.dt Fighting Joe, by Oliver Optic--A Project Gutenberg eBook
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AT THE BATTLE OF ANTIETAM.—Page 143.
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[Illustration: AT THE BATTLE OF ANTIETAM.—Page 143.]
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FIGHTING JOE;
OR,
THE FORTUNES OF A STAFF OFFICER.
A Story of the Great Rebellion.
BY
OLIVER OPTIC,
AUTHOR OF “THE SOLDIER BOY,” “THE SAILOR BOY,” “THE YOUNG LIEUTENANT,”
“THE YANKEE MIDDY,” “RICH AND HUMBLE,” “IN SCHOOL AND OUT,”
“WATCH AND WAIT,” “WORK AND WIN,” “THE RIVERDALE
STORY BOOKS,” “THE BOAT CLUB,” ETC.
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BOSTON
LEE AND SHEPARD PUBLISHERS
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Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1865, by
WILLIAM T. ADAMS,
in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts.
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Copyright, 1893, by William T. Adams
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FIGHTING JOE
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TO
F. ORMOND J. S. BAZIN
This Book
IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED,
BY HIS FRIEND
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WILLIAM T. ADAMS.
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PREFACE.
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This volume, the fifth of “The Army and Navy Stories,” is
not a biography of the distinguished soldier whose sobriquet in the
army has been chosen as its principal title, though the prominent
incidents of his military career are noticed in its pages. The
writer offers his humble tribute of admiration to the energetic and
devoted general who will be recognized under the appellation
given to this work; but perhaps the object of the volume may
be better represented by the second title. It follows Tom
Somers, “The Soldier Boy” and “The Young Lieutenant,”
in his brilliant and daring career as a staff officer, through some
of the most stormy and trying scenes of the late war.
As in the volumes of the series which have preceded it, the best
sources of information upon military events have been carefully
consulted; and to the extent to which the book is properly historical,
it is intended to be faithful in its delineations. But the
work is more correctly a record of personal adventure, no more
complicated, daring, and romantic than may be found in the
experience of many, who, through trial and tribulation, through
victory and defeat, have passed from the inception to the gigantic
failure of this gigantic rebellion.
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More earnest than any other purpose in the production of the
book, it has been the object of the writer to exhibit a character
in his hero worthy the imitation of the boy and the man who may
read it; and if it does not inculcate a lofty patriotism, and a noble
and Christian morality, it will have failed of the highest aim of
the author.
With the still stronger expression of gratitude which the increasing
favor bestowed upon previous efforts demands of me, I
pass the fifth volume of the series into the hands of my indulgent
friends, hoping that it will not fall short of their reasonable
expectations.
.rj
WILLIAM T. ADAMS.
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CONTENTS.
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CHAPTER || PAGE
I. | A Fighting Man. | #11:ch01#
II. | A Skirmish on the Road. | #22:ch02#
III. | Fighting Joe. | #33:ch03#
IV. | Miss Maud Hasbrouk. | #44:ch04#
V. | The Boot on One Leg. | #55:ch05#
VI. | The Boot on the Other Leg. | #66:ch06#
VII. | South Mountain. | #77:ch07#
VIII. | Before the Great Battle. | #88:ch08#
IX. | Between the Pickets. | #98:ch09#
X. | Major Riggleston. | #109:ch10#
XI. | Shot in the Head. | #120:ch11#
XII. | The Council of Officers. | #131:ch12#
XIII. | The Battle of Antietam. | #141:ch13#
XIV. | The Battle on the Right. | #151:ch14#
XV. | After the Battle. | #161:ch15#
XVI. | The Mystery explained. | #171:ch16#
XVII. | Down in Tennessee. | #181:ch17#
XVIII. | The Guerillas at Supper. | #191:ch18#
XIX. | Tippy the Scout. | #202:ch19#
XX. | Skinley the Texan. | #213:ch20#
XXI. | The House of the Union Man. | #223:ch21#
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XXII. | The Greenback Train. | #234:ch22#
XXIII. | The Battle in the Clouds. | #244:ch23#
XXIV. | Peach-Tree Creek. | #254:ch24#
XXV. | The Monkey and the Cat’s Paw. | #264:ch25#
XXVI. | Supper for Seven. | #274:ch26#
XXVII. | The Cat’s Paw too sharp for the Monkey. | #284:ch27#
XXVIII. | The Blood-Hounds on the Track. | #294:ch28#
XXIX. | The Pilgrimage to the Sea. | #303:ch29#
XXX. | Major Somers and Friends. | #314:ch30#
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FIGHTING JOE.
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FIGHTING JOE;
OR,
THE FORTUNES OF A STAFF OFFICER.
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CHAPTER I.||A FIGHTING MAN.
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“WELL, Alick, I don’t know where I am,”
said Captain Thomas Somers, of the staff
of the major general commanding the first
army corps of the Army of the Potomac, then on its
march to repel the invasion of Maryland, which had
been attempted by the victorious rebels under General
Lee.
“Well, massa, I’m sure I don’t know,” replied Alick,
his colored servant. “If you was down ’bout Petersburg,
I reckon I’d know all ’bout it.”
“We must find out very soon,” added Captain Somers,
as he reined in his horse at a point where two roads
branched off, one to the north-west and the other to the
south-west.
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“Day ain’t no house ’bout here, massa.”
“I don’t want to lose my way, for I have no time to
spare.”
“Dar’s somebody comin’ up behind, massa,” said
Alick, who first heard the sounds of horses’ feet approaching
in the direction from which they had just
come.
Captain Somers, after receiving the agreeable intelligence
of his appointment on the staff of the general, in
whose division he had served on the Peninsula, hastened
to Washington to report for duty. He had hardly time
to visit his friends, and was obliged to content himself
with a short call on Miss Lilian Ashford, though he had
an invitation to spend the evening with the family, extended
for the purpose of enabling the young gentleman
to cultivate an acquaintance with the beautiful girl’s
grandmother!
Lilian’s father’s mother was certainly a very estimable
old lady, and her granddaughter loved and reverenced
her with a fervor which was almost enthusiastic. It
was quite natural, therefore, that she should wish Captain
Somers,—for whom she had knit a pair of socks,
which had been no small portion of his inspiration in the
hour of battle, and for whom she had contracted a friendship,—it
was quite natural that she should wish to have
the captain well acquainted with her grandmother. She
loved the old lady herself, and of course so brave,
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handsome, and loyal a person as her friend had proved
to be, must share her reverence and respect. Besides,
the venerable woman remembered all about the last war
with Great Britain. Her husband had been one of the
firemen sent out with axes to cut away the bridges which
connect Boston with the surrounding country, when an
invasion of the town was expected. She could tell a good
story, and as Somers was a military man, it was highly
important that he should know all about the dreaded
invasion which did not take place.
Captain Somers was obliged to deprive himself of the
pleasure of listening to the old lady’s history of those
stirring events, for more exciting ones were in progress
on the very day of which we write. He was sorry, for
he anticipated a great deal of pleasure from the visit,
though whether he expected to derive the whole of it
from the presence of the grandmother, we are not informed;
and it would be wicked to pry too deeply into
the secrets of the young man’s heart. We are not quite
sure that Lilian was entirely unselfish when she described
what a rich treat the old lady’s narrative would be; but
we are certain that she was entirely sincere, and that it
was quite proper to offer some extra inducement to secure
the gallant captain’s attendance.
The captain did not need any extraordinary inducements,
beyond the presence of the fair Lilian herself.
We even believe that he would have cheerfully spent the
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evening at No. — Rutland Street, if there had been no
one but herself to give him a welcome, and aid him in
passing away the hours. Nothing but a high sense of
duty could have led him to break the engagement. The
rebel hordes, victorious before Washington, and elated
by the signal successes they had won, were pouring into
Maryland, menacing Washington, Baltimore, and Philadelphia.
It was a time which tried the souls of patriotic
men—a time when no man who loved his country could
rest in peace while there was a work which his hands
could do.
The young staff officer called upon the lady and stated
his situation. She blushed, as she always did in his
presence, and gave him a God-speed on his patriotic
mission. She hoped he would not be killed, or even
wounded; that his feeble health would be restored; and
that God would bless him as he went forth to do battle
for his treason-ridden land. She was pale when he took
her hand at parting; her bosom heaved with emotions,
to which Somers found a response in his own heart, but
which he could not explain.
He went to Washington; but the gallant army, still
suffering from the pangs of recent defeat, but yet strong
in the cause they had espoused, had marched to the
scene of new battles. Somers had already provided himself
with his staff uniform, and he remained in Washington
only long enough to purchase two horses, one of
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which he mounted himself, while Alick rode the other,
and started for the advance of the army. The roads
were so cumbered with artillery trains and baggage
wagons that his progress was very slow, and the corps to
which he now belonged was several days in advance of
him. By the advice of a general officer, he had made a
détour from the direct road, and passed through a comparatively
quiet country.
The rebels were at Frederick City, and their cavalry,
in large and small bodies, was scattered all over the
region, gathering supplies for the half starved, half
clothed men of Lee’s army. Thus far Somers had met
none of these marauders, nor any of the guerillas, who,
without a license from either side, were plundering soldiers
and civilians who could offer no resistance. Somers
had ridden as rapidly as his feeble state of health would
permit; but his enthusiasm had urged him forward until
his horse was more in danger of giving out than the
rider. But when he reached the cross-roads, at which
we find him, doubtful about the right way, he had slept
the preceding night at a farm-house, and horse and rider
were now in excellent condition.
“Are your pistols ready for use, Alick?” asked Somers,
as he heard the sounds of the horses’ feet.
“Yes, sar; always keep the pistols ready. But what
you gwine to do wid pistols here?” replied the servant,
as he took his weapon from his pocket.
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“The country is full of rebels and guerillas; they
may want our horses, and perhaps ourselves. I can’t
spare my coat and boots very well at present.”
“Guess not, massa,” laughed Alick, as he examined
the lock of his pistol.
“I have never seen you in a fight, Alick. Do you
think you can stand up to it?”
“Well, massa. I don’t want to say much about that,
but I reckon I won’t run away no faster’n you do.”
“If I get into trouble with these ruffians, I shall want
to know whether I can depend on you, or not.”
“Golly, massa! You can depend on me till the cows
come home!” exclaimed Alick. “I doesn’t like to say
much about it, but if these yere hossmen wants to fight,
I’m not the chile to run away.”
“They don’t look much like rebels or guerillas,” added
Somers, as he obtained his first view of the approaching
horsemen. “But you can’t tell much by the looks in
these times, for the villains have robbed us till half of
them wear our own colors. Those people certainly wear
the uniform of our army.”
“Dar’s only two of ’em, massa. I reckon they don’t
want to fight much.”
“I only wished to be cautious; very likely they are
loyal and true men,” replied Somers, as the strangers
came too near to permit any further remarks in regard
to their probable character.
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Both the travellers were evidently officers of the army,
though, as Somers had suggested, it was impossible to
tell what anybody was by the looks, or even if he was
seen to take the oath of allegiance. As they came round
a bend of the road, and discovered the captain and his
servant, they reined up their steeds, and seemed to be
disturbed by the same doubts which had troubled the first
party. But they advanced, after a cautious survey, and
each of them touched his cap, when they came within
speaking distance. Somers politely returned the salute,
and moved his horse towards them.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” said he. “Can you
inform me which is the road to Frederick City?”
“The left, sir. If you are going in that direction, we
shall be glad of your company,” replied one of the officers.
“Thank you; I shall be glad to go with you.”
“I see by your uniform that you belong on the staff,”
added the officer who had done the talking.
“Yes, sir;” and Somers, without reserve, informed
him who and what he was.
“Somers!” exclaimed the stranger. “I have heard
of you before. Perhaps you remember one Dr. Scoville,
of Petersburg?”
“Perfectly,” laughed Somers.
“Well, sir, he is an uncle of mine.”
“Indeed? I took you to be an officer of the United
States army.”
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“So I am; but my father married a sister of Dr.
Scoville.”
“Dr. Scoville is a very good sort of man, but he is an
awful rebel. I suppose he bears no good will towards
me and my friend Major de Banyan.”
“Perhaps not; but the affair was a capital joke on the
doctor. And since he is a rebel, and a very pestilent one
too, I enjoyed it quite as much as you did.”
“I feel very grateful to him for what he did for me.
I went into his house without an invitation; he dressed
my wound, and nearly cured me. When the soldiers
came upon us, he promised to give us up at the proper
time, and pledged himself for our safety. We left him,
one day, rather shabbily, I confess; but we had no taste
for a rebel prison, for the rebs don’t always manage their
prisons very well.”
“I have heard the whole story. It’s rich. If you
please, we will move on.”
“With all my heart, major,” replied Somers, who
read his rank from his shoulder-straps.
“I am Major Riggleston, of the —nd Maryland Home
Brigade, on detached duty, just now.”
“I am glad to know you, Major Riggleston, especially
as you are a relative of my friend Dr. Scoville, and on
the right side.”
“This is Captain Barkwood, of the regulars.”
Somers saluted the quiet gentleman, who had hardly
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spoken during the interview. Major Riggleston was
dressed in an entirely new uniform, and rode a splendid
horse, which led Somers to believe that he belonged to
one of the wealthy and aristocratic families of the state
which so tardily embraced the cause of the Union. On
the other hand, Captain Barkwood looked as though he
had seen hard service; for his uniform was rusty, and
his face was bronzed by exposure beneath the fervid sun
of the south.
The party were excellently well acquainted with each
other before they had ridden a mile. After the topics
suggested by the first meeting had been exhausted,
Somers mentioned his fear of the guerillas and rebel
marauders, who kept a little way in advance of the
invading army. The travellers were now farther north
than Frederick, and some distance from the advancing
line of the Union army. The road they had chosen was
not one of the great thoroughfares of the state; consequently
it was but little frequented.
“I don’t object to meeting a small party of guerillas,”
said Major Riggleston; “for, gentlemen, if you are of
the same mind that I am, we should show them the
quality of true Union steel.”
“I hope we shall not meet any; but if we do, I am in
no humor to lose my horse or my boots,” replied Somers.
“But we may meet so many of them that it would be
better to trust to our horses’ heels than to the quality of
our steel.”
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“True—too many would not be agreeable; but, say
a dozen or twenty of them. We could whip that number
without difficulty. The fact is, gentlemen, I am a fighting
man. There has been too much of this looking at
the enemy, and then running away. I repeat, gentlemen,
I am a fighting man.”
“I am glad to hear it, and glad to have met you, for
I am told there are a good many of these small plundering
parties loose about this region; and I would
rather fight than lose my boots,” laughed Somers.
“Three of us can do a good thing,” added the major.
“Four,” suggested Somers.
“Four?”
“My man can fight.”
“But he is a nigger; niggers won’t fight.”
“He will. By the way, he came from your uncle’s,
at Petersburg.”
“Alick!” exclaimed the major, glancing back at the
servant.
He did not seem to be well pleased to discover one of
his uncle’s contrabands at this distance from home; for,
with many other chivalrous southrons, he believed it
would be a good thing to preserve the Union, if slavery
could be preserved with it. He spoke a few words to
Alick, but did not seem to enjoy the interview.
“Yes, we can whip at least twenty of the villains,”
added the major, as he resumed his place between
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Somers and Captain Barkwood. “What do you
think?” he continued, turning to the regular.
“I hope we shall not meet any. I am a coward by
nature. I would rather run than fight, any time,” replied
the captain. “Of all things I dislike these small skirmishes,
these hand-to-hand fights.”
“I like them; I’m a fighting man,” said the major.
“I’m afraid you will have a chance to test your
mettle,” said Somers. “Those fellows are guerillas, if I
mistake not,” added he, pointing to half a dozen horsemen
who were approaching them.
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CHAPTER II.||A SKIRMISH ON THE ROAD.
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THE horsemen who had attracted the attention of
Captain Somers were hard-looking fellows. They
were dressed in a miscellaneous manner, their
clothes being partly civilian and partly military. Portions
of their garb were new, and probably at no distant
period had been part of the stock in trade of some industrious
clothier in one of the invaded towns; and portions
were faded and dilapidated, bearing the traces of a
severe march through the soft mud of Virginia. It was
not easy to mistake their character.
The guerillas perceived the approaching party almost
as soon as they were themselves perceived. They
adopted no uncertain tactics, but instantly put spurs to
their horses and galloped up to the little squad of officers.
They appeared to have no doubts whatever in regard to
the issue of the meeting, for they resorted to no cautionary
movements, and made no prudential halts. They
had evidently had everything their own way in previous
encounters of this description, and seemed to be satisfied
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that they had only to demand an unconditional surrender
in order to find their way at once to the pockets of
the travellers, or to appropriate their coats and boots to
the use of the rebel army.
“Halt!” said the nondescript gentleman at the head
of the guerillas.
“Your business?” demanded Major Riggleston.
“Sorry to trouble you, gentlemen, but you are my
prisoners,” said the chief guerilla, as blandly as though
he had been in a drawing-room.
“Who are you, gentlemen?” asked the major.
“I don’t like to be uncivil to a well-dressed gentleman
like yourself; but I haven’t learned my catechism lately,
and can’t stop to be questioned. In one word, do you
surrender?”
“Allow me a moment to consult my friends.”
“Only one moment.”
“Don’t you think we had better surrender, Captain
Somers?”
“I thought you were a fighting man,” replied Somers.
“I am, when circumstances will admit of it; but they
are two to our one.”
“Just now you thought we were a match for at least
twenty of these fellows.”
“Time’s up, gentlemen,” said the dashing guerilla.
“What do you say, Captain Somers?”
“You can do as you please; I don’t surrender, for one.”
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“But this is madness.”
“I don’t care what it is; I am going to fight my way
through.”
“Do you surrender?” demanded the impatient chief
of the horsemen.
“No!” replied Somers, in his most decided tone.
“Then you are a dead man!” And the guerilla
raised his pistol.
Somers already had one of his revolvers in his hand,
and before the villain had fairly uttered the words, he
presented his weapon and fired, as quick as the flash of
the lightning. The leader dropped from his horse, and
his pistol was discharged in the act, but the ball went
into the ground. Almost at the same instant the quiet
captain of the regulars fired, and wounded another of the
banditti. The others, apparently astonished at this unexpected
resistance, discharged their pistols, and pressed
forward, with their sabres in hand, to avenge the fall of
their comrades.
Somers rapidly fired the other barrels of his revolver,
and so did Captain Barkwood, but without the same
decisive effect as before, though two of the assailants
appeared to be slightly wounded. There was no further
opportunity to use firearms, and the officers drew their
swords, as they fell back before the impetuous charge of
the savage guerillas. Major Riggleston followed their
example, and for a moment the sparks flew from the
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well-tempered steel of the combatants. Our officers were
accomplished swordsmen, but the furious rebels appeared
to be getting the better of them. Major Riggleston contrived
to wheel his horse, and was so fortunate as to get
out of the mêlée with a whole skin.
At this point, when victory seemed about to perch
on the rebel standard, Alick, who had thus far been
ignored, brought down a third guerilla with his pistol.
The negro was cool, collected, and self-possessed. He
had not fired before, because the officers stood between
him and the assailants. Now, as he had no sword, he
stood off, and took deliberate aim at his man.
Captain Barkwood, who was a man of immense muscle,
succeeded, after a desperate hand-to-hand conflict, in
wounding his opponent in the sword arm. The fellow
dropped his weapon, and turning his horse, fled with the
utmost precipitation. The only remaining one, finding
himself alone, immediately followed his example. The
battle was won, and the coats and boots were evidently
saved.
“Why don’t you follow them?” cried Major Riggleston,
rushing madly up to the spot at this decisive moment.
“Hunt them down! Tear them to pieces.”
“We’ll leave that for our fighting man to do,” replied
Somers, with a smile, though he was so much out of
breath with the violence of his exertions that he could
scarcely articulate the words.
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“Don’t let them escape,” added the major, furiously.
“Cut them down! Don’t let them plunder the country
any more.”
As he spoke, he put spurs to his horse, and dashed
madly up the road in pursuit of the defeated guerillas.
“Your hand, Captain Somers,” said the regular.
“You are a trump.”
“Thank you; and I am happy to reciprocate the compliment,”
replied the young staff officer, as he took the
proffered hand of Captain Barkwood.
“As a general rule, I don’t think much of volunteer
officers,” continued the regular; “but you are a stunning
good fellow, and as plucky as a hen that has lost
one of her chickens.”
“I am obliged to you for your good opinion, and
especially for your ornithological simile,” laughed Somers,
who, we need not add, was delighted with the conduct
of his companion.
“My what?”
“Your ornithological simile.”
“My dear fellow, you must have swallowed a quarto
dictionary. If you had only used that expression
before the fight, the rebels would certainly have run
away, and declined to engage a man who used words of
such ominous length. No matter; you can fight.”
“I can when I am obliged to do so. You remarked,
a little while ago, that you were a coward by nature.”
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“So I am; but it was safer to fight than it was
to run.”
“You did not behave like a man who is a coward by
nature.”
“But I am a coward; and I dislike these hand-to-hand
encounters.”
“You didn’t appear to dislike them very much just
now,” added Somers, who was filled with admiration at
the gallant bearing of the regular.
“I do; war is a science. I play at it just as I do
at chess. By the way, Captain Somers, do you play
chess?”
“Only a little.”
“Well, it’s a noble game; and I may have the pleasure
of letting you beat me some time. War is like chess;
it’s a great game. I like to see a well-planned battle,
and even to take a part in it. But these little affairs,
where everything depends on brute force, are my particular
abomination. There is no science about them—no
strategy—no chance to flank, or do any other smart
thing.”
“Here comes the major; he didn’t catch his man,”
said Somers, as the “fighting man” was seen galloping
towards them.
“He’s a prudent man,” replied the regular, hardly
betraying the contempt he felt for this particular volunteer.
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“He’s a Maryland man.”
“So am I,” promptly returned Captain Barkwood, as
though he feared that something might be said against
the bravery of the men of his state. “I was born and
brought up not ten miles from the spot where we now
stand.”
“Why didn’t you follow me?” demanded the major,
in a reproachful tone, as he reined in his panting steed.
“We had got enough of it,” answered the regular.
“We might have brought them down if you had
joined me in the pursuit.”
“We might, if you had stuck by us in the fight,” said
Somers, with a gentle smile, to break the force of the
rebuke.
“Stood by you?” exclaimed Major Riggleston, his
face flushed with anger. “Do you intend to insinuate
that I did not stand by you?”
“You did, but at a safe distance.”
“Didn’t I do all the talking with the villains?”
foamed the major.
“Certainly you did,” replied the regular.
“Didn’t I bear the whole brunt of the assault at the
beginning?”
“Undoubtedly you did,” responded Captain Barkwood,
before Somers could speak a word.
“Didn’t I fight like a tiger, till—”
“Unquestionably you did.”
// 029.png
.pn +1
“Till my rein got entangled in my spur, and whirled
my horse round?”
“My dear major, you behaved like a lion,” said Barkwood,
in tones so soothing that the anger of Riggleston
passed away like the shadow of a summer cloud.
“I am a fighting man.”
“That’s so.”
“And I dislike this marching and countermarching
in the face of an enemy.”
“There we unfortunately disagree for the first time.
That is strategy,—the art of war,—and all that makes
war glorious.”
“I believe in pitching into an enemy, and, when he is
beaten, in following him up till there is nothing left of
him. I regret, gentlemen, that you did not join in the
pursuit of the two miscreants with me. We might have
annihilated them as well as not.”
Somers did not understand the humor of the regular,
and could not fathom his object in permitting the coward
still to believe that he was a fighting man. While the
conversation was in progress, Alick had removed the
bodies of the two dead rebels from the road, and placed
the other two, who were severely wounded, in a comfortable
position under a tree. He had filled their canteens
with water from the brook which ran across the
road a short distance from the spot, and left them to live
or die, as the future might determine. He had also
// 030.png
.pn +1
transferred a good saddle from one of the guerillas’
horses to his own animal, which had not before been
provided with one.
The party moved on again. Major Riggleston talked
about the fight; for some reason or other he could speak
of nothing else. He still called himself a fighting man,
and still talked as though he had fired the most effective
shots and struck the hardest blows which had been given.
The regular agreed with him in all things, except when
he impugned the sacred claims of strategy.
“Never cross a fool in his folly, nor ruin a man
in his own estimation,” said Captain Barkwood, when
Somers, at a favorable moment, asked an explanation
of his singular commendation of the poltroon.
“But he is a coward.”
“Call no man a coward but yourself. There is
hardly an officer in the army, from the general-in-chief
down to the corporal of the meanest regiment in the
service, that has not been called a coward. You don’t
know who are cowards, and who are not.”
“Perhaps you are right.”
“I know I am. I am a coward myself, but I know
nothing about anybody else.”
“I differ with you.”
“You don’t know anything about it. The major don’t
love you over much now for what you hinted. Never
make an enemy when there is no need of it.”
// 031.png
.pn +1
The approach of Major Riggleston put an end to this
conversation. Somers could not help noticing that the
major treated him rather cavalierly; but as he was not
particularly anxious to secure the esteem of such a man,
the manner of his companion did not disturb him.
In the afternoon the party reached Frederick, which
had just been abandoned by Lee’s rear guard, and was
now occupied by a portion of McClellan’s advance.
“Gentlemen, we have had a hard ride, and I know
you must be tired as well as myself,” said Major Riggleston,
as they entered the city. “You will permit me
to offer you the hospitalities of my father’s house.”
“Thank you; I accept, for one,” replied Captain
Barkwood. “I am not tired, but I am half starved.”
“And you, Somers?” added the major, with a degree
of cordiality in his manner which he had not exhibited
since the skirmish on the road.
The young captain had been in the saddle all day; his
health was feeble, and he was very much exhausted by
the journey. He had hoped to reach the headquarters
of the first army corps that night; but he was still
several miles distant from his destination, and his physical
condition did not admit of this addition to his day’s
travel. With many thanks he accepted the invitation,
apparently so cordially extended, and the little party
halted, soon after, in the grounds of an elegant mansion.
The tired horses were given into the keeping of the
// 032.png
.pn +1
servants, and Major Riggleston led the way into the
house.
They were ushered into the drawing-room, where the
major excused himself to inform the family of their
arrival. He left the door open behind him.
“They are Yankee officers!” exclaimed a female voice.
“What did Fred bring them here for? Get out of sight,
Ernest, as fast as you can.”
A door leading from the entry closed, and the visitors
heard no more. The regular paid no attention to the
remark, and Somers followed his example.
// 033.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch03
CHAPTER III.||FIGHTING JOE.
.sp 2
.di c.jpg 50 72 1.1
CAPTAIN SOMERS, though he said nothing to
his companion about the remark to which they
had listened, could not help thinking about it.
The regular and himself had been alluded to as Yankee
officers. It was evident that some one was present
who ought not to be present; but as a guest in the
house, it was not competent for him to investigate the
meaning of the suspicious words.
Major Riggleston presently returned to the drawing-room,
attended by an elderly gentleman, whom he introduced
as his father, and a beautiful but majestic
and haughty young lady of eighteen, whom he introduced
as Miss Maud Hasbrouk. When Somers heard her
voice, which was as musical as the rippling of a mountain
rill, he recognized the tones of the person who had used
the doubtful words in the adjoining room.
The old gentleman was happy to see the visitors, especially
as they belonged to the Union army, whose
presence was welcome to him after the visit of the
// 034.png
.pn +1
rebels. He hoped that General McClellan would be able to drive
the invaders from the soil—conquer, capture,
and exterminate them. His words were certainly strong
enough to vouch for his loyalty; and these, added to the
fact that the major was an officer in the Maryland Home
Brigade, satisfied Somers that he had not fallen into a
nest of rebels and traitors, as the obnoxious remark, not
intended for his ears, had almost led him to believe.
“The more true men we have here the better; for we
have been completely overrun by traitors,” said the old
gentleman, alluding to the visit of Lee’s army.
“You use strong words, Mr. Riggleston,” added the
lady, whose bright eyes flashed as she spoke.
“I say what I mean,” continued the host.
“Is there any doubt of the fact that the state has been
invaded by the rebels?” asked Somers, with a smile.
“None whatever; but Mr. Riggleston called them
traitors,” replied Miss Hasbrouk.
“Is there any doubt of that fact?”
“Are men who are fighting for the dearest rights of man
traitors?” demanded she, warmly.
“Undoubtedly not. But the rebels are not fighting
for any such thing.”
“I beg your pardon, Captain Somers. I think they
are. Permit me to add, that I am a rebel.”
“I am very sorry to hear it,” laughed Somers, pleased
with the spirit, no less than the beauty, of the lady.
// 035.png
.pn +1
“I suppose you are,” replied she. “The South is
fighting for the right of self-government—for its own
existence. The right of secession is just as evident to
me as the right to live.”
The question of secession was fully discussed by the
lady and Somers, but both of them were in the best of
humor. Neither contestant succeeded in convincing the
other on a single point; and when the party were called
to supper, they had advanced just about as far as the
statesmen had when the momentous issue was handed
over to the arbitrament of arms. It was a matter to be
adjusted by hard fighting; and as Miss Hasbrouk and
Somers did not intend to settle the question in this rude
manner, the subject was dropped.
The family, so far as Somers could judge, were loyal
people. The imperial young lady, who was a fit type of
the southern character, was only a visitor. In spite of
her proud and haughty bearing, she was a very agreeable
person, and the guests enjoyed her society.
“I am a rebel,” said she, as they sat down to supper;
“but I am, sorely against my will, I confess, a non-combatant,
and we are now on neutral ground. We
will bury our differences, then, Captain Somers, and be
friends.”
“With all my heart,” replied the gallant young
captain.
A very pleasant evening was spent in the drawing-room,
// 036.png
.pn +1
during which Miss Hasbrouk affected the company
of Somers rather than that of the regular, who appeared
to be as stoical in society as he was on the road. She
was lively, witty, and fascinating, and seemed to be
very much delighted with the society of the young staff
officer. He was an exceedingly good-looking fellow, it
is true; but he was a Yankee, and she made no secret
of her aversion to Yankees in general. He was an exception
to the rule, and she compelled him to relate the
history of his brief campaign at Petersburg. She
laughed at the chagrin of Dr. Scoville, when his invalid
took to himself wings and flew away; but she took no
pains to conceal her sympathy with the cause of the
Confederacy.
At an early hour the officers retired; and as they announced
their intention to depart at daylight in the
morning, they took leave of the ladies. Miss Hasbrouk
was so kind as to hope she might meet the captain again;
for notwithstanding his vile political affinities, he was a
sensible person.
Before the sun rose, Somers and the regular were in
the saddle. The major, whose route lay in a different
direction, was no longer their companion. The headquarters
of the first army corps were on the Monocacy;
and thither the travellers wended their way through a
beautiful country, which excited the admiration even of
the stoical captain of the regulars, though it was no new
scene to him.
// 037.png
.pn +1
The reveille was sounding in the camps of the Pennsylvania
Reserves as they passed through on their way
to the tent of the commanding general. They reached
their destination, and their names were sent in by an
orderly in attendance.
“Captain Somers, I am glad to see you,” said the
general, at a later hour, when they obtained an audience.
“Thank you, general; I am very grateful for the
kindness and consideration you have bestowed upon me,”
replied Somers.
“You are an aid-de-camp now; but I ought to say
that I gave you the appointment because you are a good
fellow on a scout.”
“I will do my best in whatever position you may
place me.”
“You were rather unfortunate in your last trip, but
you accomplished the work I gave you to do. We shall
do some hard fighting in a day or two, and there will be
sharp work for you before that comes off.”
“I am ready, general. Every man is ready to march
or fight as long as he can stand while you are in command.”
“I will see you again in an hour, Somers,” said the
general, as he turned to Captain Barkwood, who belonged
to the engineers, and had been assigned to a
position on the staff.
Somers soon made the acquaintance of the general’s
// 038.png
.pn +1
“military family.” His position and rank were defined
in the general orders, and duly promulgated. From
those around him he obtained all the current knowledge
in regard to the situation of the rebel army, which
was posted in the Catoctin valley, with the South Mountain
range in the rear, whose gaps and passes it was to
defend.
At the time appointed Captain Somers again stood in
the presence of the general, who was his beau-ideal of
all that was grand and heroic in the military chieftain.
He was a tall, straight, well-formed man, with a ruddy
complexion, flecked with little thready veins, and a muscular
frame. His eye was full of energy; he spoke with
his eye as much as with his voice. His military history
was familiar to the nation. He was a decided man, and
his decision had won him his first appointment in the
army. He said what he meant, and meant what he said.
His energy of character had made him a success from
the beginning. His faith in himself and his faith in the
loyal army were unbounded. He fought and conquered
by the force of his mighty will. He attempted only
what was possible, and triumphed through the faith of
an earnest soul. His military judgment was of the
highest order, and when he had decided what could be
done, he did it. His conclusions, however suddenly
reached, were not the offspring of impulse; they were
carefully drawn from well-founded premises. His quick
// 039.png
.pn +1
eye and his solid judgment rapidly collated all the facts
in regard to an enemy’s strength, relative situation, and
advantage of position; and from them he promptly
deduced the conclusion whether to fight or not—how,
when, and where to fight.
