CHAPTER TWENTY-SIXTH.
"And faint not, heart of man! though years wane slow! There have been those that from the deepest caves, And cells of night and fastnesses below The stormy dashing of the ocean waves, Down, farther down than gold lies hid, have nurs'd A quenchless hope, and watch'd their time and burst On the bright day like wakeners from the grave." --MRS. HEMANS
Noon of a sultry July day, 1864; the scorching sun looks down upon a pineforest; in its midst a cleared space some thirty acres in extent,surrounded by a log stockade ten feet high, the timbers set three feetdeep into the ground; a star fort, with one gun at each corner of thesquare enclosure; on top of the stockade sentinel boxes placed twenty feetapart, reached by steps from the outside; in each of these a vigilantguard with loaded musket, constantly on the watch for the slightestpretext for shooting down some one or more of the prisoners, of whom thereare from twenty-five thousand to thirty thousand.
All along the inner side of the wall, six feet from it, stretches a deadline; and any poor fellow thoughtlessly or accidentally laying a hand uponit, or allowing any part of his body to reach under or over it, will beinstantly shot.
A green, slimy, sluggish stream, bringing with it all the filth of thesewers of Andersonville, a village three miles distant, flows directlyacross the enclosure from east to west. Formerly, the only water fit todrink came from a spring beyond the eastern wall, which flowing under it,into the enclosure, emptied itself into the other stream, a few feetwithin the dead line.
It did not suffice to satisfy the thirst of the thousands who must drinkor die, and the little corner where its waters could be reached was alwayscrowded, men pressing upon each other till often one or another would bepushed against the dead line, shot by the guard, and the body left lyingtill the next morning; even if it had fallen into the water beyond theline, polluting the scant supply left for the living. But the cry of theseperishing ones had gone up into the ears of the merciful Father of us all,and of late a spring of clear water bubbles up in their midst.
But powder and shot, famine, exposure (for the prisoners have no shelter,except as they burrow in the earth), and malaria from that sluggish,filthy stream, and the marshy ground on either side of it, are doing afearful work: every morning a wagon drawn by four mules is driven in, andthe corpses--scattered here and there to the number of from eighty-five toa hundred--gathered up, tossed into it like sticks of wood, taken away andthrown promiscuously into a hole dug for the purpose, and earth shoveledover them.
There are corpses lying about now; there are men, slowly breathing outtheir last of life, with no dying bed, no pillow save the hard ground, nomother, wife, sister, daughter near, to weep over, or to comfort them asthey enter the dark valley.
Others there are, wasted and worn till scarce more than living skeletons,creeping about on hands and feet, lying or sitting in every attitude ofdespair and suffering; a dull, hopeless misery in their sunken eyes, apathetic patience fit to touch a heart of stone; while others still havegrown frantic with that terrible pain, the hunger gnawing at their veryvitals, and go staggering about, wildly raving in their helpless agony.
And on them all the scorching sun beats pitilessly down. Hard, cruel fate!scorched with heat, with the cool shelter of the pine forests on everyside; perishing with hunger in a land of plenty.
In one corner, but a yard or so within the dead line, a group of officersin the Federal uniform--evidently men of culture and refinement, spite oftheir hatless and shoeless condition, ragged, soiled raiment, unkempthair, and unshaven faces--sit on the ground, like their comrades inmisfortune, sweltering in the sun.
"When will this end?" sighs one. "I'd sooner die a hundred deaths on thebattle-field."
"Ah, who wouldn't?" exclaims another; "to starve, roast, and freeze byturns for one's country, requires more patriotism by far than to march upto the cannon's mouth, or charge up hill under a galling fire ofmusketry."
"True indeed, Jones," returns a fair-haired, blue-eyed young man, withface so gaunt and haggard with famine that his own mother would scarcelyhave recognized him, and distinguished from the rest by a ball and chainattached to wrist and ankle; "and yet we bear it for her sake and forFreedom's. Who of us regrets that we did not stay at home in ingloriousease, and leave our grand old ship of state to founder and go to piecesamid the rocks of secession?"
"None of us, Allison! No, no! the Union forever!" returned several voicesin chorus.
"Hark!"--as the sharp crack of a rifle was heard, and a prisoner who, halfcrazed with suffering, had, in staggering about, approached too near thefatal line and laid a hand upon it, fell dead--"another patriot soul hasgone to its account, and another rebel earned a thirty days' furlough."
The dark eyes of the speaker flashed with indignation.
"Poor fellows, they don't know that it is to preserve _their_ liberties wefight, starve, and die; to save them from the despotism their ambitiousand unscrupulous leaders desire to establish over them," remarked HaroldAllison; "how grossly the masses of the Southern people have been deceivedby a few hot-headed politicians, bent upon obtaining power for themselvesat whatever cost."
