RETURN TO GOLDSBORO'.--DRUNK WITH FEVER.--TOO SICK TO WALK.--LEFT
BEHIND.--GOD BLESS THE LADIES OF GOLDSBORO'.--PERSONAL
EXPERIENCES.--NEGOTIATIONS FOR A FRIEND.--AN IMPROVISED
HOSPITAL.--SICK UNTO DEATH.--SEMI-CONSCIOUSNESS.--MORE KINDNESS FROM
THE LADIES OF GOLDSBORO'.--PAROLED.--PASSED INTO OUR LINES NEAR
WILMINGTON.--AT WILMINGTON IN THE HANDS OF THE BLUE COATS.--FRIEND
LOST.--STILL VERY SICK WITH FEVER.--DETERMINED TO GO NORTH.--EFFORTS
TO GET NORTH.--ON BOARD SHIP.--HO FOR ANNAPOLIS!--INCIDENTS OF THE
VOYAGE.--ANNAPOLIS.-GETTING BETTER.--STOMACH TROUBLE.--SENT TO
BALTIMORE.--FURLOUGHED HOME.
On reaching Goldsboro', after alighting from the cars, we marched out to
camp again. This last time it was all I could do to walk to the camp. I
was fairly blind with fever, and staggered from side to side, almost dumb
and insensible from prolonged suffering and exertion in sickness. While at
Wilmington the last time, and from that time on, I was far too sick to
look after myself much.
I reached the camp, however, and there remained until removed by other
force than my own. The next morning, after coming to this camp, the lot of
prisoners to which I belonged was removed to another camping-ground, some
distance away. I essayed to go along, but accomplished nothing but wild
staggering to and fro, and the little distance I gained I had to be
carried back over.
Excepting some care received by our sick from the Sisters of Charity while
we were at Charleston, Goldsboro' was the first place in the South where
Southern women manifested any sympathy for our deplorable condition. Here,
the last time we came, the ladies of Goldsboro', though the guards strove
to keep them back, burst through the lines, and came into our camp loaded
with baskets of provisions, which they distributed among the sick and most
needy.
On being carried back to the camp, after my futile attempt to follow my
comrades, I, among other sick, was loaded on a wagon and hauled to a large
brick building near Goldsboro'. Here we were taken out and carried in. I
had selected as a companion, on my way thither, a boy of about my own age
by the name of Orlando. I promised to share my blankets with him, if he
would stay with and take care of me. As he had no blanket, and I had two,
one having been left with me by a man that made his escape at Macon, Ga.,
Orlando gladly accepted my offer, and we bunked together accordingly. Here
I laid--I don't know how many days exactly, but several--sick unto death,
and expecting to die momentarily. I was very low and weak. My comrade was
stronger. I noticed he prayed, and as I found difficulty in praying to my
satisfaction, though I did pray, _in desire to pray_, continually, I asked
Orlando if he would not pray for me. He did so, and I did everything I
could for him that he would do this; gave him the most of what the ladies
gave me (we depended solely on the ladies of Goldsboro' for provisions),
as I was so sick that I did not want food. One day, I noticed more
commotion than usual in the house. Soon after, among the rest, I was
carried to the cars and taken by railroad to a steamboat-landing, not many
miles distant from Wilmington; here we were put on board of a boat, and
placed in the hands of men bearing the uniform of the United States; and
the moment which I had during all my captivity looked forward to as the
happiest of my life, was one of the darkest I have ever known!
At Wilmington we were put in ambulances and hauled to improvised
hospitals. The city had just been taken by our army, and our authorities
were not prepared for us. But thank God that we came, anyhow, though they
were unprepared. I lay in a brick building several days, without knowing
any one about me. In my blind and crazy fever, I had strayed away from
Orlando, I think. I sometimes staggered out to houses and asked for milk,
thinking that would do me great good. I saw I was not getting along very
well, and did not know how soon I might die.
One day, a man thrust his head in the door and cried out: "All those
wishing to go North had better get ready and go down to the wharf, as a
boat is going to leave to-day." This news went through me like
electricity. I remarked to the head nurse that I was going. "Yes," said
he, "you are a sweet-looking thing to start North." I was then one of the
sickest patients in that ward. I replied, determined to make the attempt,
cost what it would, "that I might as well die on the way North as die
here," and started. I staggered down the streets without knowing the
direction to the point I desired to reach. Weak, sick, and reduced almost
to a skeleton, I was a ghastly-looking spectacle. On I stumbled, asking
almost every person I met to inform me the way, and sometimes forgetting
their advice a moment afterwards. I finally reached the wharf, and there
sank down to rest under the blasting disappointment of being told that no
boat would leave that day. I saw soon after standing near me a member of a
Kentucky regiment, whom I knew. He told me where he was staying, and that
it was not far from where we then were. I immediately got up, and started
for the place. I was not at all particular where I stayed; one place
suited me as well as another.
I reached my friend's stopping-place, and was taken up on the second
floor. I remained here for a couple of hours, and was then given permanent
quarters higher up. Reaching the room assigned me, after resting some
time, I felt the vermin attack me as I had not done for many days. I
hailed it as a good omen; a sign of returning sensibility. I felt that I
was getting a little better. I fell to exterminating the peculiar pests
with all the strength I could command. I had not been engaged in this
occupation long before a physician protruded his head into my room, and
stated that there was a boat going North, and that all who were able could
go.
I at once spruced up my best, and told the doctor that I was ready to
start. He smiled as he looked at me, but, perceiving my great anxiety to
go, allowed me to undertake the voyage.
When I reached the wharf, I saw so many there expecting to go, that I knew
some must be left behind; that the boat could not take all of us. I knew
the habit of prisoners, and that there would be a general rush when the
hatchways of the boat were thrown open. So I placed myself as near one of
the hatchways as possible, and when it was opened, and the rush made, the
crowd of its own force lifted me from my feet and bore me into the boat.
After several days of foggy weather--the month was March--we arrived at
Annapolis, Md. During our voyage I could see that many of my companions
were eating too much, and feared the result. As for myself, I was still
too sick to eat anything. Perhaps this was fortunate for me. To have been
turned into our lines with the starvation appetite, I might have killed
myself by over-eating, as many others undoubtedly did. At Annapolis I was
carried on a stretcher from the boat to a hospital in one of the Naval
School buildings. Here I remained for a couple of weeks, and was then sent
with some others to Baltimore, having recovered sufficiently to be allowed
to undertake the journey.
On commencing to get better at Annapolis, I found my greatest trouble was
with my stomach. It seemed contracted into a space no larger than my fist,
and everything I ate seemed to irritate it; and I could apparently feel
the exact size of any meal I had eaten, as it lay deposited in my stomach.
Everything I took into my stomach seemed to weigh like lead, and
constantly bear down so hard, that it made me continually miserable and
unwell.
We stayed at Baltimore a few days, when our furloughs, which had been made
out at Annapolis, were handed to us, and we started for home--two months'
pay and our ration commutation money having been paid to us before we left
Annapolis.