The general’s pet name was “Fighting Joe;” and by
this appellation he was known and loved in the army.
But he was not a rash man; he made no unconsidered
movements. If the term implies rashness and blundering
impetuosity, it is a misnomer; but, after Williamsburg,
Glendale, Malvern, South Mountain, Antietam, Lookout
Mountain, who could mistake its meaning? for his
battles were too uniformly successful to be the issues
of merely headlong courage and unmatured strategy.
All his operations on the splendid fields where he has so
gloriously distinguished himself, exhibit a head as well
as an arm; carefully considered plan, as well as bold
and determined execution.
The mention of “Fighting Joe” warmed the hearts
of the soldiers. He was more popular than any other
general in the army. Our soldiers were thinking men,
as well as brave ones. They could not love and honor a
general who led them into the forefront of battle to be
entrapped and sacrificed. They could not believe in a
man whose highest recommendation was brute courage.
“Fighting Joe” was one of the ablest strategists in the
army; and, wherever he has justified his title as a fighting
// 040.png
.pn +1
man, he has also displayed the highest skill and
judgment, and a profound knowledge and appreciation of
the science of war.
Somers stood before the general with a certain feeling
of awe and reverence, which one experiences in the
presence of a truly great man. There was no time to
talk of the past, for the present and the future were full
of trials and cares—were full of a nation’s life and hope.
Fighting Joe was cool and self-possessed, as he always
was, even in the mad rage of the hottest fight; but he
was earnest and anxious. He was even now doing that
work which wins battles quite as much as the fiery
onslaught.
Burnside was in command of the right wing of the
army, which occupied the vicinity of Frederick. The
rebels had just been driven out of Middletown, and the
cannon was roaring beyond Catoctin Creek; but it was
evident to the general that no pitched battle could
take place that day. He wanted certain information,
which he thought Captain Somers was smart enough to
procure for him. A map lay on the table in the
tent, and in a few telling words he explained what he
wanted.
“Don’t be rash, Somers,” said he, as the aid-de-camp
rose to depart. “Intelligent courage is what we want.
I shall depend upon you for skill and discretion as well
as dash and boldness.”
// 041.png
.pn +1
“I will do the best I can,” replied the captain, as he
left the tent and mounted his horse.
He dashed off towards Middletown, as the army commenced
its march in the same direction. He reached
this place before noon, and agreeably to his instructions,
pursued a northerly course, until he reached a
point beyond the active operations of Pleasanton’s cavalry,
which was scouring the country. Leaving his horse
at a farm-house, he advanced on foot to the westward of
the creek, until he discovered the outposts of the rebel
army. Small squads of Confederate cavalry were beating
about this region, and Somers was obliged to dodge them
several times. But he obtained his information, and
fully acquainted himself with the nature of the country,
and the situation of the rebels to the north of the Cumberland
road.
It was three o’clock in the afternoon when he had
completed his reconnaissance, and he was nearly exhausted
by the long walk he had taken, and the excitement
of his occupation. He was at least two miles from
the farm-house where he had left his horse. He had
eaten nothing since breakfast, and he was faint for the
want of food. He walked one mile, and stopped to rest
near an elegant mansion, which evidently belonged to
one of the grandees of Maryland. He was tempted
to visit the house and procure some refreshment;
but, as he was alone, and knew nothing of the political
// 042.png
.pn +1
status of the occupants, he did not deem it prudent
to do so.
After resting a short time, he rose and continued his
weary walk towards the farm-house. As he passed the
door of the elegant mansion, a chaise stopped at the
gate, and a young officer handed a lady from the vehicle.
A servant led the horse away. The lady paused at the
gate, and appeared to be observing him. Somers could
think of no reason why the lady should watch him, and
he continued on his course till he came within a few feet
of the spot where she stood.
“Captain Somers!” exclaimed she; “I am delighted
to see you again so soon.”
“Miss Hasbrouk,” replied he, not a little surprised to
find in her his rebel friend, whom he had met in Frederick
the preceding evening.
“This is an unexpected pleasure,” added she, extending
her hand, which the young man took.
“I should hardly have expected to meet you at this
distance from Frederick.”
“O, I reside here; this is my father’s house. You
are some distance from the Yankee army.”
“As you are a rebel, it is hardly proper for me to
inform you why I happen to be here,” laughed he. “I
am an invalid, and am walking for my health.”
“It is well you are away from your army, for they
will all be captured in a few days.”
// 043.png
.pn +1
“Perhaps not; but I shall be with the army before
night.”
“This is Major Riggleston,” said she, turning to the
gentleman, who had followed the servant to the stable,
and had just returned.
“How do you do, again, major?” said Somers.
“Happy to meet you, Captain Somers,” replied the
major, not very cordially.
“Now you must come into the house, Captain Somers.
It is just dinner time with us,” continued the lady.
Somers was too faint and hungry to refuse.
// 044.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch04
CHAPTER IV.||MISS MAUD HASBROUK.
.sp 2
.di t.jpg 50 67 1.1
THE lady conducted Captain Somers to the sitting-room
of the house. He was followed by Major
Riggleston, who, judging by his looks and actions,
regarded the staff officer with no special favor.
Miss Hasbrouk did all the talking, however, and seemed
to do it for the purpose of keeping the major in the
shade, for she carefully turned aside two or three observations
he made, as though they were of no consequence,
or as though they might provoke an unpleasant
discussion.
“I am particularly delighted to meet you again, Captain
Somers,” said the imperial beauty, as they entered
the apartment.
“Thank you,” replied he; though he could see no
good reason why Miss Maud Hasbrouk should be particularly
delighted to see him.
He was a Union man and a loyal soldier, while she
was a rebel, with strength of mind enough to regret that
her sex compelled her to be a non-combatant. She was
// 045.png
.pn +1
a magnificent creature, even to Somers, whose knowledge
of the higher order of beauties that float about in the
mists of fashionable society was very limited. She was
fascinating, and he could not resist the charm of her
society; albeit in the present instance he was too much
exhausted by ill health and over-exertion to be very
brilliant himself.
“This is very unexpected, considering the distance
from the place at which I met you last evening,” said he.
“O, it isn’t a very great distance to Frederick. The
major drove me over in three hours,” replied she.
“Three and a half, Maud,” interposed the major,
apparently because he felt the necessity of saying something
to avoid being regarded as a mere cipher.
“How do you feel to-day, after the little brush we had
yesterday, major?” added Somers, turning to the gentleman.
“What brush do you refer to?” asked Major Riggleston,
rather coldly.
“The little rub we had with the guerillas.”
“Really, you have—”
“Now, gentlemen, will you excuse me for a few moments?”
said Miss Hasbrouk, very impolitely breaking
in upon the major’s remark.
“Certainly,” replied Somers, with his politest bow.
“You are a fighting man, Major Riggleston; and the
affair of yesterday was pretty sharp work for a few
minutes.”
// 046.png
.pn +1
“Of course I’m a fighting man; but—”
“Major, you promised me something, you will remember,”
said the lady, who still lingered in the room;
“and now is the best time in the world to redeem your
promise.”
“What do you mean, Maud?” demanded the major.
“Why, don’t you remember?”
“Upon my life I don’t.”
“Perhaps Captain Somers will excuse you for a few
moments, while I refresh your memory.”
“Certainly; to be sure,” added the polite staff officer.
He moved towards the door at which the lady stood.
Somers saw her whisper something to him as she took
him familiarly by the arm.
“O, yes, I remember all about it now!” exclaimed
he, with sudden vivacity. “I will return in a few moments,
Captain Somers, if you will excuse me.”
“By all means; don’t let me interfere with any arrangement
you have made.”
They retired, and the door closed behind them. Somers
was not a little befogged by the conduct of both the
lady and the gentleman. Several times she had interrupted
him, and the major had an astonishingly bad
memory. He seemed not to remember even the skirmish
on the road; and he was equally unmindful of what had
passed between him and the lady at some period antecedent
to the present.
// 047.png
.pn +1
They were quite intimate; and, slightly versed as the
young officer was in affairs of love and matrimony, he
had no difficulty in arriving at the conclusion that the
interesting couple who had just left him were more than
friends; and though he had not the skill to determine
what particular point in the courtship they had reached,
he ventured to believe they were engaged. Though it
was rather a rash and unauthorized conclusion, it was a
correct one; showing that young men know some things
by intuition.
Somehow Major Riggleston did not appear exactly as
he had appeared the preceding day. His uniform did
not look quite so bright; his manner was more brusque
and less polished; and he spoke with a heavier and more
solid tone. But men are not always the same on one
day that they are on another; and it was quite probable
that the major was suffering for the want of his dinner, or
from some vexation not apparent to the casual observer.
Somers wanted his dinner; not as an epicure is impatient
for the feast which is to tickle his palate, but as a
man who knows and feels that meat is strength. His
health was not yet sufficiently established to enable him
to endure the hardship of an empty stomach; for his
muscles seemed, in his present weak state, to derive
their power more directly than usual from that important
organ. He did not, therefore, worry himself to obtain a
solution of what was singular in the conduct of the lady
and her lover.
// 048.png
.pn +1
They were absent but a few moments before the major
returned. If he had been gone seven years, and passed
through a Parisian polishing school in the interim, his
tone and his manner could not have been more effectually
changed. He looked and acted more like the Major
Riggleston of yesterday. He was all suavity now; and,
what was vastly more remarkable, his memory was as
perfect as though he had made mnemonics the study of
a lifetime. He remembered all about the skirmish on
the road, and even recalled incidents connected with that
affair of which Somers was profoundly ignorant.
“Captain Somers, that was the hardest fight for a
little one I ever happened to be in,” said the major, after
the event had been thoroughly rehearsed.
“It was sharp for a few moments. By the way,
major, what is your opinion of Alick now?” asked
Somers.
“Well, I was rather surprised to see him go in as he
did. He is a brave fellow.”
“So he is; I did not know whether he would fight or
not; but I thought he would.”
“O, I was sure of it.”
“Were you? Before the fight you seemed to be of
the opinion that he was of no account.”
“That was said concerning niggers in general. I
always had a great deal of confidence in Alick. When
he fired his gun I knew what the boy meant.”
// 049.png
.pn +1
“His pistol, you mean; he had no gun.”
“You are right; it was a pistol,” said the major, with
more confusion than this trifling inaccuracy justified.
“In the pursuit of the guerillas—”
“Yes, in the pursuit Alick was splendid,” continued
Riggleston, taking the words out of Somers’s mouth.
“You forget, major; you conducted the pursuit alone,”
mildly added the staff officer.
“O, yes! so I did. I am mixing up this matter with
another affair, in which my boy Mingo chased the Yankees—”
“Chased the what?” interposed Somers, confounded
by this singular and inappropriate remark.
“The guerillas, I said,” laughed the major. “What
did you think I said?”
“I understood you to say the Yankees.”
“O, no! Yankees? No; I am one myself. I said
guerillas.”
“If you did, I misunderstood you.”
“Of course I didn’t say Yankees. That is quite impossible.”
Somers was disposed to be polite, even at the sacrifice
of the point of veracity; therefore he did not contradict
his companion, though he felt entirely certain in regard
to the language used.
“Of course you could not have meant Yankees, whatever
you said,” added Somers.
// 050.png
.pn +1
“Certainly not. Do you know why I didn’t catch
those—those guerillas?” continued the major.
“I do not,” replied Somers; but he had a strong suspicion
that it was because he did not want to catch them;
because it would have been imprudent for him to catch
them; because it would have been in the highest degree
dangerous for him to catch them.
“I’ll tell you why I didn’t catch them,” added the
major, rubbing his hands as a man does when he has a
point to make. “It was because their horses went faster
than mine.”
“Good!” exclaimed Somers, who had the judgment
to perceive that this answer was intended as a joke, and
who was politic enough to render the homage due to such
a tremendous effort—a laugh, as earnest as the circumstances
would permit.
“Or possibly it was because my horse went slower
than theirs,” added the major, with the evident design of
perpetrating a joke even more stupendous than the last.
We beg to suggest to our readers, young and old, that
a person lays himself open more by his jokes, his puns,
and his witticisms, than by any other means of communication
between one soul and another with which
we are acquainted. Hear a man talk about business,
politics, morality, or religion, and you have a very inadequate
idea of his moral and mental resources. Hear
him jest, hear him make a pun, hear him indulge in a
// 051.png
.pn +1
witticism, and you have his brains mapped out before you.
We have heard a man get off a witticism, and felt an
infinite contempt for him; we have heard a man get
off a witticism, and felt a profound respect for him. It
is not the thing said; it is not the manner in which it is
said; it is not the look with which it is said. It is all
three combined. He who would conceal himself from
those around him should neither get drunk nor attempt
to be funny.
Major Riggleston had revealed himself to Captain
Somers more completely in that unguarded joke than in
all that had passed between them before. The young
staff officer was not a moral nor a mental philosopher; but
that agonizing jest had given him a poorer opinion of his
companion than he had before entertained. It was fortunate
for the major that Miss Hasbrouk returned before
he had an opportunity to launch another witticism upon
the sea of the captain’s charity, or the latter might have
prematurely learned to despise him.
“We have not lately been honored by the voluntary
presence of gentlemen at dinner, Captain Somers; and
you will pardon me for lingering an extra moment before
my glass,” said the merry lady.
“Happy glass!” replied Somers.
“Thank you, captain; that was very pretty.”
“Excellent!” added the major, who seemed to be
hungering and thirsting for something funny or smart.
// 052.png
.pn +1
A bell rang in the hall, which Somers took to be the summons
for dinner; and he was thankful, and took courage
accordingly; for however much he enjoyed the society
of the fascinating Maud, he could not forget that he
owed a solemn duty to the outraged member of his body
corporate, which had been kept fasting since an early
breakfast hour.
“Now, gentlemen, shall I have the pleasure of conducting
you to the dining-room?” continued Miss Hasbrouk.
“Thank you.”
“Your arm, if you please, Captain Somers,” said the
brilliant lady.
Of course Somers complied with this reasonable request,
though he had not been in the habit of observing
these little courtesies at the cottage in Pinchbrook, nor
even in some of the best regulated families at the Harbor,
making no little pretensions to gentility. It seemed to
him that it would have been more proper, in the present
instance, and with the supposed relation between them,
for the lady to take the arm of the gentleman to whom
she was engaged; but he had not very recently read any
book on the etiquette of good society, and he was utterly
unable to settle the difficult question.
They passed through the hall and entered the dining-room.
The table was laid for only three; and while
Somers was wondering where the rest of the family
// 053.png
.pn +1
were, a tremendous knocking was heard at the front
door.
“Somebody is in earnest,” said Maud. “He knocks
like a sheriff who comes with authority. Take this seat,
if you please, captain.”
“Thank you, Miss Hasbrouk,” replied Somers, as he
took the appointed place.
“I hope that isn’t any one after me,” added the major,
as he seated himself opposite to Somers. “I don’t want
to lose my dinner.”
“You shall not lose it, major,” answered Maud, as a
colored servant entered the room with a salver in his
hand, on which lay a letter.
“For Major Riggleston,” said the man, as he presented
the salver to him.
The major took the letter and broke the seal, apologizing
to Somers for doing so. His eyes suddenly opened
wider than their natural spread, and his chin dropped till
mouth and eyes were both eloquent with astonishment.
He sprang out of his chair, and assumed an attitude in
the highest degree dramatic. Somers almost expected
to hear him perpetrate a witticism.
“What is it, major?” demanded Maud, who seemed
to be enduring the most agonizing suspense.
“I must go this instant!” exclaimed the major, still
gazing at the momentous letter.
“What has happened?”
// 054.png
.pn +1
“Don’t ask me, Maud,” answered he, in excited tones.
“I will be back before night; perhaps in an hour. You
will excuse me, Captain Somers.”
“Certainly,” replied Somers.
The major rushed to the door, cramming the letter
into his pocket, or attempting to do so, as he moved off.
The document fell on the floor without the owner’s notice.
“What can it mean?” said Maud, with a troubled
look.
Somers did not know what it meant; if he had, it is
doubtful whether he would have had the temerity to stop
to dinner.
// 055.png
.pn +1
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.pb
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.h2 id=ch05
CHAPTER V.||THE BOOT ON ONE LEG.
.sp 2
.di w.jpg 70 55 1.5
“WHAT can have happened?” said Maud,
apparently musing on the event which had
just transpired. “The major is not often
moved so deeply as he appeared to be just now.”
“Something of importance, evidently,” said Somers.
“He has dropped the letter on the floor.”
“So he has,” said she, glancing at the document.
“Thus far I have resisted the propensity of Mother Eve
to know more than the law allows; and I think I will not
yield to it now. It would hardly be honorable for me to
read the letter after the major has declined to inform me
what has occurred. But, whatever it may be, we will
have some dinner.”
Whatever opinions Somers may have entertained on
some of the other points suggested by the fair hostess,
he had none in regard to the last proposition. He was
absolutely and heartily in favor of the dinner, without
regard to Mother Eve’s curiosity, or her favored representative
then before him. The dinner was a good one,
// 056.png
.pn +1
though the rebels had so recently gathered up all the
provision which the country appeared to contain. With
every mouthful that he ate Somers’s strength seemed
mysteriously to return to him.
The dinner was not so formal as might have been
expected in the house of a Maryland grandee, and did
not occupy over half an hour; but in that half hour he
had grown strong and vigorous again, and felt equal to
any emergency which might occur. However agreeable
the society of the fascinating Maud had proved, he
began to be very impatient for the moment when he
could, without outraging the laws of propriety, break the
spell which bound him. He had faithfully discharged
his duty to the inner man, and he bethought him that he
owed another and higher obligation to his country; that
the commanding general of the first army corps was
expecting to hear from him, though the time given him
to complete his mission had not yet expired.
While he was considering some fit excuse with which
to tear himself away from his interesting companion,—for
it was not prudent to inform an avowed rebel lady
that he had been engaged in collecting information for
the use of a Union general, and must return to report
the result of his mission,—while he was thinking what
he should say to her, he heard something which sounded
marvellously like the tramp of horses’ feet on the walks
which surrounded the mansion. These sounds might
// 057.png
.pn +1
have been sufficient to create a tempest of alarm in his
mind if he had not believed that he was far enough from
the camps of the rebels to insure the estate from a visit
of their cavalry. He did not know exactly where
he was in relation to the line of either army; but he felt
a reasonable assurance that he was out of the reach of
danger from the enemy.
He listened, therefore, with tolerable coolness, to the
clatter of the horses’ feet, and finally concluded that the
animals belonged to the estate. This conclusion, however,
was soon unpleasantly disturbed by other and more
suspicious sounds than the tramp of horses—sounds like
the clatter and clang of cavalry equipments. More than
this, Maud looked anxious and excited, when there
appeared to be not the least reason for anxiety and
excitement on her part.
“Won’t you take another peach, captain?” said she
glancing uneasily at the window, and then at the door.
“No more, I thank you, Miss Hasbrouk,” replied
Somers. “You seem to be having more visitors.”
“No, I think not,” answered she, with assumed carelessness.
“What is the meaning of those sounds, then?”
“They are nothing; perhaps some of the servants
leading the horses down to the meadow.”
“Do your horses wear cavalry trappings, Miss
Hasbrouk?”
// 058.png
.pn +1
“Not that I am aware of. Do you think there is any
cavalry around the house?”
“I am decidedly of that opinion; and, with your permission,
I will step out and learn the occasion of this
visit,” said he, rising from the table, and making sure
that the two revolvers he wore in his belt were in
working order.
“I beg you will not leave me, Captain Somers,”
remonstrated Maud.
“I only wish to ascertain what the cavalry are.”
“I depend upon you for protection, captain,” said she,
as she rose from her seat at the table. “Ah, here comes
some one, who will explain it all to you,” she added, as
the front door was heard to open rather violently.
“I think it won’t need much explanation,” replied
Somers, as through the window he discovered two gray-back
cavalrymen. “It is quite evident that the house is
surrounded by rebel cavalry.”
At this moment the door of the dining-room opened,
and Major Riggleston stalked into the apartment. He
looked at Somers, and then at the lady. The troubled,
astonished expression on his face when he went away had
disappeared, and he wore what the staff officer could not
help interpreting as a smile of triumph.
“Well, Maud, how is it now?” asked the major,
as for the sixth time, at least, he glanced from Somers
to her.
// 059.png
.pn +1
The brilliant beauty made no reply to this indefinite
question. Instead of speaking as a civilized lady should
when addressed by her accepted lover, she threw herself
into a chair with an abandon which would have been
creditable in a first lady in a first-class comedy, but
which was highly discreditable in a first-class lady discharging
only the duties of the social amenities in refined
society. She threw herself into a chair, and laughed as
though she had been suddenly seized with a fit of that
playful species of hysterics which manifests itself in the
cachinnatory tendency of the patient.
Somers was surprised. A less susceptible person than
himself would have been surprised to see an elegant and
accomplished lady laugh so violently, when there was
apparently nothing in the world to laugh at. He could
not understand it; a wiser and more experienced person
than Somers could not understand it. He knew about
Œdipus, and the Sphinx’s riddle which he solved; but if
Œdipus had been there, in that mansion of a Maryland
grandee, Somers would have defied him to solve the
riddle of Miss Maud Hasbrouk’s inordinate, excessive,
hysterical laughter. If Major Riggleston, from the great
depository of unborn humor in his subtle brain, had
launched forth one of the most tremendous of his thunderbolts
of wit, the mystery would have solved itself.
If the major had uttered anything but the most commonplace
and easily interpreted remark, Somers might have
// 060.png
.pn +1
believed that he had perpetrated a joke which he was not
keen enough to perceive.
The house was surrounded by rebel cavalry; that was
no joke to him; it could be no joke to the major, for he
was an officer in the Maryland Home Brigade, “on
detached service,” and what proved dangerous or fatal to
one must prove dangerous or fatal to the other. But
Riggleston did not seem to be in the least disturbed
by the circumstance that the house was environed by
Confederate cavalry. He stood looking at his lady-love,
as though he was waiting her next move in the development
of the game.
“What are you laughing at, Maud?” asked he, when
he had watched her until his own patience was somewhat
tried, and that of Somers had become decidedly shaky.
“Isn’t it funny?” gasped she, struggling for utterance
between the spasms of laughter.
“Yes, it is, very funny,” replied he, obediently, though
it was quite plain that he did not regard the scene as so
excruciatingly amusing as the lady did.
“Why don’t you laugh, then?”
“I would if I had time; but I must proceed to
business.”
“Don’t spoil the scene yet,” said she, with difficulty.
“Hurry it up, then, Maud.”
“Captain Somers,” added she, repressing her laughter
to a more reasonable limit, “I am your most obedient
servant.”
// 061.png
.pn +1
“Thank you, Miss Hasbrouk,” replied he, beginning
to apprehend, for the first time, that he was individually
and personally responsible for the joke which had so
excited the lady’s risibles. “If you are, you will oblige
me by informing me what you are laughing at.”
The lady broke forth anew, and peal on peal of laughter
rang through the room. Somers tried to think what he
had said or done that was so astoundingly funny, satisfied
that his humor would certainly make his fortune
when given a wider field of operations. It was evident
that it would not do for him to be as funny as he could
thereafter in the presence of ladies, or one of them might
yet die of hysterics.
“Do you really wish to know what I am laughing at,
Captain Somers?” asked she, at another brief interval
of apparent sanity.
“That is what I particularly desire.”
“I am laughing at the situation. Do you know that
there is something irresistibly ludicrous in situations,
captain? I delight in situations—funny situations I
mean.”
“Really, I don’t see anything very amusing in the
present situation,” replied the puzzled staff officer.
“Don’t you, indeed? Well, I’m afraid you won’t
appreciate the situation from your stand-point. What
a pity we haven’t a photographer to give us the scene
for future inspection!”
// 062.png
.pn +1
“Well, Miss Hasbrouk, you seem to be making yourself
very merry at my expense. I am happy to have
afforded you so much amusement; but I fear I am still
your debtor for the bountiful hospitality of your house.”
“Don’t mention it, captain; and you won’t wish to
mention it a few hours hence.”
“I assure you I shall ever gratefully remember your
kindness to me.”
“Perhaps not,” laughed the maiden.
“Captain Somers,” interposed the major, “I think we
have carried the joke far enough; and we will now proceed
to the serious part of the business. In one word,
you—”
“Stop, Major Riggleston, if you please,” interrupted
Maud. “This is my affair.”
“Hurry it along a little faster, then, if you will,
Maud. The people outside will get tired of waiting.”
“Don’t you interfere, major. You forget that you are
a Union officer, belonging to the Maryland Home Brigade.
Captain Somers insists that you are; and of course
you are.”
“Of course I am; I had almost forgotten that little
circumstance,” laughed the major.
“Well, Miss Hasbrouk, since you are to manage the
affair, I will thank you to inform me what it all means,”
demanded Somers, with the least evidence of impatience
in his tones.
// 063.png
.pn +1
“With the greatest pleasure; with a pleasure which
you cannot yet appreciate, I will inform you all about it.
But, my dear Captain Somers, in deference to a lady who
has admired you, fêted you, dined you, you will
answer a few questions which I shall propose to you,
before I proceed to the explanation.”
“Be in haste, Maud,” said the major.
“Major Riggleston, if you hurry me, I shall be
obliged to ask you to leave the room,” answered she,
with a resumption of the imperial dignity she had partially
abandoned.
“I’m dumb, Maud.”
“Keep so, then. Now, Captain Somers, you are one
of the heroes of the Yankee army; a down-east pink of
chivalry. At Petersburg you were within the Confederate
lines doing duty as a spy. First question: Is this so?”
“That would be for a rebel court-martial to prove, if
I should happen to be captured.”
“First question evaded. Taking advantage of the
hospitality and kindness of Dr. Scoville, who had pledged
his honor that you should be delivered up to the proper
authorities as soon as you were able to be moved, you
escaped from his custody. Second question: Is this
true?”
“I was under no pledge, and was not paroled.”
“Second question evaded. You are on the staff of
the general of the first army corps, and you have been
// 064.png
.pn +1
sent out to procure information. Third question: Is this
true?”
“You have said it; not I.”
“Third question evaded. By your own confession,
made to me yesterday, within the Federal lines, you are
a spy. You have resorted to certain Yankee tricks to
escape the penalty of your misdeeds. Now—fourth
question: Would it not be fair to capture you by resorting
to a trick such as those you have practised?”
“It would depend on the trick.”
“Fourth question evaded. You have abused the
sacred rites of hospitality at the mansion of Dr.
Scoville, in Virginia. Should you regard it as anything
more—fifth question—than diamond cut diamond,
if you should be captured in Maryland by a
similar abuse of the sacred rites of hospitality?”
“That would depend on circumstances.”
“Fifth question evaded. All of them evaded, as I
supposed all of them would be; for a Yankee can no
more avoid prevarication than he can avoid talking
through his nose.”
“Thank you for the handsome compliment. I cannot
forget that I am speaking to a lady, and therefore I can
make no answer,” replied Somers, with gentle dignity,
as he bowed to the tormentor.
“That is more than I expected of a Yankee,” said
Maud, a slight flush upon her fair cheek assuring her
// 065.png
.pn +1
victim that his rebuke had been felt. “I am a lady;
but before the lady, I am the Confederate woman, having
a cause dearer to my heart than anything save only a
woman’s honor.”
She spoke proudly, and her head rested with imperial
grandeur on her neck as she uttered her impressive
words.
“Now, Captain Somers, you understand my position,
and you understand your own position,” she continued.
“I invited you to dine with me for a purpose. That
purpose is now reached. The house is surrounded by
Confederate cavalry. Captain Somers, you are a
prisoner!”
// 066.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
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.h2 id=ch06
CHAPTER VI.||THE BOOT ON THE OTHER LEG.
.sp 2
.di l.jpg 50 72 1.1
LONG before the imperial, and now imperious,
lady announced the conclusion of the whole matter,
Somers realized that he was the victim of a
conspiracy; that he had been invited to dinner
in order to procure his capture. He had listened to the
fallacious argument embodied in the five questions, and
was prepared to refute it if occasion required. He had
no difficulty in perceiving that he had got into trouble.
The house was surrounded by a squad of rebel cavalry,
and it would be folly to attempt to fight his way through
them.
Nevertheless, Somers had coolly and decisively made
up his mind not to be a prisoner. He had been invited
into the house under the guise of friendship. The lady
had pretended to cherish an excellent feeling, amounting
almost to admiration, towards him; had treated him as a
friend, and detained him until the cavalry could be sent
for. The trap had been set, and he had certainly fallen
into it. The circumstances were not at all like those
// 067.png
.pn +1
under which he had entered the house of Dr. Scoville;
he had not been invited there; he had gone in as a
hunted fugitive, and the host had received and taken care
of him without any pledge, expressed or implied, on his
part, or that of Captain de Banyan, who accompanied
him. His conscience, therefore, did not reproach him
for any violation of the law of hospitality.
“You are a prisoner, Captain Somers, I repeat,” said
Maud—“my prisoner, if you please.”
“Miss Hasbrouk, I have always cherished a feeling
of admiration and regard for the ladies; but I regret, in
the present instance, to be compelled to contradict you.
I am not a prisoner, if you will excuse me for saying
so,” replied Somers, calmly.
“The house is surrounded by Confederate cavalry,”
added she. “It only remains for me to call them in and
end this scene.”
“Allow me to observe that the part which remains
will be infinitely more difficult than the part already performed.”
“Am I to understand, Captain Somers, that you
propose to resist twenty men, who stand ready to
capture you?” demanded the lady, with a triumphant
smile.
“Excuse me if I evade that question also for the
present. Perhaps you will still further pardon me, if,
in this delicate and difficult business, I venture to ask
// 068.png
.pn +1
you a few questions, which you will answer or evade, as
you please.”
“With great pleasure I submit to be questioned, Captain
Somers,” answered she, with a merry twinkle in
her eyes, which told how much she still enjoyed the
“situation.”
“Thank you, Miss Hasbrouk. You are one of those
brawling rebel women who have done so much to keep
up the spirits of the chivalry in this iniquitous rebellion.
You are one of the feminine Don Quixotes who have
unsexed themselves in the cause of treason and slavery.”
“I will not hear this, if you will, Maud. Sir!”
exclaimed the major, advancing towards the bold and
ungallant speaker, “your foul mouth—”
“Stand where you are, Major Riggleston!” said
Somers, fiercely, as he pointed a pistol at his head. “If
you stir a step, or open your mouth again, you are a
dead man!”
The major seemed to be taken all aback by this decided
demonstration. He had no pistol about him; and
though he was a “fighting man,” Somers was pretty well
satisfied that he would “hold still” until it was safe for
him to move. Judging from her looks, Maud seemed to
be taking a slightly different view of the situation.
“Excuse my rude words, Miss Hasbrouk,” continued
the captain, with a gentle inclination of the head. “As
// 069.png
.pn +1
this is your affair, I will thank this gentleman not to
interfere. Shall I repeat what I said before?”
“It is not necessary,” replied she, coldly.
“Then we will proceed. First question: Did I correctly
state your position?”
“Is a woman who strengthens the hearts of those
who are fighting for the right to exist—”
“First question evaded,” interposed Somers. “You
invited me to this house; and, by the laws of hospitality,
which even the heathen respect, you were impliedly
pledged to treat me as a friend, and not as a foe. Second
question: Is this so?”
“Did you learn to respect the law of hospitality at
Dr. Scoville’s?” sneered she.
“Second question evaded. Dr. Scoville made no
pledges to me, nor I to him. No person can blame me
for leaving his house when I got ready. Accepting his
hospitality and his kindness did not pledge me to go to a
Confederate dungeon, where prisoners are systematically
murdered. To proceed: By your own confession you
invited me to dine in order to make me a prisoner, and
take my life by having me hanged as a spy. If you
sought to capture me by a trick, would it not—third
question—be equally fair for me to escape by a trick?”
“But it is utterly impossible for you to escape,” replied
she, glancing through the window at the cavalry on
the lawn.
// 070.png
.pn +1
“Third question evaded. You are a lady; and as such,
under ordinary circumstances, you are entitled to be
treated with the delicacy and consideration due to your
sex. But as you have ceased to be a non-combatant,—which
you were sorely against your will, and are now
actively engaged in the war, conducting the business of
capturing a prisoner,—under these circumstances, would
it not be entirely fair for me to treat you as a combatant,
precisely the same as though you had not unsexed yourself,
and were a man?”
“You seem to have already forgotten what is due to a
lady,” replied she, her cheek flushed with anger.
“Fourth question evaded.”
“Sir, I decline to hear any more of this coarse
abuse!” exclaimed she, stamping her foot.