"True," returned the other, drily; "but it's just a little difficult tokeep these things in mind under present circumstances. By the way,Allison, have you a sister who married a Mr. Horace Dinsmore?"
"Yes, do you know Rose?" asked Harold, in some surprise.
"I was once a guest at the Oaks for a fortnight or so, at the time of themarriage of Miss Elsie, Mr. Dinsmore's daughter, to a Mr. Travilla."
Harold's face grew a shade paler, but his tones were calm and quiet."Indeed! and may I ask your name?"
"Harry Duncan, at your service," returned the other, with a bow and smile."I met your three brothers there, also your sisters, Mrs. Carrington andMiss May Allison."
The color deepened slightly on Harry's cheek as he pronounced the lastname. The pretty face, graceful form, charming manners, and sprightlyconversation of the young lady were still fresh in his memory. Havingenjoyed the hospitalities of Andersonville for but a few days, he was inbetter condition, as to health and clothing, than the rest of the group,who had been there for months.
"Harry Duncan!" exclaimed Harold, offering his hand, which the other tookin a cordial grasp and shook heartily, "yes, I know; I have heard of youand your aunt, Miss Stanhope. I feel as if I'd found a brother."
"Thank you; suppose we consider ourselves such; a brother is what I'vebeen hankering after ever since I can remember."
"Agreed," said Harold. "Perhaps," he added, with a melancholy smile, "wemay find the fiction turned to fact some day, if you and one of my singlesisters should happen to take a fancy to each other; that is, if we liveto get out of this and to see home again." His tone at the last was verydesponding.
"Cheer up," said Duncan, in a low, sympathizing tone, "I think we can finda way to escape; men have done so even from the Bastile--a far moredifficult task, I should say."
"What's your idea?"
"To dig our way out, working at night, and covering up the traces of ourwork by day."
"Yes, it's the only way possible, so far as I can see," said Harold. "Ihave already escaped twice in that way, but only to be retaken, and thisis what I gained," shaking his chain, and pointing to the heavy ballattached. "Yet, if I were rid of this, and possessed of a little morestrength, I'd make a third attempt."
"I think I could rid you of that little attachment," returned Duncan; "andthe tunnel once ready, help you in the race for liberty."
The others of the group were exchanging significant nods and glances.
"I think we may let Duncan into our secret," said Jones. "We're digging awell; have gone down six feet; three feet below the surface is soapstone,so soft we can cut it with our jack-knives. We mean to work our way outto-night. Will you join us?"
"With all my heart."
"Suppose we are caught in the attempt," said one.
"We can
't be in much worse condition than now," observed another;"starving in this pestiferous atmosphere filled with the malaria from thatswamp, and the effluvia from half-decayed corpses; men dying every day,almost every hour, from famine, disease, or violence."
"No," said Harry, "we may bring upon ourselves what Allison is enduring,or instant death; but I for one would prefer the latter to the slowtorture of starvation."
"If we are ready," said Harold, in low, solemn tones. "It is appointed tomen once to die, and after that the judgment."
"And what should you say was the needful preparation?" queried another,half-mockingly. "'Repent ye and believe the gospel.' 'Let the wickedforsake his way and the unrighteous man his thoughts, and let him returnunto the Lord and He will have mercy upon him; and to our God, for He willabundantly pardon.' 'Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt besaved.'"
Silence fell on the little group. Duncan's eyes wandered over the field,over the thousands of brave men herded together there like cattle, withnone of the comforts, few of the necessaries of life--over the living, thedying, the dead; taking in the whole aggregate of suffering with onesweeping glance. His eyes filled; his whole soul was moved withcompassion, while he half forgot that he himself was one of them.
How much were the consolations of God needed here! how few, comparatively,possessed them. But some there were who did, and were trying to impartthem to others. Should he stay and share in this good work? Perhaps heought; he almost thought so for a moment; but he remembered his country'sneed; he had enlisted for the war; he must return to active service, if hecould.
Then his eye fell upon Harold. Here was a noble life to be saved; a lifethat would inevitably be lost to friends, relatives, country, by but a fewweeks' longer sojourn in this horrible place. Duncan's determination wastaken: with the help of God the morning light should find them both freeand far on their way towards the Union lines.
"We'll try it, comrades, to-night," he said aloud.
"So we will," they answered with determination.
A man came staggering towards them, gesticulating wildly and swearinghorrible oaths.
"He is crazed with hunger, poor fellow," remarked Harold.
