A HORRIBLE PRISON.
A plain picture of the Chattanooga prison into which the members of the
railroad party were thrust cannot be given in all its detail without
shocking the sensitive reader. Even when the coarser features are
omitted enough will remain to task credulity. The book and newspaper
accounts published by the survivors are not, however, the only evidence
upon which the extraordinary story rests. In the Appendix the official
report is given, based upon sworn testimony, and to this any one who may
be disposed to doubt this narrative is referred.
Yet I would not hold the Southern people or even the Confederate
government wholly responsible for the barbarous and outrageous treatment
experienced at this place. The system of slavery is primarily
responsible, for it provided such dens as the negro prison at
Chattanooga. An intemperate man of Northern birth--General
Leadbetter--found that the fortunes of war had placed a score of men,
one after another, in his hands, and, feeling that they deserved severe
treatment for the daring character of their enterprise, he recklessly
ordered them, as fast as they were brought before him, to be committed
to "the hole" without stopping to consider what accommodations it
afforded. His subordinates, afraid of being themselves suspected of
disloyalty if they showed sympathy with the prisoners, offered no
remonstrance, and the result was suffering almost too fearful for
belief.
The captain, to whose charge I had been committed by General Leadbetter
at the close of my examination, called a guard of eight men and
conducted me through the streets to the northern part of the town. We
halted before a little brick building surrounded by a high board
fence,--the negro prison of Chattanooga, known as "the hole." A portion
of the building was occupied by the jailer. The prison part consisted of
two rooms, one directly under the other, and also partly underground.
The upper room was accessible only by an outside staircase, and the
lower had no entrance except from a trap-door directly overhead.
The jailer, whose name was Swims, met us at the outer gate. He was a
poor, ignorant creature,--a bad specimen of the "poor white" of the
South, and had all his life been engaged in the lowest employments. He
was old,--perhaps sixty,--and had abundant hair, which was very white,
while his face was dry and withered. His voice was always keyed on a
whining tone, except when some great cause, such as a request of
prisoners for an extra bucket of water, excited him, and then it rose to
a hoarse scream. Avarice was his predominant characteristic. He seemed
to think that his accommodations were vastly too good for negroes and
Yankees, and that when they were admitted to his precincts, they should
be thankful and give as little trouble as possible. Such a man was able
to greatly aggravate the hard lot of the unfortunate prisoners in his
care. It should also be stated that he was very fond of a dram, and
frequently became sufficiently intoxicated to reveal many important
matters that would otherwise have been concealed.
Swims bustled up to the gate, growling about being troubled so much,
unlocked it, and, admitting us, led the way up the outside stairway into
the outer room. I then thought I understood why the general called the
place "the hole." This room was only thirteen feet square, and entirely
destitute of chairs, beds, or any conveniences whatever. Five or six
old, miserable-looking men were in it, who appeared not to have been
washed for months. I shuddered at the thought of taking up my abode in
such a den. But I was not to be allowed that luxury.
Said the jailer to the captain, "Where shall I put him?"
"Below, of course," replied the captain.
The jailer advanced to the middle of the room, 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 that rushed up from below drove me back a few
steps; but the bayonets of the guards were just behind, and I was
compelled to move forward again. A long ladder was thrust down through
the trap-door, and the warning given those below to stand from under. A
mingled volley of cries, oaths, and remonstrances ascended, but the
ladder was secured, and I was ordered to descend, ironed as I was. The
long chain and the ropes had been taken off, but the handcuffs remained.
I did not like to go down that ladder into the gloom below, but there
was no alternative. The darkness hid every object from view, but I
clambered down 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 of cubic form, just thirteen feet in length, breadth,
and height. I stepped off the ladder, treading on human beings I could
not discern, and crowded in as best I could.
[Illustration: A TERRIBLE DESCENT.
Page 172.]
The heat was so great that the perspiration started from every pore. The
fetid air made me, for a time, deadly sick, and I wondered if it could
be possible that they would leave human beings in this fearful place to
perish. The thought of the Black Hole of Calcutta rose instantly before
me. I did not think life could be sustained in such a place for many
hours. But I was yet to learn the wonderful possibilities of human
endurance.