“Indulge me for one moment more, and I will endeavor
as much as possible to avoid talking through my
nose, and making pretensions as a hero of the Yankee
army, or a down-east pink of chivalry.”
Perhaps the imperial beauty thought that these expressions,
borrowed from her own elegant discourse, were
not especially refined for a lady to use; it may be that
they sounded coarse on a repetition, but she made no acknowledgment
to that effect.
“Your silence consents: thank you. Miss Hasbrouk,
you speak with chivalrous contempt of what you are
pleased to term ‘Yankee tricks;’ at the same time, you
// 071.png
.pn +1
were thrown into spasms of laughter by the apparent
success of one of your own tricks. Now, permit me to
ask whether you would equally appreciate—fifth question—a
trick quite as smart as your own?”
“You have insulted me long enough, sir!” replied
she, haughtily. “Now, sir—”
“Fifth question evaded. I have no more to ask.”
“Now, sir, I will hand you over to your masters,”
said she, moving a step towards the door.
“Excuse me if I take the liberty to decline being
handed over to my masters,” said Somers, stepping between
her and the door, and now occupying a position
between the lady and the discomfited major.
“Sir, what do you mean?” demanded the lady, her
bosom heaving with angry emotions, as she found herself
confronted by the young officer, who looked as firm and
immovable as a mountain of granite.
“I mean all that I say, and much more,” answered
he, with an emphasis which she could not fail to understand.
“Sir, I desire to pass out at that door.”
“I positively forbid your passing out at that door.”
“Sir!” gasped she, almost overcome by her angry
passions.
“Miss Hasbrouk!” replied he, bowing.
“You are no gentleman!”
“When I came here I regarded you as a lady, and
// 072.png
.pn +1
one of the brightest ornaments of your sex. What I
think now I shall keep to myself.”
“I shall go mad!”
“I hope not; though I fear you have been tending in
that direction for the last hour.”
“Major Riggleston!” cried she, turning to her lover,
“will you stand there and permit me to be insulted in
this manner?”
“Major Riggleston will stand there. If he moves
hand or foot, or opens his mouth to speak, I will blow
his brains out. He is a villain and a traitor, and of
course he is a coward!”
The major winced under these strong words; but
there was death in the sharp, snapping eye of the young
officer, and he dared not move hand or foot, or even
speak. Perhaps he thought that, as the lady had insisted
on managing the affair herself, it was quite proper
that she should be indulged to the end.
“I can endure this no longer!” exclaimed Maud, as
she took another step towards the door for the purpose
of calling in the troopers.
“Stop, Miss Hasbrouk!” said Somers, pointing a
pistol at her head with his right hand, while that in his
left was ready to dispose of the major.
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THE BOOT ON THE OTHER LEG.—Page 73.
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[Illustration: THE BOOT ON THE OTHER LEG.—Page 73.]
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“Is it possible that you can raise your weapon against
a woman?” cried she, shrinking back from the gaping
muzzle of the pistol.
// 072a.png
.pn +1
// 072b.png
.pn +1
// 073.png
.pn +1
“Let us understand each other, Miss Hasbrouk. I
am not to be captured. If you attempt to leave the
room, or to call in the rebel soldiers, I will shoot you, as
gently and considerately as the deed can be done; but I
will shoot you, as surely as you stand there and I stand
here.”
He cocked the pistol. She heard the click of the
hammer. She stood in mortal terror of her life.
“You forget that I am a woman,” said she, in tones
of alarm.
“I did not forget it until you had forgotten it yourself,”
answered Somers. “You have abused and insulted
me. Under the guise of friendship you are
attempting to hand me over to death by my enemies.
Did you think I would be dropped gently into the arms
of the rebels, and be hung as a spy? If you insist on
pursuing your plan to the end, it will be death to you or
death to me. I am not quite willing to die for any rebel
woman, and especially not for one who is seeking my
life. It would grieve me to shoot one so fair and fascinating
as Miss Hasbrouk; I should remember it with
sorrow to the end of my days; but my duty to myself
and my country requires the sacrifice, and I would shoot
you if it broke my heart.”
“Are you in earnest, Captain Somers?” asked she,
still struggling under the violence of her emotions.
“Maud,” said the major.
// 074.png
.pn +1
“Silence, sir!” added the captain, sternly. “Miss
Hasbrouk, I am in earnest. The situation has changed.
Would you like a photographer to preserve the scene for
future inspection?”
“You would not kill me?”
“I would, as you would kill me.”
“But the soldiers are impatient outside, and they may
come in without my call,” suggested she, glancing at the
window, while every muscle in her frame shook with
terror.
“If they do, it will cost you your life, unless they are
more reasonable than you are.”
“Good Heaven! You mean to murder me?”
“Not if I can help it. When I fire, it will be from a
solemn sense of duty; for your cutthroats would hang me
to the nearest tree if they knew as much of me as you do.”
“What shall I do?” asked she, wildly, as she looked
around the room.
“Now you are reasonable. Let your servant bring
pen, ink, and paper.”
She ordered the man who had waited on the table to
bring the required articles, and Somers gave him a
charge to be discreet as he left the room. In a few moments
he returned with the writing materials, and laid
them on the table. The negro was even more terrified
than the lady, and there was no fear that he would venture
upon any bold enterprise.
// 075.png
.pn +1
“Now, Major Riggleston, sit down at the table,” said
Somers. “You will remain where you are, Miss Hasbrouk.”
“What am I to do?” asked the major.
“You will write what I dictate. Did you call this
cavalry?”
“I did.”
“Then you are a loyal Marylander with a vengeance,
and a worthy officer of the Maryland Home Brigade;
but I will warrant there is not another such a scoundrel
in the organization.”
“That is a personal insult, for which—”
“Silence, sir. Who commands the cavalry outside?”
“A sergeant.”
“How many men has he?”
“Twenty.”
“Now write. ‘Sergeant: The matter upon which I
called you was all a mistake. Your services will not be
required, and you will retire from the house without delay.’
Sign it as you please.”
Somers looked over his shoulder to satisfy himself that
the major wrote what he said, and nothing else.
“It is possible we may get through this business without
shooting either one of you,” added the captain, as
the scribe folded up the note. “Give the paper to the
servant.”
“Go to the front door, boy, and deliver this note to
// 076.png
.pn +1
the sergeant in command of the squad of cavalry,” continued
Somers.
“Yes, sar.”
“Stop a moment. You are not to say a word to
him.”
“No, sar.”
“If one of those soldiers should come into the house,
it might cost your mistress her life.”
“De Lo’d forbid, massa!”
“Do you understand me, boy?”
“Yes, sar. Dey shan’t come in, massa, no how.”
He departed on his mission. Somers still stood in the
attitude for action, and Maud and the major looked as
cheap and as chapfallen as though they had not another
hope in the world. They waited with even more impatience
than the captain for the departure of the cavalry,
both of them fearing that some unfortunate accident
might bring the desperate young man to the execution
of his horrible threat.
The sergeant outside was, luckily, not of an inquiring
mind. The clatter of horses’ feet and the clanking of
sabres were heard again, and the cavalry dashed down
the road to more hopeful scenes.
// 077.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch07
CHAPTER VII.||SOUTH MOUNTAIN.
.sp 2
.di s.jpg 50 64 1.1
SOMERS returned the pistols to his belt as he
listened to the sounds of the retreating cavalry.
This action on his part seemed to afford Maud
and the major an immense relief. Death no longer
stared them in the face, and both of them began to grow
bold again.
“Now, Major Riggleston, when you see your uncle,
Dr. Scoville, again, you will have a story to tell him,”
said Somers.
“I shall not be likely to tell him of it.”
“I think we have obtained some new ideas concerning
the Yankees, to-day,” added Maud, spitefully. “I had
supposed their making war on women and children was
merely a poetic figure; but it appears to be literally
true.”
“Pray, am I to regard you as a woman or a child,
Miss Hasbrouk?” asked Somers; “or as both?”
“I hope I shall have the pleasure of seeing you
hanged!” exclaimed she, with compressed lips.
// 078.png
.pn +1
“That’s the sentiment of a woman, rather than a
child,” laughed Somers.
“How long before we shall be rid of your presence,
Captain Somers?”
“How long will it take your servants to bring up the
horse and chaise in which I saw you arrive?”
“Not ten minutes; if that will facilitate your departure,
the chaise shall be brought up instantly,” replied she,
directing the waiter present to give the stable boys the
necessary orders.
“Thank you, Miss Hasbrouk. May I trouble you
also to get ready to accompany me?”
“Accompany you, sir!”
“I do not regard myself as entirely safe yet,” replied
the staff officer, taking one of the pistols from his belt.
“Before I am out of sight, my friend the major may feel
justified in calling for the cavalry again.”
“They are five miles off, or will be by the time you
have started,” said the major.
“I think not. When I fall among people who are as
sharp as you are, I always use extraordinary precautions.
It is part of my purpose that you should go with us, my
dear major.”
“Go where?” demanded the traitor, intensely alarmed.
“I will not trouble the lady to go any farther than the
farm-house where I left my horse. In regard to yourself,
I shall have to insist upon your going with me to headquarters.”
// 079.png
.pn +1
“Why so?”
“You are a traitor of the blackest stamp, and it is
quite proper that you should be attended to before you
have done any more mischief.”
“You are quite mistaken, Captain Somers. I am—”
“I will pledge myself not to prevent your escape,” interposed
Maud, apparently unwilling that the major
should say too much.
“Excuse me, if, after what has happened, I decline to
trust you.”
“This is insolent, sir.”
“It is open to that construction, I admit,” said Somers,
as he picked up the letter which the major had read with
so much astonishment.
It was a blank sheet, but the direction on the outside
was in a lady’s handwriting, evidently Maud’s. It was
nothing but a “blind,” to afford a reasonable pretence
for the major’s sudden departure. Somers put it in his
pocket for future reference.
“The chaise is ready, captain,” said Maud.
“So am I; but you are not.”
“My hat and shawl are in the entry,” she replied,
sullenly.
They passed out of the house when she had robed
herself for the ride. Somers assisted her into the vehicle.
“Where is the major?” asked he, turning to the spot
where he had stood a moment before. Maud’s reply was
// 080.png
.pn +1
a silvery laugh, which was a sufficient explanation that
he had taken himself off.
“So much the better,” said Somers. “Good afternoon,
Miss Hasbrouk,” he added, as he walked rapidly
up the road, in the direction of the farm-house.
She was so surprised by this sudden and unexpected
change in the programme, that she could make no reply.
She did not know whether the movement boded good or
evil; whether the captain had gone in pursuit of the
major, or to the place where he had left his horse.
Somers, when he discovered that the major had escaped
him, was afraid to trust himself in the family chaise,
which would too surely betray his movements to a pursuing
force, if the traitor could find one in the vicinity.
He decided that it would be safer for him to walk, and
then he could avoid the public road if it became necessary
for him to do so. Though he would have been glad to
hand the treacherous scoundrel over to the military
authorities for punishment as a deserter, or for giving aid
and comfort to the enemy, he would have been a great
encumbrance to him on the road. As events often happen
for the best, he consoled himself with the belief that the
traitor’s escape was not the worst thing that could have
occurred.
He walked rapidly till he obtained his horse. Whatever
his late friends had done to secure his capture, he
was not molested on the road, nor did he discover any
// 081.png
.pn +1
pursuers behind him. His horse was fresh, after the
long rest he had had, and Somers rode at a break-neck
gait till he reached the headquarters of the general. On
the way, after he had carefully arranged in his mind the
information he had obtained, he could not help thinking
over the exciting events of the afternoon. Major Riggleston’s
conduct was very strange. On the preceding
day he had been a loyal soldier; now he was apparently
in full sympathy with the rebels. It was a sudden
change, if it was a change at all.
But the major, like a lobster, had a lady in his head,
and it was quite impossible to tell what a major or a
lobster would do, with a lady in his head. Somers had
met the beauty at the house of Mr. Riggleston, in Frederick.
They had ridden over to her home that morning
in the chaise; and the best solution which he could give
of the matter was, that Maud had converted him from
one side to the other. As this seemed to be a satisfactory
explanation of the singular conduct of the fighting man,
he was satisfied with it, and gave the subject no further
consideration.
His ride was not so long as it had been in the morning,
for the army had advanced some miles; and at sunset
Somers reported his information to the general. He
also told his story about the attempt which had been
made to capture him, and in the course of his narrative
involved the loyal major of the Maryland Home Brigade
// 082.png
.pn +1
in trouble and dishonor. The general was not a little
amused at the story, and hoped other officers, who were
invited to dinner by fair rebel ladies, and then entrapped,
would resort to similar strategy. But the information
which Somers brought was the most interesting and
valuable part of the proceeds of his trip, and the general
was soon busy in the study of his maps in the new light
he had obtained.
The next day was Sunday; but it was not the quiet
sabbath of the soul that rests the body, and renews the
spirit’s waning hope; it was a day of storm and battle—a
day of death and destruction. Somers performed his
first staff duty in the field on this occasion. During the
forenoon the artillery thundered along the range of the
South Mountain. The enemy was posted on the steeps,
and all along the side of the mountain, on both sides of
the Cumberland road, which is the direct route to the
Upper Potomac. Beyond the hills were the wagon and
ammunition trains of the rebels, as well as the more
considerable portion of their army. The possession of
this road was necessary to their safety, as well as to the
success of their grand scheme of carrying on a war of
invasion.
The battle was opened by the corps of General Reno,
next to which in the line of march was the first army
corps. During the early part of the day, the action was
fought with artillery, and was an attempt to dislodge the
// 083.png
.pn +1
enemy from the strong position they had taken. The
slope of the mountain was rugged, consisting of irregular
ledges, and the whole covered with wood, which grew out
of the interstices of the rocks, and on the shelves
where there was earth enough to give life to a tree. In
these woods and among these rocks the rebels were
located,—infantry and sharpshooters,—while their cannon
were placed in such positions that they commanded
all the approaches to the Gap, through which the road
passed.
An attack of infantry was ordered, and the gallant
fellows went forward with alacrity to execute the command.
They rushed boldly up the steeps, to a stone wall
behind which the main line of the enemy rested, driving
the skirmishers before them. Torrents of blood flowed,
and moistened the soil where hundreds of brave fellows
gave up their lives; but they won the ground, and held
it. The rebels fought with desperation, and their generals
rallied them in vain to do what could not be done.
Partial successes and partial reverses occurred in
different parts of the line until noon, when the artillery
alone was actively engaged. The day was not yet won,
and hundreds more were to fall on the field before
the obstinate foe would yield the position.
At two o’clock in the afternoon the head of the first
army corps appeared, which had been ordered forward
by General McClellan to the support of Reno’s hard-pressed
// 084.png
.pn +1
forces. As “Fighting Joe” appeared before the
lines, the utmost enthusiasm was manifested by the troops.
They cheered him as though he had already saved
the day. The general was examining the ground. His
quick eye had already grasped the situation. He had
been ordered by the general commanding to make a feint
in favor of Burnside’s forces; but, satisfied that an attack
on the south side of the road would not be a success,
he turned his attention to that portion of the rebel
line at the north of the road, which had been reported
upon by Captain Somers.
The general proceeded, as he always did, directly to
the front. He seemed to know precisely what he was
about, and to have all his force entirely in hand. Then
he began to send off his orders, and the members of his
staff were dashing about in every direction, till the line
was formed. Batteries were posted behind the troops,
and the shot and shell whizzed through the air over the
soldiers’ heads. The order to advance was given; the
line moved up the precipitous steeps, and for half an hour
the battle raged with tremendous fury.
Somers found every instant of his time occupied, as he
dashed from one division to another; while shot, shell,
and bullets flew through the air like hailstones. Kind
Providence protected him again, as it had before, and he
escaped all injury. On marched the victorious line, conquering
every obstacle, and driving the rebels before
// 085.png
.pn +1
them; but it was long after dark before the red field was
entirely won, and the Union troops were in possession of
the crests of the mountain.
“Captain Somers, you have done admirably, and fully
justified my selection of you for the important and difficult
position to which you have been assigned.”
Somers bowed, and felt as happy as though he had
commanded the successful army.
“One more task to-night, captain. You will ride to
the headquarters of the army, give my compliments to
General McClellan, and inform him that we have carried
the position, and routed the enemy.”
Somers saluted the general, and urged forward his
weary horse towards Middletown. He found the commander-in-chief
still in the saddle, and delivered his message.
He was directed to bear the congratulations of
General McClellan to the commander of the first army
corps on his success, with instructions to follow up the
retreating rebels, and to employ General Richardson’s
division, which had been sent forward to report to him,
in this work, if the condition of his own troops required
it.
Somers made his salute, and was riding off, thinking
over what had just been said to him, as he had learned
to do when sent on an errand in his childhood. He was
fully absorbed in his thoughts, when a voice pronounced
his name.
// 086.png
.pn +1
“Captain Somers, I am glad to see you again,” said
an officer, urging forward his horse to intercept him.
Somers looked at him, and was not a little surprised,
in the darkness of the evening, to recognize Major Riggleston,
who appeared to be one of the numerous staff of
the commanding general. Perhaps it was fortunate for
the messenger that he had already faithfully conned his
errand, or the appearance of the traitor would have
forever driven it from his mind.
“Major Riggleston!” exclaimed he, hardly able to
believe the evidence of his own senses.
It was plain, after all, that he had not been fully converted
to the rebel faith by the blandishments of the
beautiful Maud; but he was occupying a worse and more
disgraceful position, in Somers’s estimation, than to have
stood square up with the enemies of the country. It was
most audacious in the major to hail him, after what had
occurred at the mansion of the Maryland grandee, and
Somers regarded him not only as a rebel, but as the
stupidest rebel he had ever met.
“The same, my boy,” replied the major, familiarly.
“Ride on, and I will go with you a short distance, to
hear the news. They say Reno was killed.”
“I am sorry to say it is true,” replied Somers, coldly.
“He was a brave fellow, and a splendid soldier. You
must have had a warm time over there.”
“Rather.”
// 087.png
.pn +1
“You are tired, arn’t you, old fellow? Can’t you
talk?”
“Not much to you,” answered Somers, bluntly.
“To me? Why, what the dickens is the matter?”
demanded the major, with apparent surprise.
“The matter, indeed! How does it happen that you
are here?”
“Why shouldn’t I be here, old boy?”
“After the affair of yesterday—”
“What affair of yesterday?”
The major had entirely lost his memory again. He
had not heard a word about the adventure at the mansion
of Maud’s father.
// 088.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch08
CHAPTER VIII.||BEFORE THE GREAT BATTLE.
.sp 2
.di c.jpg 50 69 1.1
CAPTAIN SOMERS was as thoroughly bewildered
as he would have been if the mountains
around him had suddenly commenced dancing a
hornpipe; or if the trees, horses, and men before him
had turned bottom upwards, and the whole order of nature
had been reversed. He was entirely satisfied, on
reflection, that the event of the preceding afternoon had
been a reality; entirely satisfied that Major Riggleston
had been a party to the infamous conspiracy by which
the fair Maud had sought to capture him; and the unblushing
impudence of his companion in denying it
passed his comprehension.
“I think you must be dreaming, Captain Somers,”
said the major, with a light laugh.
“Either I am, or you are; I will not pretend to say
which,” replied Somers, almost convinced by the words,
and especially by the easy assurance of the major, that
no attempt had been made to capture him; that no such
person as Maud Hasbrouk had an existence.
// 089.png
.pn +1
But of course the traitor would deny his guilt; that
was to be expected. It was not to be supposed that he
would engage in such a nefarious scheme as that which
had been exhibited at the Hasbrouk house, and then confess
his participation in it. The major had actually returned
to the Union lines, and had the temerity to take
his place in the ranks of the defenders of the Union,
even while he was, not only in heart, but openly, engaged
in the service of treason and rebellion.
“Now, captain, let us be friends,” continued the major;
“for it really seems to me that you are disposed to
provoke a quarrel with me.”
“I cannot be the friend of one who is an enemy to his
country,” replied Somers, stiffly, and with a proper display
of dignity.
“My dear fellow, I don’t understand you.”
“Don’t understand me, Major Riggleston?” Somers
began to be stern and savage.
“Upon my word I do not,” protested the major, earnestly.
“If you insist on picking a quarrel with me,
pray tell me what it is all about.”
“This is all idle talk, sir.”
“You have accused me of being an enemy to my
country.” The major began to be slightly indignant.
“Most distinctly I accuse you of it.”
“That’s a grave charge.”
“I am aware of it; and I speak advisedly when I
// 090.png
.pn +1
make it. If I had met General Lee himself within our
lines, I should not have been more astonished than I was
to see you, after what has happened.”
“Will you be so kind as to tell me what has happened?”
demanded the accused officer, manifesting no
little excitement.
“At no distant day I shall do so before a court-martial.”
“What do you mean?”
“Have you any doubt whatever in regard to my
meaning?”
“Upon my word and honor as an officer and a gentleman,
I have not the remotest idea what you mean.”
“Major Riggleston, if the nature of my mission would
permit, I would return to the headquarters of the commanding
general and denounce you as a traitor.”
“Captain Somers, those are words which no man can
use to me with impunity,” replied the major, indignantly.
“I shall hold you personally responsible for them.”
“I am willing to be held personally responsible for
what I say,” answered Somers, coolly. “If you mean
violence by that remark, I shall not be off my guard.”
“Captain Somers, you are a brave man. You have
proved yourself to be a brave and true man,” said the
major, with more calmness. “I think you are too noble
a fellow to vilify me without giving me an opportunity to
defend myself.”
// 091.png
.pn +1
“Of course you will have an opportunity to defend
yourself.”
“You propose to denounce me as a traitor, you say.”
“I do.”
“You are aware that the people of my state are
divided on the great question that now disturbs the
country; consequently a charge, however weak and unfounded,
against me, would find plenty of believers. I
have enemies. All I demand is fair play.”
“You shall have it, major; for, deeply as you have
injured me, or attempted to injure me, I assure you I
bear no personal ill will towards you.”
“Thank you for so much; but you say I have attempted
to injure you. I am not conscious of any such
attempt.”
“Major Riggleston, this is all idle talk while you
assume that position—while you pretend to be ignorant
of the matter with which I charge you; and I must
decline holding any further intercourse with you at present.
Let me add, however, that I will not make
charges until you are present to defend yourself.”
“So far your conduct is honorable; if you would go
a step farther, and state distinctly with what you charge
me, I should be infinitely obliged to you.”
“That is useless. From a gentleman I should not expect
such duplicity as you exhibit in pretending to know
nothing about the charge.”
// 092.png
.pn +1
“I have pledged you my honor that I don’t know
what you mean; that I am not conscious of having
given you any offence, much less done anything which
can justify you in calling me a traitor.”
“Do you know Miss Maud Hasbrouk?” demanded
Somers.
“Of course I know her. You are perfectly aware
that, though she is a rebel, she is a friend of our family.”
“Good night, Major Riggleston,” said Somers, as he
put spurs to his steed, and dashed down the hill, leaving
his companion to infer what he meant from his connection
with the lady, if he needed anything to enable him
to explain the nature of the charge.
The staff officer was excited and indignant that the
traitor should attempt such a bold and foolish subterfuge.
It was almost incredible that he should have the audacity
to pretend that he did not know what the charge meant.
There was no room for a doubt or a mistake. The major
had positively received the blank letter; had positively
gone after the rebel cavalry; had positively sustained
Maud in her attempt to capture him. It was not possible,
therefore, that he had done the culprit any injustice.
Thus assured that he had not wronged the major, Captain
Somers again turned his attention to the message
which he was to deliver to his general, and urged forward
his weary horse at his best speed. He found the troops
of “Fighting Joe” resting from the hard-fought action,
// 093.png
.pn +1
and engaged in preparing their simple supper of coffee
and “hard tack.” He delivered the orders of the commanding
general, and the division of Richardson was
accordingly sent forward to pursue the fleeing rebels.
Early on the following morning the army advanced,
and Somers found no time to think of private grievances.
The general did much of his own reconnoitring on this
occasion, though the members of his staff were kept constantly
employed. The enemy had fallen back in disorder
from South Mountain; but at ten o’clock in the
forenoon the advance of the first corps came up with the
position which the rebels had taken, to dispute the farther
progress of the now victorious army. But the general
had not at this time a sufficient force to make an
attack. Antietam Creek lay between the two armies;
and the bridge over it at this point was protected by
the batteries which the rebels had planted to defend it.
The enemy, in two lines on the west side of the creek,
were believed to consist of fifty thousand men; and the
brave general impatiently awaited the arrival of the rest
of the corps. It looked like an opportunity to fight a
successful battle, and he was determined to cross the
stream at the first practicable moment.
“General, the enemy are breaking into column and
marching towards Williamsport,” said Somers, as he
rode up from the point at which he had been surveying
the movement on the other side of the creek.
// 094.png
.pn +1
“They are on the retreat, then,” replied the general.
Captain Somers and an officer of the engineers were
then sent to examine the creek in search of a ford by
which to transfer the troops to the other side as soon
as the force of the rebels should be sufficiently reduced
to justify an attack. The general chafed under the restraint
which the circumstances imposed upon him; but
he was too prudent to risk an attack while the advantage
was so strongly against him. A ford was found near
a mill, farther up the creek, and the officers reported the
fact; but the arrival of the commanding general at this
time prevented “Fighting Joe” from ordering an advance.
The corps remained at this place until the afternoon
of the next day, when orders came to cross the creek.
The troops proceeded up the stream, and went over by a
bridge and by the fords which had been examined by the
staff officers. The outposts of the enemy were soon discovered
and driven in, and the gallant corps continued to
push the force in front till it was too dark to proceed any
farther, at which time the resistance was fully equal to
the power of the advancing host. This was the night
before the great battle of Antietam.
The weary troops lay down to rest in the cornfields
where they had halted. The rebels were close by, and
the pickets of the two armies were within gunshot range
of each other. There was no rest yet for the general
// 095.png
.pn +1
and his staff; for it was evident that a great battle was
to be fought on the morrow—a battle on which the
destinies of the Union depended. If the grand army of
the Potomac was defeated, there would be nothing to
stay the march of the invaders. The fair fields and the
prosperous cities and towns of the North would then be
open to them. The great heart of the nation, beating
timidly as the rebel hordes advanced, sickened by previous
disasters, might sink into despondency, and the
bright hopes of a great people be forever crushed. It
was no time for the brain of the army to slumber.
“We want information,” said the general, after he
had sent an aid to General McClellan to announce his
intention to attack the enemy at the earliest dawn.
The commander of the first army corps always wanted
information, for he never moved in the dark. His brain
and his arm were twin brothers in the conflict. Somers
and Barkwood volunteered to procure the information,
and left the headquarters for this purpose. It was useless
to attempt to penetrate the heavy picket line of the
rebels in the cornfields, and they descended the hill beyond
a farm-house, till they came to a ravine through
which flowed a considerable volume of water.
“Here’s our chance,” said Somers, in a low tone.
“That’s so; but you know I am a great coward, and
this looks like risky business,” replied Captain Barkwood.
// 096.png
.pn +1
“If you are, I think there is no need of more than
one of us going through.”
“O, my dear fellow, I will go with you.”
“I think it would be safer for us both to separate
here.”
“I agree with you.”
“Then I will take this ravine, and you may see what
you can find farther to the north.”
“Good! Now be scientific, my boy; we want to
know the topography of the country as well as the position
of the enemy.”
“Certainly; I think I understand what is required,”
replied Somers, as he descended the steep bank of the
ravine into the water.
The banks of the stream were of course occupied by
the pickets of the two armies, and his course led him
through both of them. He was just as much exposed to
a shot from one as from the other. Somers was a man
of experience in this business. He had earned a reputation
as a scout, and had on three occasions brought in
information of the utmost value to the Union commanders.
Indeed, his skill in this particular branch had procured
for him his promotion and his present honorable position
on the staff of “Fighting Joe.” He was now to undertake
a fearful risk—more fearful, perhaps, than any he
had before incurred; but the greater the danger, the
more valuable the service rendered; and the result of
// 097.png
.pn +1
to-morrow’s battle might depend upon the fidelity with
which he discharged his difficult duty.
He wore his long boots, and he continued to feel his
way on the verge of the stream, without going in beyond
his depth. The ravine was fringed with a thick growth
of bushes, which shielded him from the observation of
the pickets; but the slightest sound would expose him
to the fire of the men. In many places the trees formed
an arch over the brook, and the darkness was so dense
that he could hardly distinguish an object six feet from
him. He did not walk; he crept, putting his feet down
as a cat does when she is on the point of pouncing on
her prey.
After advancing a short distance he heard low voices
on the banks above him. He was passing the first line
of pickets—that of the Union army. His progress was
very slow, but he succeeded in his purpose without
drawing the fire of the sentinels. He was now between
the two lines, and he quickened his pace a little.
While he was thus creeping through the shallow water,
he discovered in the gloom a dark object before him.
He paused, and ascertained that it was a human figure—a
man, who had also stopped; but whether friend or
enemy he could not determine.
// 098.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch09
CHAPTER IX.||BETWEEN THE PICKETS.
.sp 2
.di t.jpg 50 67 1.1
THE man in the ravine stood stock still, and
Somers stood stock still. Each had apparently
discovered the other at the same moment, and
each was disturbed by the same doubts in regard to the
other. It was a dead lock, to all intents and purposes,
for neither was willing to advance and betray himself to
the other. Somers had his pistols; but a shot, if he was
compelled to shoot the stranger, might call forth the fire
of the pickets on both sides.
It was not a pleasant situation for either party; and
they stood like black statues, each waiting for a movement
on the part of the other. The only thing that
Somers could do was to retire in the direction he had
come; but this involved the failure of the enterprise in
which he had engaged, and possibly endangered the
result of the next day’s battle. He was not disposed to
withdraw; for if the worst came, he could shoot his
opponent, and lie down under the bank of the ravine to
shelter himself from the fire of the pickets. He waited
// 099.png
.pn +1
a reasonable time for the dark stranger to say or do
something; but as he seemed to be endowed with the
patience of Job, our scout decided to take the initiative
himself.
“Friend or foe?” demanded Somers, in a low tone;
for he was disposed to confine the conversation to themselves.
“Friend, of course,” replied the other.
“Which side do you belong to, friend?” asked Somers,
deeming the answer rather indefinite.
“To the Union side, of course,” replied the stranger,
with refreshing promptness.
There was no non-committal about him, as might have
been expected, half way between the lines of the two
armies, and Somers was pretty well satisfied that he was
what he claimed to be.
“Where are you going?”
“That’s rather a delicate question, Captain Somers,
my dear fellow,” responded the stranger. “You are
evidently at your old tricks, captain.”
“Who are you?” demanded Somers, not a little surprised
and disconcerted at being recognized in his present
situation.
“Don’t you know me?” added the stranger, advancing
cautiously towards the captain.
“I haven’t that pleasure.”
“Yes, you have; though it is rather dark here for a
// 100.png
.pn +1
man to make out even his best friend. I am Major
Riggleston.”
“Are you, indeed?” exclaimed Somers, taken all
aback by the announcement.
He would rather have met Stonewall Jackson under
the circumstances. He could not imagine what the
major could possibly be doing in such a place at such an
hour of the night, unless he was crawling into the rebel
lines, to take a part with the foe in the expected battle.
He was tempted to shoot him on the spot, and thus,
while he removed an obstacle in his own path, rid the
country of a traitor and a dangerous enemy; but Somers
never had the nerve to do anything that looked like
deliberate murder.
“Major Riggleston, you are a mystery to me,” said he.
“So I am to all who know me,” replied the major.
“Come, captain, let us sit down and talk over the matter.
If we speak low, the pickets will not hear us. You are
a man after my own heart, and I desire to have you understand
me better.”
“I think I understand you very well.”
“No, you don’t; you just now said I was a mystery
to you,” chuckled the major.
“I mean that I understand your objects—that you
are a traitor to your cause and country.”
“My dear captain, you never made a greater blunder
in your life.”
// 101.png
.pn +1
“I don’t see it.”
“You shall see it, in the course of ten minutes, if you
will hear me.”
“It is useless for me to hear you. I shall not believe
a word you say, after what passed between us yesterday.”
“What was that?”
“Didn’t you deny all knowledge of the affair at the
Hasbrouk house.”
“’Pon my word I did not.”
“You did not?”
“No.”
“You have the worst memory of any man in Maryland.”
“That may be.”
“Did you, when we met last evening—”
“We didn’t meet last evening,” interposed the major.
“You have a most astonishing memory. I denounced
you as a traitor.”
“It wasn’t kind of you to do that,” laughed Riggleston.
“Perhaps not; but it was true. You didn’t know
what I meant; you hadn’t the least knowledge of the
affair at the Hasbrouk house?”
“Of course not, over there!”
The major took off his cap and scratched his head.
The act seemed suddenly to vivify his memory.
“O, I do remember meeting you last night,” said he.
// 102.png
.pn +1
“Very good; I have some hope of you, at last. Now,
can you recall the event to which I alluded?”
“Perfectly.”