Duncan was gazing steadily at the man who had now sunk panting upon theground, exhausted by his own violence. Evidently he had once possessedmore than an ordinary share of physical beauty, but vice and evil passionshad set their stamp upon his features, and famine had done its ghastlywork; he was but a wreck of his former self.
"Where have I seen that face?" murmured Harry, unconsciously thinkingaloud.
"In the rogues' gallery, perhaps. Tom Jackson is his name, or one of hisnames; for he has several aliases, I'm told," remarked some one standingnear.
"Yes, he's the very man!" exclaimed Harry. "I have studied his photographand recognize him fully, in spite of famine's ravages. The wretch! hedeserves all he suffers: and yet I pity him."
"What! the would-be assassin of Viamede?" and Harold started to his feet,the hot blood dyeing his thin cheeks.
"The same. You feel like lynching him on the spot; and no wonder. Butrefrain; _they_ would bid you, and he is already suffering a worse fatethan any you could mete out to him."
"God forgive me!" groaned Harold, dropping down again and hiding his facein his hands, "I believe there was murder in my heart."
"The story? what was it?" asked Jones. "Tell it, Duncan; anything to helpus to a moment's forgetfulness."
The others joined in the request, and Duncan gave the full particulars ofthe several attempts Jackson had made upon the lives of Mr. Travilla andElsie.
Allison never once lifted his face during the recital, but the restlistened with keen interest.
"The fellow richly deserves lynching," was the unanimous verdict, "but, asyou say, is already suffering a far worse fate."
"And yet no worse than that of thousands of innocent men," remarked Jonesbitterly. "Where's the justice of it?"
"Do you expect even-handed justice here?" inquired another.
"Perhaps he may be no worse in the sight of God, than some of the rest ofus," said Harold, in low, grave tones; "we do not know what evilinfluences may have surrounded him from his very birth, or whether,exposed to the same, we would have turned out any better."
"I'm perishing with thirst," said Jones, "and must try pushing throughthat crowd about the spring."
He wandered off and the group scattered, leaving Harold and Duncan alonetogether.
The two had a long talk: of home, common friends and acquaintance; of thewar, what this or that Federal force was probably now attempting; whatfuture movements were likely to be made, and how the contest would end;neither doubting the final triumph of the government.
"And that triumph can't be very far off either," concluded Harry. "I thinkthe struggle will be over before this time next year, and I hope you and Imay have a hand in the winding up."
"Perhaps you may," Allison rejoined a little sadly; "but I, I fear, havestruck my last blow for my native land."
"You are not strong now, but good nursing may do wonders for you,"answered Harry cheerily. "Once within the Union lines, and you will feellike another man."
"Ah, but how to get me there? that's the tug of war," said Harold, butwith a smile and in tones more hopeful than his words. "Duncan, you are aChristian?"
"Yes, Allison; Jesus Christ is the Captain of my salvation; in whom Itrust, and in whose service I desire to live and die."
"Then are we brothers indeed!" and with the words their right hands joinedin a more cordial grasp than before.
The sun was nearing the western horizon when at length Harold was leftalone. He bowed his head upon his knees in thought and prayer, remainingthus for many minutes, striving for a spirit of forgiveness and compassiontowards the coward wretch who would have slain one dearer to him thanlife.
At last, as the shadows of evening were gathering over the place, helifted a pale, patient face; and rising, made his way slowly and withdifficulty towards the spot where Jackson lay prostrate on the ground,groaning and crying like a child.
Sitting down beside the miserable creature, he spoke to him in gentle,soothing tones. "You have been here a long time?"
"The longest year that ever I lived! but it won't last much longer," andhe uttered a fearful oath.
"Are you expecting to be exchanged?"
"Exchanged! no. What do those fellows at Washington care about our lives?They'll delay and delay till we're all starved to death, like hundreds andthousands, before us;" and again he concluded with a volley of oaths andcurses, bestowed indiscriminately upon the President and Congress, JeffDavis, Wirtz, and the guard.
Harold was shocked at his profanity. "Man," said he solemnly, "do you knowthat you are on the brink of the grave? and must soon appear at the bar ofHim whose holy name you are taking in vain?"
"Curse you!" he cried, lifting his head for a moment, then dropping itagain on the ground; "take your cant to some other market, I don't believein a God, or heaven or hell: and the sooner I die the better; for I'll beout of my misery."
"No; that is a fatal delusion, and unless you turn and repent, and believeon the Lord Jesus Christ, death can only plunge you into deeper misery.You have only a little while! Oh, I beseech you, don't cast away your lastchance to secure pardon, peace and eternal life!"
