CHAPTER XIV.

Under the Protection of “Old Glory” Once More.

During the forenoon we were transferred from the Confederate steamer to Uncle Sam’s boat, and the Confederates were taken to the Confederate steamer. Now, as the boys termed it, we were once more in “God’s country.” Soon after our arrival on board the boat coffee was prepared for us. It was made in a large barrel, by steam. Oh, but that sweet odor from the coffee was delicious. It testified that we had passed from a land of starvation to a land of plenty. We had not smelled coffee for about six months until now, and were receiving our first meal from Uncle Sam since our exchange. It consisted of a tin-cup of good coffee, a slice of bread about as large as my hand, a slice of boiled pork about the size of one finger, a piece of onion, and two apples. We had fasted so long that in our debilitated condition the consequence would have been serious if we had been given a full meal. We were now safely on board of Uncle Sam’s ship, and were soon to move out of the harbor.

Late in the afternoon the boat started in the direction of Fortress Monroe. On the way down we passed a monitor. I was informed by one of the boat crew that it was the one that had defeated the Merrimac. We also passed a very large man-of-war which looked like a great fort, and I thought it was until informed differently. When we arrived near Fortress Monroe the boat halted for a short time, and then passed near the Fortress and out into Chesapeake Bay, and started on our journey toward Annapolis, Md.

Darkness soon came on, and also a tremendous gale began blowing from the northeast, which made things lively on the boat. In a short time it began to rock violently, and for some time the storm seemed to increase in fury. This made the ship rock to and fro so that we were unable to stand up. About four hundred of us paroled prisoners were lying on the floor of the ship. I made several attempts to stand up but could not, and then decided to remain down and keep quiet, but also failed in that. Then many buckets were placed on the floor in different parts of the boat. I was curious to learn why that was done, but had not long to wait until I learned more about it than I had any desire to know. The reader can guess the rest.

The night wore on slowly, the storm beating against the boat and tossing it first one way and then the other, and it seemed to move in a half dozen directions at once, which made things interesting. At one time the boat tipped to one side so much that I thought it would not straighten up again. The captain of the boat called for the deck hands, and they were soon at their posts of duty, and began turning a windlass which was attached to the side of the boat, to which was fastened one end of a large rope and the other end to a small iron car, which stood on a track extending crosswise of the boat. By this means they drew the heavy car to the high side, by winding the rope around the windlass. They also rolled barrels of sand from the lower to the high side. By these the ship was balanced again, and saved from overturning. Occasionally a wave would strike the side of the boat, causing a very loud report, and making the ship fairly tremble. At one time during the night I thought to myself, perhaps now we will be shipwrecked and drowned, after passing through all our hardships and troubles, when within a few hours’ ride of our destination.

But, thank the Lord, we landed at Annapolis the following day. The storm ceased some time during the morning, and we soon came in sight of the place of landing. They were now beginning to get us ready to be transferred from the boat to the shore, at Annapolis, Md., where we arrived March 16, 1864. All those who were able to do so got up and walked out on shore. After landing I stepped to one side of our group, and turning toward it I beheld the most sorrowful picture of human beings that I had ever seen, except when on the island. Those scenes seem to be permanently stamped upon my memory.

I again joined the group or crowd, as there were almost too many of us to be called a group. We were certainly awful-looking objects of humanity. We had not been barbered for six months, and some of the group for eight or ten months. Our faces were dirty and disfigured with prison grime, shaggy whiskers, shrunken cheeks and lips, long, matted hair on our heads, stooped shoulders, and long, bony hands and fingers, which made us appear like a lot of apes and monkeys. I am certain if Mr. Barnum, the noted showman, had caught sight of us, Uncle Sam would have been minus a few so-called soldiers, because we would undoubtedly have been corralled for his shows. The buzzard that feeds on carrion would have blushed and been offended, if we had been offered to him for food.

But many of us thanked Providence for our miraculous deliverance from almost certain death. From the best information that I could procure during recent years, I learned that our squad of 400 was the last one that was paroled during the spring and summer of 1864, and therefore if we had not been permitted to go out with these 400 the majority of us would now be numbered with the dead at the prison pen. I heard of a number of ex-prisoners returning to their homes so changed in appearance that their own parents were unable to recognize them. We were asked to get in line and march over to a large building, which was new and apparently constructed for the purpose for which it was used. It was divided into three large compartments.

In the first room we passed into they clipped our hair and whiskers closely. We were then ordered to strip off every rag from our bodies. If I remember rightly they handled our filthy, lousy garments with pitchforks, after taking them off, and I considered it an insult to the forks. We were then told to pass on into another very large room, in which were twenty or thirty bathtubs, containing plenty of warm water. Then each received a piece of soap and a towel, and was told to take a good bath, which we did and greatly enjoyed. Those who were not able to do so were bathed by assistants.

After being purified in this manner we were shown into a third large room, and given a new outfit of clothing, consisting of shirt, drawers, pants, socks, shoes, coat, hat and blanket. Imagine the change in our appearance, and also in our feelings. I did not weigh very heavy when we landed, but I imagined that I weighed several pounds less after taking my bath. Some of the boys intimated that Uncle Sam could sell fertilizer after we had all finished bathing.