“That you, in connection with Miss Hasbrouk, attempted
to procure my capture by the rebels?”
“I acknowledge the soft impeachment; but the affair
is susceptible of a different construction from that you
put on it.”
“I think not.”
“Upon my word it is, my dear fellow. I intend to
prove it, and I am sure you will agree with me.”
“First, will you explain to me how you happen to be
in this ravine, at this hour of the night, and when we
are on the eve of a great battle?” asked Somers.
“I could explain it to your undoubted satisfaction, my
dear captain; but you must excuse me for the present.”
“I can’t excuse you; and we may as well fight it out
now as at any other time. You are a rebel, and I am a
Union man. In the words of Mr. Seward, there is an
irrepressible conflict between us. You have caught me,
and I have caught you. I don’t propose to shirk the
responsibility of my position; but I suppose one of us
must die, or be severely wounded, to insure the safety of
the other.”
Somers cocked his pistol. He had already made up
his mind in regard to the presence of Major Riggleston
at this place. His theory was, that the fellow was a
// 103.png
.pn +1
scout, like himself, if he was not a professional spy; that
at the time they happened to meet, the major was passing
over from the Union to the rebel lines, for the purpose
of imparting to Stonewall Jackson, who was understood
to be in command of the Confederate left wing, information
in regard to the strength and position of General
McClellan’s forces.
“For Heaven’s sake, Captain Somers, don’t fire upon
me!” exclaimed the major, as he heard the click of the
pistol.
There could be no doubt of the sincerity of the fellow
in the use of these words. Somers judged, from what
he had seen of him, that he was one of those persons
who were born to creep, but by some blunder had walked
upright, and thus deceived the world in regard to their
true character. Though he called himself a fighting
man, he was a cringing coward, as Somers had twice
before had occasion to observe.
“I have no wish to shoot you, Major Riggleston. I
would much rather be spared that pain,” said Somers.
“You have crossed my path, and you interfere with my
plans.”
“You are mistaken again. I propose to explain
everything, and then we shall understand each other perfectly.
You are a scout, and so am I. You are obtaining
information; so am I. You are a true Union man;
so am I.”
// 104.png
.pn +1
“I don’t believe you.”
“Here is my pass; that will convince you.”
“I can’t see to read it.”
“I will light a match. It will not be seen in this hole.”
The major handed him a paper, and struck a match
against the inside of his cap.
“Now read quick.”
Somers read: “The bearer, Major Riggleston, of the
—nd Maryland Home Brigade, is a true and loyal man,
and as such entitled to receive protection and assistance
from all officers and soldiers of the United States.”
The document was duly signed and countersigned by high
and proper authority, and the date was within the current
month and year. The captain was astonished beyond
measure, for he had no doubt of the correctness of this
safe-conduct. It knocked his little theory all to pieces,
and he was forced, for the first time, to believe that he
had misjudged the major.
“Where are you bound now?” asked he.
“Just where you are.”
“Do you carry this paper with you?”
“Always; my life would not be safe a moment without
it.”
“I should say your life would not be safe with it, if it
were discovered upon you within the rebel lines.”
“There is no danger on that score. I take good care
of it. Are you satisfied, Captain Somers?”
// 105.png
.pn +1
“I am satisfied with the paper; but I think your employers
do not expect you to entrap Union officers, as
you attempted to do at the Hasbrouk house.”
“My dear fellow, I did not intend to do anything of
the kind.”
“You were certainly a party to the transaction.”
“Apparently I was; really I was not. Now that you
understand the first part of the story, I will explain the
second. You know Miss Hasbrouk?”
“Certainly I know her.”
“She is a beautiful girl—isn’t she?”
“There can be no doubt on that point; but I suppose
you will tell me next that she is not a rebel, and that she
was working for the United States government when she
got up that little conspiracy, and attempted to have me
hung.”
“On the contrary, she is a rebel. Jeff Davis himself
is not a more thorough-going rebel, and she was fully in
earnest when she attempted to make you a prisoner.”
“But you assisted her.”
“Apparently only; if you had been handed over to
the cavalry, as I supposed you would be, it would have
been my privilege, as it would have been my duty, to get
you out of the scrape, which I could very easily have
done. Maud regards me as a rebel.”
Somers could not help thinking that she was more than
half right, but he was prudent enough not to give voice
to his thought on this subject.
// 106.png
.pn +1
“You helped her through with the whole thing.”
“Undoubtedly I did, but with the intention that you
should not suffer. You are aware that she planned the
scheme herself; I was dragged into it, and I could not
resist without impairing her confidence in me.”
“You seem to value very highly the confidence of a
rebel woman.”
“For the sake of my suffering country I do. Maud
is a beautiful girl; you acknowledge that. Well, the
rebel officers think so, too,” added the major, pausing as
if to give his companion an opportunity to comment on
this remarkable partiality; or perhaps to note the bearing
of the fact on their intimate relations.
“They are gentlemen of taste,” was all the comment
Somers deemed it necessary to make.
“Maud is an enterprising woman. She takes a deep
interest in all army movements, and worms out of the
rebel officers much valuable information, which I in turn
worm out of her; for I need hardly tell you that the
relations between Maud and myself are of the pleasantest
character.”
“Lovers?” added Somers.
“Yes, if you please.”
“It seems to me that is using a very sacred relation
for a very vicious purpose,” replied the captain, whose
fine sentiment was not a little shocked at the thought of
lovers mutually deceiving each other.
// 107.png
.pn +1
“We work for our country, Captain Somers.”
“Go on, major.”
“Don’t you understand it all now?”
“I think I do; at least, enough of it to comprehend
your position.”
Somers, in spite of himself, was not entirely satisfied;
certainly not with the character of the man, if he was
with the genuineness of his mission.
“Which way were you going when I met you?”
asked he.
“The same way that you were,” replied the major,
with some hesitation. “If you please, we will go on
together. You report to one general, and I to another;
but the substance of our information must be the same.
We will go on together, and return together.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“I am entirely safe within the rebel lines. If we
have passed the Yankee pickets, we have nothing more
to fear.”
The Yankee pickets! This was not the form of expression
usually adopted by loyal men; and it was the second
time he had detected his interesting companion in using
it. It seemed to be habitual with him; but perhaps it
was because he had spent so much of his time within
the rebel lines, pursuing the duties of his calling.
“I think we had better keep within the ravine.”
“Very well; but I have a rebel safe-conduct.”
// 108.png
.pn +1
“Would you let me see them both, if you please.”
“Certainly, if you desire it,” replied the major, but
with evident reluctance.
He produced them both, with the remark that it was
not necessary to read the true one again; but Somers
wished it, and he yielded. The major lighted a match,
and the captain read both the documents. As he finished
the match went out, and they were in total darkness
again.
“What’s that?” said Somers, suddenly springing to
his feet, with the papers in his hand.
It was a shot from the pickets; but there had been
one every ten minutes since they sat down.
// 109.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch10
CHAPTER X.||MAJOR RIGGLESTON.
.sp 2
.di s.jpg 50 64 1.1
SOMERS had thrust the papers into his pocket,
pretending to fear a sudden onslaught of the
pickets; but the alarm passed without any consequences,
serious or otherwise.
“We are perfectly safe, captain,” said Major Riggleston.
“I believe you did not give me back my papers.”
“Here they are,” replied he, handing him the blank
letter which had played so important a part in the
attempt to capture him at the Hasbrouk house, and
which he had put in his pocket at the time. “We are
losing the whole night, and we had better move on. I
am satisfied with the prospect, but I would rather not
expose myself to the rebel pickets.”
“As you please; we can go through this place without
being seen or heard. But I am well known all
through the rebel army, and I shall not be molested
when I give my name.”
“Then you will be a useful friend to me.”
“That’s what I have been trying to prove to you.
// 110.png
.pn +1
Perhaps I ought to say that I actually hold a commission
in the Confederate cavalry, which enables me to stand
square before the rebels while I give information to our
own people. You understand me.”
“Perfectly.”
“I have told you what no other living man knows;
for even the high authority that employs me has no conception
of the means by which I procure my information.
I have trusted you, because you are a man after
my own heart. What you did in Virginia endears you
to me. We are kindred spirits, and it is proper that we
should understand each other.”
Somers hoped they were not kindred spirits; for if the
major was what he claimed to be, there could be but
little sympathy between them. He was a coward and
a brag; and he told more lies than even his dangerous
profession required. He used the sacred relations of
life for his own purposes. But Somers was not satisfied,
as we have before suggested. The major had a safe-conduct
from the authorities on both sides; and whatever
weight he had given to the loyal one was neutralized by
the production of the other. It was possible that he had
procured it for the purpose of doing Union work; but
one pass nullified the other; and the captain was still in
doubt as to which side his versatile companion actually
belonged—so much in doubt that he was fully determined
not to run any risks.
// 111.png
.pn +1
Major Riggleston led the way up the ravine, both of
them creeping and crawling at a snail’s pace, so as not
to attract the attention of the pickets on the bank above
them. Somers would not have been very much surprised
if the “kindred spirit” before him had summoned the
soldiers to make him a prisoner; but he stood prepared
for such an emergency. His pistol was ready for immediate
use; and if a scene occurred, he trusted to the
darkness of the night and the friendly shelter of the
ravine to promote his escape.
Apparently the highly respectable scout in his company
had no intention of betraying him, for they passed
in safety through the line of rebel pickets, and emerged
from the ravine into a grove of oaks. If the major had
set a trap to make him a prisoner, or had resorted to a
scheme to save himself from a personal encounter in the
lonely gorge, there was no longer any need that he should
keep up his pretensions, for the camp fires of the rebels
were to be seen in every direction. Only a few rods
from the spot where they stood there was a body of cavalry
bivouacking on the ground.
Somers was a prey to the most painful doubts. Uppermost
in his mind was the wish to discharge with
fidelity the difficult and dangerous task which had been
imposed upon him; and if Major Riggleston was what
he claimed, he would be an invaluable assistant to him.
His two passes, one from each party in the great strife,
// 112.png
.pn +1
proved nothing for or against him. It was utterly impossible,
therefore, to reach a satisfactory conclusion in
regard to his companion. But it was not prudent to
place himself in a situation where he could be easily
captured. All he could do was to permit affairs to take
their own course until some further developments should
enable him to act intelligently. As they were now actually
within the rebel lines, the conclusion of the whole
matter must soon be reached.
“This is rather dangerous business,” said the major,
as they stepped from the bank into the oak grove.
“We must proceed with the utmost caution,” replied
Somers, nervously, as he gazed earnestly at his associate,
to obtain, if he could, any clew to his purpose.
“If you confide in me, Captain Somers, you will be
safe, unless some stupid sentinel takes it into his head to
fire upon us, which is really the only danger we incur.”
“I think we had better avoid these camps and squads
of soldiers as much as possible. Do you know where
the main line of Jackson’s army is?”
“Certainly I do; I will show it to you in due time.”
“Is he fortified?”
“You shall see in a short time.”
“How many men has he?”
“About seventy thousand.”
Somers knew better than this; and the answer sounded
very much like a Confederate reply to a Union question.
// 113.png
.pn +1
“Now follow me,” said the major, “and whatever
happens, don’t be alarmed.”
Riggleston led the way through the grove; but they
had advanced only a few paces before they were challenged
by a rebel soldier. The major replied to the
demand with easy self-possession, informing the soldier
who he was. It was all right, and they were permitted
to proceed on their way.
“You see it is all right, captain,” said the major, as
they entered the open field beyond the grove.
“They know you very well.”
“Of course they do.”
“If you know all about the situation and the force of
the rebels, what is the use of going any farther?”
“I don’t know,” replied the major, rather confused at
the question. “But, Somers, you wear your staff uniform.”
“I do.”
“That’s a mistake. It will expose yourself and me,”
he added, with some appearance of alarm. “If I had
seen what you had on before, I should not have dared
to come with you.”
“I don’t intend to show myself to these people.”
“But we were challenged only a moment since; and
if the soldiers had noticed your uniform, they would have
detained you.”
“If I had been alone, I should not have exposed my
self to their gaze.”
// 114.png
.pn +1
“It’s a mistake, and we must correct it.”
“Half the rebel officers wear Union colors. They rob
our people of their coats, and don’t scruple to wear them.”
“But a staff uniform!”
“I think we had better separate here; I will take
care of myself, and you can pursue your investigations
in your own way.”
“You would be taken in less than half an hour.
There is a house over here, where I can get you a
farmer’s frock, or something of that kind.”
“Then, if taken, I am an officer in disguise; and it
would go hard with me.”
“I think it would any way.”
“Perhaps it would.”
“You are pretty well known by reputation. You had
better change your name.”
“Perhaps I will, if I have to give my name.”
“Who goes there?” demanded a squad of men, as
they were on the point of crossing a rough farm-road.
“Friends,” replied the major.
“Who are you?”
“Major Riggleston.”
“We have just caught a Yankee spy—a fellow
crawling into our lines,” replied one of the men.
There were four of them; they had a prisoner whom
they were conducting up the road towards the main body
of Jackson’s division.
// 115.png
.pn +1
“Where did you get him?”
“Up in the cornfield beyond. He was crawling on
his hands and knees between the rows, and had got
almost through when we found him. We shall do some
hanging in the morning. What shall we do with him,
major?”
Somers looked with interest and sympathy at the poor
fellow thus entrapped; but the major was a Union man,
and of course he would save him from his fate the moment
he could consistently with the duty of keeping up
appearances.
“Take him up to this house,” said the major, pointing
in the direction he was leading Somers.
The men obeyed. Their dangling sabres indicated
that they belonged to the cavalry; and the obedience
they rendered to Major Riggleston further indicated that
they belonged to his battalion.
“Why should these men obey you?” asked Somers,
wishing to settle this point.
“They are my men. I told you I held a commission
in the cavalry—for the good cause, you know.”
“I understand.”
“By the way, captain, have you seen Miss Hasbrouk
since we met last?”
“I have not.”
“She follows the army.”
“Which army?”
// 116.png
.pn +1
“The rebel army, of course.”
“What for?”
“Because she likes it, I suppose. She is very useful
as a nurse, they say. Of course I don’t discourage her;
for I make her serviceable to the good cause, you know.”
The farm-house was now in sight, and there was a
light in one of the front rooms. Without the ceremony
of knocking, the major opened the door and entered,
ordering the four cavalrymen to follow him with their
prisoner.
“Come in,” said he.
“Who is in this house?” demanded Somers, shrinking
from the light which he saw within.
“Only women, with a few wounded men. I want
to see this prisoner, and find a good excuse for letting
him go,” replied the major, in a whisper.
Somers entered the house, where the prisoner had
already been conducted. To his surprise and chagrin he
discovered that the unfortunate was Captain Barkwood,
but the major did not seem to recognize his companion
in the skirmish on the road and at the house of Mr. Riggleston
in Frederick.
“Two of you hold your prisoner,” said the major to
the soldiers, as they entered the small room.
“Now, Captain Somers,” he added, when Captain
Barkwood had been placed in a corner with two men
holding him, “allow me to add, that we have carried
// 117.png
.pn +1
this farce quite far enough, and that you are also a
prisoner.”
At this moment, to the astonishment of Somers, Maud
Hasbrouk entered the room to learn the cause of the
commotion,—for it appeared afterwards that she was
here nursing a couple of officers who had been wounded
at South Mountain.
“Why, major, I did not expect to see you at this early
hour of the night,” said she.
“I have brought up one of your friends,” added he,
laughing, as he pointed at Somers.
“Captain Somers!” exclaimed she, as a smile of triumph
lighted up the features of the beauty. “This is
an unexpected pleasure. I hope you are quite well,
Captain Somers.”
“As well as usual, I thank you,” replied he.
We need not add that he was bewildered by the new
situation, and roundly condemned his own folly in permitting
himself to be led into such a trap. It was quite
evident that the treacherous major had brought him to
this house for the purpose of permitting Miss Maud to
enjoy the triumph. He was determined not to afford
her much satisfaction. It might prove to be a hanging
affair to him, and he felt himself warranted in resorting
to the most desperate remedies. It was better to die by
a bullet or a sabre cut than perish by the rope.
“I have been entertaining our friend the captain for
// 118.png
.pn +1
the last hour with an account of my services to the Yankees,
all of which he has swallowed as a fish does a
worm, without seeing the hook within. He came here
like a lamb; and as you had some sparring with him on
a former occasion, when he rather got the better of you,
I thought you would like to see him before I send him
and the other enterprising gentleman to the rear.”
“I am delighted to see him. And the other gentleman
is Captain Barkwood. He belongs to the regulars.”
“I never saw him before,” replied the major.
Somers thought he had another attack of bad memory;
but the situation was too exciting to permit him to dwell
on minor discrepancies. When the major called him a
prisoner, Somers had quietly fallen back into the corner
of the room behind the door by which he had entered.
Barkwood had been thrust back into another corner at
his left, while Maud and the major stood diagonally
opposite to him, and near the door by which she had
entered from the chamber of her patients. The two
cavalrymen not employed were standing half way between
Somers and Barkwood.
“I’m sure I am delighted to see you, Captain Somers,”
laughed Maud. “I came over here to take care
of two sick friends, and expected nothing but a melancholy
time. Your presence fills me with satisfaction.”
“I am greatly obliged to you, and thankful that I am
// 119.png
.pn +1
able to do something more towards discharging the debt
of gratitude I owe to you for your kindness on a former
occasion. You are fond of situations, and I am again
the central figure in one,” answered Somers, without any
apparent appreciation of the difficulty and danger of his
position. “Would you like to ask me any questions?”
“I cannot stop to question you now; my patients need
my care. You would evade them if I did; besides, this
is Major Riggleston’s affair, not mine,” replied she, with
a mocking laugh.
“And I will take care that this affair don’t go wrong,”
said the major. “Soldiers, secure your prisoners.”
The two men moved towards Somers in the corner.
// 120.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch11
CHAPTER XI.||SHOT IN THE HEAD.
.sp 2
.di t.jpg 50 67 1.1
THE critical moment, when everything depended
upon the wisdom and energy of the next move,
had arrived. As Major Riggleston issued his
order, Somers raised one of his pistols, and, taking hasty
but careful aim at his treacherous companion, fired.
While her accepted suitor was uttering his mandate,
Maud, as if fearing a repetition of the uncomfortable
proceeding at the Hasbrouk house, retreated into the
apartment occupied by her patients. The ball struck the
major in the head, and he fell, with a shock that caused
the rude structure to tremble.
A half-suppressed shriek from the sick room assured
those in the front apartment that Maud was aware active
proceedings had commenced, though she could not have
known who was the first victim in the encounter. The
two soldiers, who had been ordered to arrest the staff
officer, were bold enough to move upon their intended
victim; but they only rushed upon the barrel of a revolver,
pointed by the hand of one skilled in the business,
// 121.png
.pn +1
and collected enough to do his work carefully and effectively.
Again Somers fired, and the foremost of the two soldiers
fell dead upon the floor. He fired a third time, and
the other soldier shrank back with the ball in his right
shoulder. The two men in charge of Captain Barkwood
had been too often in the midst of death and carnage to
be appalled by these exciting events.
“Hold this man!” exclaimed the more decided
of the two, “and I will make short work of that
fellow.”
“Shoot him,” replied the other. “Do it quick.”
He attempted to do it quick; too quick, for he missed
his mark. He fired again, but the smoke impaired his
aim. At this moment Captain Barkwood, conscious that
the time for a demonstration in favor of his friend had
come, with a sharp, nervous movement, freed himself
from the grasp of the rebel in charge of him, and struck
him a tremendous blow in the temple with his bare fist,
which felled him to the floor. Not satisfied with this
deed, he sprang upon the other soldier, who was in the
act of firing upon Somers for the third time. Grasping
him by the shoulders with both hands, he brought his
knee violently into the small of his back, and thus threw
him down. Seizing his pistol, he struck him a heavy
blow on the head with the weapon.
“I surrender,” said the wounded man,—who was the
// 122.png
.pn +1
only one of the four in condition to speak,—as Somers
moved towards him.
The young captain took the sabre from his belt, and
opening the window, tossed it out. All active opposition
had been conquered, but two of the men were only
stunned, and in a short time they would probably be able
to speak and act for themselves.
“Captain Somers, I would hug you if I had time,”
said Barkwood. “What shall we do next?”
“I hardly know,” replied Somers. “If we leave the
house, we may fall into the hands of the first squad of
soldiers we meet. Besides, we have not done our work
yet. We must first look after the lady.”
Somers, stepping over the body of Major Riggleston,
which lay near the door, entered the apartment occupied
by the wounded officers. There was no light there, and
he returned to bring that in the front room. He found
Maud standing in the middle of the room, apparently
paralyzed with terror.
“Miss Hasbrouk, here is another officer who needs
your care, if he is not already past it.”
“What do you mean?” asked she, in husky tones.
“Major Riggleston has fallen.”
She uttered a faint scream. She was so enfeebled by
terror that she seemed not to have the strength to do
anything. She was more at talking than she was at
acting.
// 123.png
.pn +1
“What shall I do?” asked she.
“Come and see,” replied he.
She timidly followed him into the adjoining room, and
gazed with fear and trembling upon the form of the
major.
“Is he—is he—dead?” gasped she.
“I don’t know,” replied Somers, stooping down, and
glancing at the wound on the major’s head. “No, he is
not dead, and probably will not die with that wound.”
“What shall I do? Will you call a surgeon?”
“I think not.”
“We have no time to spare, Captain Somers,” interposed
the regular, with a smile at the simple question of
the frightened Maud.
“We will make our escape. We will go by the grove
to the north of the house—to the north,” said Somers,
with peculiar emphasis.
“To the north,” repeated Barkwood, with the same
emphasis, though he did not understand the strategy of
his companion.
“We need not hurry; the more haste, the less speed
in the business,” replied Somers, as he bent over the
prostrate form of the major again.
This time he took from his body the large, loose coat
which the treacherous rebel had worn, and picked up the
felt hat, adorned with a black feather, which had dropped
from his head.
// 124.png
.pn +1
“He is killed,” said Maud, who was beginning to
recover her self-possession.
“Perhaps he is; but that is his fault, not mine,” replied
Somers, as he led the way out of the door, followed
by the regular. “If either of you attempt to follow us,
or leave the house within half an hour, it will cost you
your lives,” he added, addressing Maud and the wounded
soldier.
“May I not send for a surgeon?” asked she, with a
meekness which ill comported with her former imperious
manner.
“No.”
“But the major will die.”
“I can’t help it.”
“I will not say anything about you, if you will allow
me to send for assistance.”
“Half an hour will make no difference to him,”
answered Somers, as he left the house. “Come with
me,” added he to the regular, when they reached the
open air.
He led the way to the rear of the house, where there
were a number of sheds, and other out-buildings, used
for various farm purposes. One of these he entered,
followed by the regular, who seemed to repose unlimited
confidence in the tact and ability of his young
companion.
“What next, Somers?” asked Barkwood, in a whisper
// 125.png
.pn +1
“Nothing just yet. There will be a tremendous row
round here in the course of ten minutes, or at most half
an hour. All we want just now is a snug place to lie by
in until the tempest blows over.”
“But you are not going to stop here—are you?” demanded
the regular, in a tone which sufficiently expressed
his astonishment at such a policy.
“This is the best place in the world for us. I am not
a strategist, as you are, captain; but I have a fixed principle
for use in cases of this kind, and that is, to stow
myself away in a place where they are least likely to look
for me.”
“Very good; but where is that place?”
“Here, in this house.”
“That’s cool.”
“But it is the best logic in the world. I don’t want
to influence you in your movements, Captain Barkwood;
but I don’t intend to return without the information which
I came out to procure. If you want to return to the
camp, I will tell you how you can manage, though I
think you had better remain with me.”
“I am entirely of your opinion,” whispered the regular,
with a suppressed chuckle. “You are an old head
at this business, and I am as green at it as a two months
baby.”
“As you please, captain. For my own part, I feel tolerably
safe now. I was a fool to trust that Riggleston.”
// 126.png
.pn +1
“He is an infernal villain.”
“Hush!” said Somers, finding his companion was
becoming a little too emphatic for safety. “I must find
a place to stow you away.”
In the back room of the house, which was only a shed
attached to the rear of the building, Somers found a
large closet, which seemed to be a kind of lumber room.
In this he bestowed his companion, and rolled a large
chopping-block up before the door. While he was
engaged in this operation, the door leading from the
kitchen into the shed opened, and an old black woman
rushed out, apparently deeply moved by some circumstance
which Somers had no difficulty in understanding.
She had a light in her hand, which at once revealed to
her the presence of a stranger upon her own peculiar
territory.
“De Lo’d!” exclaimed she, starting back with
alarm.
“Silence, aunty! Don’t speak again,” said Somers,
in a low tone.
“Gracious! Dat’s Massa Riggleston!” added she,
shrinking back.
The scout had put on the great coat and feathered hat
of the major, which seemed to explain the terror of the
woman.
“Where are you going, aunty?”
“For de doctor,” said she; “but if you be de ghost
// 127.png
.pn +1
ob Massa Riggleston, ’taint no use for de doctor, for
de major must be dead.”
“No matter what I am, aunty. Come with me.”
“De Lo’d sabe us!”
“If you behave yourself, and don’t make a noise, I
will not hurt you,” said he, as he led the way out of the
shed.
“Where be I gwine, massa?”
“No matter; keep still.”
A few steps from the door was a small tool-house,
which Somers opened, and ordered the woman to go in.
She tremblingly obeyed, and he closed the door upon her,
with an injunction to keep entirely silent, which she
seemed disposed to obey. Fastening the door upon her,
he returned to the house, satisfied that she would not
further interfere with his plans.
The black woman had left the kitchen door open, and
Somers walked in, with the light in his hand. There
was a fire in the stove, on which there were several
dishes of gruel, and other articles necessary for the sick
room. It was evident that the farmer and his family
had been turned out of the house, for no other persons
appeared to disturb his operations. His long, heavy
boots were not favorable to stealthy movements, and he
retired to the back room to remove them. After satisfying
himself, by a further examination, in regard to the
structure of the house, and the position of the doors and
// 128.png
.pn +1
windows, he extinguished the light, and passed from the
kitchen to the front entry.
The door connecting with the front room, where the
exciting events of the evening had occurred, was open.
Maud, in the deepest distress, was talking to the wounded
soldier. He was unable or unwilling to do anything, and
Maud depended upon the black woman for aid. Somers
concealed himself under the stairs, and waited for further
developments.
He was not compelled to wait long; for presently he
heard footsteps, which indicated the arrival of at least
half a dozen persons.
“It is hardly time for the return of Major Riggleston,”
said one of them.
“We are rather early; but when he comes, he will
bring us the fullest intelligence,” added another, as they
entered the front room.
Then there was a commotion, which was produced by
the discovery of what had taken place in the apartment.
There was nothing but a board partition between Somers
and the interior of the room, and he could distinctly hear
everything that was said. Maud told, in few words,
what had happened in the room; that Major Riggleston
had been shot in the head in his attempt to capture two
prisoners, and that the men who had done the foul deed
had escaped. From what was said it was evident that
one of the officers was a person high in command—a
// 129.png
.pn +1
general of division, if not Stonewall Jackson himself.
The others called him simply “general,” and Somers
could not determine who he was. The officers with him
were probably members of his staff.
The general immediately despatched one of his officers
to institute a strict search for the spies who had done this
terrible work. He regretted that it had not been discovered
before; for the miscreants, as he called them, in
the most complimentary terms, were probably a good
distance from the house by this time.
“I know which way they went, general,” said Maud,
eagerly. “They went to the north of the house.”
“To the north, general,” added the wounded soldier;
for both of them had carefully treasured up this information,
dropped hastily from the mouths of the scouts, for
future use, as Somers intended they should.
“Very well; pursue them towards the north, colonel,”
resumed the general. “But don’t say a word about what
has happened in this house till morning. It will help us
in the search.”
The speaker proceeded to give very careful directions
for the pursuit and the search, to all of which Somers listened
with the deepest interest. The colonel who had
been charged with the duty, departed.
“What do you think of him, doctor?” asked Maud,
revealing to the listener the fact that one of the officers
was a surgeon.
// 130.png
.pn +1
She was sad and depressed, and asked the question
with trembling tones, which betrayed her solicitude for
the wounded major.
“I don’t think he is very badly wounded. The ball
has passed through his head; but worse cases than this
have occurred, and the patients are alive and well to-day,”
replied the surgeon.
The wounded man was taken up and borne to a bed in
the chamber with Maud’s other patients; after which
the soldiers received some attention.
// 131.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch12
CHAPTER XII.||THE COUNCIL OF OFFICERS.
.sp 2
.di s.jpg 50 64 1.1
SOMERS heard all that was said in the front
room, and judged from that, and the sounds
which reached him, what was taking place there.
The two men who were stunned came to their senses,
after a while, and they were sent off with the dead and
the wounded ones; for it appeared that the general
wanted the apartment for a consultation with his officers.
It was expected that Major Riggleston would be present
at this place with fresh information from the Yankee
lines; and the listener congratulated himself that he had
been able to disappoint them in this respect.
The major had chosen the ravine for his passage
through the pickets, and it was now evident that he intended
to resume his work as soon as he had disposed of
his prisoner. The fellow was armed with a pass, and,
Somers well knew, was regarded in the loyal lines as a
major of the —nd Maryland Home Brigade, and could
therefore go where he pleased, even into the very councils
of the general commanding the army of the Potomac.
// 132.png
.pn +1
Somers believed he had made a great discovery. The
rebels always knew precisely when and where the army of
the Potomac were going to move. When McClellan had
actually made up his mind to attack the forces fortified
at Manassas, they suddenly decamped. All his movements
for months were mysteriously communicated to
the enemy, even before the general officers of the loyal
army were informed in regard to them. People wondered,
the press commented severely, and the government
was perplexed.
Captain Somers thought he understood all about it
now, and believed that he had laid out the man who had
done all this mischief. Much as we admire the captain,
our hero, we are compelled to say that he was mistaken.
He had really made no such discovery, and had achieved
no such tremendous result as the killing of the one who
had done this immense injury to the loyal cause, as future
pages in our history will show. But he believed
Major Riggleston, whom he had seen in the staff of the
general commanding, was the man who had conveyed
all this information; he believed he had made this great
discovery, accomplished this big thing; and he took
courage accordingly.
Major Riggleston was not there to speak of what the
Yankees had done, and what they intended to do; but
for all this, the consultation of officers proceeded. Somers
heard them discuss their own position and that of the
// 133.png
.pn +1
enemy; he heard them suggest all manner of possibilities
and probabilities, and how to meet them; but they
did not speak so definitely as he wished they would.
They alluded to a line of field-works, which the listener
was unable to locate.
Somers was coiled up behind a chest of drawers, and
did not concern himself at all about his personal safety.
He was too deeply interested in the labors of the council
to think of himself. He had a tolerably good idea of
the rebel plans, and wondered whether the man who was
called “general” was really Stonewall Jackson. He
could not reach a satisfactory conclusion on this point,
but he was strongly in favor of the supposition.
“It is one o’clock, and we must get a little sleep,”
said the mysterious general, as Somers heard the rattling
of chairs when they rose from the table.
“Some of us will probably make a long sleep of it
to-morrow,” added one of the officers.
“Don’t trifle with a matter so serious,” continued the
general, solemnly. “Ah, here is the colonel,” he added,
as the door opened, and two or three persons entered the
house. “What news do you bring? Have you captured
those Yankees?”
“I have neither captured them nor heard a word of
them. Not a soul within our lines knows anything
about them,” replied the colonel, in tones of disgust and
mortification.
// 134.png
.pn +1
“That’s singular. Our sentinels are sleepy; they
must be stirred up. The miscreants had not been gone
from this house more than twenty minutes when we arrived,
according to the statement of the lady.”
“Nothing was ever more thoroughly done than the
search we made; but I am positive they have got
through.”
“Perhaps not,” suggested the general.
“I have searched every house, grove, and clump of
trees; every hole, ditch, and cornfield within two miles
of this spot. I am satisfied, but I believe there are
traitors within our camp. They could not have got
through without help from our side of the line.”
“We will look into that matter at the first opportunity,”
replied the general, with a long gape.
They left the house in a body, and all was silent
within, except the step of Maud Hasbrouk, as she attended
to the wants of the sufferers in her care. Somers
had done all he could do in this place, and he was
satisfied that the search for himself and Captain Barkwood
had been abandoned. He crawled out of the
corner in which he had been coiled away for over two
hours, intent upon the great duty which was still in a
measure unperformed. He had some doubts whether
his friend in the closet had been patient under the long
delay; and he was in haste to relieve him from the suspense
and discomfort of his situation.
// 135.png
.pn +1
There was no one in the house but Maud and her
three patients. There was, therefore, nothing to fear,
and he crept towards the door leading from the entry
into the kitchen. He softly opened it, and was stealthily
making his way towards the shed, when the door of the
front room was thrown wide open, and Maud, apparently
in a great hurry, stepped into the kitchen. She had a
bowl in her hand, and was intent upon the object which
had brought her there, so that she did not at first see
Somers, who stood in the middle of the floor.
