Mitchel came nearer. We even heard the boom of cannon in the distance, and his advance probably saved our lives, by taking us for the time out of the clutches of Swims and Leadbetter, for a much longer confinement or rather suffocation there must have been fatal. The ladder was thrust down and we were ordered to come out. We would, then, have gladly remained in that vile den a little longer, in the hope of Mitchel's arrival, but we crawled up. Our fastenings were inspected, to see that none of us were in condition to make a sudden dash for liberty; we were formed into a column, with a line of rebel soldiers on each side, and then marched out through the gate towards the cars. Strangely the free air fanned our brows and strangely the wide sky bent above us. Very grateful was the sense of openness and room in the streets through which we pa.s.sed, even although ironed, with a rebel soldier on either hand.

For three whole weeks twenty-two men had been cooped up in a dark room much smaller than an ordinary parlor. No wonder the streets of the hostile town seemed like freedom by comparison. We were soon seated in the cars, and were carried in the evening back southward on the road we had rushed over under such thrilling circ.u.mstances three weeks before.

How beautiful all nature appeared! It was now May, and the time that we had spent in darkness had not been lost in the outside world. The landscape had been robed in richer verdure, the budding trees had swelled into leafy screens, the sky was of a softer blue, the birds warbled with new melody, and everything seemed to wear its holiday dress.

O the joy! the gladness! of being once more under the blue canopy of heaven, and of looking up to its unfathomable depths, with no envious bars to obstruct our view! Many a time have I looked on the most romantic scenery in the freshness of May, but never did I so deeply feel the pleasantness and beauty of the world as on that balmy evening, when the rays of the setting sun, glowing from the west, streamed over the gra.s.s and wheat-fields on their path, and poured in mellowed, yellow radiance through the car-windows. But I could not quite forget that I was chained to my companion and surrounded by guards with gleaming bayonets!

The wild excitement caused by our raid had not subsided, and as it became known that we were pa.s.sing along the road, a mob greeted us at every station. It is not necessary to again describe these a.s.semblages, for all were alike,--threatening, rude, loquacious, and insulting.

We also noticed that soldiers on guard were at every station, and that each bridge we pa.s.sed was strongly guarded. There could be no doubt that all these precautions, so different from the careless security of less than a month previous, were among the tangible results of our enterprise. It was estimated that on the various roads of the South not less than three thousand troops had been diverted from the field and employed in securing communications in all parts of the rebel States. A general pa.s.sport system, with all its vexations, had been introduced.

Surely our enterprise, though unsuccessful in its immediate results, was far from fruitless.

We pa.s.sed Big Shanty, pa.s.sed Marietta, which had been the extreme point of our former journey southward, and went on to Atlanta. Here there was no jail room for us; but before going farther we had to wait all day in the cars for the evening train. Our arrival was soon noised abroad, and a larger mob than we had seen before gathered and proclaimed their intention of hanging us. The guard defended us manfully, and several persons were seriously injured. But while the disturbance was in progress, one man succeeded in reaching the window unnoticed and handed us a paper, using only the single, magical word, "a friend," and then disappeared in the throng. We read the paper by s.n.a.t.c.hes, as we could do so secretly, and found it to contain glorious news,--_the capture of New Orleans_! Other items of news were adroitly wormed out of our guards, who could not be kept from talking with us, and we were full of hope that the darkening prospects of the Confederacy would brighten our own outlook, by rendering the advocates of a declining rebellion more cautious in their treatment of loyal soldiers. All information was prohibited to us; but from the common soldiers, the negroes, and often from the officers of the guard themselves, we managed to pick up items of intelligence, which gave us a general idea of the course of affairs.

In the evening we left Atlanta, and after a journey not marked by any notable event reached Madison, in the same State. This was then a flourishing village, and had a pleasing look as we entered it. Some six, hundred imprisoned Union soldiers had been already gathered here, and we freely indulged the hope, which was encouraged by our guards, that we would be put with them and henceforth treated only as prisoners of war.

