andersonville-第20部分

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as　the　composer　of　a　modern　opera　is　of　his　libretto。　　One　middle　aged
man；　with　a　powerful；　mellow　baritone；　like　the　round；　full　notes　of　a
French　horn；　played　by　a　virtuoso；　was　the　musical　leader　of　the　party。
He　never　seemed　to　bother　himself　about　air；　notes　or　words；　but
improvised　all　as　he　went　along；　and　he　sang　as　the　spirit　moved　him。
He　would　suddenly　break　out　with

　　　　　〃Oh；　he's　gone　up　dah；　nevah　to　come　back　agin；〃

At　this　every　darkey　within　hearing　would　roll　out；　in　admirable
consonance　with　the　pitch；　air　and　time　started　by　the　leader

　　　　　〃O…o…o…o…o…o…o…o…o…o…o…o…o…o…o！〃

Then　would　ring　out　from　the　leader　as　from　the　throbbing　lips　of　a
silver　trumpet

　　　　　〃Lord　bress　him　soul；　I　done　hope　he　is　happy　now！〃

And　the　antiphonal　two　hundred　would　chant　back

　　　　　〃O…o…o…o…o…o…o…o…o…o…o…o…o…o…o！〃

And　so　on　for　hours。　　They　never　seemed　to　weary　of　singing；　and　we
certainly　did　not　of　listening　to　them。　　The　absolute　independence　of　the
conventionalities　of　tune　and　sentiment；　gave　them　freedom　to　wander
through　a　kaleideoscopic　variety　of　harmonic　effects；　as　spontaneous　and
changeful　as　the　song　of　a　bird。

I　sat　one　evening；　long　after　the　shadows　of　night　had　fallen　upon　the
hillside；　with　one　of　my　chumsa　Frank　Berkstresser；　of　the　Ninth
Maryland　Infantry；　who　before　enlisting　was　a　mathematical　tutor　in
college　at　Hancock；　Maryland。　　As　we　listened　to　the　unwearying　flow　of
melody　from　the　camp　of　the　laborers；　I　thought　of　and　repeated　to　him
Longfellow's　fine　lines：

THE　SLAVE　SINGING　AT　MIDNIGHT。

And　the　voice　of　his　devotion
Filled　my　soul　with　strong　emotion；
For　its　tones　by　turns　were　glad
Sweetly　solemn；　wildly　sad。

　　　　　　　　　　Paul　and　Silas；　in　their　prison；
　　　　　　　　　　Sang　of　Christ；　the　Lord　arisen；
　　　　　　　　　　And　an　earthquake's　arm　of　might
　　　　　　　　　　Broke　their　dungeon　gates　at　night。

　　　　　　　　　　But；　alas；　what　holy　angel
　　　　　　　　　　Brings　the　slave　this　glad　evangel
　　　　　　　　　　And　what　earthquake's　arm　of　might。
　　　　　　　　　　Breaks　his　prison　gags　at　night。

Said　I：　〃Now；　isn't　that　fine；　Berkstresser？〃

He　was　a　Democrat；　of　fearfully　pro…slavery　ideas；　and　he　replied；
sententiously：

〃O；　the　poetry's　tolerable；　but　the　sentiment's　damnable。〃




CHAPTER　XVIII。

SCHEMES　AND　PLANS　TO　ESCAPESCALING　THE　STOCKADEESTABLISHING　THE　DEAD
LINETHE　FIRST　MAN　KILLED。

The　official　designation　of　our　prison　was　〃Camp　Sumpter；〃　but　this　was
scarcely　known　outside　of　the　Rebel　documents；　reports　and　orders。
It　was　the　same　way　with　the　prison　five　miles　from　Millen；　to　which　we
were　afterward　transferred。　　The　Rebels　styled　it　officially　〃Camp
Lawton；〃　but　we　called　it　always　〃Millen。〃