When she discovered him she screamed, and started
back in astonishment and terror, dropping the dish;
but she still held the light which she had brought from
the sick room. Somers regarded the meeting as a very
unfortunate occurrence, and wished he had been prudent
enough to go out at the front door; but it was too late
to indulge in vain regrets, and the situation was sufficiently
perilous to induce him to resort at once to
decisive measures, for the tongue of the woman was
hardly less dangerous than a squad of rebel cavalry.
“Who are you?” asked the lady, when she had recovered
herself sufficiently to speak.
“It matters not who I am,” replied Somers, disguising
his voice as much as he could.
“Captain Somers!” exclaimed she, shrinking back
still farther.
“I am sorry, for your sake, that you have recognized
// 136.png
.pn +1
me,” replied he, dropping the collar of his coat, which
he had drawn up over his face. “Miss Hasbrouk, your
discovery endangers my life; I am compelled either to
shoot you, or—”
“To shoot me!” exclaimed she, with horror.
“What is the matter, Maud?” said a voice from the
front room, which was followed by the appearance of
Major Riggleston, whose head was tied up with bandages,
as the surgeon had dressed it.
“It is Captain Somers,” said she, in trembling tones.
“It seems that I did not fully do my work,” added
Somers, taking a pistol from his belt.
“Don’t fire, Somers, don’t,” said the major, in tones
so feeble and piteous that Somers could not help being
moved by them. “You have nearly killed me now, and
you ought to be satisfied.”
“It is your life or mine, Major Riggleston, and I
have no time to argue the matter. In five minutes
more you will have the whole Confederate army at my
heels. I run no risks with a villain like you,” replied
Somers.
“Don’t fire!” begged Maud; “I will do anything
you desire, if you will spare me.”
It was something to see a brawling rebel woman, the
most pestilent and inveterate enemy the government had
in the contest, in a pleading posture. It was something
to expose the ridiculous pretensions of one of that army
// 137.png
.pn +1
of female rebels, fiercer and more vindictive than the
men, and to demonstrate that she had none of the courage
of which she had boasted. Maud regretted that her sex
compelled her to be a non-combatant; it was doubtful
whether she would ever again regret it.
“I wish not to take the life of either of you; but my
own safety compels me to use strong measures,” said
Somers, as he cocked his pistol.
“For mercy’s sake, don’t fire!” gasped Maud.
“Don’t kill me, Somers; I will pledge you my word
and honor not to expose you,” added the major.
“What are your word and honor good for, after what
has happened this night?” sneered Somers.
“I will give you all the information you require, if
you will spare my life.”
“That would not save my life.”
“I will give you the countersign.”
“That’s something towards it.”
The wretch gave him the word, and while he received
it, he despised the major more than ever before. He
was now a traitor to both sides; but all this, and more,
would he give in exchange for his life. Somers then
questioned him in regard to the position of various bodies
of rebel troops, and the miscreant answered him promptly,
and, as it was afterwards shown, correctly.
“You know me now, Major Riggleston and Miss Hasbrouk;
and you must understand that I go about with
// 138.png
.pn +1
my life in my hand. I am not to be trifled with. I will
not take your life yet.”
“I will swear never to reveal your presence to a living
soul,” exclaimed the major.
“You need not; you have given me better security
than your oath that you will not expose me. If I am
taken, I shall be taken with the countersign in my keeping.
I had it from you. If you have given me the
wrong word, I shall be turned back.”
“I have given you the right word,” interposed the
major.
“If I am turned back, I shall come here first, and
complete my work,” added Somers, sternly.
“You shall have my pass.”
“I have it already. I have not yet exhausted all my
resources,” said the scout, producing the two passes,
which he had neglected to return in the ravine.
He opened them; but though the wounded major was
surprised, he was too weak and broken in spirits to ask
any questions, or even to care where his late companion
had procured them.
“All I ask of you, Major Riggleston, and of you,
Miss Hasbrouk, is to keep still,” continued Somers.
“I will,” replied Maud, eagerly.
“And I will, Captain Somers. What I have done
here to save my life has ruined me. I shall never be
seen in the service again.”
// 139.png
.pn +1
“I think you are coming to your senses, major.”
“May I ask you to keep quiet in regard to what I
have done? for you know the penalty of that which I
could not have done if I had not stood on the brink of
the open grave.”
“That will depend on your own conduct. Return to
your bed; and if you are treacherous, you will suffer
for it.”
“I may die,” groaned the major, who had sunk into a
chair, for he believed his wound was much worse than
it really was.
Perhaps some twinges of remorse had induced him to
aid Somers in his mission more than he otherwise would;
he was not a man of nerve, or a man of much nobility
of purpose, and his severe wound had worked a great
change in his moral and mental organization. The fear
of death had deprived him of what little manliness he
possessed, and under the pressure of that terror, he had
sunk lower down in the scale of humanity than it would
have been possible for him under any other circumstances.
He had absolutely betrayed the cause for which
he professed so earnest and sincere a devotion. His
boasted honor was a delusion. He was an exception,
even in the ranks of southern heroes.
Somers was satisfied with what was promised, and
with what had already been performed. He restored his
pistol to his belt, and hastened to the back room, where
// 140.png
.pn +1
Captain Barkwood was no doubt anxiously waiting to
hear from him.
“Come out, captain,” said he, as he threw open the
door.
“Is that you, Somers?” replied the regular, as he
stepped from his narrow quarters. “I had given you up
for lost, and was just thinking of engaging in a little
enterprise of my own. Where have you been?”
Somers, as briefly as possible, explained the events
that had transpired during his absence, to which the
regular listened with wonder and admiration. It was
now two o’clock in the morning, and there was much
still to be done before they could return to the camp.
Somers, still wearing the coat and feathered hat of Major
Riggleston, left the back room, followed by Barkwood,
and for three hours wandered about the camps of the
rebels. They were often challenged; but Somers gave
his name as Major Riggleston, and produced the pass
when called upon, or gave the countersign. The day
was breaking in the east when they finished the examination.
// 141.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch13
CHAPTER XIII.||THE BATTLE OF ANTIETAM.
.sp 2
.di w.jpg 70 55 1.5
“WE have been detained a long time,” said
Somers, when they reached the ravine
through which it was necessary to pass on
their return; for it was not likely that the rebel pickets
would permit even the ubiquitous Major Riggleston to
go over to the Yankees.
“Too long, too long,” replied the regular, rather nervously
for him. “I am afraid we are too late to be of
much service.”
“The general grinds up his information rapidly. If
we see him before be commences the action, we shall be
all right.”
Slowly and carefully they worked their way through
the ravine, for they felt that they were treasure-houses
of information, which must not be needlessly exposed to
destruction; and a little hurrying not only imperilled
their own lives, but endangered the good cause to which
both of the scouts were devoted. With all the haste
which the circumstances would permit, it was broad
// 142.png
.pn +1
daylight when they emerged from the ravine within the
Union lines.
They hurried to headquarters. Though no drums beat
or bugles sounded, the note of preparation had passed
silently along the lines. The orders of the general had
been fully and carefully executed, and brigades and divisions
were in column, ready for the advance. “Fighting
Joe” and his staff were already in the saddle; and
half a mile off, on a little eminence, Somers discovered
the general on his white steed. Alick had groomed his
horse and saddled him, though with many fears that his
master would never return to use him again.
As Somers approached, the faithful fellow saw him,
and led up the horse. He was overjoyed to see him
once more, and made a beautiful exhibition of ivory on
this interesting occasion. The young staff officer, nearly
exhausted after the perils and labors of the night, filled
his haversack with “hard tack,” and leaped into the
saddle. There was not a moment to be lost, and he
dashed away towards the spot where the general was
busily employed in making his preparations for the
attack.
The excitement of the moment enabled him to triumph
over the bodily fatigue which had weighed him down,
and he urged on the noble animal he rode to his utmost
speed. The horse seemed to participate in the interest
and excitement of the occasion, and galloped as though
// 143.png
.pn +1
he was conscious of the importance of his master’s mission.
As he approached the spot where the general and
his staff stood, Somers reined in his steed, and nearly
threw him back upon his haunches, when he raised his
sword to give his commander the usual salute. It was
a proud, a triumphant moment for him; and the gallant
steed behaved as though it was his duty to make the
utmost display as he introduced his rider to the general.
“Captain Somers!” exclaimed the general. “I gave
you up this morning when I learned that you had not
been heard from.”
“I have the honor to report that I have fully performed
the duty entrusted to me,” replied Somers, employing
rather more formality than usual in his address.
The scout gave his information, the most important
parts of which were the fact that Stonewall Jackson’s
troops were concentrated on a fortified line, and that
General Lee had massed his entire force behind the
crests of the hill, in readiness for the great battle, which
was apparently to decide the fate of the nation.
Then commenced that greatest and most momentous
battle of the series of engagements in Maryland, which
checked the invasion, and drove the rebels from the
north to the south side of the Potomac. It was a fearful
strife, a most determined battle, fought with a bravery,
on both sides, bordering upon desperation. The event
was to involve a mighty issue—no less than the fate of
// 144.png
.pn +1
a great nation; for the moral effect of a victory by the
rebels on the soil of the North would be disastrous, if not
fatal, to the loyal cause, while it would open to the half
starved and impoverished Confederacy the vast storehouses
of wealth of the free North.
Those who fought on that day, from the skilful generals,
who directed the operations, to the humblest private,
who cheerfully and zealously obeyed the orders of
his superiors in the midst of the terrible carnage of the
battle-field, understood and appreciated the issues of that
day. The sons of the republic will gratefully remember
them all, and none with a more lively sense of obligation
than “Fighting Joe,” whose skill and judgment, no less
than his heroic bravery, brought victory out of the stubborn
fight entrusted to him, upon which, more than upon
the operations of any other portion of the line, the fate
of the day rested. He was face to face with Stonewall
Jackson, the most vigorous and determined leader of the
Confederacy, the pet of the rebels, and the hope of the
commanding general of the invading hordes. He was
pitted against this man, who was the executive of Lee’s
brain, without whom Lee’s strategy lost its power.
The battle on the right was fought and won, but not
till mighty sacrifices had been made of precious life. It
was one of the most obstinate conflicts of the war; and
for hours the issue swung back and forth, and it was
doubtful upon which side it would rest. The first corps
// 145.png
.pn +1
went forward and were driven back in places; divisions
were reduced to brigades, and brigades to regiments, before
the terrible fire of the rebels; and nothing but the
indomitable will and the admirable skill of the general
saved the day. Every weak point in the line was
strengthened, every advantage was used, and every disadvantage
counterbalanced, till a splendid triumph was
achieved.
Stonewall Jackson was ably and prudently supported
by General Lee; troops from other portions of the line
were sent to this imperilled position, in a vain attempt
to save the failing fortunes of the day. Fresh troops
were from time to time hurled against the hard-pressed
brigades of the first corps, which were forced back, but
only to be again strengthened and urged on by the masterly
genius of “Fighting Joe,” until all that had been
lost was retrieved. Later in the day, when the attack
was made by the left and centre, the rebel line had been
weakened by the large drafts required to meet the waste
on the right, and of course the resistance was correspondingly
diminished. With less stubborn and skilful
fighting than that done on the right, the assaults of
Burnside on the left, and of French and Richardson in
the centre, could hardly have been successful.
The noble and gallant Burnside won immortal honors
on that terrific day. He fought against every disadvantage,
which he bravely and skilfully overcame. The
// 146.png
.pn +1
result of the battle was less decisive than had been
hoped and expected from the splendid fighting and the
brilliant partial results achieved. The rebel army was
severely handled; its resources and its prestige tremendously
reduced; and the object of the campaign was
actually accomplished; but whether the results of the
several successful operations on the field were prudently
agglomerated, whether the greatest practicable use was
made of the victory, we must leave the historian to
decide.
While Captain Somers was making his report, Captain
Barkwood arrived, and was congratulated upon his
safety and success. As an engineer he gave his opinion,
and was able to supply information which Somers had
not the scientific skill to deduce from what he had seen.
The order was given to advance. The eye of the general
was everywhere, even while his mind was occupied
with the details furnished by the scouts. He sent members
of his staff in every direction. He held the vast
and complicated mechanism of his corps at his fingers’
ends. He knew where every brigade and every battery
of his force was at that moment, and where it was to be
an hour hence. He moved them all about, as a skilful
weaver tosses the many shuttles, each with a different
colored thread, through the fabric before him. He was
weaving history on a gigantic scale.
Somers sat upon his restless horse, eating the “hard
// 147.png
.pn +1
tack” he had brought, but ready to dash away upon any
mission on which he might be sent, when an aid from
the general commanding rode up and delivered an order
to the commander of the corps. Somers did not particularly
notice him at first, but as the staff officer turned,
his teeth suddenly suspended their useful and interesting
occupation, leaving his mouth half open, where it remained
in the condition to express the wonder and
astonishment which the presence of the officer excited.
“Major Riggleston!” exclaimed he, almost choking
himself with the unmasticated block of “hard tack” in
his mouth.
“Captain Somers, good morning,” replied the major,
with a pleasant and friendly smile.
“Is it possible?” stammered Somers.
“What possible?” demanded Riggleston.
“That you are here,” replied the bewildered Somers,
gazing at the major attentively, and surveying him from
head to foot.
It was the same new and bright uniform which the
major had worn when they met on previous occasions on
the road; it was not the same which he had worn in the
rebel lines, or at the Hasbrouk mansion; but the face
was the same, the whiskers and mustache were the
same in cut and color; and Somers, in spite of the
doubt which at first assailed him, was even now ready
to make oath that he was the same man he had shot in
the head the preceding evening.
// 148.png
.pn +1
“Why shouldn’t I be here, my dear fellow?” laughed
the major. “We are going to have hot work about here
to-day.”
“How is your head, major?” demanded Somers, who
could think of nothing at this moment but the amazing
fact that he again stood in the presence of Major Riggleston.
“Cool and clear, I hope,” replied the major.
“How is your wound?”
“What wound?”
“Didn’t you receive a wound in the head last evening?”
“Upon my word I did not, that I am aware of.”
“Will you excuse me, Major Riggleston, if I ask you
to remove your hat for a moment?” said Somers, as he
moved his horse up to the side of the major’s.
“Certainly; with pleasure,” replied the staff officer,
as he took off his hat.
There was no bandage, nor any appearance of a wound.
Somers was more bewildered than ever, and was disposed
to do what heroes in the romances do when anything
looks astonishingly mysterious—ascribe the delusion
to a dream. But he was tired enough from the
exertions of the night to convince him that all which had
occurred within the rebel lines was a reality.
“Will you allow me to examine your head?” asked
he, utterly unable to see through the dark problem.
// 149.png
.pn +1
“I will do even that with pleasure, Captain Somers;
though I think you are a little beside yourself,” laughed
the major.
Somers reached forward, and put his hand on the part
of the major’s head where the pistol ball had struck
him; but there was not the slightest abrasion of the
skin; in a word, the head was in good order and condition,
and it was absolutely certain that no bullet had
passed through his skull.
“I am satisfied, Major Riggleston,” replied Somers,
though he was still in a bewildered state of mind. “I
owe you an apology for the rude treatment to which I
subjected you on a former occasion. You are not the
man I took you to be; and I hope you will pardon
my rough speech and unfriendly manners.”
“Cheerfully, Captain Somers. Here is my hand,”
replied the major, evidently as much pleased to forgive
as the scout was to be forgiven.
“I am satisfied now.”
“But I am not,” responded the major.
“Last night, about eleven o’clock, I shot you through
the head,” said Somers, facetiously.
“Me!”
“Yes, you!”
“Well, perhaps you did; but I did not feel it.”
“I was willing, a moment ago, to give my affidavit
that you were the person. I was mistaken this time, as
// 150.png
.pn +1
I was yesterday when I accused you of being a traitor.
By the way, Major Riggleston,” added Somers, as he
took from his pocket the two passes he had received
from the mysterious personage in the ravine, and selecting
the Union one, handed it to his companion, “is
this document yours?”
“It is,” replied the major, glancing at the pass.
“Where did you get this?”
“Is this yours?” continued Somers, handing him the
other pass.
“No; this is a rebel pass,” answered the major. “I
never saw it before, and have no occasion for a paper
of this description. Where did you get the other?”
“You gave it to me last night,” laughed Somers.
“I’m sure I did not.”
“Captain Somers,” called the general; and the interview
was abruptly terminated.
// 151.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch14
CHAPTER XIV.||THE BATTLE ON THE RIGHT.
.sp 2
.di t.jpg 50 67 1.1
THE Pennsylvania Reserves, commanded by General
Meade, occupied the centre of the line of
the first corps. They were a noble body of
troops, and had done some of the most splendid fighting
of the war on the Peninsula, and in the bloody but indecisive
battles of Pope’s campaign. Captain Somers, as
if in compliment to him for his zeal and his energy, was
sent to bear the order for this division to advance.
The Reserves moved forward with a hearty, cheerful
zeal; and presently the thunder of their artillery, and
the rattling volleys of musketry, proclaimed the commencement
of the conflict. A portion of Stonewall
Jackson’s command was before them—men who always
fought with the energy of desperation. They were a
worthy foe, and worthily were they met; but the rebels
had the advantage. Their renowned leader had chosen
their position, and the brave Pennsylvanians suffered
terribly.
“Fighting Joe,” on his white charger, rode up to the
// 152.png
.pn +1
position in the front of the battle. He was calm and
unmoved in the shower of bullets, and the troops were
gladdened and encouraged by his presence. They were
strong without him; they were stronger with him. He
gave off his orders with the utmost coolness, and spoke
words of fire, which burned in the souls of the men. He
was there,—the idol of the army,—and there was not a
man who would not have been ashamed to skulk with
this noble example before him. The mighty will of the
general was communicated to the nerves and the muscles
of his soldiers, and he multiplied himself thousands of
times in the persons of his devoted followers.
Still they moved on, Meade’s division, supported by
that of Ricketts, nearer to the woods where the rebels
were concentrated; and still they poured in the deadly
volleys, until the resistance before them was sensibly
diminished.
“Forward!” was the word that rang along the line;
and the Reserves, supported by two of Ricketts’s brigades,
rushed on with cheers, and entered the oak grove. The
rebels were falling back before them, and they rushed
through the woods, across the open field on the other
side, and still onward to the woods beyond the field. But
here they were thrown upon bodies of fresh troops,
hurried up to meet them. From the dark shadows of
the wood came showers of bullets from a sheet of flaming
fire. The grove was packed with rebels; the Reserves
// 153.png
.pn +1
seemed to melt away like frost before the sunlight, in
that galling fire. They closed up their shattered lines,
and fell doggedly back, pouring in volley after volley
upon the dense masses.
The fortunes of the day seemed suddenly to have been
reversed; what had been victory a moment before, now
became defeat. Stonewall Jackson’s entire line was
advancing with those fiendish yells which distinguish the
rebel onslaught. It was a critical moment in the fortunes
of the day; but the genius of the man who held the
reins in his hands was equal to the occasion. He was
not a mile in the rear; he was in the front, where he
could see the indications of threatening disaster; where
he could promptly meet and counteract the elements of
defeat which had begun to manifest themselves.
“Captain Somers,” said he, in his calm but earnest
tones.
Somers spurred forward his horse, and saluting the
general, stood in readiness for his commands.
“Tell General Ricketts to send me his best brigade
instantly.”
It rained shot and shell on the hill-side as Somers
dashed away to execute the order. Presently the “best
brigade,” consisting of the twelfth and thirteenth Massachusetts,
the ninth New York, and the eleventh Pennsylvania,
under the command of General Hartsuff,
double-quicked down the hill, amid the falling shot and
// 154.png
.pn +1
bursting shell, which crashed fearfully through the trees,
and tore up the earth in their mad flight. They were
veteran troops, commanded by a veteran soldier of skill
and bravery. They passed the general on their march,
and his eye lighted up with satisfaction as he saw the
spirit which they manifested.
“I think they will hold the ground,” said he, as General
Hartsuff, passing the shattered lines of the Reserves,
drew up his brigade on the summit of a hill between
them and the exultant foe.
They fired in volleys at first, and then at will; but
they did their work most heroically. None flinched;
none fled. The rebels pushed forward their flushed
troops; but these gallant fellows stormed them with bullets,
and, assisted by the brigades of Gibbons and
Patrick, repelled the assault. Jackson’s line suffered
severely, and a large number of field officers were killed
in vain attempts to rally them. The rebels fell back
again to the woods from which they had come, and again
this part of the line was safe. There had been a terrible
loss in the gallant brigade which held the brow of the
hill, and General Hartsuff was severely wounded early
in the action.
The general of the corps had saved his line in this
place—had brought a success out of a reverse; but his
brain was still active. Batteries rushed like a train of
meteors over the field, obedient to his ready thought.
// 155.png
.pn +1
Messages of varied import came to him from division
commanders. Ricketts was hard pressed—could barely
hold his position; and a portion of Mansfield’s corps was
sent to his aid. The venerable soldier went with two of
his brigades; but he was mortally wounded, and was
borne to the rear.
“Go to that regiment on the right, Captain Somers,
and tell the colonel not to let his men break on any
account,” said the general.
Somers dashed away, and stood before broken fragments
of a regiment, with hardly a commissioned officer
left in the line. They were noble and brave fellows, and
they were yielding only when there seemed to be no one
left to lead them. They were giving way, and making a
gap in the line, through which the desperate rebels could
burst, and overwhelm the column.
The staff officer saw at a glance the state of the case.
He blamed not the men; it was the fault of the cowardly
officer upon whom the command had devolved. He was
weak and inefficient; at least he was not man enough for
such a trying emergency.
“The general desires to hold this line, at all hazards,”
said Somers, saluting the officer. “Where is the general
of this brigade?”
“He has got his hands full yonder,” replied the
captain in command of the regiment.
“You must hold this position without fail.”
// 156.png
.pn +1
“Can’t hold it.”
“Yes, you can!” exclaimed Somers, fiercely.
“I can’t hold it any longer.”
“Forward, my brave boys. The day is ours if we
stand up to it a little while longer!” shouted he to the
hard-pressed troops, whose thin ranks were rapidly
becoming thinner under the fierce fire to which they were
subjected. “Follow me!” he added, in clarion tones,
as he swung his sword in the air.
A faint cheer burst from the ranks of the regiment,
showing that they had not wholly lost their spirit. They
clutched their muskets tighter, and looked sternly towards
the rebel line.
“Don’t spoil your record for this day, my gallant fellows,”
continued Somers. “You have done gloriously;
stick to it to the end.”
“Who are you?” said a gruff fellow in the ranks.
“Captain Somers, of the general’s staff. He expects
you to hold this line. He sent me down to you. Shall
I tell him you are a pack of cowards? Or shall I tell
him you have done your duty, and been cut to pieces in
the place where he put you?”
“You bet!” added the gruff fellow. “Come, boys!”
“Follow me!” shouted Somers, as he urged his foaming
steed through the ranks, and waved his sword over
his head.
“He’s the chap! Go in, boys,” cried one of the men,
// 157.png
.pn +1
as the ranks closed up, and they followed the intrepid
staff officer back to the position from which they had
retreated.
The rebels had seen the break, and were swift to take
advantage of it. They rushed forward, whooping like
savages; but the fragmentary regiment now stood like a
wall of iron, and poured a volley into the advancing
horde, before which they quailed, and then retreated.
“Bravo! my noble fellows. ‘Fighting Joe’ is looking
at you, and he shall know all about it.”
“Hurrah!” shouted the brave men, who had gathered
new life and hope from the inspiring words of the young
staff officer.
“You will stand firm—won’t you?” demanded
Somers.
“Hurrah!” yelled the reorganized, revivified little
force, so heartily that Somers fell back from the front to
return to his position at the side of the general.
“Captain Somers!” said a familiar voice, almost in a
yell. “Somers, by all that is grand and beautiful!”
Somers turned, and saw a man approaching him from
the ranks of an adjoining regiment. He was dressed in
the uniform of an officer, but he had a musket in his
hand. He was begrimed with smoke, and his cheek was
blackened by close contact with the piece in his hand.
“Major de Banyan!” replied Somers, as his old friend
// 158.png
.pn +1
rushed up to his side, and seized his hand. “What are
you doing here?”
“I happened up here on business, and I went in as a
volunteer, on my own hook,” replied De Banyan, still
shaking the hand of the staff officer, though the bullets
were whistling, and the shot and shell were roaring
around him.
“That’s like you. Have you no position?”
“I am a private, just now.”
“By order of the general commanding the first corps,
I place you in command of this broken regiment,” said
Somers, not doubting that he could soon procure a confirmation
of his deed.
“Good! that reminds me—”
“No, it don’t; no what-you-call-ems,” laughed Somers.
“You are right, Somers. I have hardly told a story
since we parted.”
At this moment the brigadier general rode up, and
Somers referred the matter of the command to him.
When he learned what had happened, he installed Major
de Banyan in the temporary charge of the regiment.
Somers said a few words to the boys, to reconcile them
to their new commander. He told them who and what
De Banyan was; the major stepped in front of them, and
went to work with his usual skill and bravery. Somers
left his friend, with a promise to see him again as soon
as possible, and rode back to the general.
// 159.png
.pn +1
There was a certain piece of woods on the right which
the general regarded as the key to the position, and
which he had determined to take and to hold. He was
in the act of riding forward for the purpose of examining
this point in person, as he did on all important occasions.
Somers reported to him just as he was leaving the front
of the most advanced line of troops. He continued his
bold reconnaissance till he reached the top of the hill,
where he dismounted, and went forward on foot. He
coolly and carefully surveyed the ground, returned to his
horse, and remounted.
The storm of musket balls from the point of woods
was kept up all this time with the most determined vigor.
The erect, manly form of “Fighting Joe” had been
conspicuous on the field all the morning, and the rebels
had fired at him individually hundreds of times; but he
seemed to have a charmed life. He had been spared to
complete the work he had begun, and which he had so
ably and successfully carried forward.
As he mounted his horse he sent Somers off on a mission
to the batteries of artillery planted on the ridge
behind him. It was in the midst of one of the hottest
fires of the day. Three men dropped near the general.
He turned and started for another part of the field; but
he had hardly advanced a pace before he was struck in
the foot by a rifle ball.
“You are wounded, general,” said Somers, returning
to the spot.
// 160.png
.pn +1
“Carry the order I gave you, Captain Somers,”
replied he, with an expression of pain on his noble
features.
Somers galloped off to execute his mission.
The general still sat his horse, and gave directions for
the capture and holding of the point he had examined at
the peril of his precious life. The surgeon advised him
to leave the field, but he refused to do so. He swayed
backward and forward, reeling from faintness in his
saddle. Still he looked about him, to carry out the purpose
which filled his mind.
“There’s a regiment on the right of us. Order it
forward! Crawford and Gordon are coming up. Tell
them to take those woods, and hold them; and it is our
fight!” said he, feebly, but with emphasis.
He fainted, but partially recovered, and rode slowly
and reluctantly to the rear, after he had sent word to
General Sumner that he was wounded.
// 161.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch15
CHAPTER XV.||AFTER THE BATTLE.
.sp 2
.di g.jpg 50 65 1.1
GENERAL SUMNER was close at hand with his
corps. He saw the wounded commander, spoke
to him, and passed on to complete the work
which had been so far accomplished, apparently, that it
only remained to hold what had already been gained.
“Fighting Joe” had virtually contended with the
whole rebel army, for the attack on the left and in the
centre was delayed for hours after the victory on the
right had been won. He had done his part in the day’s
work nobly and successfully; and there his responsibility
for the results of the battle terminated.
Somers went to the rear with his wounded general,
but, when assured that the injury, though very severe,
was not dangerous, and that he could be of no service to
him, returned to the field, resolved to act as a volunteer.
There was heavy fighting in the woods, where Crawford
and Gordon were executing the last order of the commander
of the first corps. The rebels, by the delay in
the Union attack on the left and centre, were enabled to
// 162.png
.pn +1
send forward fresh troops; and the combat deepened
until the woods blazed with fire.
The young staff officer rushed in, and hastily reported
to General Crawford as a volunteer. He was cordially
thanked, his services accepted, and he was directed to
use his own judgment. There were plenty of exhausted
regiments vainly struggling to roll back the tide of defeat
which was setting fiercely against them. Hundreds of
gallant officers lay dead and wounded upon the ground,
and there was abundance of work for any brave leader
who had the nerve to do it.
Somers attempted to rally the broken ranks, and close
up the wide gaps which had been made by the fearful
carnage; but Crawford was forced back, and what had
been gained on the front was lost. At this crisis General
Franklin came up with fresh troops, and the ground
which had been lost was regained, not to be again
abandoned.
The excitement was over, and Somers began to think
that he had a body as well as a spirit. He was
thoroughly exhausted when he left the field of his last
labor, and rode over to the point where he had left
Major de Banyan.
“What’s the matter, my dear boy?” demanded the
major, as he rode up to the begrimed soldier. “Are
you wounded?”
“No,” replied Somers, languidly; but he hardly
knew what did ail him.
// 163.png
.pn +1
“You are as pale as death. Are you sure you are
not wounded?” asked the major, tenderly and anxiously.
“I don’t think I am.”
“Dismount, and let me overhaul you. I’m sure you
are in a bad condition,” continued the veteran, as he
took the hand of the staff officer.
“I don’t feel very well,” added Somers.
Things began to look very shaky before him; he felt
a deadly nausea; and before he could get off his horse,
he sank fainting into the arms of his friend. The major
took him from his saddle and laid him on the ground.
He was alarmed, and tore open his coat to examine the
vital parts of his body; but there was no wound, or
even a spot of blood to indicate one. He procured a
canteen of water, sprinkled his face, and rubbed his
temples with his hands.
Captain Somers had only fainted from exhaustion consequent
upon the severe trials of the preceding night,
and the excitement and fatigue he had undergone during
the battle. The skilful attentions of De Banyan soon
restored him to consciousness; but he was as weak and
feeble as an infant. He had eaten only one of the biscuits
he had taken in the morning, and had performed
his trying duties on an empty stomach. His health,
already shattered, was not equal to the fatigues he had
been called upon to endure.
“There is nothing further for you or me to do here.
// 164.png
.pn +1
We have won the field, and if the rest of the line does
its work we shall have the day,” said De Banyan.
“Now we will go and have you taken care of.”
“I am willing, for I can’t stand this any longer,”
replied Somers, feebly.
The major helped him on his horse again, and walked
by his side, as they slowly made their way to the rear.
Every house in the vicinity of the battle-field was filled
with wounded soldiers, and there was no spot where
De Banyan could find a resting-place for his patient;
but he obtained some refreshment for him, which in a
measure restored his strength.
“I’m afraid you are going to be sick, Somers,” said
the major, anxiously, as he gazed upon the pale face of
his friend.
“I feel so myself.”
“I am bound to see you in a comfortable place. Do
you know of one?”
“The farther we go from this vicinity, the more likely
we shall be to find one. I must report myself at headquarters
first.”
“Right; and you will find your servant there.”
They went to the place where the headquarters had
been located, but the wounded general had been conveyed
to Centreville. Somers, however, reported himself
to the chief of staff, and found Alick.
“Major de Banyan, as sure as you was born!” exclaimed
the servant.
// 165.png
.pn +1
“I’m glad to see you, Alick,” returned the major.
“Your master is sick, and we must look out for him.”
“Yes, sar,” replied the faithful fellow, who proceeded
at once to saddle the extra horse.
As yet nothing had been or could be learned of the
result of the battle; and the little party moved off in
search of accommodations for the sick officer. De Banyan
declared that he must get away from the terrible
scenes of death and mutilation in the neighborhood of
the battle-field. He was physician enough to understand
that the nerves of his patient were much shattered, and
that he needed absolute quiet.
“I know a house, which I think must be deserted,”
said Somers; “but it is eight or ten miles off.”
“So much the better, if you can manage to get there,”
replied De Banyan, who was mounted on Somers’s spare
horse, while Alick walked in the rear.
“I should not be very welcome there.”
“No matter for that. I will take possession of the
place in the name of the United States of America.
After the battle of Magenta—there was a quiet time, I
suppose,” laughed the major. “Where is the place you
speak of?”
“It is the Hasbrouk mansion.” And as they rode
slowly along, Somers told his companion of the exciting
events which had occurred there, and of those which
had followed it since his arrival in Maryland.
// 166.png
.pn +1
In return De Banyan related the incidents which had
happened in the —th Massachusetts, of which Somers
was still an officer; of its march from the Peninsula,
and its terrible baptism of blood at Groveton, where
Captain Benson had fallen mortally wounded; and other
red fields in which the regiments had been reduced to a
mere skeleton. There were a thousand things for each
to tell, and Somers almost forgot his weakness in the
interest he felt in the history of his company and his
regiment.
