MORE ABOUT CHARLESTON--EXCHANGE ON THE BRAIN--MORE ABOUT MACON--CHARLESTON
JAIL YARD MORE FULLY DESCRIBED--THE OLD PRIVY--THE GALLOWS OR
GIBBET--TERRIBLE SUFFERING FOR WANT OF FOOD AND SHELTER--A FIRE AND HOW
GILLMAN HELPED IT ALONG.
We remained in Charleston thirteen days, viz., from September 13th until
the 26th, and it was thirteen days of intense suffering to many, and of
great discomfort to all.
This jail yard itself was filthy to a fearful degree, and was enough to
create an epidemic. An old privy occupied the south-west corner of the
ground, the vault of which overflowed into the yard and emitted an
effluvia that would be certain to create disease, even in an otherwise
healthy locality. We petitioned to have this nuisance abated, and after a
week or more, upon the recommendation of Dr. Todd, who was the attending
physician, and who tried to do all within his power to render our
situation more bearable, some men were sent in one night to tear down the
old privy and clean out the vault.
This took all night and most of the next day, and during that time,
Charleston jail yard was the most revolting place that civilized humanity
ever occupied and lived.
As I have said, there were only fifty "A" tents to accommodate six hundred
officers and, as not over two hundred and fifty could possibly be crowded
into these, there were three hundred and fifty officers without shelter of
any kind, and as the weather part of the time was rainy, the suffering
among those was fearful and a frightful mortality must have ensued, had we
been compelled to have remained there much longer. As it was, I have no
doubt that the germs of disease were planted there that afterwards cropped
out in some form, and perhaps in many cases resulted in broken
constitutions, and even death.
Another prolific source of suffering was the lack of fuel with which to
cook our scanty rations.
In our extremity we broke up the lumber of the old privy that had been
torn down, and tried to cook with that; but as the pails we used to cook
in were mostly without covers, and the old lumber was so thoroughly
permeated with the filth it had so many years covered, that the rations
thus cooked were too revolting to the stomach to be eaten.
The ground of the jail yard was a sandy loam, and the yard having been
occupied by prisoners for a long time, was actually alive with vermin,
with which we were soon supplied to an extent that was discouraging to
those who had any ideas of cleanliness.
In the centre of the yard was a gallows, which had evidently been erected
for a long time, and had probably done considerable service. This was a
post about twenty-five feet high, with a horizontal arm extending out
about eight feet; at the extreme end of this arm and also at the top of
the post where the arm joined it, there were pulleys for a rope to run
through. A weight at the end of the rope running down the posts, acted as
a drop to elevate the body of the victim from the ground and lifted him
towards the end of the extending arm. This gallows we cut down and used
for fuel. Dr. Todd, as I have said was the prison physician, and was, I
believe, a brother of Mrs. President Lincoln.
Reader, do you wonder that we were willing to give our parole not to
escape, for the privilege of exchanging this loathsome and pest breeding
jail yard, for good, healthy, clean quarters, where we could have all of
the facilities for cleanliness, such as were offered to us?
About the 1st of October a fire broke out just after noon, about six or
eight hundred yards to the north-east of where we were then confined, on
Broad street, overlooking the bay.
As the alarm was sounded, we gathered upon the piazzas to watch its
progress. We could see the firemen dragging their apparatus to the fire,
and were watching their preparations to extinguish it, when suddenly, we
heard the familiar boom of Gilmore's "Swamp Angel," and presently saw a
shell explode among a group of firemen, who hastily scattered in every
direction.
Shell after shell dropped into the burning building, or exploded among
those who were endeavoring to extinguish the flames, and for a time it
looked as though another terrible conflagration was inevitable.
When a well directed shell would drop in, and explode where the firemen
were at work and scatter them, we would send up a cheer that must have
been heard where the flames were raging.
Citizens gathered upon the flat roofs of their dwellings and watched the
conflict, between the Charleston firemen on one side, and the crackling
flames and General Gilmore's batteries on Morris Island, on the other.
I saw a man and woman upon their roof near the burning building, and when
the shells began to drop in pretty thick and fast, and some of them most
uncomfortably near to where they stood, the gentleman seemed to suddenly
think of some duty he was obliged to attend to below, while the lady
pluckily staid it out. The wonderful accuracy with which General Gilmore
sent those immense projectiles into any part of the city, from his
batteries on Morris Island, five miles away, was simply astonishing. He
seemed to be able to drop them just where he pleased and there was no
time, day or night, when the citizens of that doomed city had not good
reason to expect that they might receive one of Gilmore's compliments, as
we used to call them. While we were waiting in the Broad Street House for
the order to start for Columbia, after we had got all packed up, the
officers commenced writing their names on the wall near where they had
slept, and being in rather a poetical mood just then, I took my pencil and
wrote on the wall in the corner where my quarters had been, the following:
I have slept in this corner for many a night,
A prisoner of war in a pitiful plight,
I have ate my corn dodger, my bacon and rice,
And have skirmished my shirt and my drawers for lice.
Here's health to Jeff Davis and bad may it be,
May mercy and pardon afar from him flee,
May he find, when too late, to his sorrow and cost,
That not only the Confederacy, but Heaven he's lost.