raised his eyes slowly, and drawled out:

"Well, y-e-s! Perhaps we'd as well take him back to town, and if all's right, maybe we can help him on to Corinth."

This was rather more help than I wanted, but it was useless to demur.

They conducted me to the largest hotel in the place, where I was received very kindly. Soon a number of lawyers came in, and commenced asking me all kinds of hard questions. I answered as well as I could. When I told them I was from Kentucky, they wished to know the county. I told them Fleming. Then they asked the county seat. This also I was able to give; but when they required me to give the counties which bounded it, I was nonplussed. I mentioned a few at random, but suspect most of them were wrong. They said it looked suspicious to find a man who could not bound his own county, but proceeded in their examination.

They requested a narrative of my journey all the way through from Kentucky. This I gave very easily, as long as it was on ground that was not accessible to them; but it sorely puzzled me to account for the time I had been on the railroad, and for the last night, which I spent in the woods. I had to invent families with whom I stayed—tell the number of children and servants at each, and all the particulars. This was rather perilous, as many of my auditors knew all the country around which I was thus fancifully populating; but I had no alternative. I might have refused to answer at all, but this would have been construed into positive proof of guilt—at least as good as a mob would have required. Besides, I still had a faint hope that they might be induced to release me, and allow me to continue my journey. As it was, my assurance puzzled them somewhat, and they held numerous private consultations.

But while they were thus deliberating over my case, and could only agree that it needed further investigation, a man, riding a horse covered with foam, dashed up to the door. He came from Ringgold, and brought the news that part of the bridge-burners had been captured, and that they had at first pretended to be citizens of Kentucky, from Fleming county,—but, on finding that this did not procure their release, they confessed that they were Ohio soldiers, sent out to burn the bridges on the Georgia State Road.

The remarkable coincidence of their first story with the one I had been trying so hard to make the rebels believe, produced a marked change in their conduct toward me. They at once adjourned to another room, and, after a brief consultation, agreed to commit me to jail to await further developments.

The little major was my escort. He first purloined my money, then took me to the county jail and handed me over to the jailor. This personage took my penknife and other little articles,—then led me up stairs,—unfastened the door of a cage of crossing iron bars, in which was one poor fellow—a Union man, as I afterward found—and bade me enter. My reflections could not have been more gloomy if the celebrated inscription, Dante, placed over the gates of hell, had been written above the massive iron door.

"All hope abandon, ye who enter here."

My feelings were terrible when the jailor turned the key in the lock, secured the heavy iron bar that crossed the door, and left me. Never before had I been locked up as a prisoner, and now it was no trivial matter—a few days or weeks. There was absolutely no hope ahead. I was there as a criminal, and too well did I realize the character of the Southern people, to believe that they would be fastidious about proof. Life is held too cheap in that country to cause them a long delay in its disposal.

In that hour, my most distressing thought was of my friends at home, and particularly of my mother—thinking what would be their sorrow when they heard of my ignominious fate—if indeed they ever heard, for I had given an assumed name. That all my young hopes and ambitions, my fond dreams of being useful, should perish, as I then had no doubt they would, on a Southern scaffold, seemed unbearable in the extreme. But only one moment did these thoughts sweep over me; the next they were rejected as not calculated to profit in the least. My first action was to borrow from my Union companion his blankets, of which he had a plentiful supply, and wrap myself in them. The warmth they produced soon threw me into a deep sleep,—profound and dreamless,—such as only extreme fatigue can afford.

I awoke hours after, feeling much refreshed, but did not at first realize where I was; yet a glance at the woven bars which everywhere bounded me in, brought back the knowledge that I was a prisoner; but I did not give way to useless despair. I was almost amused at the quaint, yet truthful remark my fellow-prisoner made to me. Said he:

"If you are innocent of the charge they have against you, there is no hope for you. But if it is true, you may save yourself by telling what regiment and company you belong to, and claiming protection as a United States prisoner of war."

I thought a good deal over this opinion, and became more and more impressed with its wisdom. It contained a truth that I could not gainsay. To hang a poor stranger in the South would be a common-place affair—only what was often done by the Southerners before the war began. In fact, they did kill a man at Dalton, under circumstances of the greatest cruelty, because he cheered as we dashed through the town. Afterward they found out that the man was as good a rebel as any of them, and had merely cheered because he thought we, too, were rebels; then they set the matter right by apologizing to his friends!

It was quite different in the case of our soldiers. If they were murdered, there was an unpleasant probability that some of the chivalry themselves would have to suffer in retaliation. Besides, I reflected with a glow of hope, the first I experienced since I fell into their hands, that our government held a number of rebels, who had been taken in Missouri on a similar expedition. All day and night I mused on these things, and endeavored to come to such a decision as would be for the best. When I heard of the capture of many of our party, and the announcement of the regiments to which they belonged, showing that they had been influenced by the same considerations I had been revolving, I at once determined to rest my fate on my claim as a United States soldier. I believe that this decision ultimately saved my life.

All this time I was not in loneliness. Throngs of Georgians came in to see the caged Yankee—both ladies and gentlemen. Many were the odd remarks they made, criticising every feature, and not a few adding every possible word of insult. The whole day they crowded in, and I was glad when the approach of night put an end to the annoyance.

The coarse food the jailor brought was eaten with such a relish as hunger only can impart. I was fortunate in respect to quantity, for my companion was not well, and could not eat much; but I atoned for his shortcoming by eating both of our allowances without difficulty.

In the morning, they took me before a self-constituted committee of vigilance. These committees were very common in the South, and still more summary in their modes of administering justice, or rather vengeance, than were the celebrated vigilance committees of San Francisco, in the early history of the gold mines. They were prepared with a board of the most eminent lawyers in the vicinity, and no doubt hoped to entangle me still more deeply in the meshes of contradiction than they did the day before. But I cut the whole matter short by saying:

"Gentlemen, the statements I gave you yesterday were intended to deceive you. I will now tell you the truth."

The clerk got his pen ready to take down the information.

"Go on, sir; go on," said the president.

"I am ready," said I, "to give you my true name and regiment, and to tell you why I came into your country."

"Just what we want, sir. Go on," said they.

"But," I returned, "I will make no statement whatever, until taken before the regular military authority of this department."

This took them by surprise, and they used every threat and argument in their power to induce me to change my purpose, but in vain. My reason for this, was to avoid the violence of mob law. While in the hands of the populace, there was danger of the summary infliction of punishment that the military authorities could disavow, if our government threatened retaliation. But if I was once under the regular military jurisdiction, they would be responsible both to the United States and to the civilized world.