“But, Somers, how is that pretty young lady who
used to knit stockings?” asked the major.
“She is well; I saw her the day I left Boston. I
have that same pair of socks on my feet now. I put
them on yesterday, when we went forward.”
“Well, but how do you get on?”
“Get on?”
“Bah! You know what I mean.”
“I’m sure I don’t,” replied Somers, faintly, though a
soft blush colored his pale cheek.
“You are courting, of course.”
“That’s nonsense.”
“I know it’s nonsense; but young fellows like you
are given to such folly.”
“I’m not.”
“Pooh!”
“She’s my friend, and I am hers.”
// 167.png
.pn +1
“Of course you are.”
“Her father is a rich merchant, and I am nothing but
a poor boy. I have no idea of any such thing as you
speak of.”
“Haven’t you, indeed? Let me tell you, Somers, if
she was the daughter of the President of the United
States, she isn’t any too good for you; and if she’s offish
on that score, I should like the privilege of telling her
so,” added the major, with no little spirit.
“That’s nonsense, major.”
“If Miss — What’s her name, Somers?”
“Lilian Ashford.”
“That’s an amazing pretty name, Somers. If she’s
too good to marry a brigadier general, and such a brigadier
general as—”
“I’m not a brigadier.”
“But you will be before the war is over.”
“I shall not; you are absurd, major.”
“Perhaps I am.”
“I don’t feel now as though I should be anything
much longer.”
“Don’t give it up, my boy; you will be as good
as new in a week or two.”
“I promised to write to Lilian.”
“Good! Do it, then.”
“I have no hopes in that quarter. We are only
friends. I like her very well, but we don’t talk of anything
but those socks.”
// 168.png
.pn +1
“I say, Somers, when you are a brigadier, and have
made your fortune, you will want a coat of arms. Let
me suggest one.”
“A coat of arms!” laughed Somers.
“Certainly; you will want one. All great men have
one.”
“And you would put a pair of socks on it?”
“Certainly; that’s the idea. But where are we going,
Somers?”
“To the Hasbrouk mansion; and we are nearly
there,” replied the sick man.
Somers had chosen this place on account of its retired
situation, and because he could think of no other suitable
house to be sick in. In spite of his cheerful nature, he
had some dismal forebodings in regard to the future.
Nothing but the inspiration of his lively companion’s
presence kept him from sinking under the pain and
weakness which assailed him. On the road, by the
prudent counsels of his friend, he had stopped several
times to rest and refresh himself. He had never felt so
weak and shattered before, and he feared it would be
many a long day before he was able again to take his
place on the staff of the general, or in the line of his
regiment.
In the middle of the afternoon, while the guns were
still thundering at Antietam, the little party reached
the Hasbrouk mansion. Major de Banyan took upon
// 169.png
.pn +1
himself the whole charge of gaining admission; and,
with his usual bold front, he entered without knocking.
The family, which had left the house while hostilities
were in progress around it, had now returned. Alick
took the horses, and Somers followed the major into the
mansion. To the surprise of both they were immediately
confronted by Maud, who had moved her patients
to her own home, when the battle commenced, early in
the morning.
De Banyan politely stated his business, at the same
time acting as though his stay was a settled thing,
whether the family were willing or not.
“We cannot accommodate you, sir,” replied Maud, as
haughtily as though she had been the queen of “my
Maryland.”
“Sorry for it, miss; but I shall be obliged to take
possession.”
“We have three wounded officers here now,” added
she.
“They are rebels.”
“They are Confederate officers, sir, or they would not
be here.”
“There will be one here who is not a Confederate
officer. My friend, Captain Somers, must be accommodated;
and I shall be obliged to turn out the rebel
officers, unless you can find room for him without my
doing so.”
// 170.png
.pn +1
“I will not submit to this insolence!” exclaimed she,
rushing out of the room.
“Good! Now wait till I find a room for you,
Somers.”
“I would not have come here if I had not supposed
the house was deserted. I feel faint again, major.”
“Don’t faint just yet.”
De Banyan made himself entirely at home; brought
water, cologne, a smelling-bottle, and finally set up his
friend for another brief period. He then went up stairs,
selected a front room, which, from its contents, was
evidently the apartment of Maud herself. He set Alick
at work in the chamber making a fire, and otherwise
preparing it for the reception of the sick officer.
The major then conducted his patient to the comfortable
quarters he had secured, and put him to bed.
All the house could furnish he obtained, with or without
leave, and did all he could to improve the condition of
his sick friend. At night Somers was in a raging fever,
and the major was greatly alarmed at his condition.
// 171.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch16
CHAPTER XVI.||THE MYSTERY EXPLAINED.
.sp 2
.di c.jpg 50 69 1.1
CAPTAIN SOMERS knew very little of what
took place at the Hasbrouk mansion within
the next three weeks, being delirious during
the greater portion of this time. Major de Banyan
conquered a peace with the family within twenty-four
hours, and obtained all that he required in the service of
the sick man without fighting for it. An old but skilful
physician was procured, who pronounced the disease a
severe case of typhoid fever, which presented many
alarming symptoms.
The major was a tender and a skilful nurse; but he
felt that another presence than his own was necessary in
the sick room. The sufferer needed the soothing care
of woman, and De Banyan sent a letter to Pinchbrook,
containing a full statement of the alarming condition of
the captain; and at the end of a week his mother
came, attended by his father.
The Hasbrouk family, though cold and unsympathizing
towards their unwelcome guests, afforded Mrs. Somers
// 172.png
.pn +1
every convenience for the discharge of her motherly
duty. De Banyan, when compelled by the expiration of
his furlough to return to his regiment, distinctly informed
Maud and her father, if any disrespect was shown to
Mrs. Somers or her husband, or any hinderance thrown
in their way, he would cause them all to be turned out
of the house, and do his best to have the property immediately
confiscated. The threat had the desired effect, and
though Mrs. Somers could not help feeling that she was
an intruder on the premises, her discomfort was not increased
by any misconduct on the part of the host or his
family.
For days Somers’s life seemed to hang only by a
thread. His devoted mother trembled over him during
the long and weary nights. She and her husband, assisted
by the faithful Alick, took the whole care of the
sufferer, rarely seeing any member of the family. A
separate table was set for them, and their presence was
avoided as though they carried the pestilence in their
garments. They were the “mud-sills” of the North,
and there could be no communication between them.
At the end of three weeks, the danger had passed
away, and the patient began to improve. In a short
time, under the skilful care of the old doctor, he was
able to go down stairs; and his father at once made
arrangements for removing him to his home in Pinchbrook,
anxious to escape as soon as possible from the
// 173.png
.pn +1
cold hospitality of the Hasbrouks. On the day before
the intended departure, a servant announced that Major
Riggleston wished to see him, and would meet him
in the parlor. Attended by his mother, he went down
stairs.
“I am glad to see you, Captain Somers, but sorry to
find you so ill,” said the major, when Mrs. Somers had
been duly introduced.
“Thank you, major; I have had rather a rough time
of it.”
“You were fortunate in having the attentions of your
good mother.”
“I should have died without her,” added the captain,
glancing affectionately at his mother.
“Well, we don’t know about those things, Thomas,”
said Mrs. Somers, meekly.
“I learned that you were here three weeks ago, and I
intended to call upon you before this time,” continued the
major. “You know there was a little affair between us
that needed clearing up.”
“It would done no good to come much afore now; the
poor boy wan’t fit to be seen. He’s had an awful hard
time on’t, and nothing but almighty Power has kept him
from the grave,” interposed Mrs. Somers, wiping away
the tear that started in her eye when she thought of the
days in which her son was trembling between life and
death. “If I can only once get him home, he shan’t
// 174.png
.pn +1
leave me again. He went off afore when he was no
more fit to go than a baby.”
“The captain is a very useful person in the army.”
“Well, I suppose he is; but there’s no sense nor
reason in his going off when he ain’t fit to go. We shall
get away from here to-morrow.”
“My mother don’t like this place very well,” said
Somers, with a smile. “The people here are not remarkably
fond of me.”
“Why not?”
“I forgot that you did not know anything about it. I
will tell you now, Major Riggleston, and I’m sure you
will not blame me for the rude words I spoke to you,
when you understand the matter.”
“You did the fair thing when you discovered your
mistake; but you spoke to your general about the affair,
and he does not regard me with favor. I came over
here partly for the purpose of affording you an opportunity
to clear me from the imputation that rests upon
my honor. An explanation from you will set the matter
right.”
“I can’t explain it myself,” added Somers. “I only
know that you are not the man who entrapped me, and
whom I shot in the head.”
Somers then related the history of the affair in the
house where they were then assembled, and that which
occurred in the rebel lines. Major Riggleston listened to
// 175.png
.pn +1
the narrative with deep interest, as did Mrs. Somers,
whose husband had gone with Alick to examine the
battle-field of Antietam and South Mountain.
“Sakes alive! who ever heard of such things!” exclaimed
Mrs. Somers, when her son had finished his
exciting story. “It’s a wonder that you wan’t killed,
Thomas.”
“I understand it all now, Captain Somers,” said the
major, rather disconcerted. “Though I am not at all to
blame in the premises, the affair more nearly concerns
me than you may suppose.”
“I exonerate you entirely, Major Riggleston,” continued
Somers.
“There, Thomas, you musn’t talk any more now,”
interposed the matron.
“I won’t say anything more, but I must settle this
affair, mother.”
At this moment the door opened, and Maud Hasbrouk
was on the point of entering; but when she saw that the
parlor was already occupied, she turned to retire.
“These people in here!” said she, contemptuously,
but loud enough to be heard by all in the room.
“No matter, Maud; go in if Ernest is there,” said
another person, behind her.
“He is there; he is a friend of Captain Somers,”
sneered she, as she walked into the apartment as though
she had been a superior being.
// 176.png
.pn +1
“How is your health, Captain Somers?” asked the
person who followed Maud.
He was an officer, and his head was tied up with a
bandage.
“Major Riggleston!” exclaimed Somers, starting
from his chair.
“Goodness!” ejaculated Mrs. Somers, fearful that
the excitement her son exhibited would throw him into
another fever. “What ails the boy?”
“You are certainly the person at whom I fired,” added
Somers, as he gazed at the form and features of the newcomer.
“No doubt of that, Captain Somers,” replied the
major. “And a very nice time I’ve had of it too.”
“I hope some one will serve you in the same way,”
said Maud, spitefully.
“For massy sake!” exclaimed Mrs. Somers, fearful
in the gathering events that some one would serve her
darling boy in the same way. “What has Thomas
done?”
“He is a—”
“Not another word, Maud,” said the wounded major,
sternly. “He did his duty, and I am not the one to
blame him for it.”
“I hope you will do yours, major, if the circumstances
ever place you in the same situation.”
“I should; and Captain Somers would not blame me
for it.”
// 177.png
.pn +1
“Certainly not,” replied Somers.
“He saved your life and mine, Maud; and we will
not quarrel now.”
The proud beauty was silent and sullen, while Somers
gazed in wonder from one Major Riggleston to the other
Major Riggleston.
“You understand it now, Captain Somers?” said the
loyal major.
“I do; it is all very plain now. You must acknowledge
that I made a very natural mistake.”
“It is not the first time I have been taken for my
brother. He is two years older than I am; but we look
very much alike.”
When they were together, several points of difference
could be observed; and the resemblance was not now so
great as it had been before the battle of Antietam, for
the rebel major had grown thinner and paler under the
suffering induced by his wound. At the time Somers
had met them, the similarity in form and features, in
voice and manner, was so great, that a person of ordinary
perception, meeting them at different times, could not
have told one from the other. The rebel major had
changed so much during his illness that the difference
was now more perceptible.
“It never occurred to me that you had seen my
brother,” said Major Fred, who was the loyal brother.
“If it had, I should have understood the whole matter.”
// 178.png
.pn +1
“I understood it perfectly,” added Major Ernest, who
was the rebel brother. “I confess, too, that I took
advantage of the circumstance.”
“But where did you get my safe-conduct?” asked
Fred.
“I picked it up the night we were at home,” replied
Ernest, rather sheepishly.
“That was hardly fair.”
“All fair in war, Fred.”
“Well, then, it is one of the disadvantages of having
a brother on the wrong side, Ernest.”
“That name, Ernest, reminds me that I heard it at
your father’s house, in Frederick,” added Somers.
“Captain Somers,” said the loyal major, very seriously,
“you may think I am not as patriotic as I ought to be.
You know that my brother was at my father’s house, and
that I saw him there. You may think I ought to have
handed him over as a prisoner of war.”
“Thomas don’t think any such thing,” said Mrs.
Somers.
“I have nothing to say about that; it is a family
affair,” added Captain Somers. “I need only say that I
regard you, Major Fred Riggleston, as a loyal man; and
I shall write the general a letter containing a full explanation
of my blunder.”
“Thank you, captain,” replied Fred. “That will set
me right.”
// 179.png
.pn +1
“By the way, Captain Somers,” said the rebel major,
“there is a matter between us also.”
“What I agreed in honor and confidence to do, I have
done, and shall continue to do,” replied Somers, alluding
to the matter of the rebel countersign, imparted to him
by the wounded major.
“There, Thomas, you musn’t say another word,” interposed
Mrs. Somers, once more.
Maud left the room, disgusted with the proceedings,
and dissatisfied with the conduct of her lover, who persistently
refused to revile the Yankees present. When
she had gone, Major Ernest walked up to Somers, and
in a low tone, remarked that he should never again serve
in the rebel army. The captain commended his resolution,
and hoped he would be able to do more and
better than this, and be found in the ranks of his
country’s defenders in the hour of peril. He shook his
head, and made no reply.
Somers was conducted to his chamber by his mother,
who insisted that he should lie down; for she greatly
feared the effects of the excitement to which he had been
subjected. Late in the evening, Captain Somers, senior,
returned from the battle-fields, and his wife regaled him
for an hour with the adventures of their son, concerning
which, Captain Somers, junior, had up to this day preserved
a discreet silence.
On the following day, Somers, with his parents,
// 180.png
.pn +1
started for home. The feeble condition of the invalid
compelled them to travel very slowly, and remain two or
three days at each of the principal cities through which
they passed on the journey. Consequently it was nearly
a fortnight before they reached Pinchbrook, where the
hero was duly welcomed; and where, in a few days after
his arrival, he had the happiness to receive a visit from
Lilian Ashford.
She was as gentle and beautiful as ever, and smiled
so sweetly upon him, and pitied him so tenderly, that
he almost found it in his heart to rejoice at the suffering
which had procured him such a blissful meeting. Lilian
told him how disappointed her grandmother was at not
seeing him, as he had promised, and that she still lived
in the hope of meeting him. Of course Somers proposed
to keep the broken engagement as soon as he was able to
visit the city.
Lilian was accompanied by her father, who manifested
a hearty interest in the young aid-de-camp, and joined
warmly with his daughter in the invitation to visit his
house. This was hopeful, and afforded Somers many
pleasant reflections, the nature of which we need hardly
explain to our cunning readers. The visitors departed,
and the invalid’s suffering body contained a hopeful
spirit.
// 181.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch17
CHAPTER XVII.||DOWN IN TENNESSEE.
.sp 2
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IT was four months before Captain Somers was
able to visit Boston, so severely had his constitution
been shattered by the fatigues of the service,
and by the strain of exciting events upon his
nervous system. Lilian Ashford and her father visited
Pinchbrook several times during this period, and an
excellent understanding was established between the captain
and the young lady. The visit was returned in the
spring, when Somers was able to endure the fatigue;
and as his health gradually improved, he repeated his
calls till they occurred as often as once a week.
Grandmother Ashford had abundant opportunity now
to tell all about the “last war,” and Somers listened
with the attention which so interesting a narrative deserved.
Perhaps it was fortunate for the venerable lady
that her eyesight was impaired, or she might have been
wounded to observe that her patient auditor looked more
at Lilian than at herself. On one of these occasions the
old lady was so imprudent as to leave the young couple
// 182.png
.pn +1
in the parlor, and something passed between them which
seemed to make Somers very much pleased with himself
and with Lilian, and to make Lilian equally well pleased
with herself and with Somers. What this was, the experienced
reader may possibly be able to divine; but as
our story relates mainly to the military history of our
hero, it cannot properly be introduced.
Captain Somers was certainly improving in health,
but so slowly that there was no present prospect of his
being able to join his regiment, or report on the staff of
his beloved general, now commanding the grand army of
the Potomac. His physician positively refused to permit
him even to visit the scene of active operations; and
after communicating with “Fighting Joe” by letter, he
decided to resign his position in the —th Massachusetts,
for his continued absence not only deprived the regiment
of his services, but prevented some deserving officer,
who performed his duties, from receiving the pay and
promotion to which he was justly entitled. But he did
not take this decisive step till he was assured by the
general that he could have an appointment on the staff
as soon as he was able to discharge the duties of the
position.
While Somers was absent from the army, the great
battle of Fredericksburg had been fought; and the brave,
noble, and Christian Burnside, perplexed by the treachery
of seeming friends, by the over-zealous movements
// 183.png
.pn +1
of real ones, and by the machinations of envious and
jealous officers, who should have been foremost to support
him, was badly defeated. The rank and file behaved
nobly, fought well, and the day ought to have
been won; but the parts of the grand army were disjointed;
they did not act in concert; and portions of
the force were left to be mercilessly slaughtered. The
devoted and unselfish Burnside shouldered the responsibility,
and stepped down from the exalted military pinnacle
to which he had been raised without ambition, and
against his own desires.
He was succeeded by Major General Hooker, the
“bravest of the brave,” and one of the ablest soldiers
which the war had developed. He had fought and lost
the great battle of Chancellorsville; but he, too, was a
victim of jealousy and indecision on the part of men
whose purposes were their own, instead of their suffering
country’s.
The culminating battle of the war was fought at Gettysburg
by his successor. It was a decisive victory; for
the defiant foe was penetrating the heart of the North,
and there could be no trifling with the terrible fact that
stared the nation full in the face. The generals and the
army fought nobly, and the exulting rebels were hurled
back, shattered and discomfited, to the soil of Virginia.
The battle of Gettysburg was immediately followed
by the surrender of Vicksburg and Port Hudson; and
// 184.png
.pn +1
operations in the West and South-west attracted the
attention of the country during the remainder of the
year, while the army of the Potomac was comparatively
quiet in Virginia. The battle of Chickamauga Creek
was fought, and the Union army defeated, and only
saved from disaster by the skill and firmness of General
Thomas.
The Confederate authorities, taking advantage of the
lull in the storm of battle in the East, sent General
Longstreet and his corps to the West, which being understood
in Washington, the eleventh and twelfth corps of
the army of the Potomac were despatched, under command
of General Hooker, to counteract this addition to
the force of the rebels.
Captain Somers had impatiently watched the progress
of events in the East and in the West, and mourned over
the necessity which compelled him to remain inactive.
He had attended to his health, and felt that he was
completely restored, even before his stubborn physician
would acknowledge the fact. But in the month of September,
when he had been nearly a year off duty, the
doctor gave him a “clean bill of health.” He had employed
much of his time, since his strength would permit,
in athletic exercises—in rowing, in gymnastics, and
in hard labor in the garden. He was heavier and
stronger than he had ever been before, and he was
ashamed to remain any longer in idleness when the
// 185.png
.pn +1
country needed his arm. He wrote to the general again,
just as the stalwart hero was on the point of starting for
the West.
Three days after, Somers received a reply, informing
him that in a short time he would receive a commission
as a captain in the regular army, and an appointment on
his staff as senior aid-de-camp. To this agreeable intelligence
was added the hardly less agreeable fact that
Major de Banyan and Captain Barkwood would also be
members of his military family.
“Glory, hallelujah!” shouted Somers, as he rushed
into the humble cottage at Pinchbrook.
“What on airth is the matter now, Thomas?” asked
his mother, dropping the wet dish-cloth on the floor in
her astonishment.
“Read that, mother!” shouted the captain.
“I hain’t got my glasses, Thomas. What is it?”
“A captain in the regular army! A soldier for life.
What will Lilian say to that?”
“Dear me! Well, that is news,” added Mrs. Somers,
who, however, was not very clear in regard to the
distinction between a regular and a volunteer officer.
“I suppose the gal will think you are a pretty smart
boy. I hope it won’t make you proud and vain,
Thomas.”
“I’m proud, mother; but I guess it won’t make me
vain. I tell you what, it’s no small thing to be a
// 186.png
.pn +1
captain in the regular army. I think Lilian won’t like
me any less for this.”
“Cat’s foot! She won’t like you any more. If she
does, she ain’t the gal I take her to be. Do you suppose
she will want you off all the time, when you—”
“Come, mother, you are getting ahead of my time,”
said the young captain, with a blush. “Well, I wish the
papers would come, for I am in a hurry to be at work
again.”
“They’ll come soon enough,” added the mother,
sadly, as she thought of another long separation, and the
dismal hours that would be spent in waiting for intelligence
of him after a battle had been fought.
The next day came a long letter from De Banyan, in
which he congratulated himself and his friend on the
prospect before them, and proposed to meet him at
Louisville on the journey to the new field of operations.
The commission and the appointment soon followed, and
Somers again donned his staff uniform. The hardest
thing before him was to leave home, which had become
doubly endeared to him by his long stay. He had seen
his twin brother, now in the navy, during a brief visit
the latter made to Pinchbrook, when sent to Boston as
prize-master of a brig he had captured. This was the
only time they had met since the departure of Thomas,
at the commencement of the war.
Mrs. Somers was a woman of tender feelings, and she
// 187.png
.pn +1
wept bitterly as she again bade her son adieu, and gave
him into the keeping of the almighty Father, who had
protected and preserved him through so many perils.
In Boston, as may well be supposed, he hastened to the
house of Mr. Ashford, and saw Lilian, who had already
been informed of his intended departure. She now had
a deeper interest in him than ever before; and she was
sad, but hopeful. Another earnest prayer to God for his
safety was to be added daily and nightly to those which
went up from the humble home in Pinchbrook.
“Do you see this bundle, Lilian?” said Somers, as he
opened the parcel in his hand.
“What is it?”
“Don’t you see?”
“Socks!”
“They are the banner under, or, rather, over, which I
fight,” said he, handing her the articles.
“They are hardly worn at all,” replied she, with a sad
smile.
“But they have been on my feet in every battle in
which I have been engaged. I never wear them except
in a fight, for I don’t want to wear them out.”
“I will knit you some more.”
“But they would not be these, if you did,” laughed
Somers, trying to be as cheerful as possible. “These
socks have helped me to do my duty; and they introduced
me to you, which is the best part of it. When the war
// 188.png
.pn +1
is over, I am going to put them in a glass case, and keep
them in my room, to remind me of the scenes of the past.”
“You are a funny fellow, Thomas,” said she.
“Perhaps I am; but I mean all I say.”
A great deal more was said, which we are afraid
would look very silly to some wise and prudent people,
if we should transfer it to our page; but the words
spoken by both were very earnest and sincere, though
perhaps they were rather sentimental, as might have
been naturally expected under such circumstances. He
spoke the good by, and left the house. He did not see
the tears shed by Lilian after he had gone. More than
her words, even, they told of her sincerity. Mr. Ashford
was not at home when he called, and Somers paid his
respects to him at his counting-room. The wealthy
merchant was deeply interested in him, and readily accepted
the fact which the intimacy between his daughter
and the young soldier indicated.
Followed by the prayers and the hopes of devoted
friends, he proceeded on his journey to the West. Alick,
who had been at work in Pinchbrook during the year,
accompanied him as his servant. In due time he reached
Louisville, where, in conformity with the arrangement, he
met Major de Banyan, and together they repaired to
Nashville. They had brought with them their saddles,
and other military equipments, but it was necessary to
procure horses at this place.
// 189.png
.pn +1
The headquarters of the eleventh and twelfth corps
were at Bridgeport, on the Tennessee, about thirty miles
from Chattanooga, which was the point at which the
military operations centred. Though the country
between Nashville and the advanced line of the Union
army was in military possession of the loyal forces, it
was in a very disturbed condition. There were strong
Union men there; but the rebels predominated, and the
region was infested with Confederate cavalry and irresponsible
guerillas. The military railroad, by which the
army received its supplies, was necessarily guarded by
troops through every mile of its course.
Having procured their horses, Somers and De Banyan
proceeded by the railroad towards their destination. The
destruction of a bridge, about twenty miles from Bridgeport,
suspended the farther progress of the train, and
our officers decided to accomplish the balance of the
journey on horseback. Each of them had a servant,
and an extra horse to meet the contingencies of the
service.
“We shall not be able to find our way, I’m afraid,”
said Somers, as they rode along through a wild region.
“You forget that I am at home in this part of the
country,” replied the major.
“Are you?”
“I was born and raised not twenty miles from this
spot, in the town of Winchester, over in that direction.”
// 190.png
.pn +1
he added, pointing to the north-west. “I know every
foot of land about here; and I am indebted to that fact
for my appointment on the general’s staff.”
“Then we shall not be likely to get lost.”
“No; but the guerillas are as thick around here as
raisins in a plum pudding. I suppose I should have an
excellent opportunity to be hung if any of them should
catch me.”
“What did you come down here for, then?”
“It makes no difference to me. I rather enjoy the
excitement of the danger; besides, I should like to
help restore my state to her allegiance.”
“It is almost night, major. I don’t think it is prudent
for us to beat about this region in the dark.”
“It is safer to beat about than it is to lie down and
go to sleep; but there is a house a couple of miles from
here, where a Union man used to live. We will stop
there if you like.”
“I think we had better do so,” replied Somers.
“Perhaps we had, especially as it looks very much
like a storm.”
They reached the house, which was the residence of
the owner of a large plantation. It had been an elegant
establishment before the war, but it looked like waste and
ruin around it. The travellers stopped before the mansion.
De Banyan dismounted, and throwing the bridle-rein
to his servant, walked up to the front door.
// 191.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch18
CHAPTER XVIII.||THE GUERILLAS AT SUPPER.
.sp 2
.di d.jpg 50 84 1.1
DE BANYAN knocked at the door; but as no one
answered his summons, he went in without further
ceremony, Somers remaining on his horse
to await the result of the interview. It was
now quite dark; the wind howled savagely through the
trees, and the rain began to fall in torrents.
“Bad night, massa,” said Alick, as he drew his overcoat
closer around him.
“Yes; but we expect to stop at this house to-night,”
replied the captain.
“De storm make you sick again, massa.”
“No, I think not.”
“Must be careful, massa cap’n. I reckon dey has de
fever ’n’ agur right smart in dis yere country.”
“I don’t know,” replied Somers, carelessly; for he
was thinking that his friend was absent a long time
upon his mission.
He waited a quarter of an hour longer, and began to
be impatient at De Banyan’s long absence. He thought
// 192.png
.pn +1
the major must be having a very pleasant interview with
his old acquaintance, and had forgotten that his friend
was out in the storm waiting for him. At last his
patience was completely exhausted, and he had it in his
heart to rebuke the thoughtlessness of his companion.
“Here, Alick, hold my horse,” said Somers, as he
dismounted. “The major has gone to sleep, and forgotten
that we are waiting for him.”
“Yes, massa; but dat ain’t much like de major, to
forget you,” replied Alick, taking the rein.
“No, it is not; but I’ll venture to say he is having a
good time in the house.”
Somers walked up to the front door, and knocked with
his fist. As in the former instance, it brought no response;
and he repeated the summons with the butt of
his pistol, but with no better success than before. It
was evident that the family were very deaf, or that they
occupied the rear of the house, where the sound could
not reach them. Following the example of De Banyan,
he opened the door and entered. At the end of a long
entry he saw a light through a crack, which he followed
till it brought him to another door, at which he knocked.
“What do you want?” demanded a large, rough, uncouth-looking
man, who presented himself at the door.
“Where is the gentleman that came in here half an
hour ago?” asked Somers, rather impatiently.
“Haven’t any room,” replied the man, in a loud tone.
// 193.png
.pn +1
“I asked where the gentleman was who came into the
house half an hour ago,” repeated the captain.
“I’m deef.”
“I should think you were,” said the inquirer, in a low
tone; after which he uttered his question again at the
top of his lungs.
“I don’t know him,” yelled the deaf man.
“He came into this house.”
“Four o’clock in the morning,” screamed the man.
“Have you seen any one come into this house?”
shouted Somers.
“Blind in one ear, and deef in one eye,” returned the
man, with a grin.
“Who lives here?”
“I do.”
“What’s your name?”
“Skinley.”
“What are you?”
“None o’ yer business.”
“Do you live alone?”
“What’s that ter you?”
“I want to see the man that came in here a while
ago.”
“Come in.”
Somers did not like the looks of things at all; and if
he had not been interested in De Banyan, he would have
retired in disgust from the house: as it was, he entered
// 194.png
.pn +1
the room. As he did so he heard the sounds of coarse
revelry, which suddenly burst upon his ear from an
apartment farther in the rear of the mansion.
“Mr. Skinley, I wish to see the gentleman who came
in before me,” said Somers, putting his hand on his
pistol.
“Do yer?”
“I do.”
“Well, yer needn’t yell no more; there ain’t none so
deef as them that won’t hear. You kin see him,” replied
the man, with a grin, which seemed to indicate
that Somers had been made the victim of a practical
joke.
“Where is he?”
“In yender,” replied Skinley, pointing to the door of
the room from which the sounds of revelry had come.
Somers had a great many doubts in regard to the situation.
There was evidently a considerable body of men
in the house.
“Mr. Skinley—”
“I ain’t Mister Skinley. I told you what my name
was. My name’s Skinley.”
“Well, Skinley.”
“That sounds more like it, stranger. Now, what’s
your name?”
“Somers.”
“What are you?”
// 195.png
.pn +1
“None of your business.”
“Whar yer gwine?”
“What’s that to you?”
“All right, stranger.”
“Now, Skinley, who are those men in yonder?”
asked Somers, good-natured in spite of the circumstances
of doubt, and possibly peril, which surrounded him, as
he pointed to the rear room.
“Friends of mine.”
“How many are there?”
“Go in and count ’em. What yer want to know
fur?”
“A man in these times don’t generally have so many
friends as you seem to have.”
“I’m a good feller, Somers, and they all like me,”
replied Skinley, laughing heartily.
“You have one of my friends in there.”
“How do yer know?”
“You said so.”
“Well, Somers, a feller don’t allus know who his
friends is, in these times.”
“But I know him; and, Skinley, would you be so
kind as to call him out?”
“It can’t be did,” said the uncouth abomination of a
man, very positively.
“Why not?”
“Whar d’yer larn yer manners? He’s havin’ a bout
// 196.png
.pn +1
o’ whiskey with the boys; and I’d as soon think o’
techin’ a pant’er at his grub as a sodger at his whiskey.”
“If you tell him Somers is here, he will not take
offence.”
“Yes, he will. Them’s good fellers. Go in and jine
’em,” said Skinley, throwing the door wide open.
Seated around a long table, on which there was still
a plentiful supply of bacon and corn dodgers, and a great
many bottles, were about twenty of the roughest looking
fellows the staff officer had ever laid eyes upon. At the
end of the board was De Banyan, apparently as happy
and contented as the rest of the party. Somers had no
difficulty in promptly arriving at the conclusion that the
men were guerillas. They had evidently drank all the
whiskey that was good for them.
“Come in, Somers,” shouted the major, uproariously.
“Come in, and we will make room for you. My friend
Somers,” he added, turning to his wild companions.
“Come in, Somers,” said half a dozen of the guerillas.
“Hand him the whiskey,” put in one, who sat at the
farther end of the table.
“You’ll have to excuse him, boys,” interposed De
Banyan. “He never drinks whiskey; it don’t agree
with him. Have you any French brandy?”
“Not a drop.”
The major knew they had not; he was aware that
// 197.png
.pn +1
Somers would fight the whole crowd rather than take a
glass of liquor of any kind.
Somers was bewildered by the scene before him; but
he readily understood that his friend was compromising
with unfavorable circumstances, and he did what he could
to help the illusion, though he did not know what De
Banyan had said or done to create such remarkably good
fellowship between himself and such wretched outlaws.
He sat down at the table and ate heartily of the bacon
and bread, which were very acceptable, for our travellers
had eaten nothing since breakfast.
“Here’s to the health of Jeff Davis!” said the man
at the opposite end of the table, who appeared to be the
commander of the squad. “All up.”
The guerillas rose to their feet, De Banyan with them,
with a glass in his hand.
“All up!” exclaimed the major, heartily.
Somers rose then, with a glass of water in his hand,
which a black woman in attendance had brought him;
but he had no more intention of drinking the health of
Jeff Davis, even in a glass of water, than he had of supporting
the arch rebel with his sword.
“President Davis,” said the leader.
“President—Lincoln,” added the major, dropping his
voice as he uttered the last word.
“President—Lincoln,” repeated Somers, in the same
manner.
// 198.png
.pn +1
“One more!” shouted the commander of the squad,
as he filled his glass again; and his example was followed
by all present. “Here’s confusion to the Yankees!”
