CHAPTER XIII.
BELLE ISLE--TERRIBLE SUFFERING FROM COLD AND HUNGER--FATE OF LIEUTENANT BOISSEUX'S DOG--OUR COMPANY MYSTERY--TERMINATION OF ALL HOPES OF ITS SOLUTION.
In February my chum--B.

B.Andrews, now a physician in Astoria, Illinois -- was brought into our building, greatly to my delight and astonishment, and from him I obtained the much desired news as to the fate of my comrades.

He told me they had been sent to Belle Isle, whither he had gone, but succumbing to the rigors of that dreadful place, he had been taken to the hospital, and, upon his convalesence, placed in our prison.
Our men were suffering terribly on the island.

It was low, damp, and swept by the bleak, piercing winds that howled up and down the surface of the James.

The first prisoners placed on the island had been given tents that afforded them some shelter, but these were all occupied when our battalion came in, so that they were compelled to lie on the snow and frozen ground, without shelter, covering of any kind, or fire.