"You're 'casting your pearls before swine,'" returned the man, sneeringly."Not to say that I'm a hog exactly, but I've not a bit more of a soul thanif I was. Your name's Allison, isn't it?"
"It is."
"D'ye know anybody named Dinsmore? or Travilla?"
"Yes; and I know who you are, Jackson, and of your crimes against them. Inthe sight of God you are a murderer."
"You tell me to repent. I've repented many a time that I didn't takebetter aim and blow his brains out; yes, and hers too. I hoped I had, tillI saw the account in the papers."
Harold's teeth and hands were tightly clenched, in an almost superhumaneffort to keep himself quiet; and the man w
ent on without interruption.
"He'd nearly made a finish of me, but I was smart enough to escape them,bloodhounds and all. I got over the border into Texas; had a pretty goodtime there for awhile--after I recovered from that awful blood-letting;but when secession began, I slipped off and came North. You think I'm allbad; but I had a kind of love for the old flag, and went right into thearmy. Besides, I thought it might give me a chance to put a bullet throughsome o' those that had thwarted my plans, and would have had me lynched,if they could."
Harold rose and went away, thinking that verily he had been casting hispearls before swine.
Jackson had, indeed, thrown away his last chance; rejected the last offerof salvation; for, ere morning, life had fled. Starved to death and goneinto eternity without God and without hope! his bitterest foe could nothave desired for him a more terrible fate.
There was no moon that night, and the evening was cloudy, making afavorable condition of affairs for the prisoners contemplating an escape.As soon as the darkness was dense enough to conceal their movements fromthe guard, the work of tunneling began.
It was a tedious business, as they had none of the proper tools, and onlyone or two could work at a time at the digging and cutting away of thestone; but they relieved each other frequently at that, while those on theoutside carried away in their coats or whatever came to hand, the earthand fragments of stone dislodged, and spread them over the marshy groundnear the creek.
Duncan, returning from one of these trips, spoke in an undertone to HaroldAllison, who with a rude file made of a broken knife-blade, was patientlyendeavoring to free himself from his shackles.
"Jackson is dead. I half stumbled over a corpse in the dark, when a manclose by (the same one that told us this afternoon who the fellow was--Irecognized the voice) said, 'He's just breathed his last, poor wretch!died with a curse on his lips.' 'Who is he?' I asked; and he answered,'Tom Jackson was one of his names.'"
"Gone!" said Harold, "and with all his sins upon his head."
"Yes; it's awful! Here, let me work that for awhile. You're very tired."
The proffered assistance was thankfully accepted, and another half-hour ofvigorous effort set Harold's limbs free. He stretched them out, with a lowexclamation of gratitude and relief.
At the same instant a whisper came to their ears. "The work's done atlast. Jones is out. Parsons close at his heels. Cox behind him. Will yougo next?"
"Thanks, no; I will be the last," said Duncan; "and take charge of Allisonhere, who is too weak to travel far alone."
"Then I'm off," returned the voice. "Don't lose a minute in following me."
"Now, Allison," whispered Harry, "summon all your strength and courage,old fellow."
"Duncan, you are a true and noble friend! God reward you. Let me be last."
"No, in with you, man! not an instant to spare;" and with kindly force hehalf lifted his friend into the well, and guided him to the mouth of thetunnel.
Allison crept through it as fast as his feeble strength would permit,Duncan close behind him.
They emerged in safety, as the others had done before them; at oncescattering in different directions.
These two moved on together, for several minutes, plunging deeper anddeeper into the woods, but presently paused to take breath and considertheir bearings.
"Oh, the air of liberty is sweet!" exclaimed Duncan, in low, exultanttones; "but we mustn't delay here."
"No; we are far from safe yet," panted Allison, "but--'prayer andprovender hinder no man's journey'; Duncan, let us spend one moment insilent prayer for success in reaching the Union lines."
They did so, kneeling on the ground; then rose and pressed forward withconfidence. God, whose servants they were and whose help they had asked,would guide them in the right direction.
"What a providence!" exclaimed Duncan, grasping Harold's arm, as they cameout upon an opening in the wood. "See!" and he pointed upward, "theclouds have broken away a little, and there shines the North Star: we cansteer by that."
"Thank God! and, so far, we have been traveling in the right direction."
"Amen! and we must press on with all speed; for daylight will soon be uponus, and with it, in all probability, our escape will be discovered andpursuit begun."
No more breath could be spared for talk, and they pushed on in silence,now scrambling through a thicket of underbrush, tearing their clothes andnot seldom lacerating their flesh also; now leaping over a fallen tree,anon climbing a hill, and again fording or swimming a stream.