Having　our　huts　finished；　the　next　solicitude　was　about　escape；　and　this
was　the　burden　of　our　thoughts；　day　and　night。　　We　held　conferences；　at
which　every　man　was　required　to　contribute　all　the　geographical　knowledge
of　that　section　of　Georgia　that　he　might　have　left　over　from　his
schoolboy　days；　and　also　that　gained　by　persistent　questioning　of　such
guards　and　other　Rebels　as　he　had　come　in　contact　with。　　When　first
landed　in　the　prison　we　were　as　ignorant　of　our　whereabouts　as　if　we　had
been　dropped　into　the　center　of　Africa。　　But　one　of　the　prisoners　was
found　to　have　a　fragment　of　a　school　atlas；　in　which　was　an　outline　map
of　Georgia；　that　had　Macon；　Atlanta；　Milledgeville；　and　Savannah　laid
down　upon　it。　　As　we　knew　we　had　come　southward　from　Macon；　we　felt
pretty　certain　we　were　in　the　southwestern　corner　of　the　State。
Conversations　with　guards　and　others　gave　us　the　information　that　the
Chattahooche　flowed　some　two　score　of　miles　to　the　westward；　and　that　the
Flint　lay　a　little　nearer　on　the　east。　　Our　map　showed　that　these　two
united　and　flowed　together　into　Appalachicola　Bay；　where；　some　of　us
remembered；　a　newspaper　item　had　said　that　we　had　gunboats　stationed。
The　creek　that　ran　through　the　stockade　flowed　to　the　east；　and　we
reasoned　that　if　we　followed　its　course　we　would　be　led　to　the　Flint；
down　which　we　could　float　on　a　log　or　raft　to　the　Appalachicola。　　This
was　the　favorite　scheme　of　the　party　with　which　I　sided。　　Another　party
believed　the　most　feasible　plan　was　to　go　northward；　and　endeavor　to　gain
the　mountains；　and　thence　get　into　East　Tennessee。

But　the　main　thing　was　to　get　away　from　the　stockade；　this；　as　the　French
say　of　all　first　steps；　was　what　would　cost。

Our　first　attempt　was　made　about　a　week　after　our　arrival。　　We　found　two
logs　on　the　east　side　that　were　a　couple　of　feet　shorter　than　the　rest；
and　it　seemed　as　if　they　could　be　successfully　scaled。　　About　fifty　of　us
resolved　to　make　the　attempt。　　We　made　a　rope　twenty…five　or　thirty　feet
long；　and　strong　enough　to　bear　a　man；　out　of　strings　and　strips　of
cloth。　　A　stout　stick　was　fastened　to　the　end；　so　that　it　would　catch　on
the　logs　on　either　side　of　the　gap。　　On　a　night　dark　enough　to　favor　our
scheme；　we　gathered　together；　drew　cuts　to　determine　each　boy's　place　in
the　line；　fell　in　single　rank；　according　to　this　arrangement；　and　marched
to　the　place。　　The　line　was　thrown　skillfully；　the　stick　caught　fairly　in
the　notch；　and　the　boy　who　had　drawn　number　one　climbed　up　amid　a
suspense　so　keen　that　I　could　hear　my　heart　beating。　　It　seemed　ages
before　he　reached　the　top；　and　that　the　noise　he　made　must　certainly
attract　the　attention　of　the　guard。　　It　did　not。　　We　saw　our　comrade's。
figure　outlined　against　the　sky　as　he　slid；　over　the　top；　and　then　heard
the　dull　thump　as　he　sprang　to　the　ground　on　the　other　side。　　〃Number
two；〃　was　whispered　by　our　leader；　and　he　performed　the　feat　as
successfully　as　his　predecessor。　　〃Number；　three；〃　and　he　followed
noiselessly　and　quickly。　　Thus　it　went　on；　until；　just　as　we　heard　number
fifteen　drop；　we　also　heard　a　Rebel　voice　say　in　a　vicious　undertone：

〃Halt！　halt；　there；　dn　you！〃

This　was　enough。　　The　game　was　up；　we　were　discovered；　and　the　remaining
thirty…five　of　us　left　that　locality　with　all　the　speed　in　our　heels；
getting　away　just　in　time　to　escape　a　volley　which　a　squad　of　guards；
posted　in　the　lookouts；　poured　upon　the　spot　where　we　had　been　standing。

The　next　morning　the　fifteen　who　had　got　over　the　Stockade　were　brought
in；　each　chained　to　a　sixty…four　pound　ball。　　Their　story　was　that　one　of
the　N'Yaarkers；　who　had　become　cognizant　of　our　scheme；　had　sought　to
obtain　favor　in　the　Rebel　eyes　by　betraying　us。　　The　Rebels　stationed　a
squad　at　the　crossing　place；　and　as　each　man　dropped　down　from　the
Stockade　he　was　caught　by　the　shoulder；　the　muzzle　of　a　revolver　thrust
into　his　face；　and　an　order　to　surrender　whispered　into　his　ear。　　It　was
expected　that　the　guards　in　the　sentry…boxes　would　do　such　execution
among　those　of　us　still　inside　as　would　prove　a　warning　to　other　would…be
escapes。　　They　were　defeated　in　this　benevolent　intention　by　the
readiness　with　which　we　divined　the　meaning　of　that　incautiously　loud
halt；　and　our　alacrity　in　leaving　the　unhealthy　locality。