When they found that I would tell them nothing further, they made arrangements to take me to Chattanooga, which was distant twenty miles. It was the same to Ringgold, near which we abandoned the train. Thus it will be seen that in that long and terrible night I had traveled twenty miles in a straight line, and, with my meanderings, must have walked fifty.

I was remanded to the jail to wait for the preparation of a suitable escort. Here I remained till after dinner, when I was guarded by about a dozen men to the public square. A carriage was in waiting, in which I was placed, and then commenced the process of tying and chaining.

A great mob gathered around, completely filling the whole square, and was exceedingly angry and excited. They questioned me in loud and imperious tones, demanding why I came down there to fight them, and adding every possible word of insult. I heard many significant hints about getting ropes, and the folly of taking me down to Chattanooga, when I could be hanged just as well there.

However, as the mob grew more violent in their denunciations, I selected some of the more intelligent ones and addressed them. They answered with curses; but in the very act of cursing, they grew milder and more willing to converse. I was not very much in the humor for talking, but following the dictates of policy rather than inclination, I answered their innuendoes merrily, and soon had some of the laughers on my side. Before long, I heard some of them say, "Pity he is a Yankee, for he seems to be a good fellow." This was gratifying, and we were soon ready to start.

I had been secured in such a manner as to make assurance doubly sure. A heavy chain was put around my neck and fastened by a padlock; the other end was hitched to one foot, and secured in the same manner; the chain being extended to its full length, while I was in a sitting position, making it impossible for me to rise.—My hands were tied together; my elbows were pinioned to my side by ropes; and, to crown all, I was firmly bound to the carriage seat!

My evil genius, the little major, took the seat beside me as driver. He was armed to the teeth. Two other officers on horseback, likewise fully armed, constituted the rest of the guard that was thought necessary to attend one chained and helpless Yankee. Oh! spirit of chivalry! how art thou fallen! No longer one brave Southern knight a match for eight or ten Northern mudsills; but three well-armed officers to guard one chained Union soldier! The same exaggerated caution I frequently noticed afterward. There seemed to be a perpetual fear on the minds of the miscreants that we were about to do something desperate.

As we journeyed along, the sky, which for days had been overcast, and, during that time, had hardly afforded us a glimpse of its celestial blue, became suddenly clear. The sun shone out in beauty, and smiled on the first faint dawnings of spring that lay in tender green on the surrounding hills. I am ever very sensitive to the influences of nature in all its phases, and now felt my spirit grow more light as I breathed the fresh air, and listened to the singing of the birds.

My companions were quite talkative, and though I hated them for the indignity they had thus put upon me in chaining me as a criminal, yet I knew it would be unavailing to indulge a surly and vindictive disposition, and therefore talked as fast and as lively as they could.

My guards, themselves, did not subject me to any insults, and even endeavored to prove that the extraordinary manner in which I was bound was a compliment to me. I could not see it in that light, and would have willingly excused the tying and the compliment together! The worst was that when they passed any house they would call out, "We've got a live Yankee here;" then men, women, and children, would rush to the door, and stare as though they saw some great monster, asking:

"Whar did you ketch him? Goin' to hang him when you get him to Chattanooga?" and similar expressions without end.

This was only amusing at first, but its perpetual recurrence soon grew terribly wearisome, and was not without its effect in making me believe they really would hang me. In fact, my expectation of escaping was never very bright; yet I considered it my duty to keep up my spirits as well as I could, and not despair till it really was certain that there remained no ground for hope. The afternoon wore slowly away as we traveled along, passing some very grand and romantic scenery, that in any other frame of mind would have been enthusiastically enjoyed; but now my thoughts were otherwise engaged.

It was not the thought of death I so much dreaded, as the manner of death. Death amid the smoke, and excitement, and glory of battle, was not half so terrible as in the awful calmness and chill horror of the scaffold! And sadder yet, to think of my friends, who would count the weary months that had gone by, and wish and long for my return, till hope became torturing suspense, and suspense deepened into despair. These thoughts were almost too much for stoicism; yet there was no alternative but to patiently endure.

The sun went down, and night came on—deep, calm, and clear. One by one the stars twinkled into light. I gazed upon their beauty with new feelings, as I wondered whether the short, revolving course of a few more suns might not bring me a dweller above the stars! And as I thought of the blessed rest for the weary beyond the shores of time, my thoughts took a new direction. I was not then a professor of Christianity, but had often and believingly thought of the great interests of the future, and had resolved to make them my particular study; but had never hitherto addressed myself in earnest to the task, and latterly, the confusion and bustle of a camp-life had almost driven the subject out of my mind. But now, whether it came from the clustering stars above, or from the quiet and stillness so congenial to exhausted nature, after the weariness and excitement of the last few days, or from a still deeper source, I know not. I only know that the memory of that night, when I was thus being carried chained to an unknown fate, is one of the sweetest of my life. My babbling guards had subsided into silence, and, as we wended along through the gathering darkness, high and noble thoughts of the destiny of man filled my breast, and death seemed only the shining gate to eternal and blissful life. I was nerved for any fate.

We arrived at Chattanooga while a feeble glow of the soft spring twilight still lingered on the earth. We immediately drove to the headquarters of General Leadbetter, then commanding that place, and while our guards ascended to inform him of our arrival, I was left in the carriage. As soon as we entered the town, the word was given:

"We've got a live Yankee; one that took the train the other day."

I was not the first one of the party captured, but was the first brought to Chattanooga. The curiosity to see one of the men who had frightened women and children into the woods, was, of course, most extreme, and an immense crowd soon gathered around. They behaved just as Southern mobs usually do—jeering and hooting—calling me by every epithet of reproach the language afforded, and wanting to know why I came down there to burn their property, and murder them and their children. To these multitudinous questions and assertions I made no answer. I was greatly amused (afterward!) by their criticisms on my appearance. One would say that "it was a pity that so young and clever-looking a man should be caught in such a scrape." Another, of more penetrating cast, could tell that "he was a rogue by his appearance—probably came out of prison in his own country." Another was surprised that I could hold up my head and look around on honest men—arguing that such brazen effrontery was a proof of enormous depravity of heart. I did not give my opinion on the subject. Indeed, it was not asked.

There was one man I noticed in particular. He was tall and venerable-looking; had gray hair, gray beard, a magnificent forehead, and an altogether commanding and intellectual expression of countenance. He was treated with great deference, and appeared to me most like a doctor of divinity. As he parted his way through the crowd toward me, I thought:

"Surely I will receive some sympathy from that noble-looking man."