At length Harold, sinking down upon a log, said, "I am utterly exhausted!Can go no farther. Go on, and leave me to follow as I can after a littlerest."
"Not a step without you, Allison," returned Duncan, determinedly. "Rest abit, and then try it again with the help of my arm. Courage, old fellow,we must have put at least six or eight miles between us and our latequarters. Ah, ha! yonder are some blackberry bushes, well laden with ripefruit. Sit or lie still while I gather our breakfast."
Hastily snatching a handful of oak leaves, and forming a rude basket bypinning them together with thorns, he quickly made his way to the bushes,a few yards distant, while Harold stretched himself upon the log andclosed his weary eyes.
He thought he had hardly done so when Duncan touched his arm.
"Sorry to wake you, Allison, but time is precious; and, like the beggars,we must eat and run."
The basket was heaped high with large, delicious berries, which greatlyrefreshed our travelers.
"Now, then, are you equal to another effort?" asked Duncan, as the lastone disappeared, and he thrust the leaves into his pocket, adding, "Wemustn't leave these to tell tales to our pursuers."
"Yes, I dare not linger here," returned Allison, rising but totteringly.
Duncan threw an arm about him, and again they pressed forward, toiling onfor another half-hour; when Allison again gave out, and sinking upon theground, begged his friend to leave him and secure his own safety.
"Never!" cried Duncan, "never! There would be more, many more, to mournyour loss than mine. Who would shed a tear for me but Aunt Wealthy? Dearold soul, it would be hard for her, I know; but she'd soon follow me."
"Yes, you are her all; but there's a large family of us, and I couldeasily be spared."
Duncan shook his head. "Was your brother who fell at Ball's Bluff easilyspared? But hark! what was that?" He bent his ear to the ground. "Thedistant bay of hounds! We must push on!" he cried, starting up in haste.
"Bloodhounds on our track? Horrible!" exclaimed Harold, also starting tohis feet, weakness and fatigue forgotten for the moment, in the terrorinspired by that thought.
Duncan again gave him the support of his arm, and for the next half-hourthey pressed on quite rapidly; yet their pursuers were gaining on them,for the bay of the hounds, though still distant, could now be distinctlyheard, and Allison's strength again gave away.
"I--can--go no farther, Duncan," he said, pantingly; "let me climb up yontall oak and conceal myself among the branches, while you hurry on."
"No, no, they would discover you directly, and it would be surrender ordie. Ah, see! there's a little log cabin behind those bushes, and whoknows but we may find help there. Courage, and hope, my boy;" and almostcarrying Harold, Duncan hurried to the door of the hut.
Pushing it open, and seeing an old negro inside, "Cato, Caesar----"
"Uncle Scip, sah," grinned the negro.
"Well, no matter for the name; will you help us? We're Federal soldiersjust escaped from Andersonville, and they're after us with bloodhounds.Can you tell us of anything that will put the savage brutes off thescent?"
"Sah?"
"Something that will stop the hounds from following us--quick, quick! ifyou know anything."
The negro sprang up, reached a bottle from a shelf, and handing it toHarry, said, "Turpentine, sah; rub um on your feet, gen'lemen, an' dehounds won't follah you no moah. But please, sahs, go little ways off intothe woods fo' you use um, so de rebs not tink dis ch
ile gib um to ye."
Harry clutched the bottle, throwing down a ten-dollar bill (all the moneyhe had about him) at Uncle Scip's feet, and dragging Harold some hundredyards farther into the depths of the wood, seated him on a log, appliedthe turpentine plentifully to his feet, and then to his own.
All this time the baying of the hounds came nearer and nearer, till itseemed that the next moment would bring them into sight.
"Up!" cried Harry, flinging away the empty bottle, "one more tug for lifeand liberty, or we are lost!"
Harold did not speak, but hope and fear once more inspiring him withtemporary strength, he rose and hurried on by the side of his friend.Coming presently to a cleared space, they almost flew across it, andgained the shelter of the woods beyond. The cry of the hounds was nolonger heard.
"They've lost the scent, sure enough," said Duncan, exultingly; "a littlefarther and I think we may venture to rest awhile, concealing ourselves insome thicket. Indeed 'twill now be safer to hide by day, and continue ourjourney by night."
They did so, spending that and the next day in hiding, living upon rootsand berries, and the next two nights in traveling in the supposeddirection of the nearest Union camp, coming upon the pickets about sunriseof the third day. They were of Captain Duncan's own regiment, and he wasimmediately recognized with a delighted, "Hurrah!"
"Hurrah for the Union and the old flag!" returned Harry, waving a greenbranch above his head, in lieu of the military cap he had been robbed ofby his captors.
Elsie's Womanhood Page 26
