The Dispatch Carrier and Memoirs of Andersonville Prison Part 8

"Is dem Yanks got away? Fo' de Lord's sake; what will become of dis pore n.i.g.g.ah? Dem Yanks will kill us all. Oh, dear! Oh, dear!"

"Shut up, you old black cuss, and if you see any Yanks send Jake over to his master's and let them know there. They will send word to us."

"Now you just depend I will, ma.s.sa."

At this the Rebs rode off. Aunty had saved us. She said she never was so scared in all her born days, and Jake's eyes looked like saucers.

I went down from the loft and told Aunty that we had better be going.

"May the good Lord bress you, honey. I does hope dat you may get back to your own folks. I'se awful 'fraid you won't, 'caus I seed an old cullud woman to-day who say dat de kentry is jist full of sojers looking for dem Yanks wot's runned away from prison. I have baked some corn bread and bacon for you, and Jake will take you around de swamp."

We started about 12 o'clock that night. Our Aunty came to the door, took each of us by the hand and said: "Good-bye, and may de good Lord bress you and keep you." We all thanked her for her kindness and started out into the night. Jake went ahead and we followed along the edge of the swamp till daylight, when we came onto the main road. "Now, ma.s.sa," said Jake, "I'se gone as far as I can go with you. I hope you will git through all right, but if I was you I would lay down till night and then take de main road for de north."

We shook hands all around with Jake and he was gone. We then went a mile from the road and went into a lot of brush and lay there all day. When it became dark we struck for the north. It was a beautiful starlight night, and the road stretched straight ahead of us as far as the eye could reach. We pa.s.sed a number of plantation houses. While pa.s.sing one in particular the dogs set up a terrible howling. A man stood in the middle of the road. He said:

"Good evening. Who is yous?"

"We are friends."

"Youans look like Yanks."

"Suppose we are. What of that?"

"Well, I supposed you was. My master and a lot of soldiers are in the house now, and they have got seven dogs. They have been looking for youans all day. I hope you will get away but I'se afraid you will not, for the soldiers are all over the country looking for youans."

We then asked him if he would guide us to the big swamp he told us of.

He said he would go a piece with us, and he did go two or three miles, bringing us out near a large swamp. We traveled along the edge of this swamp until daybreak, finding ourselves on a large cotton field, when we made for the woods as fast as we could go. When we got to the timber I told the boys that I was played out, so we made for a big brush pile and crawling under the brush ate our breakfast. We then went to sleep and slept way into the next night. At daylight we again started north. We went through the woods and came out into a cornfield. Our bread and bacon had given out the night before and we were talking about something to eat, when Jesse said, "Hark!" We stopped and listened. Away off over the fields in the direction we had come we could hear the faint sound of the bloodhounds. We looked at each other for a moment and then started for the timber. When we got there each climbed a tree. We had been in the trees only five minutes when seven large and wonderfully ferocious bloodhounds cleared the fence and made straight for our trees. I will never forget what fearful beasts they were. The froth was coming from their mouths and their eyes shone like candles in the dark. They came right under the trees and looked up as much as to say, we have got you.

They would back off a few yards and then come at the tree with a bound, snapping on the jump; then they would chew the bark of the trees. In half an hour the Rebs came riding up. One of them jumped off his horse and threw the fence down. Then they rode in. There were fifteen in all, and their captain was an old gray-headed man. They rode under our trees, pointed their guns at us and said:

"Come down, you d.a.m.ned Yanks, or we will fill your carca.s.ses full of cold lead."

"Gentlemen," said I, "if you want to shoot, shoot; for I would rather be shot than chawed by them dogs."

One of the Rebs spoke to the captain and said, "Let's make them Yanks come down and see how quick the dogs will get away with them." "No,"

replied the captain, "they look as though they had had trouble enough."

Then they quarreled among themselves. Some wanted to let the dogs at us and others wanted to take us back to prison. Finally the captain came out ahead. They muzzled the dogs and tied them together. Then we surrendered. The captain lived only four miles from where we were captured. So they took us back to his house. We got there about 4 o'clock that afternoon. The old gentleman treated us kindly, giving us something to eat and also presented each with a quilt. We stopped here over night. We had been gone from Andersonville seven days and only got twenty-five miles away. The Rebs told us that the man who was caught in the hole had been shot where he stuck. All the others had been torn to pieces by the dogs except one and he had his arm torn off and died a few days later. We started next day for the prison. We traveled all day and camped that evening by the road. At noon the next day we got back to prison. Wirz told the guards they were d-- fools for bringing us back and told us we should be thankful to get back alive. After relieving us of our quilts the gates were opened and we were marched into Andersonville again.