My breath came thick and heavy, and I expected suffocation. The ladder
was drawn up, and with a dull and heavy thud that seemed to strike my
heart the trap-door fell. It was like being closed alive in the grave! I
wedged and forced my way through the throng to the window. The one I
reached was just beneath the wooden, outside stairway, and even at noon
gave very little light. The only other window was at the opposite side
of the room and below the level of the ground. They were only holes in
the thick walls, a foot square, and filled with a triple row of
thick-set iron bars that almost excluded every current of air. I got my
face near the bars and breathed the purest air I could get, until the
horrible sense of suffocation diminished as I became partially
accustomed to these fearful surroundings, and then turned to ascertain
the condition of my prison companions. It was wretched beyond
description. They were ragged, dirty, and crawling with vermin. Most of
them were nearly naked; but the air was so stiflingly warm that those
who had clothing had removed all they could. I soon found it necessary
myself to disrobe, as far as my handcuffs permitted, and even then the
perspiration was most profuse. It was an atmosphere of death.
I was the first one of the "engine thieves" put into this horrible
place, though several had been captured earlier. When I entered there
were fourteen other white prisoners and one negro--sixteen in
all--crowded into a room thirteen feet square. My dungeon partners were
East Tennessee Union men. In how many other prisons these hapless
victims to their own loyalty were immured I cannot tell; I found some of
them in every prison of which I became an inmate, in Virginia and
Georgia as well as Tennessee. The negro had been arrested on suspicion
of being a fugitive, and treated in the manner usual in such cases. No
trial was granted. A suspected fugitive was simply arrested and severely
flogged. This usually brought some kind of a confession, true or false,
as the only way to stop the torture. He was then committed to prison and
advertised in accordance with his confession. If no answer came in a
specified time, he was taken out and flogged into a new confession and
re-advertised. Thus whipping and advertising continued until the close
of the year, when he was sold at auction to pay jail and whipping fees.
If he was a slave, his master could take him out earlier; but a free
negro had no prospect but the year of torture and afterwards perpetual
bondage! Can we too often thank God that the whole awful system of
slavery has been swept away? Poor Aleck had been in this horrible prison
seven months, with no prospect but that of remaining five more and then
being sold. He was so kind and accommodating that he became a general
favorite, and when he was taken out to be whipped we could not help
feeling the deepest sympathy.
Every society has its aristocracy, and I soon found that here the
highest rank was accorded to those who were charged with having done
most against the Confederacy. There was one blind man, charged with
being a spy, and he was considered much above the ordinary Union men.
The rebels thought he was counterfeiting blindness, but I believe it was
real. I was charged with the greatest offence of any yet confined in
that dungeon, and was, of course, treated with becoming deference.
About an hour later the trap-door again opened, causing a stream of
comparatively cool air from above to rush down. It was an inconceivable
relief,--a _luxury_ that none could appreciate who had not, like us,
been deprived of God's greatest physical blessing--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 here!" But these remonstrances, reasonable as they were, produced
no effect. Down they came, and I, stationing myself at the foot of the
ladder, spoke something indifferently to them, and heard my own name
called in return. There was a warm clasp of ironed hands, and I knew
that I had true comrades in our common misery. It was Andrews, Wollam,
and Ross. Strangely mingled feelings swept over my bosom. I was sorry
that they had come to this terrible place, yet glad of their
companionship. We got into a corner by ourselves, for we did not know
but a spy might be waiting to catch our words, and cautiously spoke of
our past adventures, and strove to form some plans for the future. The
trap-door was soon closed, and the free air, which had seemed to flow to
us in sympathy, was once more shut out.
Others of our band were brought, I do not remember whether the same
evening or the next morning, and we wondered what had become of those
who were still absent. But they continued to arrive by twos and threes
until all had met in this doleful place of assemblage. The whole number
was twenty-two, and as fast as they came the Tennesseeans with us were
removed into the room above, and we had the foul den all to ourselves.
This allowed the advantage of talking freely without fear of betrayal.
We had great difficulty in arranging ourselves for sleep on account of
the smallness of the room. An easy calculation will show how closely we
were packed. A small corner was necessarily reserved for the water- and
slop-buckets. Then two rows, with ten in each row, left two over, who
had to be disposed of somehow. We did the best we could. Some sat
against the wall, while others leaned against the breasts of those who
were thus supported. Every motion caused the most dismal clanking of
chains, for the chains were not removed even in such a dungeon. After we
had been packed away for the night, if any one wanted to move his
position, or go for a drink, he was sure to tread on some of his
neighbors, and, tempers being naturally very short here, some warm
altercations took place, which contributed still more to disturb our
slumbers. A fight in the darkness with manacled hands was several times
prevented with great difficulty by those of us who were more pacifically
disposed.
