A party with blood-hounds now came over from the mainland to search the island for him. The dogs came upon him, but he broke away from them, and ran around the lower end of the island, wading in the shallow water, and in this way throwing the hounds off the track; then he plunged into the dense thicket with which the island was covered, and again ascended a tree. There for a long time he remained securely concealed, while his pursuers searched the whole island. Frequently they were under the very tree, whose high foliage effectually screened him from the gaze of dogs and men. At last they abandoned the search in despair, concluding that he had by some means left the island. Slowly they took their departure to devise new plans of search. Two little boys, who came along merely from curiosity, were all that were left behind.

At length, in their play, one of them looked upward, and said that he saw a great bunch on a tree. The other looked,--shifted his position,--looked again, and exclaimed, "Why, it is _a man_!" They were alarmed and cried aloud, thus announcing their discovery to their friends on sh.o.r.e. The latter instantly returned, and Andrews, seeing himself discovered, dropped from the tree, ran to the lower end of the island, took a small log, with a limb for a paddle, and shoved into the stream, hoping to reach the opposite sh.o.r.e before he could be overtaken.

But there was another party lower down the river with a skiff, who saw him and rowed out to meet him. Thus enclosed, he gave over the hopeless struggle, and surrendered to his fate,--inevitable death! He afterwards said that he felt a sense almost of relief when the end had come and he knew the worst. From the time of losing his clothing in the drift-wood he had but little expectation of ultimate escape. The spectacle of a man condemned to death, starving and naked, hunted through the woods and waters by dogs and men, is one of the most pitiable that can be imagined.

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Alfred Wilson, who was one of the eight who failed to escape, speaks in feeling terms of the manner in which their leader was brought back to them on the third day after escaping. He says,--

"At the prison we were startled by a rumor that Andrews had been taken, but we at first gave little credence to it, probably because we did not desire to believe it. But, alas!

the rumor was only too true, for soon after, a strong guard of soldiers, having in charge a prisoner, followed by a rabble of citizens, approached the prison. It was Andrews! Oh, how our hearts and hopes sank down within us beyond the power of expression!... I could have prayed that death had spared me those painful moments, the most harrowing of my life. He was the most wretched and pitiable human being I ever saw,--a sight which horrified us all, and even drew words of compa.s.sion from some of our prison guards. His own brother would scarcely have been able to recognize him. It did not seem possible that the short s.p.a.ce of three days could have wrought a change so startling. As he lay there chained to the floor, naked, b.l.o.o.d.y, bruised, and speechless, he seemed more dead than alive. He had not eaten a morsel since he left us,--during which time he had made the most desperate struggle for liberty and life. He had swam about seven miles in the river in his efforts to keep clear of the dogs. His feet were literally torn to shreds by running over the sharp stones and through the brush. Towards the last he left blood at every step. His back and shoulders were sun-blistered almost to the bone, and so completely exhausted was he that he could hardly move his limbs after he was brought in. His face was pale, haggard, and emaciated. His eyes, which were sunken, gave forth a wild, despairing, unnatural light.

"When we were left to ourselves, we drew around the miserable man, and, after he had somewhat revived, he told us in that low, calm tone of voice in which he always spoke, and which seldom failed to impress the listeners favorably towards the man, the whole story of his unfortunate attempt to escape. He told us he had but little time to live, and that now, after having made every effort to save his life and to rescue us, and failed, he felt reconciled and resigned to his fate. He said he was incapable of doing anything more to help himself, and only regretted that his death could not in some way be instrumental in saving us, his comrades. He counselled us all against the fallacy of hoping for an exchange, or for any mercy from those into whose hands we had fallen. He said his doom foreshadowed our own, and entreated us to prepare for the worst, and, when the time came, to prove to them that we were as brave in confronting an ignominious death for our country's sake as we had been fearless in doing service for her."

A few more words will finish this pitiful story. Andrews, in Wilson's opinion, was somewhat of a fatalist, or at least was haunted with a presentiment of coming doom from the time he had fairly entered upon this expedition. He had not long to wait. He was put back into "the hole," but not before a negro blacksmith had welded a pair of heavy fetters upon his ankles, and connected them with a chain only about eighteen inches in length. A scaffold was prepared for him in Chattanooga, but the indications of an advance by Mitchel, and, possibly, expressions of sympathy on the part of the citizens, induced the authorities at the last moment to transfer the death-scene to Atlanta. His comrades were sent with him to that town. On the way to Atlanta he was taunted with his approaching doom by the crowds, who surrounded every station.

It was the day appointed for the execution. On reaching Atlanta Andrews and his eight companions were conducted to a second-story room, not far from the depot. In a little time a body of soldiers marched up into the building, an officer appeared at the door, and, while all were silent as death, said, in a low, almost faltering tone, "Come on now, Mr.

Andrews." He instantly arose, and the low, sad "Farewell, boys," spoken in his calmest, sweetest tones, mingled with the horrible clanking of his chains, as he walked out with the short, halting step his irons compelled. This was the final separation.

The survivors were conducted to the city jail of Atlanta, and there placed in an iron cage. At meal-time the guards told them how bravely Andrews died. His fort.i.tude stilled even the clamorous spectators. The dying agony was protracted by the unskilfulness of the executioner, the rope stretching so that his feet touched the ground. But the earth was shovelled away, and the brave spirit set free. Why should the gallows be accounted infamous when courage and patriotism there meet a hero's death? The cross was once esteemed more shameful than the gallows now, but one death has sanctified that instrument forever!

The grave of Andrews at Atlanta was unmarked, and, in the many changes that have taken place there, it is probably lost forever. The most diligent search on the part of the writer failed to discover it. But the rope adjudged by the court-martial, all of whose members have pa.s.sed into obscurity with the downfall of the rebellion they served, cannot desecrate his memory. No flowers can be placed on his unknown grave by loyal hands, but loving tears will fall freely for him as long as hearts can feel for the extremity of misfortune that gathered around the last hours of the man who planned and boldly executed the most romantic and perilous enterprise of the Great Civil War.

CHAPTER XIII.

A CONFEDERATE COURT-MARTIAL.

Before describing the adventures of Wollam--Andrews' companion in flight from the Chattanooga prison--we will turn towards the twelve prisoners destined for Knoxville, where a yet more fearful tragedy was in preparation.

On parting from our comrades we were escorted to the cars by Colonel Cleiburne, where we found, much to our gratification, that we were to be guarded by a party of Morgan's guerrillas, whose exploits were then greatly celebrated. Cleiburne recommended us to the humane care of these partisans, saying, "These prisoners are men, like other men, and gentlemen too, and I want them treated as such." This charge from the generous Irishman, for such he was, did much to secure courteous treatment from our guard. Indeed, the position of the irregular soldiers who served under the guerrilla chief was such as to make them admire rather than blame the bold enterprise that led to our capture. They were themselves in citizen's dress, and were not always careful to provide uniforms before penetrating into the Federal lines. A considerable number of their comrades had been captured under such circ.u.mstances, and were, by every rule of right, equally liable with ourselves to be treated as criminals. Indeed, the position of some of their captured comrades was still more questionable, for they had a.s.sumed the United States uniform whenever they found it to their advantage. The inconsistency of the rebel government in treating our party so harshly is conclusively shown by the fact that they had pa.s.sed laws for the encouragement of just such irregular warfare.

But we have no complaint to make of these dashing guerrillas. They were very indignant to see us in irons, and offered to be responsible for our safe-keeping if these were removed; but this was not allowed.

As was common in our removals from prison to prison, we had been started without any rations,--not so much, I presume, from wanton cruelty as because it was no one's especial business to furnish provisions. As the journey occupied twenty-four hours (and we were hungry to begin with), our privation would have been considerable but for the generosity of Morgan's men. They bought pies and whatever else they could find at the station eating-houses, and literally feasted us. From the time of our capture we had not experienced such treatment, and only hoped that these generous enemies might have charge of us as long as we remained in Confederate territory,--a hope which was not realized. We never met them again.

We arrived in Knoxville shortly after noon, having spent the night on the cars, and were marched through the hot, dusty streets to the city jail,--an old building of peculiar architecture,--solid, square, and ma.s.sive, presenting quite an imposing appearance. It was used as a military prison, and was filled from top to bottom with ragged, dirty-looking prisoners. Some Union men, and several rebel soldiers who had been captured while attempting to desert, were with them. These const.i.tuted the less-valued cla.s.s of prisoners, and were permitted to range over most of the building, which, however, was completely encircled outside, and watched in every pa.s.sage-way, by a strong guard.