His first question was calculated to confirm my impression. Said he:

"How old are you?"

I answered, "Twenty-two, sir."

Gradually his lip wreathed itself into a curl of unutterable scorn, as he slowly continued:

"Poor young fool! and I suppose you was a school-teacher, or something of that kind in your own land! and you thought you would come down here and rob us, and burn our houses, and murder us, did you? Now let me give you a little advice: if you ever get home again, (but you never will,) do try, for God's sake, and have a little better sense, and stay there!"

Then he turned contemptuously on his heel, and strode away, while the rabble around rewarded him with a cheer. I never could find out who he was. After that I looked no more for sympathy in that crowd.

My conductors now returned, and escorted me into the presence of General Leadbetter. They said he was a Northern man; but if so, it is very little credit to my section, for he was one of the most contemptible individuals I ever knew. He was a perfect sot, and had just two states of body, as a Confederate captain afterwards explained to us—these were, dead drunk, and gentlemanly drunk. He oscillated constantly between these two. He was a coward as well, and though only a brigadier-general, managed to stay as far away from the field when the fight was going on, as one of our own most conspicuous major-generals did. He had been promoted to his present position for his gallantry in hanging some defenceless East Tennessee citizens, which he did without a trial.

All these facts I learned afterward, except one, which was apparent when I entered the room. He was "gentlemanly drunk." He commenced questioning me, and I told him partly the truth, and partly not—going on the principle that truth is a pearl, and pearls are not to be thrown before swine. I told him that I was a United States soldier, giving him my company and regiment; but saying that I was detailed without my consent, that I was ignorant of where I was going, and what I was to perform, which I only learned as fast as I was to execute it. He wanted to know our intention in thus seizing the engine, but I plead ignorance. He next inquired who was our engineer, but I refused to tell. He then said:

"Sir, I want you to tell me just how many men you had on that train, and to describe them so I may know when I get them."

I answered, "General, I have freely told you whatever concerns only myself, because I thought it better that you should know that I am a soldier under the protection of the United States, but I have not yet become base enough to describe my comrades!"

"O!" sneered he, "I don't know that I ought to have asked you that."

"I think not, sir," I replied.

"Well," said he, "I know all about it. Your leader's name is Andrews. What kind of a man is he?"

I was perfectly astonished that he should have Andrews' name, and know him to be our leader; but I never imagined what I afterward found to be the true cause—that Andrews had been captured, and had given his name, with the fact that he was the leader of the expedition. I had every confidence that he would get away, and try some measures for our relief; so I answered boldly:

"I can tell you only one thing about him, and that is, he is a man whom you will never catch."

I thought I noticed a peculiar smile on the General's face as I said this, but he only replied:

"That will do for you;" and turning to a captain who stood by, he continued, "take him to the hole; you know where that is."

With a nod in reply, the captain took me out of the room. As I passed through the door, I saw an explanation of the General's smile. There stood Andrews, ironed, waiting an audience, and Marion Ross and John Williams with him. I did not choose to recognize them; for such recognition might have compromised them, as I knew not what course they would pursue.



CHAPTER VIII.

Negro Prison—Swims, the Jailor—Horrible Dungeon—Black Hole of Calcutta—Suffocation—Union Prisoners—Slave Catching—Our Party Reunited—Breakfast Lowered by Rope—Hunger—Counseling—Fiendish Barbarity—Chained in the Dungeon—Andrews tried as a Spy and Traitor—Sweet, but Stolen News—Removed from Dungeon—Pure Air and Sunlight—Attacked by a Mob—"A Friend"—Madison—Daring Adventure and Narrow Escape.

The captain now called a guard of eight men, and conducted me through the streets for some time; at last we came to a little brick building, surrounded by a high board fence. Those who have ever been in Chattanooga, and visited the negro prison, will recognize my description. A portion of the building was occupied by the jailor, but the prison part consisted of two rooms, one under the other, and also partly underground. This under room had no entrance from the outside, but was accessible only through a trap-door from the room directly overhead.

Chattanooga is not a county-seat, and, therefore, this prison was built only for the accommodation of negroes by their humane owners.

The jailor, Swims, was a character, and merits a particular description. He was an old man—perhaps sixty. His hair, which was very abundant, was white as snow, and his face had a dry and withered expression. His voice was always keyed on a whining tone, except when some great cause, such as the demand of prisoners for an extra bucket of water, excited him, and then it rose to a hoarse scream. Avarice was his predominant, almost his only, characteristic. He seemed to think his accommodations were vastly too good for negroes and Yankees, and that when they were admitted within his precincts, they should be thankful, and give as little trouble as possible. With such notions, it was not wonderful that he managed to make the lot of the prisoner an uncomfortable one. In addition to this, he was very fond of a dram, and frequently became sufficiently intoxicated to reveal many important matters that we would not otherwise have learned.

He bustled to the gate, growling all the time about being troubled so much, unlocked it, and admitting us, led us up the outside stairway, and then into the upper room. I now saw why the General called the place a "hole," and truly I thought the name was appropriate. It was only thirteen feet square, destitute of every convenience, without chairs, beds, or anything of the kind. There were in it five or six old, miserable-looking men, who had not been washed for months. The place looked hard to me, and I shuddered at the idea of taking up my abode in such a den. But I soon found that I was not to enjoy that luxury.

Said the jailor to the captain, "Where shall I put him?"

"Below, of course," was the reply.

The jailor then advanced to the middle of the floor, and taking a large key from his pocket, knelt down and unlocked two rusty locks; then, with a great effort, raised a ponderous trap-door just at my feet. The hot air and the stifling stench smote me back, but the bayonets of the guards were just behind, and I was compelled to move forward again. A long ladder was next thrust down through the trap-door, and the inmates warned to stand from under. A mingled volley of cries, oaths, and questions ascended, and the ladder was secured. The captain then ordered me to descend into what seemed more like Pandemonium than any place on earth. Down I went into the cimmerian gloom—clambering step by step to a depth of fully thirteen feet; for the place, as I afterwards learned, when I had more leisure for observation, was a cube, just thirteen feet each way. I stepped off the ladder, treading on human beings I could not discern, and crowding in as best I might.



The heat was so great that the perspiration broke from me in streams. The foeted air made me for a time deadly sick, and I wondered whether it could be possible they would leave human beings in this horrible place to perish. The thought of the black hole at Calcutta, where so many Englishmen died, rushed over me. True, this was done by the cruel and savage East Indians, while we were in the hands of "our Southern brethern," the "chivalry;" but I could not perceive that this difference of captors made any difference of treatment.

