Rensselaer Republican, Volume 25, Number 41, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 8 June 1893 — DRAWN BY LOT. [ARTICLE]

DRAWN BY LOT.

New York-Suit ' I The thirty-eight us were confined in a large room, and It was the fourteenth day after the Spanish gunboat eaptured our little steamer before we received a hint of what fate had in store for us. Then an officer entered, called on us to pay strict Attention, .arid annmmpwl that we were to be taken put and shot on the morrow. An hour later he returned to explain that he was mistaken. The gracious and merciful Spanish government would be satisfied with six lives instead of thir-ty-eight. We had killed six of the crew of the gunboat, and it was to be life for life. “Gentlemen, it will be by lot, of course,” he continued, as he bowed and smiled on every hand-, “and I am here to oversee the drawing. See! I have here thirty-two white beans and six black ones. I will put them in a cap, and each genteman will step up and draw as his name is called.” When he had announced that all were to be shot I heard no lamenting. On the contrary, men moved about saying' that it was what we had been expecting and we would die like men. Lips were compressed but I did rfot see one pale face. This new announcement created something like a panic. Only six were to die. Thirty-two would be sent to Erison, but all would live and see ome and friends again. In sixty seconds the face of every man was ghastly.—ln two minutes all were trembling. Mild-eyed men glared about them like wild beasts driven to bay, and there were lips that bled from hard-set teeth. “Gentlemen, my clerk will call the roll and you will draw the beans,’’ said the officer, as he made ready. 1 ‘Each man must show his bean as he draws, and those who draw black ones must stand over by the windows. No w, then, are you ready? ” The clerk could speak and write English, and he had our names in alphabetical order. The first name called was that of Anson, and he hesitated a few seconds before advancing. Did any one hope he would draw a black bean? I believe that every man of us hoped so! It would 1 etter our own chances. The man walked slowly forward, made a great effort to control himself and made his draw. It was a white bean. Anderson came next, and he drew his death warrant, as also did Bagley. Then twelve men drew white beans in succession. When it came my turn there were three blacks and thirteen whites still left in the cap. I drew a black. That fact did not shock me, as I had almost expected my ill luck from the start, but it hurt me when the men almost applauded. Only two blacks now to thirteen whites! The very next man also drew a black bean, and there was a cheer. Only one to thirteen now! It was a singular fate that left that last black bean in the hat. Twelve names were called off and twelve men stepped up and drew, and each and all drew white. It was the death warrant of the only man who did not put his hand into the cup. As soon as the drawing was over the thirty-two fortunates shook hands and congratulated each other and smiled and laughed. That was only natural. After the first ebullition of feeling they turned to give us their heartfelt sympathies. We were not removed from the room. They would come for us soon after daylight. What were our feeliugs? The first sensation was that of a man coming to after a fall which had deprived him of consciousness for a minute. The next was to doubt if we had not been asleep and dreamed it all. After that one man sat down in a corner and wept. A second lay at full length on the floor with his face to the wall. A third cursed and inveighed and hoped for vengeance. Within three or four hours there came a feeling of exultation. I believe that every man who goes to the gallons has that same reeling. I slept well that night. I was still sleeping when the soldiers came to march the Six of us out to the execution ground. We shook hands all around, but only here and there did one of the men trdlt his voice to speak to us. Those who were to live seemed most affected. Their faces wore very pale, and their lips quivered. Two by two, with soldiers on every side, we walked with heads up, but had no word for each other. There were scores of citizens out to see us, but we kept our eyes to the front. Halt! We have reached the grounds. I had thought of the six of us standing in of six new made graves, but there were neither graves nor coffins. They stood us with our backs toward a brick wall. I noticed a hundred scars on that wall, and knew they had been made on just such occasions as this. “Gentlemen, your eyes—the blindfold!” said an officer as he came forward with several men behind him. The last thing I saw was a platoon of twenty-four men forming up in front of us—four to a man. For perhaps ten seconds I shrank at thought of the bullets striking me. For perhaps ten more I prayea that they woulu make a sure work of it. My hands touched the handß of the men each side of me, for we .were not bound. I said “Good-by” to each, and they, returned it, and I heard the others speaking a last farewell word. I heard the last man walk away when the last victim had been blinded. I heard the platoon moving up nearer. I heard one street boy ‘ shouting to another that the soldiers were about to fire. There

■was deep silence for a few seconds, and then I heard advancing foot: steps. Some one seized my arm, and I was led away to the right and the handkerchief removed. It was the officer again, and he tumedxne over to two soldiers with the remark: ‘ ‘He is but a boy, and the Governor commutes. Take him back to prison.” I had not gone 200 feet when there was a crash of musketry, and fcy five comrades lay dead at the base of the wall. Was I rejoiced? Strangely enough, no —not for hours and hours. I had been so near death that I was dead to myself and all around me.