“Confusion to the Yankees!” repeated the other
guerillas.
“Confusion to the—rebels!” said De Banyan and
Somers, using the same tactics as before.
The guerillas, as if satisfied that they had firmly established
Jeff Davis on his throne, and hurled confusion
among the Yankees, rose from the table. Their leader
came over and took De Banyan by the hand.
“What did you say your name was?” asked he.
“De Banyan,” replied the other.
“And you are going to join Wheeler’s cavalry?”
“That’s what’s the matter,” answered the major, who
readily adapted himself to the manners of his new
friends.
“Can’t we make it worth your while to stay with
us?” continued the chief. “You are a good fellow,
and look as though you could fight.”
“Wheeler expects me, and I don’t wish to disappoint
him. I’m going on his staff.”
“There is something up to-night,” said the chief, confidentially;
“and you may make your fortune in a few
days.”
“I don’t object to that.”
“I’ll tell you about it, if you like.”
// 199.png
.pn +1
“I don’t object.”
“I don’t know as I will, either; it would hardly be
prudent for me to do so. You may be one of those
shrewd Yankees, after all. You know you wear Yankee
colors,” added the chief, doubtfully.
“I tell you I was born in Winchester, not twenty
miles from here; and I am no more a Yankee than you
are,” protested the major.
“I’ll trust you,” said the leader. “You can’t spoil
the job, if you don’t help us. You are a tonguy fellow,
and I want you more than I want the girl that promised
to marry me when the war is over. I’ve got the smartest
set of men that ever sat in a saddle. They are all
Texans.”
“I see they are,” added De Banyan, glancing at the
cutthroats who formed the squad.
“I’ve got the keenest scout on the lookout for me that
you can find this side of the Rocky Mountains. He’s a
young fellow of eighteen, and goes inside the Yankee
lines like a native. We go in for making money out of
this thing, while we do a good job for the South.”
“Of course,” said De Banyan, carelessly.
“There’s a pay-master coming down from Nashville,
on one of these trains, with a heap of greenbacks to pay
off the Yankee army. We want those greenbacks, and
we shall have them too.”
“If you can get them,” suggested De Banyan.
// 200.png
.pn +1
“We can get them; and if you want your share of
them, you have only to join my company. If you will,
I’ll tell you the rest.”
“I’m yours,” replied the major.
“And you?” asked the leader, turning to Somers,
who had been listening eagerly to the conversation.
“I go with De Banyan.”
“Good! Tippy—that’s my scout—will come down
in the train with the pay-master. The cars will stop at
the broken bridge, and Tippy will come over here with
his information; and all I have to do then will be to
pounce on the escort, and pocket the greenbacks. What
do you think of it?”
“It’s a tip-top idea, and I’m with you.”
“I expect Tippy will be here to-morrow.”
“All right; I can help you about this business.”
“You can; now, if you could step in and tell the pay-master
you are a Yankee, and with that smooth tongue
of yours prevent him from taking too much cavalry with
him, you would earn your share of the money.”
“I will do it.”
“You can make a man believe anything.”
“Very well; I will go at once.”
“O, no; there is no need of going till Tippy comes
with the news.”
“I think I had better meet the train on the way.”
“Not at all,” said the guerilla, shaking his head.
// 201.png
.pn +1
“We never let our recruits go out till we know them
better than I know you.”
“You won’t trust me?”
“Not yet.”
“Very well,” said De Banyan, easily. “My horse
and servant are out in the storm now. I will take care
of them.”
“We will go with you;” and half a dozen of the
villains followed De Banyan and Somers to the place
where they had left the servants and the horses.
// 202.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch19
CHAPTER XIX.||TIPPY, THE SCOUT.
.sp 2
.di o.jpg 50 66 1.1
ON the way out of the house, De Banyan whispered
a few words in the ear of Somers, while
they were in the darkness of the entry. There
was very great danger that things might get a little
mixed; that Alick and the other servant might tell
wrong stories about their respective masters.
“Tell Alick to say we are rebels,” was the substance
of the communication.
When they reached the spot where the horses had been
left, Somers told his man what to say. It was fortunate
that he did so promptly, for the guerilla leader, apparently
suspecting something, suddenly became very
officious, and kept close to the recruits. The horses
were taken to the stable, where they were placed with
the others, after which the party returned to the house,
followed by the servants.
“What’s your master’s name?” demanded Captain
Lynchman, the leader of the guerillas, of Alick.
“Captain Somers, sar,” replied the faithful fellow.
// 203.png
.pn +1
“What is he captain of?”
“Dunno, sar.”
“Where did you come from?”
“Up above, sar.”
“Is your master a Union man?”
“I reckon he isn’t, sar. He’s a right smart reb’l,
sar.”
“Where are you going?”
“Dunno, sar.”
“How long have you been in his service?”
“Much as a monf, sar.”.
The captain asked many other questions, but Alick
gave prudent answers; he did not know much, and what
he did know, he did not know certainly. De Banyan’s
man, taking his cue from his fellow-servant, answered in
similar terms, and nothing was made out of either of
them.
During the evening Somers learned, from various
members of the band, that the guerillas were only a portion
of an organized body, duly recognized by the Confederate
government, engaged in partisan warfare. The
talent and address of Major de Banyan had attracted the
attention of the chief, who affected strategy rather than
a bold and dashing policy. Captain Lynchman’s perception
was creditable to him, and if the major would have
engaged in the foul business, he would undoubtedly have
been an invaluable assistant.
// 204.png
.pn +1
Our travellers were regarded as members of the band,
but really they were prisoners. They found no opportunity
to interchange a word of counsel, or to take a
single step for their future safety. Both of them were
anxious to reach the headquarters of “Fighting Joe;”
but the delay was not voluntary on their part. De Banyan
had chosen between capture and compromise. He
had presented, as he always did, a bold front, and disarmed
suspicion in the beginning by his skill and
address—had actually won the hearts of his new
companions.
Captain Lynchman affected strategy, and while he
carefully watched the recruits, he treated them with the
utmost consideration. His future movements depended
upon the information to be brought by Tippy, the scout.
After the horses had been cared for, the guerillas retired
for the night, some of them taking the beds, sofas, and
divans, others stretching themselves on the floors; but
there was no part of the house which was not occupied
by them, and there was no opportunity for our travellers
to “cut” their unpleasant associates during the night, as
they had hoped and expected to do.
Early in the morning, Tippy, the scout, arrived. All
the guerillas were at the stables, attending to the horses,
when his coming was announced. The men were ordered
to be ready to mount at an instant’s notice; while
Captain Lynchman hastened to the house, to receive the
// 205.png
.pn +1
intelligence brought by the scout, who was eating his
breakfast in the kitchen.
“De Banyan, I shall want you,” said the leader;
“your work will commence about this time. It will
take the greenback train an hour or two to get ready for
a start. Come with me.”
“I am ready for anything,” replied the major; and
followed by Somers, he repaired to the house with the
guerilla chief.
They entered by the front door, and taking possession
of the drawing-room, the captain ordered Skinley, who
seemed to be the commissary-general of the gang, to send
the scout into the room.
“Skinley, you’ll be deaf now,” said Captain Lynchman.
“I reckon they ain’t none so deef as them that won’t
hear,” responded the Texan.
“Then you won’t hear what Tippy has to say. Bring
him in.”
“Tippy’s half starved, cap’n; they don’t feed ’em
much up among the Yanks.”
“Let him eat, but tell him to be quick.”
Skinley left the room; and then, for the first time,
the captain noticed the presence of Somers, and told him
to leave the room.
“He’s my friend, Captain Lynchman; I have no
secrets from him,” interposed the major, with dignity.
// 206.png
.pn +1
“If you can’t trust him, you can’t trust me, and we will
move on to the headquarters of Wheeler’s cavalry.”
“Just as you please, major,” replied Lynchman; “but
it is hardly regular.”
“Nothing is very regular about these partisans. It is
just as regular for him as for me. He is my right-hand
man, and I can’t do anything without him. I don’t ask
your confidence, and I don’t want it. I am just as
willing to go about my business as I am to stay
with you.”
“I am not willing, after telling you my plans.”
“What did you tell them to me for, then?”
“Because I wanted you; and I did not expect to get
you without offering big inducements. We shall divide
three or four millions in greenbacks to-day, if we manage
well. I believe in strategy in a case like this.”
“So do I; and that is the very reason why I want
Somers to know all about the matter.”
While they were talking about it, Tippy, the scout, entered
the room. He was a young man, with a bright eye
and a manly form, and looked as though he was capable
of doing all that had been claimed for him. He had
eaten his morning meal very hastily; indeed, he had not
finished it when he presented himself in the drawing-room,
for his mouth was even now crammed full of corn
cake, which he was trying to dispose of so that he could
speak.
// 207.png
.pn +1
Tippy looked at Captain Lynchman first, crunching
the food in his mouth in the most vigorous manner.
From the leader, he glanced at Somers, who stood next
to him. De Banyan had walked away to a window on
the other side of the room, and as he turned to come
back, the scout looked at him. Instantly his jaws ceased
their movements, and he started back, apparently filled
with astonishment. Somers looked at the major, who
stood calmly at his side; but it was evident that he was
not wholly unmoved by the appearance of Tippy.
“Well, what does all this mean?” demanded Captain
Lynchman.
Somers again glanced at the major, and saw him give
the scout a very slight, but energetic shake of the head,
accompanied by a look which seemed to penetrate to the
very soul of Tippy.
“Why don’t you speak?” demanded Lynchman, impatiently.
Tippy improved this opportunity, still gazing intently
on Major de Banyan, to swallow the food in his mouth.
He finished this operation, and Lynchman waited for him
to explain his singular conduct.
“Have you lost your tongue?” cried he, jumping out
of his chair.
“I cannot speak,” replied Tippy, exhibiting a great
deal of emotion in his tones.
“Cannot speak! Do you know this man?”
// 208.png
.pn +1
“I do.”
“Who is he?”
“Let him answer for himself. It is not for me to
speak in his presence.”
“What does all this mean?” said the guerilla leader,
bewildered by the new aspect of affairs. “Who is this
man, that you cannot speak in his presence?” he added,
turning to the major.
“He is a bigger man than you or me,” answered the
scout, mysteriously.
“That may be, but I command here. Is he a traitor,
or a Yankee?”
“No!” almost shouted the scout. “He belonged to
Winchester once. He is a Tennesseean.”
“Good!” exclaimed the captain, apparently much
pleased with this confirmation of what the major had
said of himself.
“Give your information, Tippy,” added De Banyan,
with an awful exhibition of dignity, as though he were
the “big man” whom the scout had represented him
to be.
“Not yet,” said Lynchman. “I want to understand
this matter a little better.”
“We have been in Nashville together. We have
worked together for years,” interposed De Banyan.
“O, that’s the idea—is it?” said the leader of the
guerillas. “Then you are a scout yourself, Major de
Banyan?”
// 209.png
.pn +1
“I have done a great deal of hard work in Virginia
and in Tennessee. I have stood by the flag almost from
the beginning,” returned the major.
“Is this so, Tippy?”
“It is, Captain Lynchman. Whatever he says is right.”
“Major, I am satisfied now.” said the chief, extending
his hand to De Banyan. “I wanted to repose implicit
confidence in you before, but prudence forbade.”
“We are losing time,” said De Banyan.
“Now tell your story, Tippy,” added Lynchman.
Somers was confounded by the events which had just
transpired before him. He did not know what to make of
them. His friend had a wonderful power over the scout,
which he could not explain; but whatever occurred, he
knew that De Banyan was a true man; that the recognition
and devotion of the rebel scout to him were no
evidences of infidelity. He could not understand, but he
could trust the major.
“Shall I go on, sir?” said the scout, appealing to the
major.
“Certainly; proceed,” replied De Banyan.
Tippy’s story was short and to the point. The pay-master
with the greenbacks had arrived, and there was
present a force of about a hundred cavalry to convoy
him to his place of destination.
“A hundred!” exclaimed the captain, vexed at this
information. “I shall want the rest of my men.”
// 210.png
.pn +1
“You bet!” exclaimed a deep voice near the door, in
low, emphatic tones, as though they had been used in
soliloquy.
“Skinley!” cried the captain, angrily.
There was no reply, and Lynchman repeated the call
half a dozen times, as loud as he could yell.
“D’ye call me, cap’n?” said the Texan, coming to the
door, which was now discovered to be partially open.
“I did; you have been listening at the door.”
“Fotch ’em as soon as I kin, cap’n,” said the burly
fellow, innocently.
“None of that with me,” added Lynchman, angrily.
“Bet yer life they ain’t, cap’n.”
“Silence, you villain!” thundered the captain, taking
a pistol from his belt.
“Take keer, cap’n!”
“Can’t you hear, Skinley? If you can’t, I’ll open
your ears.”
“You told me to be deef, cap’n.”
“I did; and you have been listening to all that has
been said in this room.”
“I was afeered you mought forget some on’t, and
mought wan’t me to remound you of it.”
“Come here.”
“Here’m I, cap’n.”
“Do you know where the rest of our men are?”
“If I don’t, nobody don’t.”
// 211.png
.pn +1
“Ride over there as fast as you can, and tell Sweetzer
to meet me at Tantallon cross-roads at once, with all his
force. Do you understand?”
“I kin hear now, cap’n.”
“It will take you an hour to go, and another hour for
Sweetzer to reach the cross-roads.”
“How many men have you?” demanded De Banyan,
in business-like tones.
“About a hundred,” replied the captain. “We can
make a sure thing of it, for we shall outnumber the Yankees,
and choose our own ground besides.”
“Where are they now?”
“At Raybold’s, on the Salem road. I have driven
them hard lately, and I gave them a few days to rest.”
“I know the place. It is near the mountains.”
“Just so. I believe in strategy, and I thought I
should do better with twenty men than I should with over
a hundred; but I calculated to take the greenbacks on the
train.”
“Your plans are good; but do you send only one man
on such a message? Suppose he should fall from his
horse, or be shot by a Yankee?”
“I can’t spare but one, for I may have to do the job
before the rest of my force arrives.”
“Send Somers,” suggested the major.
“What good would that do? He couldn’t find my
men?”
// 212.png
.pn +1
“Do you know where Raybold’s is, Somers?” asked
the major.
“Certainly I do—just by the mountains on the Salem
road,” replied Somers, who had given good attention to
the conversation.
“Right; you will do,” added the captain.
And Somers went with Skinley.
// 213.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch20
CHAPTER XX.||SKINLEY, THE TEXAN.
.sp 2
.di s.jpg 50 64 1.1
SOMERS readily understood that he was sent off
by the major for a purpose; but De Banyan
had no opportunity to explain his intention before
he went. It was plain that a very important part
in the plan for frustrating the object of the guerillas had
been entrusted to him, but he had not a single word of
instructions.
As Somers mounted his horse, he saw De Banyan
and Tippy leave the estate and ride off in the direction
of the railroad, and he doubted not that he had been sent
to delay the pay-master, and assure him that the road to
the army was perfectly safe. After the full and unequivocal
endorsement of Tippy, the major was fully established
in the confidence of the guerilla, who unreservedly
communicated to him his hopes and his expectations.
Somers joined Skinley, who was to be his companion
in this morning ride. The “Texican,” as he delighted to
call himself, was a stout fellow, good-humored, and immensely
fond of a joke. Lynchman appeared to repose
// 214.png
.pn +1
great confidence in him; otherwise he would not have
sent him upon his present duty. The ruffian was armed
from head to foot with rifle, pistols, and a knife, and
looked like a moving arsenal. He was a formidable
person for a young man like Somers to deal with, and
yet it was fully evident that he had been sent by the
major to prevent the “Texican” from delivering his
message.
The young officer did not like the duty, for there was
apparently only one way in which he could discharge it;
and that was, by deliberately shooting his ugly companion.
All the carnage and death he had seen in the course
of the war—and he had seen a great deal of them—had
not impaired his respect for human life. He could
not wantonly sacrifice even an enemy. He was with
this man as his friend—in disguise, it was true; but
the Texan trusted him—did not regard him as a foe.
To turn upon him in the moment when he suspected no
danger, looked cowardly; and his chivalrous soul revolted
at the act. Ruffian, rebel, traitor, as this man
was, he was one of God’s creatures, made in his own
image, and nothing but the severest necessity could justify
the killing of him.
Thus he reasoned on the one hand; but on the other,
this man was going to procure a force to shoot down the
loyal soldiers of the Union; to rob the government of
the money intended for the troops, upon whose earnings
// 215.png
.pn +1
wives and children depended for their daily bread. But
this was war—what the custom of civilized nations justified;
while killing a man in cold blood was an act of
treachery from which he could not but shrink. War had
not debased him, for he still read his Bible, and still
leaned for strength and guidance upon that arm which
can lead and support all who confide in its almighty
power.
Somers felt that he could not do this deed. It was
too revolting, too barbarous; and yet it must be done,
or others would bleed and die for his want of nerve. He
could not settle the troublesome question, and he determined
to defer the deed as long as he could without
imperilling the safety of the pay-master and his escort.
“Well, youngster, you mought be sent out to keep me
warm, I ’spose,” said Skinley, as Somers rode up to his
side, after he had carefully considered the mission upon
which he had obviously been sent.
“Yes, if you are cold,” replied Somers.
“I am cold, Somers. May be yer hain’t got a bottle
of whiskey in yer pocket—hain’t yer?”
“I have not; I never use it.”
“So I heerd the major say; but hain’t yer got nothin’
stowed away about yer—any brandy, or sich like?”
“I have not.”
“Well, Somers, I tell yer what it is, Somers, it was a
great mistake comin’ off without no whiskey, Somers.”
// 216.png
.pn +1
“I don’t think so.”
“Don’t yer, Somers?”
“I can get along very well without it.”
“May be you can, Somers; but I can’t. I feed on
whiskey, Somers; and I could no more go to Raybold’s
without sunthin’ to drink than I could go afoot on hossback,
or go hossback afoot; ’n’ I take it, Somers, that
can’t be did.”
“But you will have to go without it, if you have none.”
“No, I won’t—you bet!” exclaimed Skinley. “Thar’s
a Union house over here a good piece. They allus has
whiskey and bacon when we poor fellers has to thust fur
meat and hunger fur liquor. The old man, I cal’late, is
a fust cousin of some gin’ral, or some of them fellers in
Richmond, fur he’s got some sort o’ paper. I’m gwine
to git a drink when we git thar—bet yer life.”
“But if they have a safe-conduct, you can’t compel
them to give you anything. They will show you the
paper,” replied Somers.
“Let ’em show it, Somers; I can’t read it,” chuckled
the Texan.
“Why not?”
“Well, Somers, I ain’t up to print, say nothin’ of
writin’. If they make any muss about it, I kin tell ’em
it was all a mistake—don’t yer see, Somers? May be
I mought be deef too, Somers.”
“Perhaps they will read it to you.”
// 217.png
.pn +1
“Then I’m deef, sartin.”
“Very likely they will give you what you want, if
you ask them civilly.”
“No, they won’t, Somers. They hate us wuss ’n
pizen; but I hate them wuss ’n they hate me.”
“What have they done?”
“They hain’t done nothin’, and that’s what I hate ’em
fur. The Yanks won’t tech ’em, and we can’t tech ’em,
Somers. It stands to reason, Somers, sech folks ought
to be hated.”
Somers decided not to discuss this question, and he had
dropped a few paces behind his companion to avoid his
slang, when Skinley exhibited a disposition to be sociable,
and insisted that the road was wide enough for them to
ride abreast. The young officer did not want to quarrel
with the ruffian, and he complied with his request.
“Thar’s a pooty gal over to Callicot’s, Somers,”
added he, with a coarse grin. “P’rhaps you’ll think
more of that than yer do of the whiskey.”
“Is she a Union girl?” asked Somers—more because
he felt compelled to speak than because he felt any
interest in the new subject.
“In course she are.”
“You don’t intend to meddle with her, I hope.”
“What makes yer hope that?” demanded Skinley,
sourly.
“Are you a soldier, Skinley?”
// 218.png
.pn +1
“You bet!”
“A true soldier always respects a woman, whether
she be friend or foe.”
“Somers, your idees is a little too fine cut fur me,”
snarled the Texan.
“Have you a mother?”
“Not ’s I knows on. She gin me the slip when I wan’t
knee high to a chaw terbaker.”
“Is she dead?”
“I cal’late she is.”
“Have you no sister?”
“May be I hev’. See here, Somers, you kin draw
yer charge on that. Yer mought be a preacher, or sich
like; but don’t yer draw that string on me.”
“Very well; I have nothing to say, only that, if you
propose to insult a woman, I am your enemy.”
“Be you?”
Skinley took a pistol from his belt, and deliberately
cocked and pointed it at Somers, to whom the act seemed
to reveal his companion in a new light. It was naturally
to be supposed that a man who carried such an armory
of weapons on his person was a dangerous fellow; but
from this moment Somers looked upon him as a bully.
He had given the ruffian no cause of offence for which
he could resort to desperate measures.
“If you insult a woman, I am,” replied Somers,
quietly drawing a large navy revolver which he carried
in his belt.
// 219.png
.pn +1
“Put up your shooter, Somers,” said Skinley, with a
sickly laugh, as he lowered his pistol.
“I am not quite ready to put it up,” replied Somers,
sternly; for he had made up his mind that the time to
execute the task imposed upon him had come. “When
a man draws a pistol upon me, he insults me.”
“I only did it to see what sort of stuff you mought be
made of, Somers—that’s all,” answered Skinley.
“I am not satisfied with that explanation. I would
like to know what sort of stuff you ‘mought’ be made
of now,” said Somers, imitating the speech of his companion.
“I’m a Texican. I was born in the woods, nussed on
hickory nuts, and turned out to paster in a cane-brake.
When I kim of age I fed on gunpowder, and druv’ four
alligators, four in hand, hitched to a sulky. That’s
what’s the matter. Don’t you know now what sort of
stuff I mought be made of?”
“Slang and brag, I should say, were the principal
ingredients in your composition. You have insulted me.”
“I ax yer pardon; put up yer shooter.”
Somers did so, but very reluctantly. It was only postponing
his mission; though the discovery that his companion
was a coward at heart, in spite of his words, and
in spite of the liberal display of arms about him, led
him to hope that he might dispose of him in some better
way than shooting him.
// 220.png
.pn +1
“I ax yer pardon; that’s what a Texican does when
he finds he mought be in the wrong.”
“Very well. Now, if we can’t talk without quarrelling,
I will keep a little in the rear.”
“Jest as you say, Somers.”
They rode along in silence for a time, till they reached
a house much superior to most of those they had seen on
the road, at which Skinley halted.
“I’m sufferin’ for my bitters, Somers,” said the Texan,
as he reined in his steed.
“Is this the house of the Union man?”
“Bet yer life ’tis. I only want a little drop of whiskey,”
replied Skinley, as he rode up the lane by the
house, followed by his companion. “I won’t stop only
a second.”
The guerilla dismounted, and throwing the bridle rein
of his horse over a post, he entered without the ceremony
of knocking. When he had gone in, Somers rode
forward till he came to the windows of the house, for he
was fearful that the conduct of the Texan would not be
conciliatory, and he was disposed to defend the Union
people within, even at the peril of his life.
Skinley was absent some time—longer than a due
regard for the urgency of his mission would have tolerated;
but Somers was in no hurry to reach Raybold’s
himself, and was not impatient on account of the delay.
It was evident that the wretch had not readily procured
// 221.png
.pn +1
his dram; and his companion feared that he might resort
to violence in enforcing his demand. The delay
indicated trouble within the house, and Somers dismounted.
Fastening his horse to a gate, he walked
towards the entrance. He was not one moment too soon,
for before he could reach the door, he heard a piercing
scream uttered by a female. He rushed in with his
revolver in his hand.
“Don’t yell,” said Skinley, as he entered. “I only
want yer to bring on the whiskey. I’m so deef I can’t
hear yer, if yer do yell.”
Somers stopped at the door of the room where the
parties were; for, indignant as he was, he was always
prudent. He cocked the pistol, and took a survey of the
situation.
“I tell you there is not a drop of whiskey in the
house, and has not been for two years,” replied the
female, who was a young and well-dressed lady, and
whose personal attractions fully justified the Texan’s
commendation of them.
“Yer mought tell that to a dead alligator, and he’d
scretch yer eyes out fur’t,” added the ruffian.
“I have told you the truth; there is not a drop of
liquor of any kind in the house.”
“’Tain’t so; all our boys knows you keeps whiskey
by the hogshead. Now fotch on the liquor, my darlin’;”
and as he spoke, he grasped the lady by the arm.
// 222.png
.pn +1
She evidently regarded his touch as pollution, and
again screamed lustily.
“See here; don’t be so techy. I ain’t gwine ter hurt
yer.”
“Father!” cried the terrified girl, shrinking from the
wretch.
Somers would have fired, but he feared the report and
the death of the ruffian before her face would be too
great a shock for the lady. She was frightened, but she
seemed to have perfect control of herself.
“Say, doxy, won’t yer fotch on the whiskey?” continued
Skinley; and again he attempted to seize the
arm of the lady, who fled before him.
“Father!” screamed she again.
Somers stepped into the room; at the same instant an
elderly gentleman rushed in by a door on the opposite
side of the apartment.
// 223.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch21
CHAPTER XXI.||THE HOUSE OF THE UNION MAN.
.sp 2
.di t.jpg 50 67 1.1
THE gentleman who entered the room from the
other side was evidently Mr. Callicot, the father
of the lady, and the Union man of whom the
guerilla had spoken. He was unarmed, but there was a
rifle hanging against the wall, after the manner of the
South and West. The old gentleman was out of breath
from hurry and excitement, and was hardly in condition
to confront the ruffian, who had been bold enough in
the presence of a timid woman.
“What do you want here?” demanded Mr. Callicot,
in an excited tone.
“Nothin’, squire, but a drink of whiskey,” replied
the Texan, glancing first at Somers, and then at the
old man.
“There is not a drop of whiskey in my house, and
has not been for years,” answered Mr. Callicot.
“I’m a Texican, squire, and yer can’t cheat me. I
was born in the woods, and I kin smell whiskey nine
mile off.”
// 224.png
.pn +1
“I have told you the truth.”
“No, yer hain’t. Fotch on your whiskey, squire,”
added Skinley, taking one of his pistols from his belt.
“I have a safe-conduct from the general of this department,”
said the old man. “Here it is.”
“I can’t read it, stranger. Don’t want ter read it,
nuther.”
“Perhaps you will read it,” said Mr. Callicot, walking
across the room, and handing it to Somers.
“Don’t yer tech it, Somers,” said the Texan, angrily.
Somers took the paper, glanced at it, and handed it
back to the owner.
“Are you satisfied?” asked the old man.
“I am.”
“That ain’t handsome, Somers. Bekase you don’t
drink whiskey, it’s onreasonable that you should spile my
drink. But I’m gwine to hev my liquor. Now, squire,
will yer fotch on the whiskey, or won’t yer?”
“I would if I had any.”
“But yer hev,” said Skinley, raising his pistol; and
before Somers could realize that he intended to fire, he
discharged the piece at Mr. Callicot.
“O, my father!” screamed his daughter, rushing
towards him.
“What do you mean, you villain?” cried Somers,
elevating his pistol, and instantly firing.
“See here, Somers; that ain’t handsome,” replied
Skinley. “I didn’t tech you.”
// 225.png
.pn +1
In the smoke that filled the room Somers had missed
his aim, and the Texan was now entirely concealed
from him.
“Leave the house!” shouted Somers.
“Not till I git my whiskey, if I knows it. I hain’t
killed the old man; didn’t mean to kill him; only skeer
him a little. May be you mought be willing to fotch on
the whiskey now, squire.”
“I have none, as I told you before,” replied Mr. Callicot,
who, finding he was not wounded, had, under cover
of smoke, taken down the rifle from the beckets on the
wall. “Now you will leave my house.”
“Come, squire, don’t be techy, but fotch on the
whiskey,” said Skinley, evidently not pleased with the
new aspect of affairs.
“Leave my house!” replied the old man, with dignity.
Skinley, finding that it was of no use to argue the
point, slowly backed out at the door by which he had
entered.
“Shoot him, Somers,” said he.
“You deserve to be shot yourself for this outrage,”
added Somers, indignantly.
“That ain’t handsome, Somers. But we can’t stop
no longer,” continued the Texan, as he left the house,
and walked towards his horse.
“Begone, or you are a dead man,” said Mr. Callicot
to Somers, who still remained in the room.
// 226.png
.pn +1
“You mistake me, sir,” returned Somers; “I am a
friend, and not an enemy.”
“Begone, or you shall die!” repeated the old man,
now roused to the highest pitch of indignation. “You
fired at me as well as the other ruffian.”
“I fired at him.”
At this moment the door by which the owner of the
house had first entered was thrown wide open, and
Somers discovered Skinley, who had gone round the
house, and come in by another entrance. The wretch
instantly raised his rifle, and fired. The old man dropped
heavily on the floor, and his daughter uttered a scream
of agony, as she threw herself on his body.
“That’s the way a Texican settles yer hash!” shouted
Skinley.
Somers, who had returned the pistol to his belt, drew
it again, and fired in the direction of the door, though the
smoke prevented him from seeing the form of Skinley.
The guerilla rushed out of the house, and disappeared.
Somers followed him, determined not to be balked this
time. Unfortunately, he turned to the left, while the
Texan went to the right; and when he had passed
around the house to the lane, he discovered the scoundrel,
already mounted, and spurring his horse away from the
scene.
.if h
.il fn=i226.jpg w=476px
.ca
Skinley the Texan.—Page 227.
.ca-
.if-
.if t
.sp 2
[Illustration: Skinley the Texan.—Page 227.]
.sp 2
.if-
Somers sprang into his saddle, and started in pursuit.
The hour had come to avenge the old man, and to
// 226a.png
.pn +1
// 226b.png
// 227.png
discharge the duty imposed upon him, now made easy
by the wretch’s crime. He urged forward his good horse
to the utmost of his speed, and gained rapidly upon him.
Skinley, who could insult a woman, and shoot an old
man, had a wholesome fear of his pursuer; but when he
found that Somers was gaining upon him, he unslung his
rifle, and while his horse was at full speed, turned and
fired at his late companion. The bullet did not come
near Somers, who still urged on his steed.
Skinley, for some reason of his own, perhaps for the
purpose of putting into operation some method of dodging
his pursuer which he had learned in fighting Indians, or
lassoing cattle, now turned into an open field. Whatever
might have been the merits of the scheme under ordinary
circumstances, it was fatal to him in the present instance;
for, while the Texan was proceeding in a direction at
right angles with the road, Somers dashed into the field,
and cut him off, by taking the diagonal of the square,
while Skinley was following the side. Perhaps he had
not noticed a piece of low ground, partially covered
with water, which compelled him to give Somers this
advantage.
“’Tain’t handsome, Somers; I didn’t tech you!”
yelled Skinley, when he perceived that he had lost the
game.
Somers elevated his revolver, and, taking careful aim,
fired. The wretch threw up his arms, sprang upward in
// 228.png
.pn +1
his saddle, and dropped to the ground, while his horse
dashed on at increased speed, when relieved of his heavy
burden.
“My work is done,” said Somers, as he drew in his
panting steed.
Turning his horse, he rode slowly back to the spot
where Skinley had fallen. Dismounting, he bent over
the body to ascertain the result of his shot. The ball
had struck the Texan in the side, and had evidently
passed through his heart, for he was entirely dead. The
old man was avenged; the plot of the guerillas, so far as
it depended upon the arrival of Sweetzer and his force,
was defeated.
Somers took from the corpse of the guerilla a rifle, three
pistols, and a long knife. There was something projecting
from the breast pocket of his coat which looked like a
bundle of papers; and the young officer, ever intent
upon procuring information, drew it forth. He was not
mistaken; it was a bundle of papers, and among others
there was a note from Captain Lynchman to Lieutenant
Sweetzer; but it was only the order for him to proceed
forthwith to Tantallon cross-roads. Inasmuch as Skinley
was not “up to print,” much less to writing, the remainder
of the papers could have no connection
with the bearer; but Somers was too much impressed
by the proximity of the dead man, and by
the necessity of prudence in his present condition, to
// 229.png
.pn +1
examine them, and he put them in his pocket for
future inspection.
Slinging the rifle upon his back, and placing the other
weapons in his belt, he mounted his horse. As he was
about to depart, the animal which had been ridden by
Skinley came walking leisurely up the field, as if in
search of his lost burden. When he saw Somers, he
went up to him, and suffered himself to be captured.
He was a docile creature, and had been well trained
by his late master. Leading the horse, he returned
to the house of Mr. Callicot, to ascertain the fate
of that gentleman, and report the result of the
pursuit.