But we soon found that the brand of criminality for our daring adventure was not so easily effaced. We were marched past the dilapidated cotton-factory, where our fellow-soldiers were confined, to the old county jail. It was then entirely unoccupied, as all the prisoners had been released to join the Confederate army. It was a gloomy stone building, with two rooms, but both were above-ground, and the lower was entered by an ordinary door. This lower room, in which about half of our party, including myself and Andrews, were placed, was very dark, and its heavy stone walls rendered it quite damp. But for our previous experience at Chattanooga it would have been thought a wretched place.

It was so much better than that, however, that we almost enjoyed it.

Indeed, we could not have endured such confinement as that at Chattanooga for many weeks longer. Several of our number could scarcely walk, and all were greatly injured in health by the three horrible weeks we had spent there. Now we were further from the pernicious influence of General Leadbetter, and, although we were still kept in irons by his explicit orders, yet the captain of the guard, in whose direct charge we were, showed us all the kindness in his power, easing the irons which pressed too heavily upon swollen limbs, and procuring us abundance of good water, as well as a better supply of the coa.r.s.e food, which we ate in common with our guard.

The citizens of the town were freely admitted to see us, and ranged themselves--always in the presence of the guard--along one side of the room, and talked of all the exciting events of the day. We were now in our true character, and were not likely to be benefited by concealing our real sentiments. I used to greatly enjoy their surprise and horror when I avowed myself an abolitionist, and told them that I had always been one. They had been talking about abolitionists for years, but had never before seen a man who would admit the justice of the charge. The citizens expressed much admiration for us and for the daring of our expedition, contrasting the latter with what they were pleased to call the cowardice of the Northern armies in general. George D. Wilson one day earnestly a.s.sured them that we were the poorest men in Mitchel's division, and had only been sent on this expedition because he had no use for us!

Here occurred one of the romantic incidents of prison-life. We had been intensely anxious for some direct communication with our own army, but from our side there was no means of effecting it. One day, however, a man dressed in a rebel uniform came with the throng of visitors, and managed to talk quite a while, and, as I thought, in a very disconnected manner, with Andrews. I also thought I noticed an exchange of signs between them. As soon as he and the visitors had gone, and we were once more alone, Andrews told us that the man was a spy in the service of the United States, and that they had managed, even in the presence of the guard, and without exciting the least suspicion, to say all that was necessary, and that we might be a.s.sured that our friends on the other side of the lines would soon know all about us. I was a little incredulous, thinking that the great anxiety of our leader to communicate with some one who was a Federal spy, as he himself had been, had caused him to misunderstand this man, and supposed his signs recognized when they were not.

But when the captain of our guard brought us supper, he lingered a little in conversation, and remarked that a most singular thing had taken place that afternoon, and that after this we would receive no more visitors. Being pressed for explanations, he finally gave them. He said that the provost-marshal of Madison had received information that one of Lincoln's spies was in town, and had even been among our visitors, though, the captain said, he was glad that the spy had found no opportunity to reveal himself to us! The marshal at once despatched a squad to arrest him. They found the suspected stranger at the depot, just as the cars were coming in. He was boisterously indignant at his arrest, and told them that he had papers in his pocket which would prove his character anywhere. They let go their hold on him, so that he might produce his papers. He lectured them roundly while pretending to search in his pockets, until he noticed that the train, which was starting, had attained a good degree of headway, and then, just as the last car swung by, he suddenly flung the soldiers from him and jumped aboard. There was no telegraph station at Madison, and no other train that evening, so that an effective pursuit was out of the question.

The Confederates were very much enraged, and our confinement was rendered much more strict. But we felt ample compensation in the hope that our officers would now know just where we were, and be able to make all possible efforts for our safety. Whether the spy surmounted all other perils and got safely to our lines, we never heard.

Three days only did we remain at Madison,--days of comparative quiet and hope, during which we recovered some degree of our wasted strength, which was sadly needed for future trials. The rebel authorities, having become convinced that Chattanooga was not in present danger from General Mitchel, ordered us back to that place. Our destination was not known to us, and the usual rumors circulated as to being now on our way for exchange. To move from one prison to another--an experience we had quite frequently--was always a welcome relief, and served, in some measure, to mitigate the excessive rigor of our confinement. We went back over the same road we came, and had again to run the gauntlet of insulting and jeering mobs. We traveled in rude box-cars, wet and filthy, and were hara.s.sed by the fear of going back to our miserable prison at Chattanooga. One circ.u.mstance rendered the journey more endurable. Captain Laws, who commanded the guard, and his soldiers also, had been in close a.s.sociation with us for several days, and had become really interested in our welfare. While he did not relax any of his vigilance, he strove to make the hardship of our position more endurable, and showed a friendly spirit on every occasion. His good will was especially valuable when we reached Chattanooga.

The remorseless order had been given for our return to the negro prison.

Captain Laws could not change this, but by using his influence with Colonel Patrick Cleiburne, a man of humanity, who occupied the position of provost-marshal of Chattanooga for a short time, he got permission for us to remain in the upper room instead of being forced into the dungeon below. This was a great relief, for although we were equally crowded, yet the upper room was above-ground, had three windows instead of two, and these were of larger size. We had, therefore, a much better supply of air and light. We were very sorry for the fourteen poor Tennesseeans who were put below.

Our enemies displayed a wonderful degree of caution in the manner of guarding us. Even when we were below, where a man, if left alone, could scarcely have gotten out without a.s.sistance, they never raised the trap-door unprotected by a strong guard. Old Swims remonstrated against our being in the upper room, and seemed in perpetual terror. He fretted, and predicted that evil would come from showing the Yankees so much indulgence. Yet the precautions observed ought to have rea.s.sured him.

Before our door was opened a strong guard was always brought up-stairs into the jailer's room, from which ours was entered, and arrayed in two lines with levelled bayonets. At the same time the stairway was guarded, and the whole jail surrounded by a strong force outside of the wall. We had not yet been relieved of our fetters,--at least, not by Confederate authority.

Colonel Cleiburne had asked permission to remove our irons, and this being refused, he gave us, on his own responsibility, an inexpressibly great indulgence. For an hour or two every fine afternoon he ordered the guards to bring us out into the jail-yard. This was something to look forward to all the day, and made our second confinement at Chattanooga far less irksome and prostrating than the first. To simply sit in the sunlight and watch the clouds drifting in the blue above, or to walk back and forth watching the lengthening shadows of the mountains, was intense enjoyment. We will never cease to be grateful to the brave Irish soldier who secured us these indulgences, which, simple as they were, had not been expected.

But we felt that the wearing of irons for so long a period was entirely unnecessary, and set our wits to work for the removal of such needless inc.u.mbrances. One of the party had managed to secrete a small knife in his sleeve while being searched, and with this he whittled out rude keys from the bones of the meat given us, which readily unlocked our handcuffs. The padlocks on the chains were served in a similar manner.

We did not dare to let any one of the guards know of this expedient, or appear in public in our new liberty, lest more effectual means should be devised of securing us. To avoid detection while thus unchained we always kept some one on the watch. When a footstep was heard on the outside stairway the signal was given, and a quick rattling of chains accompanied the adjustment and relocking of our bonds. When the door opened we would appear all properly chained, but when alone we would soon be free again. This deception was continued as long as we were kept in irons.

We here took up the amus.e.m.e.nt of mock trials. Andrews had been tried, and the remainder of us expected to be, either in a body or singly. This may have suggested the diversion, which soon became very popular. One of the company would be charged with some offence, usually a trifling breach of our self-imposed prison rules. William Campbell, whose immense personal strength better enabled him to enforce his decisions, usually officiated as judge, until at last he got the name of "judge" firmly fixed upon him. We had ample time for this sport, and the opposing counsel would make very long and learned speeches. So interesting were these arguments, and so eloquent were our appeals, that no one of the auditors was ever known to leave the court-room while they were in progress! The witnesses were very slippery, and it was often difficult to reconcile their testimony. Some friends of the prisoners nearly always attempted to resist the laws and prevent the infliction of penalties, but in such cases the _personal weight_ of the judge decided the affair. This resistance would give rise to new arrests and trials, and thus the work became interminable.

Another and more refined source of enjoyment was found in music. There were several good singers in the party, and by practising together they soon acquired great proficiency. Most of the songs, under the leadership of Marion Ross, were of a tender and sentimental cast, such as "Nettie Moore," "Carrier Dove," "Twenty Years Ago," "Do they miss me at Home?"

etc. The most frequent time for singing was when twilight began to fall.

Then all other occupations would be laid aside, and in the gathering darkness the voice of song would roll out as full and sweet as if not strained through prison-bars. The guards were very fond of our singing, and frequently groups of citizens also would gather around the high jail-fence to listen. Words of sympathy and kindness for the "caged Yankees" became more common, and there were a good many tangible manifestations of the same feelings. The guards who came in contact with us,--a considerable number, as one squad replaced another,--together with many of their officers and many residents of Chattanooga, began to ask why we were not treated as other prisoners, and the shameful chains taken off. I do not know whether this produced any essential change in our fortune. Most likely it was the reason we were not brought to trial in a town where we would have been sure of so much sympathy, but were arraigned in a distant place, and before officers who were strangers to us.

Yet no friendliness on the part of our guards, or mitigation in the horrors of our treatment, put the thought of escape out of our minds, although it did divide our counsels and delay an attempt. With many others, I was convinced that we ought to make a bold push for liberty.

The very strictness of the guard was a challenge to do our best to overcome it. If there were a few gleams of humanity in the present treatment, this was merely because our captors had discovered us to be human beings and not monsters; besides, there was enough still in the vile nature of our food and rigor of our confinement to justify the most desperate effort for freedom. If we tried and failed, we might lose our lives in the attempt; but this was a risk soldiers have to take in every enterprise; if recaptured, we would be no worse off than we were, for the charge of attempting to escape could be no more deadly than the old one of seizing the train. But those who did not wish to make the attempt, among whom George D. Wilson was foremost, maintained that our enemies were growing daily kinder, and that we would soon be formally placed on the footing of prisoners of war; the commander of the guard, Captain Laws, had become even intimate with Wilson, and had a.s.sured him that our good conduct was producing a profound impression in our favor; to forfeit this now by a foolhardy attempt to escape might turn the scale against us. Ross agreed with Wilson. He was a Freemason, and some members of the fraternity visited him, and gave him a.s.surances of friendship, together with some small sums of money, which he generously used to procure us all a little greatly-needed addition to our food. We no longer made our purchases through Swims, but through Captain Laws, who did not lose the money intrusted to him.

Finally the majority decided in favor of an attempt to escape. Two plans were proposed,--the first by the writer. When men who are not expecting danger are suddenly surprised, there is a moment when they are incapable of action, and may be at the mercy of a bold adversary. The same plan, in general outline, was carried out long afterwards with the most brilliant success. It was simply to have our irons off when the guards came to feed us in the evening, and then, as the door opened, to make a simultaneous rush upon the levelled bayonets outside, wrest the muskets from their holders, and pour down the stairs on the guards below. If we succeeded in reaching the ground before the guards fully realized what was going on, a few moments would suffice to disarm them, and then we could leave the prison-yard in a solid body, run with all our speed to the ferry-boat which lay on our side of the river, not far distant. Once over the river, armed with muskets and bayonets, we would have been comparatively safe.

But Andrews did not like this plan for the same reason that made him so unwilling to use our arms in desperate fighting during the race on the train. He proposed another plan, which, as he still had great influence with us, was adopted. His proposition was that some one--John Wollam, I think, was selected for the perilous attempt--should conceal himself under the bed in the jailer's room as we pa.s.sed through it on our return from the breathing-spell in the yard, and remain there until all was quiet at night; then come out and noiselessly unlock the door; after this we could rush down, seize the guard, and proceed as in our first plan. The time for this bold attempt was fixed for a moonless night not far distant.

There were two soldiers of the original twenty-four detailed for our enterprise who failed to reach the designated rendezvous at Marietta.

One was from the Twenty-first, the other from the Second Ohio Regiment.

They had been suspected and compelled to join a rebel battery, representing themselves as brothers from Kentucky. In the skirmish at Bridgeport the member of the Twenty-first found an opportunity to run across the railroad bridge and join Mitchel. This caused suspicion to rest on his supposed brother, who was arrested, brought to Chattanooga, and thrown into the dungeon while we were there. There was some suspicion that he might have belonged to our party, but we refused to recognize him, and after confinement for some time he was sent back to the battery again, and from it, after many remarkable adventures, succeeded in making good his escape to the Union lines.

There was at this time a great talk of our exchange, and our drooping hopes revived. A son of General Mitchel's was captured, but the general held a large number of rebel prisoners, and released one of them--a lieutenant--on parole, to propose an exchange. This man visited us and raised the most sanguine hopes in our bosoms. The Confederate officers encouraged those hopes, but said we must first go through a merely formal trial to prove that we were really soldiers, after which we would be included in the exchange which would undoubtedly be made. We wanted them to refer the question of our soldiership to General Mitchel, but we have every reason to believe that they not only never asked him anything about us, but used all the means in their power to prevent him from obtaining any knowledge of our situation. The exchange was effected, but we were not included, and the lieutenant was not permitted to return to the loyal camp.

These delusive hopes had served to delay a little longer our projected escape, but at last we resolved to end the suspense. The very day we had fixed upon for the desperate enterprise an event occurred which deranged the plan in the most unexpected manner by dividing our party. George D.

Wilson, who was very sick, was taken down into the yard closely guarded.

While he was there Captain Laws came to him, and said that he had received an order for twelve of our number to be taken to Knoxville, to pa.s.s the formal investigation which had been so long talked about, and which was to fix the character of the whole party as prisoners of war.

Wilson asked who the twelve were to be, and wished that he might be one.

The captain told him that this was easily arranged, as the order called merely for twelve, without giving names. He further offered Wilson the privilege of naming eleven others beside himself to go, saying that he would do well to select the ablest men,--those who could do themselves most credit on examination. Whether this was a mere incident, or whether it was a plan laid to have Wilson select the most prominent men of the party, that they might be tried and put to death, I have never learned.

In the light of the subsequent history, this choice was a matter of profound importance, and my own opinion is that the names were purposely left blank, and Wilson induced to make the choice, with the view of his leaving out the nine who might best be reserved for the exercise of mercy after the others were capitally punished. If this was the case, I cannot persuade myself that Captain Laws was in the secret. But poor Wilson was completely misled. He told me that he considered that those who went to Knoxville would probably be exchanged first, if any difference was to be made. So he put down his own name first, and mine next. Then followed the other two who belonged to our regiment,--the Second Ohio; then William Campbell, the muscular citizen of Kentucky, and the list was filled out by the names of Wilson's especial friends from the other regiments. As we twelve, who were to go to Knoxville, waited the hour of starting, a shade of gloom fell upon us. For nearly two months we had been companions in trials and privations such as fall to the lot of few men, and now our band was to be separated. There was no certainty of reunion; for, in spite of fair words, the fact remained that we were in the power of desperate and deadly foes, who would not hesitate a moment in taking our lives, if they saw it for their own advantage to do so.

The parting with Andrews, our n.o.ble leader, was especially affecting. We had been accustomed to ask his advice in all emergencies. He had been already tried by court-martial, and, although no sentence had been given, the long delay was not a favorable omen. We knew that he was the first mark for the vengeance of the foe. Officers and visitors, in bidding us hope, had no words of comfort for him. He bore this like a hero, as he was, and continued to hope for some deliverance. But now, after we had sung our songs together for the last time, and came to bid him farewell, we were all moved to weeping. I will never forget his last words, as he pressed our hands, with tears in his eyes, and said, in a low, sad voice that thrilled through my inmost being, "Boys, if I never see you here again, try to meet me on the other side of Jordan." Never did we look upon his n.o.ble face again!

CHAPTER XII.

THE FIRST TRAGEDY.

We will first narrate the history of the nine soldiers and their leader, from whom we parted with so much sorrow and foreboding when the remainder of us were sent to Knoxville. Various reasons have been conjectured for this separation, one of which has been given in the preceding chapter. Another that has been entertained by many of the party, who have had the opportunity of reviewing the facts, is that the enemy was now ready to proceed in the work of vengeance, and wished to lessen any possible danger of escape on our part when we had been driven to desperation by the beginning of the b.l.o.o.d.y work. If this was their design, it was not without success, for the attempt to escape, fixed for the very day of our separation, was in consequence postponed for a time.

A week elapsed, during which nothing occurred to break the monotony of imprisonment. The plan of escape had been modified to be more easily within the reach of the diminished numbers of the prisoners. The jack-knife, which had made keys for unlocking the handcuffs, was again brought into use. The jail walls consisted of brick, and were lined inside with heavy plank, reaching to the top of the upper room and covering the ceiling. Three men leaned against the wall, while a fourth stood on their shoulders, and with the knife cut into the heavy plank overhead. It was no light task to cut out a hole large enough to admit the pa.s.sage of a man's body into the attic. A small part of each day only could be devoted to the work, and the utmost vigilance was needed to prevent discovery. The "singing hour" was especially serviceable, as then the noise of the knife could not be heard. The cut, when so nearly completed as to require little more labor, was so filled up as not to attract notice from below, and attention given to other parts of the work. Just then an incident occurred which added the energy of desperation to the efforts for liberty.

Captain Laws entered the prison-yard one day, while our comrades were enjoying the shade of the prison in the afternoon breathing-spell, which had been procured by the kindness of Colonel Cleiburne and himself, and going up to Andrews, with averted face, handed him a paper. Andrews glanced at it, stood perfectly still a moment, and then silently turned, and walked up-stairs into the cell, the door of which had been left open. No one of his comrades said a word, but all felt that something dreadful had happened. The officer, who seemed hardly able to control his own emotion, waited for a little time, and then telling the prisoners very gently that it was time to close up the prison, guarded them back to their room.

The explanation Andrews then gave was scarcely needed. He had received his death-sentence! A week from that day had been appointed as the time, and hanging as the mode of his execution. The sorrow of the brave men was indescribable. The many n.o.ble qualities of our leader had won not only respect but love. His unselfish regard for every one of his companions in misfortune, his cheerful, kindly manner under the greatest sufferings, had made a deep impression even on his guards,--much more on his comrades.

But there was one gleam of hope. Andrews and his party resolved at once to carry out their projects for breaking out of the jail. These soldiers would have dared anything in the hope of saving their leader; besides, the feeling was general that this execution would be but the beginning.

Some of the number had always maintained that no hope existed save the gleam that might come from some desperate attempt for liberty, such as they were now to put forth.

But an additional obstacle was interposed,--Andrews was put down in "the hole" after receiving his sentence. This required the well-worn knife to be again used, sparingly but persistently. Notches were sawed in the planks which held the bolts of the trap-door, and an old blanket or two, with some articles of clothing, were twisted into ropes. When all this was done, although the first flush of dawn began to appear in the east, they dared not risk the chance of their work being discovered the next day, and accordingly resolved to go at once. Andrews had been drawn up out of the hole, and it was agreed to give him the first chance for his life. Andrews and John Wollam were in the loft or attic over the prison room, while all the others, in their a.s.signed order, were ready to mount up through the aperture they had cut in the ceiling. A few bricks in the outside wall had also been removed, and enough of the rude ropes prepared to allow one by one to descend to the ground. The hope was that by taking off their boots and moving very cautiously, each one could go into the loft and out through the hole in the wall, and clamber down the outside blanket-ropes without disturbing the repose of the guard. Those who got down first were to wait beside the jail until all their comrades were on the ground before attempting to dash across the jail-fence and the guard-line outside.

It was an anxious moment. They could see the dim form of the sentry, and hear his measured tread, as he paced back and forth not a dozen yards away. The word was pa.s.sed from one to another in the prison that all was ready.

Andrews crept out first and swung over the wall, but in doing so loosened a piece of mortar or a brick, which fell to the ground with a loud "thump," and attracted the notice of the sentry outside, who instantly gave the alarm, firing his gun and calling "Halt! halt!

Corporal of the guard!" The whole guard was instantly aroused, and the firing became rapid. Andrews, however, dropped to the ground, darted to the fence, and was over before he could be prevented. Wollam heard the noise from the inside, and knowing that caution was now needless, sprang through the wall, and slid with the greatest rapidity to the ground. A number of shots were fired while he was suspended in the air, but the dim light and the hurry and confusion were not favorable to a steady aim, and he, also, got to the ground and over the fence unhurt. Dorsey was third in order, but was too late. Before he could get into the loft the guard were ready to make sure work of any who might follow. He prudently turned to his comrades and said, "It is all up with us!" The whole town was soon aroused. High officers visited the prison to see how many had escaped. They found the remaining eight safely ironed as before, the keys having been brought into use. The natural supposition was that only the two who were missing had succeeded in getting off their irons, and that the others had not escaped because too tightly fettered. They were, however, put down in "the hole" as an additional security, and all damages to the prison carefully repaired, while the guard manifested unusual vigilance. The afternoon airing was forbidden, and all the strictness which had marked the first confinement in Chattanooga returned. The poor captives were made to feel that they had now nothing to expect but the sternest dealings.

One consolation was left them in the hope that their comrades had made good their flight, and that the death-sentence of Andrews could not now be executed. When the firing was first heard the not unnatural inference was that both the fugitives had perished, but they knew that _such_ news would soon have been imparted to them; and as days pa.s.sed by, their hope strengthened that two, at least, of their fated company would get back to the Union lines to tell the story of their adventures and sufferings. How far these hopes were realized will be seen in the sequel.

When Andrews left the prison it was nearly day, so that he knew he could not long continue his flight without detection. He went only a few hundred yards away from the city, and there finding a dense tree, climbed, un.o.bserved, into its branches. It was in plain view of the railroad and the river. All day long he remained in this uncomfortable position, and saw the trains pa.s.sing almost under his feet, and heard his pursuers speculating as to what could possibly have become of him.

The search all over the vicinity was most thorough, but fortunately no one thought of looking into the tree.

At night he came down and swam the river, but becoming entangled in some drift-wood, floated down past Chattanooga, and did not disengage himself until he had lost most of his clothing. His boots had been lost in the first alarm, and he was thus placed in the most unfavorable position for escaping, but he journeyed on as well as he could. Though so much superior, in many particulars, to his followers, yet in trying to escape in the woods he seems to have been as much inferior. As will be seen, Wollam, and, at a later period, many others of the number, were far more skilful or fortunate than he. Early in the morning he crossed an open field on his way to a tree in which he intended to take shelter as on the preceding day, but unfortunately he was observed. Immediate pursuit was made, but he dashed through the woods and regained the river much lower down than the day before. Here he swam a narrow channel and reached a small island, where, for a time, he secreted himself among some drift-wood at the upper end of the island. In all his terrible struggle he seemed to look to the river and to trees for safety. These became fixed ideas, and possibly interfered with his seeking refuge in any other manner. But the loss of clothing at the outset was a fatal misfortune.