Winning His Way
Page 22
CHAPTER XXII.
UNDER THE OLD FLAG.
There was no change at Andersonville, but in the loathsome prison it wasever the same terrible scene of starvation, corruption, disease,despair, and death. Every morning those who had died during the nightwere collected by the prisoners and laid in rows by the prison gate,where, during the day, they were piled upon the dead-cart and borne outto the trenches. There was no hope of relief for the living, and eachprisoner looked forward with indifference to his inevitable fate. Abovethem floated the Rebel flag. They were kept there beneath its folds byJefferson Davis and General Lee, till thirteen thousand had been starvedand murdered.
Paul knew that, notwithstanding Uncle Peter's constant care and nursing,he was growing weaker; but he had learned to look death calmly in theface, and so was undisturbed by the prospect. He knew that God, whotakes care of the sparrows, would not forget his mother, and he feltthat Azalia would sometimes shed a tear when she thought of him.
But one morning there was an unusual stir among the prisoners. "You areto be exchanged and sent home," said the Rebel officers. They had beentold the same thing so many times, and had been always so cruellydeceived, that they did not believe the statement till orders wereissued for a portion of them to be ready to march to the cars at anappointed hour. Paul was among those who were ordered away. All wereready in an instant, for they had no baggage to pack up, no knapsacks,no equipments, no overcoats,--nothing but the rags upon their bodies.
Those who were so weak that they could scarcely creep from place toplace rose and stood upon their feet when told that they were to gohome. Paul felt a fresh wave of life sweep over him, thrilling everyfibre of his wasted frame. Hope revived. Home! O the blissful thought!He rose weak and trembling from his bed on the cold, damp ground,wrapped his rags about him, and, leaning on a cane, supported by UnclePeter, hobbled out and took his place in the long line of skeletons,and waited with eager eyes to see the gate turn upon its rusty hinges.
It was hard to part with Uncle Peter, who had been so kind to him. "Godbless you and reward you for all your kindness to me," said Paul,bidding him good by, and shaking hands for the last time.
"I'se sorry to part with ye, Kurnel, but I bless de Lord you is gwine.We'll meet again one of dese days, whar de Rebs won't trouble us, andwhar we will be free foreber," said the old negro, looking up intoheaven. He could not go. He was a slave. There was no freedom for himtill the rebellion was crushed, or till the grave opened.
The gates turned on their hinges, and the regiment of skeletons in ragstook up its march. Such a procession never before was seen on earth. Athousand emaciated forms, tottering, reeling, hobbling on canes andcrutches, wending their way to the cars,--not to luxurious cushionedseats, but to hard, jolting cattle-cars,--for a long ride of hundreds ofmiles before reaching the sea-coast. But hope inspired them. They werebreathing fresh air, and were gazing on smiling fields, waving withgrain. They were on their way home. The birds cheered them, singing ofhome. "Going home, going home!" said the car-wheels, as they passed fromrail to rail. In joy and gladness they sang:
"I'm going home, I'm going home, To die no more, to die no more."
It was as if they had left behind them forever all sorrow and suffering,and that for them there could be no more distress, or pain, or anguish.It was a long, weary, dusty ride. Some died on the way, but hope keptmost of them alive.
They reached the city of Charleston, passed from the cars to asteamboat, which was to take them down the harbor to the place ofexchange. The waters danced joyfully around them, as if greeting themwith gladness. The breezes came in from the dark blue ocean and fannedtheir wasted cheeks. The waves, like a loving mother, gently rocked themand sung a soothing lullaby. But O what joy to behold once more the dearold flag! How serenely and lovingly it floated in the breeze! Theysaluted it with cheers,--shed tears of gratitude,--clasped each other bythe hand,--rushed into each other's arms. Those who were able to standdanced in a delirium of joy! Paul was too weak to sit up. He could onlylie upon the deck, and gaze upon the flag till his eyes filled withtears, and say: "Thank God, I have seen it once more!" Beneath that flagthere was joy, peace, comfort, food, clothing, and freedom. Hospitalnurses were there with blankets, and great kettles filled with soup andcoffee. For the wounded there were bandages; for the sick there werecordials, wines, and medicines. There were tender-hearted men, ready torelieve all their sufferings. It was like passing from the prison ofdespair into a paradise of peace and rest, and in joy and gladness theybegan to sing,
"Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord."
The strong men on board of the ship, the nurses, and the stout-heartedsailors wept like children, and spoke hard words against the Rebels whenthey looked upon the haggard countenances, the hollow cheeks, the sunkeneyes, of the skeleton forms around them.
Although Paul was so weak that he could hardly lift his hands to hishead, although his comrades were passing away, although every day he sawtheir bodies, wrapped in hammocks and weighted with shot, cast into thesea, yet he never experienced such bliss, such contentment, as whilelying on the deck through the long summer day, looking up to the oldflag, and the clear sky, and out upon the calm and peaceful sea,thinking of the sea of glass and the great white throne, and thecalmness, sereneness, and rest of heaven. And at night, when lulled tosleep by the rippling waves, how enchanting his dreams of home, of hismother, of the scenes of other days,--the old house, the swallowstwittering around its eaves, the roses blooming beneath the window, thenight-wind sweeping down the valley, the church-bell ringing the eveninghour, its deep tolling when the funeral train passed on to the cemeteryin the shady grove,--his friends welcoming him home once more, Azaliaamong them, queen of the hour, peerless in beauty, with rose bloom onher cheek,--of Mr. Chrome, Judge Adams, and Colonel Dare, all saying,"We are glad to see you,"--dreaming, and waking, to find it only adream.
But the ship was bearing him on. The distance was lessening. One moreday, and the voyage would be at an end, the ship in port. O, if he couldbut see his mother once more,--feel her hand upon his brow, her kissupon his lip,--then he could die content! A desire for life set in. Hoperevived. He would fight death as he had fought the Rebels, and, Godwilling, he would win the victory.