The following is the account of Cpl. James R. Collins, Third Tennessee Calvary, survivor of the Sultana disaster and the Confederate Prisoner of War camp at Cahaba, Alabama.

Captivity:

This prison had been an old cotton warehouse in former days, and within its dark and gloomy walls we took up our abode, not having the least idea when we could get out of there.

The horrors of the battlefield and of war in general were tame in comparison to what soldiers had to endure in these fearful prison houses. Starvation and disease were the enemies to be encountered here and were two fold more deadly than musket balls.

I shall not endeavor to give a detailed description of the routine and monotony of our prison life. Suffice it to say that we suffered untold horrors there. In addition to the want of food, the proximity of the prison to the river allowed the water, when the river became swollen from the frequent rains, to rise up into the building and cover the floor to a depth of from one to three and four feet deep. Our building was not far from some cord wood which our captors furnished us, and on these pens we were enabled to keep out of water when the place was flooded. For six long, weary months we lived in this dreadful existence, and ached every day for a breath of pure air and a sight of the glorious blue sky once more."

"The first I knew of the terrible catastrophe that had befalled us was when I awakened from sleep by the timbers of the upper deck together with clouds of cinders and ashes, falling on me and pinning me to the deck, I being asleep on the lower deck. Hundreds of other soldiers were sleeping on the deck, crowded together as thick as they could find room to lie. The other two decks the upper and hurricane were likewise crowded with sleeping men.

As soon as I awakened from sleep, I found myself fastened tightly by the mass of timber that had fallen from above, so that I could hardly move. The immense cloud of hot coals and cinders rained down upon us and I could feel my flesh being burned and scorched as I lay there, exerting all the energy I possessed to clear myself from the wreckage. I was successful in extricating myself, after being badly burned by the hot cinders and scalding stream from the exploded boilers of the boat.

Never will I forget the scene that I then witnessed. Quickly following the explosion, the Sultana caught on fire and soon she was a blazing furnace of angry, devouring flames.

When the tremendous shock came most of the men sleeping on the upper and hurricane decks were blown into the river and nearly all of them were drowned on the spot. Hundreds of poor fellows sleeping on the lower deck where I was were securely pinned down by the great heap of wrecked timbers that fell upon them and all efforts to rescue them were futile, on account of the fire, and many of them who had not been killed at first were burned alive before the eyes of the helpless but more fortunate comrades, who could do nothing to save them from their horrible fate.

As soon as I could clear myself from the wreck, I began to look for father, who was on the boat with me. I soon found him and saw that he was badly hurt, though he had also succeeded in getting clear of the wrecked timbers. I knew that we could remain a very few minutes as the flames were mounting higher and higher, so I spoke to my father and told him we would have to try to save ourselves the best way we could. We bade each other good-bye, and at once prepared to jump into the river. My father sprang into the water and seized a plank. That was the last time I ever saw him. I made my way to the bow of the boat, and catching hold of a rope that was hanging from bow down to the water, I let myself down into the river. Just as my feet struck the water, a drowning man seized me in a deathless grip, and all that saved me from sharing his fate was my hold on the rope. I saw the poor fellow at last loosen his hold and go down to rise no more.

Then, losing my hold on the rope, I sprang into the raging, chilly water. The spring freshet was then on, and the great Mississippi was out of banks and spread for miles over the country on each side of its course.

Swimming part of the way, and then turning on my back and floating, I went several miles down the river, and finally came to some saplings into which I climbed. I did not know that I was burned so badly until I got out of the water. But when I pulled myself up into the branches of one of those trees, I found that I was badly burned and scalded on several different portions of my body, and as soon as I had left the cooling influence of the chilly water, the pains from the burns became intense.

I had hardly got secure in the tree, before someone called to me from a small bunch of trees near by, and asked me to come over there, that there was a floating log there wedged in among the trees, upon which we could stand. I accepted this comrade's invitation and was soon beside him on the floating log. I then ascertained that there were three or four more men in the trees that were scattered about. One poor fellow who was in a tree a little distance from us seemed to be terribly wounded, from the groans that escaped his lips, and in a few minutes we heard him strike the water, and then all was still. He had undoubtedly been so seriously hurt that his strength had failed him after he had reached the tree, and he fell into the water to be instantly drowned. We had not been in our precarious refuge very long before we heard a boat coming up near the opposite shore. We screamed and yelled with all the strength of our lungs to attract their attention, but it went straight on, and we almost despaired of being rescued at all. I shivered from cold, my clothes, of course, being dripping wet, and suffering intense agony from the burns on my body, and never shall I forget the horror of those long hours I spent out there in those trees in the great river, hoping against hope that some kind fate might rescue us from our terrible plight.

It seems that providence must have heard our cries, for some time after daylight we saw, to our great joy and relief, the same boat that had gone up the river and passed by, coming down again on our side and making straight for us. The boat was soon alongside of our refuge, and numb with cold and sick with pain we were picked up and put aboard. (We then went) on down the river to Memphis, picking up men all the way down. Arriving at Memphis, all those disabled were sent to the hospital. I remained in the hospital until my wounds were partially healed, sufficient to enable me to travel. From Memphis we were transferred to Camp Chase, Ohio, the place to which we had started on the unfortunate Sultana. There we were paid off, and by a special order of the war department we were sent to our respective states to be mustered out of the service. The Tennessee troops were sent to Nashville, and there we found the remainder of our regiment, the third Tennessee cavalry, and we were mustered out together, after which each fellow struck out for his own dear sweet home, happy, Oh! so happy to get there again.

So thus ended one of the most tragic and lamentable events that ever occurred in the history of our county. When the news of that awful tragedy was sent abroad, many a home was darkened with grief and sorrow that had been happy in anticipation of the home-coming of a father, a son, or perhaps a brother or sweetheart.. And those poor fellow who died in that awful catastrophe! ...Seventeen hundred of them were either burned to death or went down into a watery grave at the bottom of the great river."