A few of us, who were more fortunate, had no chains around our necks,
but only wore handcuffs. I was _strongly attached_ to William Reddick,
one of a pair of handcuffs being placed on my left hand and the other on
his right. In two instances three persons were fastened by one chain,
which passed around the necks of each. William Campbell, a man of
immense strength, was a member of one trio. I have seen him several
times take hold of the chain near his own neck, and saying, "Come here,
you Yanks," parade his two chain-comrades, in spite of all their
resistance, back and forth over the room.
In this wretched situation we slept much. The great quantity of carbonic
acid our breathing produced acted as an opiate, and served in some
measure to stupefy us and deaden the sense of pain. In the morning we
slept or dozed, for we had no motive to rouse up until about nine
o'clock. The next morning after my arrival I was awakened--early, as I
supposed--by the opening of the trap-door and the delicious shower of
cool air that fell upon us. As I looked up, there was the white head of
our old jailer bending over and saying, in drawling tones, "Boys, here's
your breakfast," and he lowered a bucket by a rope, with a very small
piece of corn bread and a tiny morsel of meat for each of us. It was
seized and devoured almost instantly. I had eaten nothing since the day
before, and this pitiful supply only served to whet my appetite. But
there was no more. I learned that we were to get our meals only twice a
day, and then only a starvation allowance. The quality was that which
"----captives' tears
Have moisten'd many a thousand years,
Since man first pent his fellow-men
Like brutes within an iron den."
I suppose our food in all our imprisonment was about equal as to
quantity and quality with that supplied at Andersonville and other
Southern prisons. But in the chaining, and the close packing in
dungeons, probably no prisoners during the whole war fared so badly as
we did.
During the day that succeeded my arrival in this place of horrors a few
more of our party were brought in, and among them was my especial
friend, George D. Wilson. I found that the same reason which had led to
the acknowledgment of my true character as a United States soldier had
induced them to make the same confession. Anxious and frequent were the
consultations we held as to the best course for us now to pursue. It was
too late for absolute denial of our participation in the railroad
adventure, even if that had ever been expedient. The only possible
course which seemed to offer any hope was to continue to claim the
character and protection of soldiers engaged in regular warfare, and to
this end answer all reasonable questions that might be asked. But there
were certain facts we pledged ourselves in no case to reveal. Among
these was the name of our engineer, which they were specially anxious
to ascertain. The fact of ignorance in such a material matter would
indicate that we were merely following the orders of those higher in
authority, and would preserve poor Brown, who had acted in that
capacity, from any special dangers. The fact of a previous expedition
having been sent down into Georgia upon the same errand as our own, was
on no account to be divulged, as it was likely to stimulate our captors
to inflict sterner punishments by way of preventing similar attempts in
future. We were not to allow it to escape that William Campbell was a
civilian only and not an enlisted soldier, as this would have made his
position more perilous than our own. We were also to conceal having
given any expressions of willingness to engage in such an expedition,
claiming to have been detailed without our own consent, and ordered to
obey the directions of a man placed over us. The most vital point was in
relation to Andrews. He had already admitted being the leader of the
expedition. We could, therefore, do him no good by pretending not to
know him, but he asked that we should not admit having any knowledge of
him before we were put under his orders; and, for our sake as well as
his, we resolved to "suppose" that he was some regularly commissioned
officer of the Federal army. Most of us knew him in his true
character,--that of a secret agent or spy. But to have admitted that
fact would have been fatal to any hopes he may have had, and would have
very seriously prejudiced our own case. The position we, therefore,
took, in all our statements, was that of non-commissioned officers and
soldiers belonging to three Ohio regiments, who had been detailed for an
unknown service, and ordered to report to an unknown officer, who had
called himself Andrews, and that we had faithfully and unquestioningly
obeyed such orders as had been given us. We agreed to urge that a flag
of truce should be sent to our lines to inquire if we were not what we
claimed to be, well knowing that, while General Mitchel would boldly
avow us, and stretch his power to the utmost for our protection, he
would be very careful not to say anything to the prejudice of our
leader.
