He was wet to the skin and aching; his teeth
chattered with an ague; his legs were so weary that he could scarcely
drag them along. But worse than the shiverings, the weariness, and
the weight of his fetters, were the revolting sights he had witnessed
along the road--men dropping with hunger and faintness, kicked to
their feet again, prodded with bayonets till the blood ran, knouted
with a thick whip if they broke step, jeered at when they shrieked
(as some did) for mercy. There was worse to come, and he alone of
all the gang was ignorant of it. Very merciful was the confusion of
tongues which hid that knowledge from him for a few hours.
At length they were marched back half a mile and turned into a barn,
narrower than their shelter of the previous night. Nor was there any
straw in it. They slept on the hard bricks, pillowing their heads on
each other's legs, or lay awake and listened to their fellows' moans.
Two sentries with loaded muskets kept guard by the door, and looked
in whenever a chain clanked or some unfortunate began to rave in his
sleep. Before morning a third of the gang was sickening for
rheumatic fever or typhus. At six o'clock the sergeant entered and
examined them. Then he retired, and came back in another hour with a
covered wagon, into which the sick were hoisted and packed like
herrings.
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