My breath came thick and heavy, and I thought of suffocation. The ladder was drawn up, and with a dull and heavy sound that seemed crushing down on my heart, the trap-door fell. I wedged and jammed my way through the living throng to the window. The one I reached was just under the wooden stairs, and, of course, gave no light. The other was below the surface of the ground. They were at opposite sides of the room, and were only about a foot square, being filled with a triple row of thick set iron bars, that almost excluded every current of air. I pressed my face close to the bars, and breathed the purest air I could get, until I became partly reconciled to the oppression, and then turned to ascertain the condition of my companions. It was wretched beyond description. They were ragged, dirty, and crawling with vermin. Most of them were nearly naked; but this was no inconvenience there, for it was so warm that those who had clothes were obliged to take them off, and nearly all were in a state of nudity. I soon found it necessary myself to disrobe, and even then the perspiration poured off me most profusely. It was an atmosphere of death.

Yet among the prisoners were old men, just trembling on the verge of the grave, who were arrested merely because they had ventured to express a preference for the old, well-tried Government, over the new, slave-built Confederacy. The cruelty practiced on the Tennessee Union men will never half be told. It forms the darkest page in the history of the war. In every prison of which I was an inmate in Georgia and Virginia, as well as in Tennessee, I found these miserable but patriotic men thus heartlessly immured. But I will speak more of them hereafter; at that time the thought of my own danger banished every other consideration.

There were fourteen white men in the room beside myself, and one negro. I wonder what those tender soldiers, who consider it derogatory to their dignity to fight in the same army that blacks do, would think if they were confined with them so closely that there was no possibility of getting away. But we endured too many real evils to fret at imaginary ones; and besides, Aleck was so kind and accommodating, so anxious to do everything in his power for us, that he soon became a general favorite; and when he was taken out to be whipped, as he was several times, to ascertain whether he was telling a true story or not, we could not help feeling the sincerest sympathy for him.

The Southern method of catching stray negroes is about this: When one is found traveling without a pass, he is arrested, taken to the jail, and severely flogged. This usually brings some kind of a confession from him, and he is advertised in accordance with that confession. If no answer is received in a limited time, it is taken for granted that he lied, and he is whipped again, in order to bring a new confession. Thus they continue alternately whipping and advertising, till the close of the year. If a master is found before this, he can pay the costs and take his property; if not, the negro is sold to pay the jail and whipping fees. No trial is ever allowed at which the negro might prove himself free. When once arrested his doom is sealed, and in this way many free negroes are enslaved.

Aleck had been in this prison seven months, and was to remain five more, with no other prospect than that of being sold into perpetual bondage!

Every society has its aristocrats, and here I soon found that the eminence was given to those who were charged with the most daring deeds. The spy—there was but one so accused, and he was blind,[3]—was considered much above the ordinary Union men. I was charged with the greatest adventure of any confined there, and, of course, was treated with becoming deference.

[3] The rebels thought he was counterfeiting blindness, but I believe it was real.

I was not long the only one of the engine-thieves, (by which name we were known during our stay in the Confederacy,) who was confined in this dungeon. Soon the trap-door again opened, causing a stream of comparatively cool air from the room above to rush down. It was an inconceivable relief—a luxury that none could appreciate who had not, as we had, been deprived of that greatest blessing God has given to man—pure air.

We wondered who was coming next, as the feeble glimmering of a candle above revealed several forms descending. The Tennesseeans cried out:

"Don't put any more down here! We're full! We'll die if more are put down!" which did not seem improbable.

But these remonstrances produced no effect. Down they came, and I, stationing myself at the foot of the ladder, spoke something indifferently to them, and heard my name called in return.

It was Andrews, Wollam, and Ross, who gave me their hands in silent condolence of our common misery. Still others were brought, I do not now remember whether that evening, or in the morning. Again the door was closed, and the free air, which had seemed to flow to us in sympathy, was once more shut out.

We tried to arrange ourselves to secure the repose we so much needed, but the room was too small. Think of this, ye who sleep on your downy beds at home. Here were your brothers of Ohio, not only compelled to sleep on the bare floor, but not even enough of that, in this vilest of dens, on which to lie down at all! and yet some of you sympathize with those who were the authors of this cruelty, and think it so hard that their property should be confiscated for such trifles as these, and, worst of all, that their negroes should be taken from them! What shall we think of you?

We did the best we could. Some found room to lie down. Others sat against the wall, and still others leaned on the breasts of those who were thus supported. It is no wonder if, while in such a situation we should be afflicted with the nightmare, and have innumerable bad dreams. If any one wanted to move his position, or go for a drink, (and the stifling heat rendered us all very thirsty,) he was sure to tread on his neighbors, and tempers being naturally very short here, some warm altercations took place, which contributed still more to disturb our slumbers.

The next morning we slept late. Indeed, as long as we remained in this prison we were inclined to sleep much. The great quantity of carbonic acid gas our breathing produced, seemed to act as an opiate, and thus served, in some measure, to deaden the sense of pain. We were aroused the next morning—early, as we supposed—by the opening of the door above, and the delicious shower of cool air that fell on us. As we looked up, we saw the white head of our old jailor bending over, and saying, in drawling tones, "Boys, here's your breakfast," and down he lowered a bucket, by a rope, containing a very small piece of bread, and the same of meat, for each of us. This was seized and devoured almost instantly. I had received nothing to eat since breakfast the day before, and the little morsel I got only served to whet my appetite; but there was no more! We asked what time it was, and were told nine o'clock. We were also informed that we would get our meals only twice a day. This was rather discouraging information for persons as hungry as ourselves, but we had no remedy.

During the day a few more of our party came in, and among them was G. D. Wilson. I found that they had all done as I had in acknowledging themselves United States soldiers, influenced by the same reasons, and most of them sooner than myself. We consulted about the matter, and concluded that the only hope we had, was in adhering to the same story, and trying to make them believe that we were actually detailed without our consent, and without a knowledge of what we had to do. This was true for part, but not for all, or even for the most of us. We agreed to conceal the name of the engineer at all hazards—the fact of a previous expedition being sent down into Georgia, and that Campbell was not a soldier—also our previous acquaintance with Andrews, thus leaving him free to make his own defense. With the exception of these reserved facts, which were not even to be whispered among ourselves, we were to talk freely; to answer all questions and convey the impression that we had nothing to conceal. We carried out this idea, and, as more of our men came in, they agreed to it, and gave, without reserve, their true names, companies, and regiments. This course gained us sympathy from those whose bosoms were not steeled against every kindly feeling; and to this, more than anything else, I attribute the fact of some of the party being alive to-day.

