The digging of these deep wells was proof of the ingenuity and daring of the prisoners. The only digging tool was a half canteen, procured by unsoldering a canteen. The dirt was drawn up in a haversack, or bucket, attached to a rope twisted out of rags, from the lining of coat sleeves or strips of shelter tents. The well diggers were lowered into, and drawn out of, the wells by means of these slight, rotten ropes, and yet, I never heard of an accident as a result of this work.
But the wells were not capable of supplying one-fourth of the men with water. Those who had no interest in a well, and could not beg water from those who had, were compelled to go to Dead-run for a supply.
A bridge crossed this stream on the west side of the prison, and here the water was not quite so filthy as farther down stream. This bridge was the slaughter pen of the 55th Georgians, and the 5th Georgia Home Guards.
Here the prisoners would reach under the Dead-line to procure clean water, and the crack of a Georgian’s musket, was the prisoner’s death knell.
During the early part of August Providence furnished what Winder and Wirz refused to furnish. After a terrible rain storm, a spring broke out under the walls of the stockade about ten or fifteen rods north of this bridge. Boards were furnished, out of which a trough was made which carried the water into the prison. The water was of good quality, and of sufficient quantity to have supplied the prisoners, could it have been saved by means of a tank or reservoir. This was the historical “Providence Spring” known and worshiped by all ex-Andersonville prisoners.
The same rain storm which caused Providence Spring to break out, gullied and washed out the ground between our well and the stockade to a depth of four feet, and so saturated the ground that the well caved in. We were a sad squad of men, as we gathered around the hole where our hopes of life were buried, for without pure water, we knew we could not survive long in Andersonville.
Two days after the accident to our well, we held a legislative session, and resolved ourselves into a committee of the whole, on ways and means to restore our treasure. No one could think of any way to fix up the well, boards were out of the question, stones there were none, and barrels:—we had not seen a barrel since we left “God’s Country.” As chairman, ex-officio, of the committee, I proposed that we steal a board from the Dead-line. This was voted down by the committee as soon as proposed, the principle was all right, but the risk was too great; death would be the penalty for the act. The committee then rose and the session was adjourned. After considering the matter for a time, I resolved to steal a board from the Dead-line at any risk. I then proceeded to mature a plan which I soon put into execution. One of my “pards,” Rouse, had a good silver watch, I told him to go up to the Dead-line in front of the first guard north of our tent, and show his watch, and talk watch trade with the guard. I sent Ole Gilbert, my other pard, to the first guard south, with the same instructions, but minus a watch. I kept my eyes on the guards and watched results; soon I saw that my plan was working. I picked up a stick of wood and going to a post of the Dead-line, where one end of a board was nailed, I pried off the end of the board, but O horror! how it squealed, it was fastened to a pitch pine post with a twelve penny nail and when I pried it loose, it squeaked like a horse fiddle at a charivari party. I made a sudden dive for my tent, which was about sixteen feet away, and when I had got under cover I looked out to see the result. The guards were peering around to see what was up, their quick ears had caught the sound, but their dull brain could not account for the cause.