We had some praying men at Andersonville. They held nightly prayer meetings, and they prayed for water. They prayed like men that meant business, for we were all dying for the want of it. One day after one of these meetings there occurred one of the most fearful rains I ever saw.

It washed the stockade as clean as a hound's tooth. Right between the dead line and the stockade it washed a ditch about two feet deep and a spring of cold water broke out in a stream large enough to fill a four-inch pipe. The spring is there yet, I am told, and to this day is called Providence spring. It broke out in the very best place it could for our benefit. The stockade protected it on one side from the rebels and the dead-line on the other side protected it from the prisoners. The fountain head was thus protected. We had good water from that on.

As I said before the Johnnies brought in our mush in barrels. After it was distributed the prisoners would tip the barrels over and go in head first trying to get what was not sc.r.a.ped out. They fought like cats and dogs about who would get in first. All sense of manhood had left them.

Starvation had made them little better than brutes. I had often tried to keep my mind off of anything to eat but it was impossible. I would dream at night that I was sitting up to a table loaded with good things, but would always wake up before I got them.

About this time there was a band formed, probably the off-scourings of the city of New York. They called themselves the New York b.u.mmers. They made up their minds to live, even if all the rest died of starvation.

They were armed with clubs, and would take the mush away from the weaker ones. If the unfortunate ones were strong enough to resist they knocked them down at once; and even went so far as to kill several that refused to give up to them. We were unable to stand by and permit such outrages, for to a man who lost one ration there, it meant almost certain death.

So the western prisoners pitched into these "New York b.u.mmers" and had a regular free fight, the former coming out ahead. We then took six of the leaders, and, holding a drumhead court-martial, sentenced them to be hanged. We first sent a report through to Gen. Sherman, explaining the matter. He sent back word to string them up. The rebels furnished the necessary timber, we built a scaffold and hanged them. From that time on every man ate his own rations.

There was one very large man, who was the the only fat man in the pen, among the six who were to be hanged. When they were swung off the big man broke his rope, and then you should have seen him jump to his feet, strike out right and left with his fists, and lay out fifteen or twenty men, and finally fight his way through the crowd to the creek, but the poor fellow got mired in the mud, and was captured and brought back. He looked up and saw the five swinging to and fro, and said, "I will soon be with you." Then they adjusted the rope around his neck and swung him off.

Oh, how sad it makes me feel when I get to thinking of the poor fellows that had to die in that horrible slaughter pen. I speak that which I know and testify to that which I have seen and nothing more.

I have seen men go to the privy and pick up beans after they had pa.s.sed through a man, and eat them. I have seen men lying on the ground calling for mothers, sisters, and brothers. No one to soothe the aching brow or whisper words of comfort, but had to die alone in that dirt and filth.

Capt. Wirz got it into his head that we had arms, and were going to make a break for liberty, and on the other hand we heard that the rebels intended to take some of us out to shoot, for the Yankees had been shooting the rebel prisoners, and the rebels were going to retaliate; so one day a rebel sergeant came in and commanded about one hundred of us to fall in to go for wood. You may depend we were not long in doing so, for if there was a happy time at Andersonville it was when we were let out to get wood.

Why, dear readers, I cannot describe to you the happiness which I felt to get out of that prison pen for just one hour. We formed a line and marched out. After they had marched us about half a mile from the pen they formed us in a line, with one Reb in front of each Yank, then old Wirz gave the command to ready, aim. You may be sure my heart came up into my mouth, and for a fact I thought the rebels were going to retaliate; but instead of shooting they searched us, to see if we had any arms concealed. Finding nothing of the kind, they put us back into the prison.

The next day the same sergeant came in and inquired for men by the names of Root and Tyler. Tyler being my name I knew it was me he was after, but having the retaliation in my head you may be sure I kept still; but one of our own men pointed me out. The Johnnie came up to me and said, "You are wanted outside;" and looking around he found Root, and told us both to follow him. Our comrades, supposing we were to be shot, escorted us to the gate and bade us good-bye for the last time, as they thought. The truth of the matter was we were taken out to help bury the dead. As far as I was concerned it did not make much difference to me what I did, for at that time I had the scurvy so bad I could have pulled most any tooth out with my fingers, while some of them fell out themselves.

Well, we were taken before Wirz. "Now," said he, "if youans' wont run away you can stay out here and bury the dead." We took the oath, and were told to go to a small log cabin, where we found twenty of our men who had already been taken out for the same business.

CHAPTER IV.

It did seem nice to get into a house which contained a fire-place and a crane where the kettles hung. One of the men swung the crane out and hung a kettle of beans over the fire. You bet I looked on with interest.