We afterward communicated our plan to Andrews, who cordially approved it—saying that if we adhered to it there would be some chance for our lives. We did adhere to it, and no amount of persuasion, threatening, or promises, could induce any of the party to betray one of our reserved secrets. The rebels were particularly anxious to discover who was the engineer, and would first ask the question in the most careless manner; then afterward would sternly demand to know. They even employed a man, who was a freemason, to visit the party, and try to gain the confidence of one of our number, who belonged to that order, and subsequently urge him to tell the desired name, under the sanction of the masonic oath! But all in vain.

As others of our party joined us, in bands of two or three, they told the story of their capture. This was, in some cases, most thrilling, and still further illustrates the fiendish barbarities of the rebels.

Two of them, Parrott and Robinson, who were captured the same day they left the train, were taken to Ringgold. Here they endeavored to compel Parrott, who was the youngest looking of the party, to betray his companions, and particularly the engineer; but he refused to do it; then these villains in Confederate uniform, stripped him naked, and stretched him down on a rock, four men holding him by each hand and foot, while two others stood by with loaded revolvers, threatening him with instant death if he offered the least resistance; then a rebel lieutenant commenced whipping him with a raw hide; three different times he ceased and raised Parrott up, asking him if he was ready to confess; but the heroic boy refused, and at last the whipping was discontinued, after more than a hundred lashes had been inflicted. His back remained sore a long time, and he suffered very much from being obliged to lie on the hard floor. They did not apply anything to his wounds to heal them, and the scars still remain.

All the party came in chained, but of course expected, when they were put down into the dungeon—and such a dungeon!—that they would at least have the use of their hands. But this was too great an indulgence to be allowed. We were handcuffed, and then chained together by the neck in twos and threes. My partner was William Reddick, to whom I was strongly attached for some time!

Thus chained together, packed into a little cramped dungeon, deprived even of light, and almost of air, crawled over by all kinds of vermin, for there were innumerable rats, mice, and bugs, as well as a smaller and still more pestiferous insect, we presented a picture of nearly perfect misery.

In this state we remained almost three weeks. During this time Andrews had received a trial. The evidence was strong against him. A Mr. Whiteman, whom Andrews himself had directed to be summoned, and who was a former business partner of his, testified that Andrews had been repeatedly in the South, that he had professed allegiance to the Southern Confederacy, and in all things represented himself to be a citizen of the same. In fact he had passes in his possession when he was captured that could hardly have been obtained without his taking the oath of allegiance. This did much to sustain the charge of treason against him, as he admitted being the leader of the expedition. The other indictment, which was that of being a spy, was not supported by any evidence, so far as I could learn; but this was of no importance, as the punishment of the first charge was death. However, the sentence was not then given, and Andrews' lawyers gave him some reason to hope that there was an informality in the proceedings which would render the whole trial void.

All this time we were most intensely anxious to know how military affairs were progressing in the world without. I had appropriated from an officer in charge of us, a paper containing the Confederate account of our chase, which has been given before, and also an admission that the battle of Shiloh was not so much of a victory as they had at first supposed. We managed, likewise, to get one or two other papers which gave the welcome news that our armies were still pressing onward, and earnestly did we wish and hope that Chattanooga would be reached in time to effect our deliverance.

But the best item of news we received, was from our old jailor, who, on one occasion, became too drunk to remember the orders he had received against telling us anything, and let out the very interesting fact that General Mitchel had advanced to Bridgeport, only twenty-eight miles below us, on the Tennessee river, and there had sorely defeated the rebels, capturing some of the very same men who had been guarding us a few days before.

This was very cheering, and we began to hope that we, too, would soon be captured. The officer of the guard was obviously uneasy. All the time we were in the dungeon, we had been guarded by twenty-six men, with a captain over them. This was certainly enough to keep twenty-two, confined and chained as we were, in our place, but we thought it would be a capital joke should they be captured with us!

But it was not their intention to let us fall into Mitchel's hands. An order was sent to the captain in charge to prepare us for moving. He did so; and soon after, we were in the cars, carried down the same road we came up so rapidly three weeks before.

How beautiful all nature appeared! It was May, and the time we had spent without one glance at the expansive sky or green earth, had not been lost in the material world. The landscape had been robed in a richer verdure, the budding trees had swelled into leafy screens, the sky was of a softer blue, the birds warbled with new melody, and everything seemed to wear its holiday dress.

O, the joy! the gladness! of being once more under the canopy of heaven, and of looking up to its unfathomable depths, with no envious bars to obstruct our view. Many a time have I passed the month of May, amidst the most romantic scenery, but never yet did I so deeply feel, that this is indeed a pleasant world, full of beauty and goodness, as on that balmy evening, when the rays of the setting sun, glowing from the west, streamed over the grass and wheatfields on their path, and poured in mellowed, yellow radiance, through our car-window. But even then the glories of earth and sky could not make me forget that I was still chained to my companion, and surrounded by guards with gleaming bayonets.

The wild excitement caused by our raid had not subsided in the least, and as it became known that we were passing along the road, a mob greeted us at every station. It is not necessary to again describe these mobs, for all are alike, and one description answers for many. They were, as usual, rude, loquacious, and insulting.

When we arrived in Atlanta, which was in the morning, there was no jail-room for us; but before going further, we were obliged to wait for the evening train. When it became known in the city that we were there, a mob instantly collected, and prepared to hang us. They were prevented by our guard, probably on the principle that a mouse is protected by a kitten—that it may have the pleasure of first playing with it, and afterwards killing it itself. During the progress of the strife between those who wanted to hang us and those who wanted the law to take its course, several persons were severely injured. But while the disturbance was in progress, one man succeeded in reaching the car window unnoticed, and handed us a paper, using only the single but magical word—"a friend"—and then was lost in the throng. We read the paper by snatches as the attention of the guard was directed to other objects, and found it to contain glorious news—nothing less than the capture of New Orleans by our fleet! Need I say that, for the time, all thought of private misfortune was lost in the exhilaration of national triumph?

The cause of secession then looked gloomy. I took particular pains to talk with the officer in charge of us, and other intelligent rebels, about their prospects, and found them discouraged. Our captain would not let us have any newspapers, or knowingly give us any information; yet he thought it no harm to talk with us on the great subject of the war, after we had learned the facts from other sources. Frequently, by pretending to know, we could get from him a full idea of things concerning which we were ignorant before. Of this character was McClellan's advance on Richmond. The captain admitted that he was moving with an overwhelming force, and that they had then but a comparatively small army to resist him. Indeed, everything looked bright for the Union cause, and the only uneasiness that disturbed us was the apprehension that we might not live to witness that happy triumph which now seemed so near.

