Chapter 13: Macon continued; Charleston.-under fire of our batteries on Morris Island.
A stockade had been erected on the fair ground, and fourteen hundred officers were confined there.
This was the first stockade we had seen, and while our names were being taken and we were being searched I had a chance to examine it. It was made of large trees driven in the ground, the inside covered with boards, and was about fifteen feet high.
A walk was built around it for the guard, and at each corner was placed a piece of artillery, which commanded the inside of the prison.
The door swung open and we were marched in. Had we entered the lower regions we could not have been more horrified.
Nearly all the officers had assembled at the gate, and such a looking set,--half naked, unshaven and unshorn, some dragging themselves along by the aid of sticks, others lying down in the dirt.
For the first time my courage failed me, and my heart grew faint as I thought that I must pass through what they had already seen of prison life.
They did not look like human beings, and appeared less so as every mouth opened and the cry of “Fresh fish” was heard on all sides.
It is an old saying that misery loves company, and since I entered Macon
stockade I have never doubted it. They would crowd around us, and the gang would howl, “Give ”