After being dressed in our new suits we were transferred over to the new barracks, which were found to be very nice and clean. The day was now about gone, and a supper was prepared for us. After eating we retired to our bunks, and I am utterly unable to describe how well my rest was enjoyed that night. Oh, such a sweet rest as it was; knowing that we were once more clean, and that our clothing was not infested with graybacks who would dance about on our bodies and torment us during the night. To think that we were no longer under control of a cruel prison-keeper, and that those hideous prison days were a thing of the past was a blessed relief. Our transfer from the prison pens to the new and clean barracks, may well be compared to a release from the infernal regions, and a transfer to the land of everlasting bliss.

But yet we were reminded of our comrades left in prison, who were yet suffering and did not know how much longer they would remain there. We tarried in Annapolis about ten days. While there we were well cared for by Uncle Sam. There was such a contrast between this treatment and our treatment in prison that I kept thinking that it was too good to continue. Some of the boys remarked as follows: “How long is this thing going to last?” We had been tormented during such a long time that we could not make ourselves believe that we would henceforward have enough to eat, and that we were in a land of plenty. And it really seemed to us a strange thing to have humane treatment.

March 26 we received orders to go to St. Louis, Mo. We went by steamer from Annapolis to Baltimore. All the western boys were there transferred to the cars on the Baltimore and Ohio railroad and left Baltimore March 27, 1864, passing through Harper’s Ferry, the scene of John Brown’s insurrection. On this road we were taken as far as Cincinnati, Ohio, where we rested one day, and on March 30 were transferred to the cars of the Ohio and Mississippi railroad on which we were taken to St. Louis, Mo., arriving there on March 31. Nothing of any consequence transpired on the way, except that I was sick during the latter part of the journey. When our train crossed the Illinois Central railroad in southern Illinois, it was nighttime and the train halted for some time. It was not very dark, and I was able to look out and see some of the Illinois prairies, which made me feel homesick. I felt as though I wanted to get on the Illinois Central and go north to my home at Mendota, a distance of several hundred miles. But according to army regulations I was not allowed to go. I never received a furlough during my service of three years and four months. Our train rolled on toward St. Louis, arriving there, as stated before. We got off and were soon in our temporary home, the convalescent camp at Benton Barracks.

I among many others was placed under the doctor’s care for the treatment of scurvy and general disability. Our lodging place was in the barracks, and we reported to the doctor every morning. At times I felt quite sick and was under treatment several months. At the end of this time I had gained considerable strength, and was much better but not entirely well.

In the latter part of May we were transferred from here to Memphis, Tenn. We went by boat, steamed out from the landing, and started down the Mississippi. A short time after leaving the landing quite an exciting incident occurred. There were several hundred of us ex-prisoners of war on board. We had taken our places in a comfortable part of the boat. The lower part of it, where the boilers were located, was partly occupied by fat cattle en route for the army. A captain with a number of guards had charge of us, and was to conduct us to Memphis. The captain came to us and said, “Boys, you must go down to the next floor.” We refused to go, as we were more comfortable on the upper floor, and told him that we would like to remain above; that we had been dogged about long enough. He insisted on our going down, seemed to be of the aristocratic style, and finally drew his sabre and attempted to strike one of our number who stood at the stairway leading below, at the same time ordering him to go down, which he refused to do. He being a tall, active fellow, struck the captain with his fist, and sent him sprawling on the floor, his sabre flying out of his hand. He got up and called to his guards to come and assist him, which they did not do, as there were only five or six of them, and seeing fire in our eyes they concluded it was best not to interfere. The captain was very angry, and went to the captain of the boat and ordered him to land us on the Missouri side of the river. We disembarked and waited quite a long time, and finally another boat came along and took us on board, and we were soon again on our way down the river.

If it had been necessary for us to go down to the lower part of the boat we would have gone. But there was plenty of room on the second floor, where we could be comfortable, and we knew that; therefore we did not propose to be imposed upon by an aristocratic captain. Nothing of interest transpired during the remainder of the trip, and we landed at Memphis, Tenn., the following day, where the crowd was divided, some going to their company and regiment, and others again to some convalescent camp. I was transferred to a convalescent camp situated on a bluff of the Mississippi, not far from it. When I entered the place the weather was very hot, and the wind blowing almost a gale, which filled the air with dust and fine dry sand, covering the bunks and everything about us with it. This made it very unpleasant. I did not feel very well at this time, and the effects of the unpleasant surroundings did not improve my feelings any. Learning of the whereabouts of my company and regiment, the 7th Illinois Cavalry, I decided to make my way to it if possible. No one was allowed to leave this camp without a pass from the one in charge. It was enclosed by a tight board fence. After being confined here several days, I concluded that as long as I remained here my health would not improve, so I issued orders to the effect that Eby might return to his company and regiment, and made preparations to leave the place immediately. They would not give me a pass, but I looked about, and finally made my escape by a means which did not conform with military rules.

After being outside of the camp I immediately started in search of my regiment, which I learned was encamped only a few miles distant from the city. I made inquiries occasionally as I moved along in regard to the location of the regiment, which assisted me in finding it. I accomplished my task on the same day of starting out. I did not think it proper to remain in convalescent camp at Uncle Sam’s expense, when I could just as well be with the regiment and do a little service and get well.