In the evening we glided on again, and at length arrived at Madison. This is a flourishing village, and looked well as we entered it. There were then some six hundred of our prisoners confined there, and we indulged the hope that we might be put with them. But we soon learned that the brand of criminality for our daring adventure still rested on us; for we were marched past the dilapidated cotton factory where our friends were confined, to the old county jail, which was then entirely unoccupied. It was a gloomy stone building, and had two rooms, but both had doors, and were above ground. Of the upper story I can not speak, as our party was divided, and I was one that was assigned to the lower apartment. The room was very dark, and its heavy stone walls rendered it quite damp. It would have seemed like a wretched place, had it not been for our previous experience in Chattanooga. Besides, we were now further from the influence of General Leadbetter, and only under the control of our captain, who showed us some kindness, though we were still in irons.

The citizens of the place were freely admitted to see us, and ranged themselves—always in the presence of the guard—along one side of the cell, and talked about all the exciting topics of the day. They pretended to admire us very much, and contrasted our daring expedition with what they were pleased to call the cowardice of the Yankees generally, and asked if there were any more like us in the army. Wilson, of Cincinnati, assured them that we were the poorest men in Mitchel's Division, and only sent away because he had no use for us. This rather astonished them; but from the way in which Mitchel, with his small and divided force, was controlling Northern Alabama, and much of Eastern Tennessee, as well as defeating them at all points, they were rather inclined to believe it.

But among these visitors was one who came not for mere curiosity. He was dressed in rebel uniform, but was instantly recognized by Andrews as a spy in the service of the United States. They had no opportunity for private communication, but our situation was revealed in such a way as not to excite suspicion. His character was made known to us by Andrews, after his departure; and while we were wondering at his audacity, and rather inclined to disbelieve the story, the captain of the guard, who had come to bring supper, told us that a most remarkable occurrence had taken place that afternoon.

He said that the Provost-Marshal had learned, from some source, that a spy of Lincoln's had been among our visitors, and had at once sent a guard to arrest him. The guard found him at the depot, just as the cars were coming in. The stranger was very indignant at his arrest, and told them scornfully that he had papers in his pocket that would prove his character anywhere. They were somewhat abashed at this, and released their hold on him, but asked him to produce the papers. He put his hand in his pocket, as though searching for them, and fumbled about, until he noticed that the train, which was starting, had attained a good rate of speed, and then, just as the last car swung by, he dashed from them, and jumped aboard! There was no telegraph station at Madison, and he escaped.

At this the Confederates were very much enraged, and would permit no more visiting; but we felt ample consolation in the certainty that our condition would be at once reported to our officers, and every effort made for our release.



CHAPTER IX.

Return to Chattanooga—Caution of Rebels—Unchain Ourselves—Mock Trials—The Judge—Singing—One Kindness—Projected Escape—Loitering Comrades—A Gleam of Hope—Sad Parting—Knoxville—Prison Inmates—Brownlow—Awful Cruelty—Andrews Condemned to Death—Escapes with Wollam—Fearful Perils—Swimming the River—Hiding on an Island—Found by Children—Yields to His Fate—Horrible Death—Wollam's Stratagem—On the River—Passes a Gun Boat—Final Capture.

We remained only three days in Madison, when the rebel general, becoming convinced that Mitchel was not then going to advance on Chattanooga, ordered us back to that place. Again we were compelled to run the gauntlet of insulting and jeering mobs that had annoyed our course down the road. We traveled in rude box-cars, that were wet and filthy, and the journey was rendered still more uncomfortable by the idea of going back to our old quarters in the wretched prison at Chattanooga.

However, by the time we arrived there, our captain, who had never been a very warm secessionist, and, therefore, had no very hard feelings towards us, had become quite friendly. He now proved this by interceding in our behalf, and procuring us permission to remain in the upper room. This was the same size as the lower one, but it had three windows instead of two, and these were larger, and obscured by only one row of bars. But the poor Tennessee Union men had to go below.

It was amusing to see the exaggerated caution with which they guarded us. Even when we were below, where scarcely any man could have got out without assistance, they never raised the trap-door unprotected by a strong guard. Now, when we were in the upper room, their vigilance was still further increased. They would bring a guard into the jailor's room, through which ours was entered, and there array them with leveled bayonets, into two lines across the door. At the same time, the stairway was guarded, and another guard always surrounded the jail outside of the wall. And even the old jailor would fret, and predict that evil would result from showing the Yankees so much indulgence.

All this time we were chained, and as the authorities were thus slow in relieving us of what we believed to be an unnecessary incumbrance, we set our wits to work to free ourselves. One of the party had managed to secrete a small knife while they were searching him, and with this made rude keys from the bones of the meat given us, and in a short time opened every lock. We could not, of course, appear in public in our new liberty, or more effectual means of fastening would probably have been devised. To avoid detection, we kept some one always on the watch. Then, when any person was heard approaching our room, a signal was given, and a quick rattling of chains accompanied the adjustment and re-locking of our bands. When the door opened, we would be chained all right, and as soon as it closed we would be free again. We continued this deception during our stay in this prison, and were never detected.

While here, we relieved the tedious time that hung heavily on our hands by mock trials. We would charge one of the company with some offence, generally a trifling breach of our prison rules, and proceed to trial. Campbell, whose immense personal strength better enabled him to inflict the punishment that would be awarded, usually officiated as judge, until at last he got the name of Judge firmly fixed on him. These trials produced much sport. We had ample time for it, and the opposing counsel would make very long and learned speeches. So interesting were these arguments, and so eloquent our appeals, that no one of the auditors was ever known to leave the house while they were in progress! The witnesses, too, were very slippery, and it was sometimes quite difficult to reconcile their testimony. There were always some nullifiers present who would attempt to resist the enforcement of the laws, and the infliction of the penalties adjudged; but in these cases the personal weight of the judge decided the matter. This resistance would give rise to new arrests and trials, and thus the work became interminable.

Another and more refined enjoyment was singing. There were several good singers in the party, and, by practicing together, they soon acquired great proficiency. Most of the songs were of a tender and melancholy cast; such as the "Carrier Dove," "Do They Miss Me at Home," "Nettie More," "Twenty Years Ago," &c. Our time for singing was when twilight began to fall. Then in the gathering darkness the voice of song would ring out, as glad and free as if it was not strained through prison bars. The guards liked very much to hear us sing, and frequently citizens of the town would gather round outside to listen to the caged Yankees.

There is one man in the Confederacy whom I must praise. Amid the worthless and boastful aristocrats who have monopolized for themselves the name of "chivalry," I found one gentleman. This was Colonel Claiborne, at that time Provost-Marshal of Chattanooga. When he first visited us, he said boldly that it was a shame to keep men in such a condition, and tried in vain to get permission from General Leadbetter, to remove our irons; he then ordered us to be brought into the yard to breathe the fresh air every afternoon. This was an inexpressible relief, for it was now intensely hot in our room; and simply to be in the open air a short time was a luxury above all price. This he did on his own responsibility, and some weeks afterward was dismissed from his post on account of his humanity to us!

While here, the idea of escape frequently presented itself. It is true that our guards outnumbered us, and always used the cautions I have described above; but the very fear this argued would have been our best help. We often discussed the subject among ourselves.

All were anxious to go but Ross and Wilson, who thought the proposition premature, as they, relying on what the officers in charge of us said, believed that there was some hope of our exchange. But others of us were impatient to make one bold effort for our own deliverance. Two plans were proposed. The first, which I suggested, was to have all our irons off when the guards came up to feed us, and then, as the door opened, to make a simultaneous rush on the leveled bayonets outside, wrest the arms from their owners, and pour down stairs on the guard below. As soon as we had secured the arms of the remainder, we could leave the prison-yard in a solid body, and pass on double-quick to the ferry-boat, which lay on our side of the river, not far distant. Once over the river, and thus armed, we would have been comparatively safe.

The other plan, which we finally agreed to adopt, was proposed by Andrews. It was, that some one should secrete himself under the bed in the jailor's room, when we were coming up from our breathing in the yard, and remain there till all was quiet at night; then come out and noiselessly unlock the door; after this, we could rush down, seize the guard, and proceed, as in the first plan.

There were two of our party who failed to reach the place of rendezvous in time to be with us on the train. One was from the Twenty-first, the other from the Second Ohio Regiment. They were suspected, and to save themselves, were compelled to join a rebel battery, which they did, representing themselves as brothers from Kentucky. In the battle at Bridgeport, in which the secessionists were so badly panic-stricken, the one from the Twenty-first found an opportunity to escape to General Mitchel. This caused suspicion to rest on his supposed brother, who was arrested, brought to Chattanooga, and confined in the dungeon while we were there. We recognized him, and talked, though very cautiously, about his adventures. He asked us not to divulge the fact that he was one of us—an unnecessary request. He remained there for some time, and was finally released, and put into the battery again, from which, by a wonderful series of adventures, he succeeded in making good his escape to our lines.

At this time there was a great talk of exchange. A son of General Mitchel's had been captured; but he also held a considerable number of prisoners, and it was believed that an exchange would be effected. A lieutenant, whom Mitchel had released on parole, for the purpose of seeing Kirby Smith, at that time commanding the department of East Tennessee, and obtaining his consent to an exchange, visited us. His story raised the most sanguine hopes. The Confederate officers, however, said that it would be first necessary to have a trial, and prove that we were really United States soldiers, and then we, too, would be embraced in the exchange. Andrews, some time before, wanted to send a flag of truce through the lines to get from our officers a statement of our true character; but they refused permission, saying that they could believe our own story on the subject without going to so much trouble.

The prospect of an exchange served to defer our attempted escape, but at last we resolved to wait no longer. The very day we came to this conclusion, an order was given to send twelve to Knoxville for trial—a mere formal one as the commander of the guard and the marshal told us—to clearly prove that we were an authorized military expedition, and not mere citizen adventurers. George D. Wilson was in the yard when the order came. He was permitted to be down there, because he was very sick. The officer of the guard handed him the order, asking him to select twelve to go, as no names were mentioned. He did so, selecting all his own regiment (Second Ohio) first, and afterward his special friends from the other regiments, because he thought it would be a favor to them—that they would probably be first exchanged. This unexpected order induced us to abandon our cherished scheme of escape, which, in all probability, judging from the result of a subsequent attempt, under far more unfavorable circumstances, would have been completely successful.

As we twelve, who were to go to Knoxville, prepared for our departure, we felt a shade of gloom fall over our spirits. Our little band, who had for nearly two months been companions in dangers and privations, such as few men ever experienced, was now to be divided, and we knew not where we should unite again; for in spite of their fair words, the fact remained that we were in the power of that enemy who has deluged our land in blood.

With Andrews, the parting was peculiarly affecting; we had been accustomed to look up to him in all emergencies. He was our leader, and was the particular mark for the vengeance of the foe. Officers, in bidding us hope, spoke no words of comfort to him. He bore this like a hero, as he was, and continued to hope against hope. But now, after we had sung our songs together for the last time, and come to bid him farewell, we were moved even to tears. I will never forget his last words, as he silently pressed our hands, and with a tear in his blue eye, and a low, sweet voice, that thrilled through my inmost being, said: "Boys, if I never see you here again, try to meet me on the other side of Jordan." It was our last earthly meeting.

Colonel Claiborne accompanied us to the cars, where we found we were to be escorted by a detachment of Morgan's celebrated guerillas. Claiborne gave orders for our humane treatment, saying: "They are men, like other men, and gentlemen too, and I want them treated as such." When he left, I felt we had parted from a friend, rebel as he was.

Claiborne's parting charge procured us courtesy from our guard. Indeed, they were a much better class of men than the great mass of the Southern army. Several of them told us that they had enlisted with Morgan only to make money, and were getting it fast. All were well dressed in citizens' clothes, and had the language and manners of gentlemen. They had another motive in treating us kindly. A large number of their own band were now in the hands of the government, and were equally liable with ourselves, under every rule of right, to be treated as criminals; for they had not only dressed in citizens' clothes, but had even assumed our uniform wherever it was their interest to do so. They were indignant to see us in irons, and said they would not be afraid to guard us with our limbs free, but did not, of course, dare to remove our fastenings.

We had been started as usual, without any rations, on the calculation that we should fast till we reached our destination, which would be in about twenty-four hours. But our guerilla friends would not permit this. They bought pies, and literally feasted us, saying that their money was plenty, and when it was gone they could easily get more from our men. We hoped that we might have Morgan's men for our escort in all future migrations.

We arrived in Knoxville shortly after noon, and marched through the hot, dusty streets, directly to the old jail. This is now a historical edifice. It will forever remain associated with the extreme sufferings of the loyal East Tennesseeans, during the progress of the great rebellion.