Our plans were carried out to the letter. No one of our "reserved facts"
was ever known to the enemy until we were all beyond his power, and the
flag of truce was not sent only because the commanding officer said that
he was perfectly satisfied to accept all our representations as true. As
others of our company were captured and joined us, they gave our plans
their cordial approval, and in the separate and formal examination of
each one, gave their names, companies, and regiments. This could not
fail to produce conviction of the truth of our story, and gained us the
sympathy of all whose bosoms were not steeled against every kindly
feeling. To this plan, conceived in the dungeon and consistently carried
out, I attribute, more than to anything else, the escape of any part of
our number.
Though we did not now recognize Andrews formally as our leader,--he
having repeated his previous declaration that we were to rely on
ourselves,--yet we communicated our plan to him, and he gave it his
cordial approval, saying that if we closely adhered to it we would have
some chance for our lives. No small amount of effort was made by the
rebel authorities to induce us to tell more than we did. Their energies
were bent especially to finding out the engineer. They would ask the
question in the most casual manner, and a number of times, when one man
was taken out alone, he would be offered safety and release if he would
only tell this one thing, and threatened with instant death if he did
not. But no one was moved. The opinion seemed to be that the discovery
of the engineer would reveal the whole mystery of the enterprise. In
this they were mistaken, but the opinion was not unnatural. They would
also ask in many forms the question, "How came it that you would
consent to leave your camp in citizens' clothes for an enterprise you
knew nothing about, and under the leadership of a person you had never
seen, and whose rank and position you say you were ignorant of?" The
answer was always the same in substance: "We were told by our officers
to follow this man, and we considered it a soldier's duty to obey." I
had to pass a more protracted examination than any of the others,
perhaps because I had told General Leadbetter so many of my inferences
about war affairs when first taken before him. For two or three days I
was even separated from my comrades and daily questioned. I thus gained
a short relief from the horrors of the negro prison, and could easily
have secured my own safety by dishonor; but although I talked freely, I
did not go a single word beyond the line which Wilson and myself, with
the approval of all the others, had marked out. At last I overheard the
acute lawyer who acted as examiner on these occasions say to General
Leadbetter, "It is no use. He is either ignorant or too sharp to tell
anything." I felt greatly complimented, and was then taken back to the
horrors of the old dungeon, where I was warmly welcomed by my comrades,
most of whom had passed a similar though briefer ordeal. It was on this
occasion that the officer of the guard happened to lay a newspaper he
was reading near me. I was hungry for news, and in a moment seized and
concealed it in my clothing. It was missed and a great search made, but
as I was handcuffed and looked innocent, suspicion did not fall on me.
It was a great prize, for it contained a complete account of our chase
as given by our pursuers. Through all our subsequent adventures I
carefully preserved it, and at the date of writing it is still in my
possession. The estimate it gives of the military importance of our
expedition, and of what we actually accomplished, goes beyond what has
been sketched in the preceding pages. (See Appendix No. II.)
After these examinations were over, the misery of our dungeon-life
closed about us again. Whether we would be left there to perish, or
whether some kind of a trial would be given us with the alternatives of
release or execution,--what was the position of the armies outside, or
the progress of the war,--we could not tell. In dreams only we were
free. I remember lying down one afternoon and dreaming of the most
beautiful snow-capped mountains in East Tennessee, and awakening with a
freshness and hopefulness which lasted for many hours. But even dreams
were not all thus pleasant; too often they rivalled the prison itself in
shapes of terror and pain.
One or two of our number managed to conceal a little money when
searched, and, as our rations were very small, it was resolved to spend
it for food. The jailer agreed to get us any provisions we wanted, so
far as the money would go. There was an anxious discussion as to the
most profitable mode of investment. Wheat bread and molasses--the latter
being very cheap--were chosen, and the precious money tied to the rope,
which was our only mode of communication with the upper world, and drawn
up. It was at our evening meal. We knew Swims would not trouble himself
to bring the provisions that evening, but we anticipated a bountiful
breakfast, with the keenness that only starving men could feel. When the
breakfast bucket dangled at the end of the rope the next morning, it was
quickly seized, and lo! only the usual miserly allowance of "pone" and
meat. "Mr. Swims, have you got the bread and molasses yet?" eagerly
demanded a voice from below. In his most whining tones he drawled out,
"B-o-y-s, I lost that money." Had he been on our level instead of
thirteen feet above, he might have learned how desperate men can become
when hungry. But there was no remedy. The captain of the guard, when
appealed to, considered it a good joke!