The　traitorous　N'Yaarker　was　rewarded　with　a　detail　into　the　commissary
department；　where　he　fed　and　fattened　like　a　rat　that　had　secured
undisturbed　homestead　rights　in　the　center　of　a　cheese。　　When　the
miserable　remnant　of　us　were　leaving　Andersonville　months　afterward；　I
saw　him；　sleek；　rotund；　and　well…clothed；　lounging　leisurely　in　the　door
of　a　tent。　　He　regarded　us　a　moment　contemptuously；　and　then　went　on
conversing　with　a　fellow　N'Yaarker；　in　the　foul　slang　that　none　but　such
as　he　were　low　enough　to　use。

I　have　always　imagined　that　the　fellow　returned　home；　at　the　close　of　the
war；　and　became　a　prominent　member　of　Tweed's　gang。

We　protested　against　the　barbarity　of　compelling　men　to　wear　irons　for
exercising　their　natural　right　of　attempting　to　escape；　but　no　attention
was　paid　to　our　protest。

Another　result　of　this　abortive　effort　was　the　establishment　of　the
notorious　〃Dead　Line。〃　　A　few　days　later　a　gang　of　negros　came　in　and
drove　a　line　of　stakes　down　at　a　distance　of　twenty　feet　from　the
stockade。　　They　nailed　upon　this　a　strip　of　stuff　four　inches　wide；　and
then　an　order　was　issued　that　if　this　was　crossed；　or　even　touched；　the
guards　would　fire　upon　the　offender　without　warning。

Our　surveyor　figured　up　this　new　contraction　of　our　space；　and　came　to
the　conclusion　that　the　Dead　Line　and　the　Swamp　took　up　about　three
acres；　and　we　were　left　now　only　thirteen　acres。　　This　was　not　of　much
consequence　then；　however；　as　we　still　had　plenty　of　room。

The　first　man　was　killed　the　morning　after　the　Dead…Line　was　put　up。
The　victim　vas　a　German；　wearing　the　white　crescent　of　the　Second
Division　of　the　Eleventh　Corps；　whom　we　had　nicknamed　〃Sigel。〃　　Hardship
and　exposure　had　crazed　him；　and　brought　on　a　severe　attack　of　St。
Vitus's　dance。　　As　he　went　hobbling　around　with　a　vacuous　grin　upon　his
face；　he　spied　an　old　piece　of　cloth　lying　on　the　ground　inside　the　Dead
Line。　　He　stooped　down　and　reached　under　for　it。　　At　that　instant　the
guard　fired。　　The　charge　of　ball…and…buck　entered　the　poor　old　fellow's
shoulder　and　tore　through　his　body。　　He　fell　dead；　still　clutching　the
dirty　rag　that　had　cost　him　his　Life。




CHAPTER　XIX。

CAPT。　HENRI　WIRZSOME　DESCRIPTION　OF　A　SMALL…MINDED　PERSONAGE；　WHO
GAINED　GREAT　NOTORIETYFIRST　EXPERIENCE　WITH　HIS　DISCIPLINARY　METHOD。

The　emptying　of　the　prisons　at　Danville　and　Richmond　into　Andersonville
went　on　slowly　during　the　month　of　March。　　They　came　in　by　train　loads　of
from　five　hundred　to　eight　hundred；　at　intervals　of　two　or　three　days。
By　the　end　of　the　month　there　were　about　five　thousand　in　the　stockade。
There　was　a　fair　amount　of　space　for　this　number；　and　as　yet　we　suffered
no　inconvenience　from　our　crowding；　though　most　persons　would　fancy　that
thirteen　acres　of　ground　was　a　rather　limited　area　for　five　thousand　men
to　live；　move　and　have　their　being　a　upon。　　Yet　a　few　weeks　later　we　were
to　see　seven　times　that　many　packed　into　that　space。

One　morning　a　new　Rebel　officer　came　in　to　superintend　calling　the　roll。
He　was　an　undersized；　fidgety　man；　with　an　insignificant　face；　and　a
mouth　that　protruded　like　a　rabbit's。　　His　bright　little　eyes；　like　those
of　a　squirrel　o