One of my comrades noticing me watching the cook said, "You had better be careful how you eat or you will kill yourself." That night I lay as near the fireplace as possible. The bubble of the bean pot was music in my ear. I kept quiet until I thought my comrades were asleep, then raising myself in a sitting posture, swung the crane back and took the pot of beans off. With much difficulty I succeeded in finding a spoon; I then sat as close to the kettle as possible, with one leg on each side of it, and went in for dear life. "Hold on, there," said one of my comrades, "do you want to kill yourself? I have been watching you all this time." For a truth I thought I was badly used.

The next day the men concluded to leave me to take care of the cabin, being too weak to be of much service.

The provisions were locked up in a big box, and the men went to work. I swept out the cabin and walked out to see what could be seen. Walking along I saw an old colored woman and her little boy, hanging out clothes. He was very dirty and ragged. He sat on the bank of the creek throwing crumbs from a good-sized piece of corn bread to the fish. I went up to him and s.n.a.t.c.hed the bread from his hands. He jumped up and ran to his mother crying, "That man has got my bread." "Never mind, honey; that man must be hungry."

The following day three more men were brought out to bury the dead. Our cook as usual hung up the kettle of beans to cook for breakfast.

Some time in the night one of the new hands got up and helped himself to beans, and before twelve o'clock the next day he was a dead man. You may be sure I was more careful after that how I ate.

The next day the men took me out to help bury the dead. Upon arriving at the place of burial I was yet so weak that I was of no service. So they set me to bringing water for the men to drink. The way the graves were dug was to dig a ditch six feet wide, about one hundred yards long, and three feet deep. They then laid them as close as possible, without box, coffin, or clothes, for the men inside stripped the dead as fast as they died. Most of the prisoners were dest.i.tute of clothes, but it looked hard to see from three to five hundred buried in one day without clothes on.

The prisoners of Andersonville were dying at a terrible rate, especially those who had been longest in rebel hands. The rebels had deliberately planned the murder of the Union prisoners by the slow process of starvation and disease. It was at first slow but sure, and then it was sure and rapid. I have counted three hundred and sixty lifeless skeletons of our boys that had died in one day. You might walk around the prison any hour in the day and see men closing their eyes in death.

Diarrhoea and scurvy appeared to be the most fatal diseases.

None can know the horrors of scurvy except those who have had it.

Sometimes the cords of the victim would be contracted and the limbs drawn up so that the patient could neither walk, stand, nor lie still.

Sometimes it would be confined to the bones, and not make any appearance on the outside. At other times it would be confined to the mouth, and the gums would separate from the teeth and the teeth would drop out. I have seen hundreds of cases of this disease in Andersonville. I have seen many of our prisoners suffering with this disease, actually starving to death, because they could not eat the coa.r.s.e corn meal furnished by the rebels for the Yankee prisoners.

In the month of June it rained continually for twenty-one days, and it is not strange diseases multiplied and a.s.sumed every horrible form; there were thirty-five thousand prisoners during all the rainy time, without shelter, lying out in the storm, day and night.

As I was going to the well for water, the third or fourth day of my stay outside, I met Wirz and two confederate officers. Wirz said, "What are you doing here?" I told him I was carrying water for the men who were digging graves. "Well," said he, "If you don't get inside of that gate, double quick, I will have a grave dug for you, and prepare you to fill it." You may be sure I went in, and was a prisoner inside again.

About this time Mrs. Wirz took a great liking to one of our little drummer boys. She took him out and dressed him in a nice fitting suit of gray. The boy was only eleven years old, and very handsome. The little fellow put on his suit of gray, and Mrs. Wirz said, "How do you like your clothes?" "I do not like them at all," replied the boy. "Why, what is the matter?" "I do not like the color." Mrs. Wirz liked him all the better for the bold spirit he manifested. She then made him a suit of blue, and also a nice red cap, and thenceforth he went by the name of Red Cap.

Red Cap would come in every day or two and tell us what was going on outside. He told us Mrs. Wirz quarreled with Wirz every day because he did not try to prepare some kind of a shelter for the prisoners. She wished him to let a few of us out at a time to cut timber to make our own shelter with. No, he would not do that. Finally Mrs. Wirz told him if he didn't do something for the relief of the prisoners, she would poison him; "For," said she, "I cannot sleep nights; my dreams are one continued nightmare, and I will stand it no longer." Mrs. Wirz was a true southerner, of the kind called creole; but for all that she had a great deal of humanity about her. She continued her threats and pleadings, but they were of no avail. She finally did give him a dose of poison. He had been threatened so much that when he did get it he knew what was the matter, and took something to counteract it. After that "Old Wirz" let us out oftener for wood.

Dr. John C. Bates, who was a kind-hearted and humane rebel surgeon, testified as follows: