Uncle Daniel's Story Of "Tom" Anderson Part 27

"The battle was won. No rebel flag was insight, and the Stars and Stripes w ed over Looking-Gla.s.s Mountain and Middleton's Ridge once more. Longpath just reached Ringgold's Gap in time to meet his flying friends, who were in a great state of demoralization. They had been utterly routed and broken to pieces. Our army was in great glee and full of joy that night and for many days thereafter. The Army of the Center had been in such bad condition for so long a time--being hemmed in and starved--that it became necessary to go into quarters for recuperation, and also to refit and refurnish it with horses, mules, harness, etc. The troops were, therefore, distributed at the most convenient points on the lines of our communications.

"Gen. Silent, now having put Gen. Biggs and his army in a condition of harmlessness for the season, took up his headquarters at Nashua.

"The next morning after the battle, my son Jackson left Gen. Anderson (who was comparatively easy, for his wound, though painful, was not considered dangerous,) to search for Capt. Day. He found him in the officers' hospital, wounded severely, shot through the bowels. He died that night. This was sad news to the General, for he loved him as if he had been a brother. He was buried at Chatter-augus. His friends were notified, and removed his remains to the cemetery near Bloomington, Ill.

He was a gallant soldier, and had been so kind to Gen. Anderson that we all loved him. His death caused nearly as much sadness in my family as the loss of one of our own sons.

"My son Jackson, James Whitcomb and old Ham staid close by Gen.

Anderson, doing all they could to alleviate his sufferings. There was no suspicion as to who had shot him. One day, however, he was suffering with a severe fever, and in a delirium remarked:

"'Jo Whitthorne is my evil genius. He intends to murder me.'

"This he repeated so often that when he was sufficiently recovered Jackson asked him if he remembered saying this? He replied that he did not. Jackson told him that it had aroused his suspicions on the subject.

He then revealed the secret to Jackson under the seal of confidence, as he said it would kill his wife if she knew it. Jackson afterwards revealed the same to me, but no mention was ever made of it by either of us.

"Old Ham was so attentive and kind that no one asked him as to his whereabouts during the battle. Jackson, however, found him under the bed when they brought the General back from the field. The old man said that he had been sick all day, and got under the bed to be out of the way.

When they came back he said to the General; 'I know you be kill' dat day or hurted bery bad, kase I dream it. De good Laud tole me so when I sleep. No 'sputin' it, sho, for de Laud allers tells me 'bout dese matters; and you can ax Marfa if it is not so when you go home.'

"When the General recovered so as to think of these matters he dictated his report to Jackson, who wrote it for him, in which he recommended Peter for promotion, among many others, for gallant conduct, and also recommended Orderly James Whitcomb for a Lieutenancy in the Regular Army. These recommendations were complied with at once, and Peter was a.s.signed to the command of a brigade. James Whitcomb was a.s.signed to the 13th U. S. Inf., and detailed at Gen. Anderson's request as an Aide-de-Camp in place of Capt. Day. The President sent Peter's commission to me and I took it to him at Chatteraugus, in accordance with the wish of Gen. Anderson, who desired to see me, and at the same time to keep from his wife and our family the fact of his being wounded until he should be able to come home. I found my sons both well and Gen.

Anderson improving when I arrived. I remained several days. I met Gen.

Silent and had several conversations with him. I found him well posted as to all matters North as well as South. He said there was no danger of Biggs during that Winter. He could not more than recuperate his army, and in the Spring, in all probability, the rebel army in the center would have a new commander, as Biggs was a great failure; that if he had moved against our forces when he had them caged up before re-enforcements came, our army would have been compelled to surrender.

He also spoke of our danger in the North from the anti-war party. He regarded it more dangerous than the rebel army. If they could succeed in carrying the election the Confederacy would by them be recognized and the Union dissolved.

"In a few days Gen. Anderson was adjudged by the Surgeon to be strong enough to travel. He was granted an indefinite leave of absence by Gen.

Silent, who regarded him very highly as an able officer. Gen. Anderson, myself, Jackson, James Whitcomb (now lieutenant), and Ham started for Allentown. On arriving at home the family were overjoyed, surprised, and grieved all at the same time--overjoyed at our return, surprised that they had not heard of the General being wounded, and grieved at his suffering.

"Lieut. James Whitcomb was introduced to the family, who were delighted to see him. He left the same evening for his home in Detroit, and we were together once more, save two sons, Peter and Henry. The meeting between Ham and Aunt Martha was very affecting. Their manner and queer remarks were laughable. Soon Aunt Martha came in to see her Marsa Gen'l Tom. She hugged him and got down on her knees and prayed for him, and then said to me:

"'Uncle Daniel, I bress de good Laud, for you bring Marsa Tom back. I cure him, sho. I knows what to do; de Laud tell me, he do. He not goin'

to let Marsa Genl Tom die; no he not! He want him to whip de Sesh, he do. I knows; de Laud tell me bout dat in de dream. He not fool dis old 'oinan; he neber do. Ham, he dream 'bout dat when he down to de fight.

He say he sick when dey fight. How is dat, Uncle Daniel? Did Marsa Tom tell you? Was he sick? He awful coward, Ham is, but if he sick, den all right; but when he not been sick he must stay wid Marsa Gen'l to keep he things all right. Ham say he do dat. I 'spect he do; he say so.'

"We told Aunt Martha that Ham was all right, and that pleased her, poor old woman. She was pure gold; G.o.d never made a better heart under any white skin than she had under her black one.

"Gen. Anderson had the best of attention, and improved daily until he could walk about without pain, but he was not fit for duty for a considerable time. The two children were delighted, and were full of questions of all kinds. One day when they were trying to entertain the General, his little daughter asked him who shot him. I saw the tears come into his eyes, and he arose and walked out on the porch without making any answer."

Just at this moment Mrs. Wilson came into the room, and Uncle Daniel took her on his knee and kissed her, saying:

"Jennie, you are my all and only hope, save my poor grandson, that I now have left. My time will soon come, however, when I can quietly quit this world of trouble and care and find a home where works will have due consideration; where those who serve in the army of the Lord will at least be considered the equal of those who have been in rebellion against him.

"My good friends," said Uncle Daniel, "you may think strange of my melancholy mood; but why should I desire to live longer and see what I do and feel as I do constantly on account of the manner in which things are now being conducted."

"I am not in any way surprised at your feeling as you do. I have felt and do feel the same, though my misfortunes and troubles have not been severe in comparison with yours," said Col. Bush. "But, Uncle Daniel, to call your attention away from your sorrows for a moment, I am very desirous of knowing what became of Mrs. Houghton."

"She remained in that part of the country during that Winter and until our combined Armies of the Center and West commenced their next campaign, during all of which time she kept our commanding Generals posted as to the movements of the enemy, his strength, when troops were sent east or west, where and how many; and when the troops were moved south in the Spring she returned to New York, and, I have been informed, married again. I hope she may be yet living and enjoying great happiness. She was a true woman. I have not heard of her for many years, however."

"She was a heroine sure," said Col. Bush; "her movements were of a most important character, Uncle Daniel."

"Yes, Colonel, she was a true patriot, and loved her country for her country's sake, and I hope the Lord has thrown fortune and pleasure in her pathway. There were a great many patriotic and daring acts performed by women during our war. G.o.d bless the good women. To our poor sick and wounded soldiers they were like ministering angels, both in the camp and hospitals."

CHAPTER XIV.

SERAINE WHITCOMB'S EXAMINATION OF THE REBEL PRISONS AND HENRY LYON'S RELEASE.--MAN'S INHUMANITY.--SERAINE WHITCOMB VISITS THE SOUTHERN PRISON PENS.--A SAD TALE OF WOE.-- GRAPHIC PICTURE OF SUFFERING, WRETCHEDNESS AND DEATH.

"Oh war, thou son of h.e.l.l, Whom angry heavens do make their ministers, Throw in the frozen bosoms of our past, Hot coals of vengeance."

--Shakespeare.

Uncle Daniel Lyon resumed his story by giving us a history of the adventures of Miss Seraine Whitcomb, who, as had been discovered, was the sister of James Whitcomb, now Aide-de-Camp to Gen. Anderson. He continued by saying:

"Miss Seraine's journey to Richmond was accomplished by overcoming the greatest of difficulties. The President's authority was good at every point in and through the Union lines. But when she reached the rebel pickets at or near the Rapidan she was placed under arrest as a spy, and taken to the headquarters of the commander of the rebel army. She then stated her case in a modest way, presenting the note given to her by our President. Her story was so simple and reasonable that she was permitted to enter Richmond in order to lay her case before President Davis.

At the same time the authorities at the rebel army headquarters had a lurking suspicion of her on account of (as they thought) her pretended perilous undertaking. Yet she was conducted to Richmond, and there took lodgings at the Virginia Hotel, where she was subjected to a constant watch over her every movement. She was in much doubt for several days what course to pursue. There was great activity going on in making preparations for some movement of the rebel army. She was not permitted to leave her hotel.

"She finally wrote a note to President Davis, stating that she wished to be permitted to have an interview with him on a matter of grave import to her; that she was alone and under a vigilant watch; that she thought she could satisfy him of her harmless intentions.

"To this she received a very polite answer permitting her to see him at 11 o'clock the following day, and informing her that he would send an escort.

"The next day, promptly at the time, an officer appeared and inquired if Miss Seraine Whitcomb was in. She readily responded, and directed that he be admitted. Presenting himself, he said he was Capt. T. P.

Redingson. The arrangements were soon agreed upon, and the two started for the Executive office. The detention in the ante-room was-but slight, before they were ushered into the presence of Mr. Davis. Seraine said he was seated in an arm-chair, rather oldish and common. Mr. Davis rose and greeted her pleasantly. He looked care-worn and haggard, and seemed thoughtful; but at no time during the interview did he forget his genial, polite manner toward her. She hardly knew what to say. After a short time he broke the ice by asking her if he could serve her in any way. She gained courage enough to tell him her whole story. She told him she would not give information of any kind to any one in reference to what she might see or hear while under his protection; that she wished to examine the prison records for the name of her friend, Henry Lyon, who she hoped, through his kindness, to find, and have exchanged.

"She seemed to touch a tender spot in his nature. He gave her a letter of safe conduct through all the rebel lines, and authority to examine the prisons and hospitals, exacting at the same time a pledge from her that she would, when satisfied, return by way of Richmond and make a report to him of all she should see and hear that was of interest in connection with the prisons, the army, or other kindred subjects. With this understanding and pledge on her part she gave him her thanks, with many good wishes for his health. She then bade him good, good-by and returned to her hotel.

"Capt. Redingson, her escort, was very polite to her, and promised that he would call the next day and make arrangements for her to visit the prisons and examine the records or rolls of prisoners in Richmond. The next day at ten o'clock the Captain called and escorted her to Libby.

There she saw such suffering as made her almost frantic, but she indulged in no remarks. As she pa.s.sed along the pallets of rotten straw, the tears would roll down the sunken cheeks of their occupants as she uttered some kind word to them. The rolls did not disclose the name of the one for whom she was in search, and she returned with the Captain to her hotel. That night she could not sleep. She had seen that day such sights as she had never expected to witness, and could not have believed had she not looked upon them with her own eyes. Men eating rotten food; many, very many, sick, sore and distressed; quite a number without sufficient clothes to cover their persons; no blankets; no way to send word to friends; no privileges granted, their treatment harsh and brutal. For the least delinquency inhuman punishment was inflicted. No prospect of help or relief of any kind. All kinds of stories were told them of disasters to the 'Yanks,' as the rebels called the Union soldiers. It was really a sickening sight to behold.

"The next day they visited Belle Isle, and there found the same condition of things. After an examination of records they returned to the Virginia Hotel. Miss Seraine then concluded to leave for Salisbury.

She asked the Captain if he would be kind enough to see to getting her tickets and placing her properly in charge of the conductor, with such instructions as might enable her to avoid annoyance on her route. The next morning she was feeling dull and heavy on account of having pa.s.sed a restless night. The shadows of that which she had seen during the day were continually before her eyes. She got ready, however, and was soon put on the train by Capt. Redingson, who knew the conductor and explained to him her situation and desire to avoid annoyances. Then bidding the Captain good-by, with many thanks for his kindness, she sat down in the car to pursue her weary journey, with many ill forebodings.

She looked out of the window over valley, hill and stream, and as she pa.s.sed on through that picturesque country her eyes fairly feasted on the majestic scenery beautified by the pines that tower heavenward along the line of the railroad.

"In her loneliness she could not resist the floodtide of hopes and fears that swept through her mind--now hoping and then fearing that she would not find Henry. If she should, would he be in the condition of the poor, starved skeletons she had seen at Libby and Belle Isle? Could it be possible that her lovable and gentle Henry could be so starved and harshly treated by these people, who had been so polite and kind to her?

'No! no!' she thought to herself; 'it cannot be.' The train sped along, and at night she was in Salisbury. There she was taken to a hotel of limited accommodations and worse attendance, as it was of the character so common to that country in the days of slavery. Quite a number of sick rebel officers, who had been sent there to recuperate, were in the hotel.

"The next morning it was discovered that a female 'Yank' was in the house, and, the gossips whispered 'a spy!' Miss Seraine was unsuspecting, and acted as if she had been a mere traveler in her own State. But very soon an officer came and sat down by her and began a series of questions, all of which she answered frankly. She told him her mission, and made inquiry about the prisoners there, wis.h.i.+ng to look for her friend, Henry Lyon. This officer left her and went to the authorities and had her put under arrest. At this she was frightened almost out of her wits. She wept and begged, but nothing would do but she must have her baggage (merely a satchel) examined. This done, they sent a lady with her to her room and searched her person. Being so much alarmed, she did not think of her letter from Mr. Davis. This was found in her pocket and declared a forgery, as they thought if genuine she would have produced it sooner. Finally the conductor who had brought the train through from Richmond returned, and finding how matters were, relieved her situation by-explaining it to the authorities. The officers and Mayor then hastened to make apologies for their action and afterwards treated her very kindly, and offered her every facility for the examination desired. Her search at the place was as fruitless as heretofore. She found the condition of things here as elsewhere with our poor prisoners--nothing but extreme suffering and ill treatment. It was hard for her to understand how any civilized people could find it in their hearts to treat human beings so barbarously.

"She left Salisbury the first moment it was-possible for her to do so, and made her way in great sadness to Pine Forest Prison, meeting with many perplexing things on the way. As she neared Pine Forest she became nervous and almost sick with fear that her mission would be a failure.

Her strength and resolution all at once seemed to fail her. But on she went, between hope and despair. En route to this horrible place, all kinds of phantoms rose before her mind. She would first see a starved human being, and then a wild beast pursuing him; then the butchery and murder of the victim; so that when she arrived at the village she was almost frantic and nearly insane. A gentleman, seeing her lonely and peculiar situation, a.s.sisted her to a house, where she procured quarters.

"It was not until the next morning that she made known her desire to visit the prison. The lady of the house seemed to take in the situation, and, instead of regarding her as a spy, felt a sympathy for her and willingly rendered her all the a.s.sistance she could. Miss Seraine told her whole story to her, and sought her aid in making the proper investigation. This lady, Mrs. Lawton, made all necessary arrangements for the two to visit the Superintendent at three o'clock that afternoon. Promptly at that hour they started, and when they entered the Superintendent's office outside the prison-pen they were received most courteously by Mr. Hibbard. At the same time his face wore an expression that made Miss Seraine shudder. His movements were sluggish, his manner uneasy. She hastened to make known to him the cause of her visit, and at the same time presented Mr. Davis's letter. He scanned the paper very closely without making any remark. The arrangement being made to come at twelve o'clock the next day, they returned to Mrs. Lawton's house.

"Mrs. Lawton was kind, and readily engaged in conversation, giving the most horrible description and picture of the prison and the inhuman treatment the prisoners were receiving. Seraine was silent, and refrained from expressing opinions or making any remarks save to say that she had been treated with great kindness and consideration by the officers she had met. Mrs. Lawton gave her to understand that she had great sympathy for the prisoners, and that she was not entirely in harmony with the rebellion, although she had been a sufferer by the war, having lost her husband in the Confederate service. She said she was living there merely to make what she could by selling things to the soldiers when she was permitted to do so. She had a great contempt for Mr. Hibbard, then keeper of the prison. It seems Hibbard was only there temporarily.

"Miss Seraine slept but little that night,--she was so eager to ascertain if Henry was, or if he had been, there. Next morning she arose early and was ready for breakfast, though she ate but little. When the hour of twelve o'clock arrived she and Mrs. Lawton repaired to the office of Mr. Hibbard as per appointment. They were received in a very polite manner, and informed that a guard would be sent through the grounds with them. They asked if he could not accompany them, as they were very timid about pa.s.sing through without his presence. He finally consented to attend them as guide and protector.

"'On first entering at the south gate they met a stench that almost stifled them. As they pa.s.sed along they saw the prisoners in groups, standing and gazing at them with a stare like that of maniacs. Some were moderately well clad, others almost in a state of nudity. The pen, for that was what it really was, was in the most filthy condition that human mind could imagine. As they pa.s.sed along they could see the blush of shame mantle the cheek of their escort. They walked through the center of the grounds, being the dryest and most cleanly. To describe accurately the suffering of the men, the filthy condition of this pen, and the ghastly looks of those poor creatures, was more than any tongue or pen could do. They came to where a portion of the sick were lying under a very poor shelter, and there saw sick men with but little clothing and in all the conditions of human suffering possible. Many were covered with ulcers from scurvy, some were sick with fever, some with their teeth dropping out, some dying with dysentery, some with old wounds not healed, some with fresh ones made by their brutal keepers, and nearly all were literally swarming with vermin.

"Miss Seraine became so sick at these sights that she was almost fainting, and asked to return to the house and be permitted to come earlier the next day, so as not to be in the pen during the midday heat. Her request was granted, and they left the prison. She was greatly alarmed for fear she would find Henry among this suffering cla.s.s of sick men. The next day they entered the prison at nine o'clock, and pa.s.sing around on the north side of the grounds found many cooking and eating their meals. There were no satisfactory conveniences for cooking. A little fire and a few pans and cups were all. The meat, what little they had, was broiled on coals. Many took their meal and stirred it in a cup with the most disagreeable water ever used, and drank it down without cooking. Hundreds had died within a few days--some from sheer starvation, as they could no longer take the food into their stomachs; some from scurvy, some from fever, and some were murdered by the guards for pa.s.sing beyond where ordered. How any one could live in that polluted and poisonous atmosphere was the wonder. In the inclosure there was a dirty, swampy piece of ground, with water stinking with filth of a character sickening to behold. When the rain fell all were subjected to the drenching cold bath. On the ground and in the mud and the damp they lay. Many were there who during the prior Winter had been so exposed as to have their feet frozen, until in many instances they were rotting off.