The building itself is a noble one, and resembles some old baronial hall. It is of a peculiar style of architecture—solid, square and massive, with lofty projecting towers and sharp angles—altogether presenting an imposing appearance. It was used as a military prison, and was filled from top to bottom with ragged, dirty-looking prisoners. Some were Union men, and others were deserters from their own rebel ranks. These constituted the lower class of prisoners, and were permitted to range over most of the building, which was completely encircled outside by a strong guard.

The higher class, or those who were charged with more desperate offences, were shut up in cages. There were five of these. Two of them were at once cleared for our reception. The smaller one was about seven feet by nine, and four of us were put into it. The larger, in which the remainder of the party were placed, was perhaps ten by twelve. The latter was the cage in which Parson Brownlow had been confined, and we felt honored by being in the same cell that this noble champion of the Union had once occupied.

While in this cage, we read an article in a copy of the Knoxville Register, stating that Brownlow was in the North, humbugging the Yankees by telling them that he had been kept in an iron cage, and fired at by his guards, when everybody in that vicinity knew that the whole thing was a falsity. Even while we read this, we looked at the shot-marks which were still visible on the cage, and which the guards and prisoners assured us had been made in the way Brownlow stated. This may serve as a specimen of the manner in which Southern papers are accustomed to deal with facts.

It was in the latter part of May when we arrived in Knoxville, and outside, the weather was intensely warm, but inside, from the enormous masses of stone and iron around, it was quite cool. Indeed the nights, which are always cool, even in midsummer, in the warmest parts of the South, were here very cold, and as we had no beds or blankets, but had to lie on the partly iron floor, we suffered greatly.

Here we formed the acquaintance of a few Tennesseeans, who continued with us during the remainder of our sojourn in Dixie. One of the most remarkable of their number was named Pierce. He was some sixty years old, and had received a stroke with a gun-barrel, right down his forehead, which, even after healing, had left a gash more than an inch deep. From this he was denominated, "Gun-barrel," "Forked head," &c. He was at the same time very religious and very profane. His voice would first be heard singing hymns, and next cursing the Confederacy in no measured terms. He was, however, a very clever man, and almost adored the name of a Union soldier.

Here it was that we first became acquainted with Captain Fry. He was confined in a cage in another room. We could not get to see him, but could entrust little notes, written on the margin of newspapers, to the more faithful of the outside prisoners, and were always sure of a reply.

There was one man in the same room with me, but in another cage, in whom I became especially interested. He was between seventy and eighty years old, and was awaiting sentence of death. Before his arrest he had been a Union man, and, of course, a marked object of suspicion to his secession neighbors. A band of these came one night for the purpose of robbing him. He endeavored to prevent them, when they attacked him, drawing revolvers and bowie-knives. They fired several shots, and pursued him. He dodged around old barrels and other pieces of furniture in the outhouse where the assault was made, for some time, until finally he managed to seize a pitch-fork and plunge it into the foremost of his foes; then breaking away, he escaped for the time. The robber whom he wounded afterwards died, and the Confederate government arrested the old man, and confined him in the cage on a charge of murder! I never heard the result of it, but have no doubt that he has long since been hung.

We obtained quite a number of papers while here, and were much pleased to learn of the continued progress of our arms, particularly in the West. The taking of Fort Pillow, the evacuation of Memphis and Corinth, with the destruction of the rebel flotilla on the Mississippi, all came out in one paper; and the editor complained that he had been restrained from publishing this by the government for more than two weeks after the intelligence arrived.

One day we received news that sent the blood coursing through our veins in swifter flow. It was that Andrews and one other of our party had escaped from Chattanooga!

Here, to preserve the unity of the story, I will give a history of the events that took place at Chattanooga subsequent to our departure.

No unusual event occurred until a week after we had left. Then, one day, an officer entered the yard, where our boys were enjoying the shade of the prison, in the cool of the afternoon, and carelessly handed to Andrews his death-warrant! It was a terrible shock, but was borne bravely. He communicated the startling intelligence to our comrades as soon as they again assembled in their room. At once they resolved to carry into immediate execution the long-projected plan of escape, on which now depended their leader's only chance of life.

He was separated from them, and put down into the dungeon. But this did not interfere with their plans, for with the same knife which was so serviceable in making keys, a hole was cut above the bolts of the trap-door, allowing it to be raised. This done, which was late at night, they drew Andrews up by blankets, and then went to work cutting another hole through the ceiling. While they were performing the most noisy part of this operation, they deadened the sound by singing. The jailor afterward remarked that he might have known there was something the matter by their singing so mournfully.

When all their preparations were completed, the gray tint of dawn was just beginning to rise in the east. There was no time to lose. Andrews quickly mounted aloft. A rope was formed of some twisted blankets, and the next moment he was swinging outside of the wall. But in passing through the hole he loosened some bricks which fell to the ground, and thus gave the alarm. The accident caused him to drop his boots, which he afterward sorely needed.

The guard was instantly aroused, but Andrews dropped to the ground, darted to the fence, and was over before he could be prevented. John Wollam followed, and even while suspended in the air by the blankets, was fired upon. Fortunately, the hands of the guards were too unsteady to inflict any injury, and he, too, succeeded in getting out of the yard in safety.

Now the excitement became intense. All Chattanooga was roused, and the whole force started in pursuit of the flying fugitives. The officers hurried to the prison and roundly berated our boys because they did not give the alarm when their comrades were escaping! Colonel Claiborne, the Marshal, who had shown us some humanity, was summarily dismissed from his office for that cause alone! And the press came out in the most violent language, denouncing the officers in charge, and particularly General Leadbetter, for their false philanthropy in not having us chained to the floor in such a manner as to make escape impossible.

Our flying comrades had separated as soon as they left the prison. It was now daylight, and they could not continue their flight without the most imminent danger of discovery. Andrews went only a few hundred yards from town, and there secreted himself in a tree, in plain view of the railroad. He remained all day in this uncomfortable position, and saw the trains running under his feet, and heard his pursuers speculating as to what course he could have taken. The search was most thorough; but, fortunately, his umbrageous shelter was secure.

At night he came down and swam the river, but lost most of his clothing in the passage; he then journeyed on nearly naked. In the morning, just at the break of day, he crossed a small open field on his way to a tree, in which he intended to take shelter, as he had done the day before; but, unfortunately, he was observed. Immediately pursuit was made, but he dashed through the woods, and regained the river, much lower down than he had crossed the evening before. Here he swam a narrow channel, and reached a small island, where, for a time, he secreted himself among some driftwood at the upper end of the island.