He found the house in commotion. The few servants
which the Union man had been able to retain were bustling
about the house, but, as is apt to be the case in a
panic, doing absolutely nothing. Somers gave the horses
into the keeping of an old negro man, and having deposited
the guerilla’s weapons in the back room, entered
the house. He found, by the direction which the servants
took, where the dead or wounded man lay; for he had
not waited to learn his fate before he went in pursuit of
the wretch who had done the deed.
He entered the apartment, and was glad to find that
his worst fears had not been realized. Mr. Callicot was
not dead, but he appeared to be severely wounded. His
eyes were open, and he was gazing, with a languid look
// 230.png
.pn +1
of affection, at his daughter, who was bending over
the bed.
“There’s one of them,” he faintly articulated, as
Somers entered the room.
“I am not one of them, Mr. Callicot; on the contrary,
I am an officer of the Union army, on the staff of
the major general commanding the eleventh and twelfth
corps.”
“Impossible!” groaned the sufferer.
“More than this, I have shot the villain who fired at
you,” continued Somers.
“He certainly took no part with the other man,
father,” interposed the daughter; “and I heard him
order his companion to leave the house.”
“If you are still in doubt, you will find the villain’s
horse in your stable, and all his weapons in your back
room.”
“Go and see, Sophia,” said the old man; “for we
know not whom to trust.”
Somers conducted the lady to the back room, and exhibited
the weapons; then to the stable, where the negro
had taken the horse.
“If you are not satisfied, Miss Callicot, you may send
one of your servants to a field on the left of the road,
about half a mile from here, and he will find the body
of the guerilla,—for such he was.”
“I am satisfied, sir, for I noticed the horse when the
// 231.png
.pn +1
man rode into the yard,” replied the lady. “Why did
you not protect us?”
“I fired at the scoundrel a moment after he discharged
his pistol at your father the first time; but the smoke in
the room spoiled my aim, and I missed him. I also
fired at him when your father fell, as you must have
noticed.”
“I heard two shots, but I did not know who fired
them.”
“I supposed he had gone when he left the house; but
it seems he went round, and entered again by another
door. I did not think the ruffian was base enough to kill
an old man like your father, or I would have shot him
in the first place. I did not wish to do so in your
presence.”
“I wish you had.”
“Is your father badly wounded?”
“I don’t know how bad it is; he was struck in the
shoulder. I have trembled every day for fear of these
guerillas; but when they come with an officer, my father’s
paper always saves us from harm.”
“Have you sent for a surgeon?” asked Somers.
“We have no horse at home, and the surgeon lives
five miles from us.”
“Take the dead man’s horse.”
“Thank you; I will send a man at once,” replied
Miss Callicot.
// 232.png
.pn +1
A boy was immediately despatched on Skinley’s horse
for a doctor, and Somers went with the lady to the room
of her father. The young officer examined the wound,
and ventured to assure the sufferer that it was not a dangerous
one. When wounded himself, he had seen the
surgeons operate, and he had some idea of the methods
employed. The old man was bleeding freely; and by
changing his position on the bed, and by pressing a
napkin around the wound, he checked the flow of
blood.
It was three hours before the surgeon arrived. He was
a personal friend of the Union man, and came with all
haste as soon as the boy found him. The doctor came,
but the messenger did not return; and Somers concluded
that the horse had been seen and recognized by some of
the guerillas. The young officer was greatly perplexed
in regard to his future movements; and though Miss
Callicot offered, and pressed upon him, the hospitalities of
the house, he decided to depart as soon as the doctor had
assured him that the wound was not dangerous. Leaving
at the house the guerilla’s weapons, which he advised
the lady to conceal, he mounted his horse, and rode
away; but what to do, or where to go, he was at a
loss to determine. All he wanted now was, to find De
Banyan, and hasten to the headquarters of his general.
The attack upon the pay-master’s escort was to be
made at Tantallon cross-roads, or in that direction; but
// 233.png
.pn +1
it was not prudent for him to be seen near that locality,
after what had happened, and he decided to return to
the nearest military post on the railroad. After riding
a couple of miles, as he turned a bend in the road,
on the verge of a wood, he suddenly came upon
Lynchman’s force, which had halted there.
// 234.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch22
CHAPTER XXII.||THE GREENBACK TRAIN.
.sp 2
.di t.jpg 50 67 1.1
THE guerillas and their horses stood so still in the
road that Somers had not suspected their presence.
His first impulse was to wheel his horse,
and flee with all speed from this dangerous ground. The
fact that the negro boy, who had been sent for the doctor,
had not returned, was pretty good evidence that he
had been captured by the guerillas; and their presence
in this place fully confirmed his fears.
To turn and run away would be sure to bring a volley
from their carbines upon him, and to advance was to
throw himself into the very jaws of the lion; but, on
the whole, he decided that it was less perilous to go forward,
and he continued on his way, as though no shock
had come over him. The negro who had been captured
had probably told his story, and it would be a very difficult
matter to reconcile the conflicting statements that
must ensue.
“Why are you here, Somers?” demanded Captain
Lynchman, in an excited tone.
// 235.png
.pn +1
“Yankee cavalry,” replied Somers, glancing suspiciously
behind him.
“Where?”
“I don’t know where they are now. Skinley was
shot by a Yankee and killed.”
“This is bad business,” said Lynchman.
“No, it isn’t; it is all the better for us,” said De
Banyan, stepping forward to the rescue.
“Perhaps it is, but I don’t see it,” added the captain,
and truly it must have been rather difficult for him
to see.
“You are duller than usual, captain,” continued De
Banyan, with his easy assurance. “You believe in
strategy, and look troubled at a difficulty like this?”
“Did you give Skinley’s horse to that nigger?” demanded
Lynchman.
“Bah!” exclaimed De Banyan, with hearty disgust.
“What matter whether he did or not? Are you going
to settle a case of that sort now? I tell you it is all
right.”
“What shall we do?”
“Do?” sneered the major. “We will capture the
pay-master at Tantallon cross-roads, as we intended.
We are not going to be thrown off the track by a little
accident of this kind.”
“Of course not,” replied the guerilla, catching the
inspiration of his apparently bolder companion.
// 236.png
.pn +1
“Leave these Yankees to me,” continued De Banyan.
“I will have them ten miles from here within two
hours.”
“Good!” murmured several of the guerillas.
“The greenback train has been delayed, and we shall
have time to bring up Sweetzer yet. I want two men to
go with me. I will take Tippy and Somers.”
“What do you want of them?” demanded Lynchman.
“Somers shall go to Raybold’s for our fellows there,
and Tippy shall return to inform you when to come forward.
If you should be seen, it would spoil the whole
thing.”
The guerilla chief consented to this plan; and De
Banyan, followed by Somers and Tippy, rode off at full
gallop. The major did not seem to be conscious that he
had very cleverly performed the part he had assumed
in the drama. He looked just as determined as though
he intended to carry out the programme assigned to him
by Lynchman.
“What are you going to do, major?” asked Somers,
when they had ridden about half a mile.
“The infernal cutthroats!” exclaimed he, savagely.
“I’m going to capture the whole crowd.”
“But you have no force.”
“I’ll have one. Tippy!” said he, with energy.
“Sir,” replied the scout, with the utmost deference
and respect.
// 237.png
.pn +1
“Understand my purpose. I am going to the stockade
where the pay-master and his escort are, and where I requested
him to remain until he heard from me.”
“Have you seen him?” asked Somers.
“I have; he has sent to the next post for more men.
They must have reached him by this time. Now, Somers,
if we are smart, we will report to the general before
night with the pay-master, and these guerillas as prisoners.
We have got things now where we can have it
our own way, and it will be our fault if we don’t bag the
whole squad.”
“If the pay-master has a hundred men, we can take
them at once,” said Somers.
“I propose to haul in the whole company—those at
Raybold’s as well as those with Lynchman. We have
no time to lose,” continued the major, with increased
energy. “Somers, you must go to Raybold’s, and deliver
the message given you by the captain.”
“I’m willing,” replied Somers, taking from his pocket
the papers he had removed from the body of Skinley.
“I have the captain’s written order in my hand.”
“Good! Kill your horse, if necessary; but don’t
lose an instant of time. Away with you!”
“But I don’t know the road.”
De Banyan instructed him very carefully in regard to
his route.
“When you have delivered the order, look out for
// 238.png
.pn +1
yourself,” he added, as Somers put spurs to his willing
horse, and dashed away to execute his important mission.
“Now, Tippy, in one hour go and tell Lynchman that
the road is open for him,” added De Banyan, as he took
the hand of the young scout, which he pressed with
warmth. “Boy, be true to your country and your flag
from this time henceforth and forever!”
“I will, I will!” exclaimed Tippy, with deep feeling,
as he wiped away the tears, which, for some unexplained
reason, filled his eyes.
De Banyan, apparently as deeply moved as the young
man, galloped away at a furious pace. Beyond the
wood he turned to the left, crossing the creek and the
railroad, till he reached another road. This point was
Tantallon cross-roads; and here he turned to the left
again, and was now moving directly towards the stockade
in which he had left the pay-master, and where he
arrived in an hour from the time he started. In fifteen
minutes more a squadron of cavalry, collected during
the forenoon from the military posts in the vicinity, was
moving down towards the cross-roads.
When the force arrived at its destination, one half of
it was posted in a secure place by the railroad, where it
could not be seen by the guerillas as they advanced to
the rendezvous, and the other half in the vicinity of the
cross-roads. Quite as soon as they were expected the
little troop of Lynchman crossed the railroad, and moved
// 239.png
.pn +1
cautiously towards the point at which they expected to
meet the “greenback train.” But no sooner had they
passed the railroad, than the force in their rear took the
road and cut off their retreat, while that in front advanced
upon them. For a moment there was a clash of
arms; but the guerillas were borne under and captured
by the cavalry without the loss of a man, and almost
without a scratch on either side.
The prisoners were conducted to a safe place, and the
cavalry again disposed for the reception of the larger
force expected from Raybold’s. The guerillas were
intensely astonished at the sudden and unexpected result
of the enterprise. Captain Lynchman, who believed in
strategy, looked exceedingly foolish and disconsolate.
When the prisoners were halted in a secure position he
happened to see De Banyan.
“How’s this?” said he, appealing to the energetic
major.
“How’s what?” asked De Banyan, with admirable
simplicity.
“You have made a blunder somewhere,” added
Lynchman, sheepishly.
“Not at all. Everything has come out just as I
intended it should.”
“Then you are a traitor.”
“On the contrary, I am a true Union man. I go
for the Union first, and Tennessee next.”
// 240.png
.pn +1
“Traitor!” growled the guerilla.
“See here, my man; you believe in strategy—don’t
you?”
“I do.”
“So do I,” replied De Banyan. “I think you have
got strategy enough to last you till the end of the war.”
“You deceived me, then,” added Lynchman, bitterly.
“Deceived you!” sneered the major. “Did you
think I would throw myself into your arms, and let you
butcher me at your own pleasure. I know what you
guerillas are—gorillas, I had better say. Deceived
you! I shouldn’t want a more stupid fellow than you
are to work upon. You have played into my hand all
the way through.”
“What is to be done with us?” asked the discomfited
chief, tamely.
“I don’t know. We shall march you to headquarters;
but as a man of your importance ought to have a bigger
escort than this, we shall add the rest of your gang to
the train.”
De Banyan walked away, mounted his horse, and rode
down to the cross-roads again, where the greater battle
was soon to be fought. Tippy, the scout, who had disengaged
himself from his companions at the beginning
of the affray, was directed to keep at a distance from the
strife.
Somers delivered his message to Sweetzer, and the
// 241.png
.pn +1
guerillas immediately leaped into their saddles. The
note from Lynchman relieved the bearer from all suspicion,
and the lieutenant only questioned him in regard
to the nature of the operations in which his force was to
engage. Somers answered as suited himself; and, finding
that no further notice was taken of him, the officers
and men being busily occupied in preparing for their
excursion, he contrived to detach himself from their
company. Gaining the highway, he rode at a leisure
gait till he was out of their sight, when he quickened his
pace, and reached the cross-roads in advance of the
guerillas. He was warmly welcomed by De Banyan;
but there was no time yet for long stories, though both
of them had much to say.
Sweetzer and his men crossed the railroad without a
suspicion that they were plunging into a fatal trap, till
they heard the clatter of horses’ feet behind. The
cavalry in the rear, which was to open the battle, dashed
upon the guerillas with a round of Union cheers. But
the rebels were desperate fellows. They had been plundering,
murdering, and destroying, without mercy, and
the fear of a righteous retribution upon their heads
nerved them to the most determined action, and they
fought like demons.
They were hardly engaged before the cavalry in front
rushed with headlong speed upon the entrapped foe. It
was such an opportunity as the policy of the partisans
// 242.png
.pn +1
seldom permitted them to enjoy; and the Union soldiers,
with a hearty relish for the work, went into the fight
with an enthusiasm which could result only in speedy
victory. Then ensued a brief but tremendous conflict,
in which the guerillas were thoroughly and completely
routed. There was an awful cutting and slashing for a
few minutes. The rebels were utterly demolished;
they broke, and attempted to flee from the scene of
wrath; but not many of them escaped.
“The work is done,” said De Banyan, as he joined
Somers at the close of the conflict.
“And well done,” added Somers, as he returned his
sword to its scabbard. “I think the general will be
willing to excuse our delay in reporting.”
The wounded were sent back to the military post, the
prisoners secured, and the “greenback train” took up
its line of march for the army.
On the way, De Banyan, Somers, and Tippy kept
together. It was the first time the staff officers had
found an opportunity to communicate in regard to the
past. Somers knew but little of what his friend had
done; but he opened the way for an explanation by
relating his own adventures with Skinley.
“I supposed you would shoot him the moment you
got him out of sight of his cutthroat companions,” said
the major.
“I couldn’t shoot him down in cold blood. I intended
// 243.png
.pn +1
to use a little strategy, when the right time came,”
replied Somers.
“You are too sentimental by half. If he had been a
soldier and a decent man, you might have hesitated. He
was nothing but a cold-blooded wretch, a cutthroat;
you ought to have shot him without winking twice. I
would have done it.”
“I couldn’t do it. But, De Banyan, what have you
been doing?”
The major minutely detailed his operations during the
morning. He had been to the pay-master, proved that
he was a Union man, on the staff of a general, and exposed
the plot of the guerillas. Returning to them, he
had arrived just before the capture of the negro boy on
the Skinley horse, and had contrived to make the fellow
say what he desired, in part, and to neutralize what
tended to inculpate Somers.
“One question, major,” said Somers, when De Banyan
finished: “Who is Tippy?”
“He is my son.”
// 244.png
.pn +1
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.h2 id=ch23
CHAPTER XXIII.||THE BATTLE IN THE CLOUDS.
.sp 2
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SOMERS had been greatly mystified by the singular
conduct of Tippy, the scout, and quite as
much so by that of De Banyan in connection
with the young man. He remembered to have heard the
major say, when they parted, after the eventful campaign
before Richmond, that he had a son; and it now appeared
that he had been in the rebel service, while his
father was actively engaged on the other side.
Before the war Tippy had been the confidential friend
and companion of his father to an extent to which parents
seldom admit their sons. He was an only child,
and between them there had been a bond of sympathy,
which nothing but the total breaking up of all social
relations could affect. The father had been compelled
to enter the rebel army sorely against his will, and at
the first opportunity had put himself on the right side.
In doing so he had been separated from his family,
hoping, however, to meet his wife and son again in a
few months at farthest. He had been grievously disappointed
// 245.png
.pn +1
in this respect, for the sweep of the Union
army had not been so speedy and decided as he had anticipated;
and he had been obliged, by the force of circumstances,
to leave the West and go to the East.
During his absence his wife had died; and the son,
inheriting the talent of his father, had taken service in
the rebel ranks, where his ability as a scout was soon
discovered. When he saw his father, he had no will of
his own; whatever the parent was, he was. Like thousands
of others who fought on the side of rebellion, he
had no principle in the matter, and only went with the
crowd. He was now happily restored to his devoted
parent, and fully believed that whatever cause his father
espoused must be the right one. The boy’s middle name
was Tipton, after a Tennessee politician, who happened
to be in the ascendant at the time of his birth; and from
this was derived the pet appellation by which he was
known among the rebels and partisans.
Somers and Tippy were immediately the best of
friends; and during the day, as they rode along, the
young Tennesseean asked a thousand questions about the
North, about the home and the associations of his companion;
and it is quite probable that he profited by the
information imparted in the answers to the questions.
Before night, as De Banyan had promised, our travellers
had the pleasure of reporting to “Fighting Joe,”
at Bridgeport, and of receiving a hearty welcome. They
// 246.png
.pn +1
were warmly commended for the work they had done
among the guerillas, who were the pest of the state, the
continual annoyance of the army’s communications, and
a nuisance to friend and foe among the families of the
region. The general conversed freely with De Banyan
and Somers, and immediately assigned them to duty in
their respective positions.
“Somers, my dear fellow, I greet you!” exclaimed
Captain Barkwood, when they met.
“Thank you, captain,” replied Somers, warmly grasping
the proffered hand of the engineer.
“You are the only volunteer I have met who was
fit to be a regular.”
“Fortunately, I am one,” added Somers, explaining
his position.
“I congratulate you. I hear that you have been
fighting guerillas.”
“A little.”
“I am sorry you have a taste for those small
squabbles.”
“I have not; I only go into them from necessity.
But our fight with the guerillas was a splendid piece of
strategy. I will tell you about it.”
Somers told him, and the engineer was satisfied,
though he declared that he was too much of a coward to
have any relish for hand-to-hand encounters.
“Well, Captain Barkwood, how is the general?”
// 247.png
.pn +1
asked Somers, when the relative merits of brain and
muscle had been duly discussed.
“The general! He is a diamond among precious
stones,” replied Barkwood, with enthusiasm. “If he
gets a chance he will knock the backbone out of the
rebel army in this quarter. By the way, Somers, I
remember the general when he was in Mexico.”
“Were you there?”
“I was.”
“You don’t look old enough.”
“I’m forty. I remember him at Chapultepec.”
“I was there,” added De Banyan; “but I was a
private.”
“He fought like a tiger there, as he did everywhere,
and went up like a rocket from second lieutenant to
lieutenant colonel. He is what I call a positive man;
he does his own thinking, which, unfortunately for him,
perhaps, in some instances, does not agree with the
thinking of others. He was with Pillow, Rains, and
Ripley, who are all rebels now.”
“But the general left the army.”
“Yes, he is an active man; he couldn’t stand the
piping times of peace that followed the Mexican war,
and, resigning his commission, went to California, where
he became a farmer. This didn’t agree very well with
his constitution, and when a speck of war appeared in
1861, he hastened to Washington; not as an adventurer,
// 248.png
.pn +1
mind you, but as a man who believed in the American
Union. Somehow the men in authority seemed to have
forgotten about his conduct in Mexico; and it may be
that some of his positive opinions were remembered, and
he did not readily procure service.
“Discouraged, and perhaps disgusted, with his ill
success, he made up his mind to return to his farm on
the Pacific. Before his intended departure he paid his
respects to President Lincoln, to whom he made some
comments on the battle of Bull Run, which induced the
president to make him a brigadier. That was the luckiest
thing for the general, and the luckiest thing for the
country, that ever came out of an accident.”
“That’s so!” exclaimed De Banyan, with emphasis.
“I’ve seen him in a great many fights; and I say he
has no superior in the army.”
“I’m not very fond of comparisons between generals;
but I can say I like him better than any other,” added
Somers. “I wish generals were not so sensitive.”
“Sensitive? My dear Somers, a man can no more
be a great general without being sensitive, than he can
be a parson without being pious.”
“That may be; but I think that some of the military
operations of the war have failed because the commanding
general in charge of them was not fairly supported,
owing to some of these squabbles about rank.”
“That’s true; but there’s a great difference between
// 249.png
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being sensitive, and failing to obey orders, in spirit as
well as to the letter. ‘Fighting Joe’ never did and
never will allow his sensitiveness to endanger for one
moment the success of our arms,” said the engineer,
warmly. “He would fight under a corporal rather than
lose the day, any time.”
“I know that,” answered Somers; “but I can’t help
feeling that if some generals had been less sensitive, our
general would have been in command of a large army
to-day.”
“A positive man speaks what he thinks; and I doubt
not ‘Fighting Joe’ has often offended his superiors by
his candid criticisms. This may have affected his position,
but it cannot rob him of the glory of the past.
Whatever he does, and wherever he goes, I’m with him
to the end,” added the engineer.
“So am I,” said De Banyan.
“There will be something done in this department
very soon,” continued Barkwood. “The heavy storms
have rendered the roads almost impassable; and the provisions
for the army in Chattanooga have to be conveyed
in wagons about fifty miles. The first move will be to
open the river and the railroad between this point and
Chattanooga.”
The engineer was correct in his supposition, for a few
days later General Hazen’s brigade descended the Tennessee
in pontoon boats, intended for the erection of a
// 250.png
.pn +1
bridge over the river at Brown’s Ferry, running the rebel
batteries in the night, and reaching their destination in
safety. The Confederate force under General Bragg
was posted on the south side of the river, holding the
heights known as Raccoon Mountain, Lookout Mountain,
and Missionary Ridge. Batteries had been planted
on these heights, which swept the river and the valleys;
and the operation of dislodging the enemy from their
strongholds was a difficult and dangerous one.
A pontoon bridge nine hundred feet in length was
built on the river at Brown’s Ferry in five hours, a
force having been first sent over the river, and a position
captured and fortified to protect the operation.
The eleventh and twelfth corps then moved out from
Bridgeport, and completed the communication between
that place and the pontoon bridge, thus effecting a junction
with the army in Chattanooga. A steamboat, built
by a company of engineers, and another captured from
the enemy, conveyed provision, one above and the other
below the pontoon bridge, to the beleaguered town.
This vital question being settled, the place was fortified
so that it could be held by a small force; and the main
army then commenced the work of relieving East Tennessee
from the presence of the rebels, which was fully
accomplished in spite of the active movement of the enemy
to prevent it.
Our volume is not a history, and we do not purpose to
// 251.png
.pn +1
narrate in detail the movements of the three armies,
which had been united under General Grant. The rebels
were whipped in every direction, foiled and defeated in
all their plans, and the Union army continued on its
march to Atlanta. “Fighting Joe” bore an important
part in these operations, and was conspicuous at Lookout
Mountain, Resaca, and before Atlanta. He was skilful
and brave, energetic and devoted in this campaign, as he
had been before. He was faithful to his duty, until, on
the death of General McPherson, he was compelled to
ask to be relieved. With this summary of the events at
the seat of war in the South, we return to Captain
Somers.
The general’s command, having opened the communication
with Chattanooga, marched up Lookout Valley.
“Fighting Joe” was there for a purpose. The rugged
steeps of the mountain bristled with rebel cannon, and
his army was exposed to a sharp fire as it moved on its
way. The general was in the midst of it, and assured
the troops that the fire could not harm them. His conduct
had the most inspiring effect upon the men.
When the head of the column approached the vicinity
of the railroad bridge, near Wauhatchie, the rebel infantry
opened upon it, being posted in a dense forest,
where their number could not be determined. A brigade
was thrown out to flank the position, upon which the enemy
precipitately fled over the creek, burning the bridge
// 252.png
.pn +1
behind them. The column moved on, and halted for the
night in the valley.
At midnight General Geary’s division was savagely
attacked, and presently the gloom of the valley was
lighted up by the flame of battle; cannon and musketry
blazed from the summits of the mountain, but the men
fought with the most determined zeal. The general was
in his saddle, and his staff were hurled away like arrows
from a bow, to strengthen the weak parts of the line.
A brigade was despatched to the assistance of Geary,
who was hard pressed; but the attack was promptly
repelled.
Somers was then sent off with an order to the second
brigade to storm the heights and carry them; and he
was directed to accompany the force and report progress
to the general. The hill was very steep and rugged,
and in many places the rocks presented the appearance
of palisades. It was covered with wood and underbrush,
and it would not have been an easy thing to
climb it with a guide in broad daylight; but the general
had sent these intrepid fellows to scale its jagged steeps
in the middle of the night. It was cloudy, and the moon
shed an uncertain light on the scene.
To Somers there was a savor of home in the enterprise,
for the thirty-third Massachusetts was one of the two
regiments which formed the advance in this perilous
movement; the other was the seventy-third Ohio, both
// 253.png
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numbering only four hundred men. On dashed the intrepid
soldiers, climbing up the dangerous steeps, as
though all of them had been mountaineers—on, till
they penetrated the clouds, while the gloom was lighted
up by the glare of the sheets of flame from two thousand
rebel muskets. There in the clouds, at midnight, was
fought and won this remarkable battle. The crests of
the hills were carried at the point of the bayonet, and
the gallant thirty-third left one third of its number killed
and wounded on the ground; but the victory was complete,
and Captain Somers hastened to report the result
to the general.
// 254.png
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.h2 id=ch24
CHAPTER XXIV.||PEACH-TREE CREEK.
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DURING the night all the rebels evacuated
Lookout Mountain, and retreated upon the
main army, posted at the eastward of them.
The storming of the heights was part of the
great battle of Chattanooga, directed by General Grant
with the most consummate skill, and carried out by his
subordinates with a zeal and energy which insured a
great and decisive victory. Chattanooga was ours;
East Tennessee was purged of the rebels who had been
persecuting the devoted loyalists from the beginning of
the war; and with these events substantially closed the
campaign of 1863.
Our limited space compels us to pass over the time
from this period to the July of the next year. Somers
and De Banyan still held their positions on the staff of
the general, spending the winter in the vicinity of Chattanooga.
There were a great many letters passed
between the young captain and his friends, and all of
them from him were not directed to Pinchbrook.
// 255.png
.pn +1
Between himself and Lilian a most excellent understanding
still subsisted.
In the reorganization of the army, which followed the
well-deserved promotion of Grant to the rank of lieutenant
general, “Fighting Joe” was placed in command
of the twentieth corps; and in Sherman’s bloody and
decisive advance to Atlanta, he was one of the central
figures in the picture. He was the idol of his corps, as
he had been in the Army of the Potomac. His men
loved and trusted him, and he never disappointed them.
He was always in the thickest of the danger, to support
and to cheer them.
Everything went wrong with the rebels. Johnston,
beaten and flanked time and again, fell back, until
Atlanta, the objective point of Sherman, was reached,
where he was superseded by Hood, who was eminently a
fighting man, and was expected to retrieve the failing
fortunes of the Confederacy. On the 20th of July was
fought the battle of Peach-Tree Creek, which was a
desperate attempt on the part of the newly-appointed
rebel commander to redeem the disasters of the past.
The attack was made against a weak place in the line,
where there was a large gap between the divisions of
Geary and Williams.
Into this gap Hood hurled his compact column; who,
inspired with a hope that their new leader would turn
the tide of battle setting so strongly against the rebels,
// 256.png
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fought with unwonted desperation. They poured, in
solid masses, through the open space, and fell upon the
boys of the twentieth corps with fiendish valor. For a
moment they shook—but “Fighting Joe” flashed before
them like a meteor; his full tones were heard as buoyant
as in the hour of victory, and the soldiers gathered themselves
up under this potent inspiration, and bravely faced
the impetuous foe. From both sides of the gap, into
which the rebels had wedged themselves, deadly volleys
of musketry were poured in upon them. They were
mowed down like ripe grain before the scythe. They
bit the dust in hundreds; but the survivors maintained
the conflict.
Still the commander of the twentieth corps dashed
along the line, and everywhere restored the breaking
column. His voice was a charm on that day, and more
than any other of the war in which he had been engaged,
this was his battle; for, with his voice, his eye,
and his commanding presence, he banished panic, and
wrested victory from the arms of defeat. The assault
was triumphantly repelled; and doubtless the rebels
believed that the Fabian policy of Johnston was preferable
to the bloody and bootless desperation of Hood.
The battle was won; and many and earnest were the
congratulations exchanged among officers and soldiers
after the bloody affair. De Banyan and Somers had
been particularly active, not only in bearing orders, but
// 257.png
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in rallying the troops; and the general personally thanked
them for their devotion: at the same time the aid-de-camp
was directed to convey information of the result to
a general whose position might be affected by it.
Somers rode off, but had gone only a short distance
before his friend dashed up to his side, and pointed out
to him a piece of woods on his route, where a squad of
the enemy’s cavalry had been seen, and entreated him to
be exceedingly cautious.
“I’m always cautious, major,” laughed Somers.
“I know you are, my boy; but you might not have
known there was any danger in that quarter.”
“I will avoid the woods, if I can.”
“You can, by going over that low place at the right
of the creek,” added De Banyan. “I have a message to
deliver in that direction myself.”
They rode on, and parted a short distance from the
creek. Somers proceeded to his destination, and having
accomplished his mission, started on the return. When
he reached the point nearest to the creek, his attention
was attracted by a riderless horse, feeding on the shrubs
that covered the ground. A nearer approach to the
animal assured him it was De Banyan’s horse; and his
blood froze with fear as he considered the meaning of
this circumstance. His friend had evidently been shot,
and had fallen from his horse; but perhaps he was not
dead, and Somers proceeded to search for the major.
// 258.png
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As he rode forward, almost overcome by the suddenness
of the shock which had fallen upon him, the sharp
crack of a rifle roused him from his meditation, and a
bullet whistled uncomfortably near his head. He drew
his revolver, and discovered half a dozen rebels in front
of him. Wheeling his horse on the instant, he attempted
to escape in the opposite direction. This act drew upon
him the fire of the party, and though he was not hit, his
horse dropped upon the ground, shot through the head.
As the faithful animal fell, the leg of the rider became
entangled under his body, and he was held fast.
“How are you, Blueback?” said one of the rebels,
as they rushed forward and seized him, disarming
him before they released him from his uncomfortable
position.
“How are you, Grayback?” replied Somers, calling
his philosophy to his aid in this trying moment.
“Is yer health good, Yank?”
“First rate, I thank you, Reb,” answered Somers,
as he disengaged his foot from the stirrup beneath the
horse. “How’s yours?”
“I cal’late you are better ter keep than yer are
to kill.”
“That’s a sensible idea on your part.”
“May be it is. What yer got in your pockets,
Yank?”
“Not much; the pay-master hasn’t been round lately.”
// 259.png
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“Let’s see.”
“You rebs don’t take greenbacks—do you?” asked
Somers, as he pulled out his pocket-book.
“I bet we do—take anything we can get.”
“Well, you won’t get much out of me. There’s my
pocket-book; it’s rather flat; an elephant stepped on it
the other day.”
There was about ten dollars in legal tender currency
and fractional bills in the pocket-book, which the rebels
thankfully accepted.
“What else yer got?” demanded the spokesman of
the squad.
“What else do you want? When I meet a friend in
distress, I like to do the handsome thing by him.”
“I reckon we’re in distress, and we’ll take anything
yer got to give. Got the time of day about yer?”
Somers gave up his silver watch.
“That’s everything I have about me of any value,”
he added, hoping these sacrifices would satisfy the
rapacity of his captors.
“Dunno, Yank; let’s see,” added the rebel, with a
grin. “Turn out yer pockets.”
Somers took from the breast pocket of his coat the
Testament which his mother had given him, and which
had been his constant companion in all his campaigns.
It contained several pictures of the loved ones at home,
including, of course, one of Lilian Ashford.
// 260.png
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“You don’t want this?” said he, as he pulled the
Testament, wrapped up in oiled silk, from his pocket,
and unrolled it before them.
“I cal’late you Yanks don’t hev no use for this book,”
replied the spokesman, as he took the cherished gift.
“Won’t you leave me that?” asked Somers. “My
mother gave it to me, and it contains the photographs of
my friends at home.”
“Not if I knows it, Yank,” replied the man, coarsely.
“This is a warm day—ain’t it, Yank?”
“Rather warm.”
“May be that coat’s too hot for yer?”
“I think I can endure it very well.”
“I’m feered it will make yer sick if yer wear it any
longer. Jest take it off, Yank. It was made for a
better man ’n you be.”
Somers complied, simply because resistance was vain.
“What number of boots do you wear, Yank?” continued
the rebel, glancing at his prisoner’s feet.
“Well, I generally wear two of them,” replied Somers,
facetiously.
“I reckon yer won’t wear so many as that much
longer. Don’t yer think them boots would fit me?”
“I’m afraid they are too small for you,” said Somers,
disgusted with the conduct of his captors.
“I reckon they’ll jest fit me.”
“Come, Turkin, quit now. I’ll be dog-on’d ef we
// 261.png
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don’t git captered ourselves, ef you keep on parlatin’ with
the carri’n any longer. Fotch him along, and we’ll
measure the boots bime-by.”
As this was eminently prudent advice under the circumstances,
Turkin decided to follow it. One of the
party took the saddle and bridle from the dead animal,
while another caught De Banyan’s horse. The unfortunate
event took place within fifty rods of the line of the
twentieth corps, and near the spot where the recent
battle had raged fiercest. The ground was directly in
front of the army, and it was an unparalleled piece of
impudence for the rebels to come so near on such an expedition.
With the exception of the piece of woods, the
ground was open, though Somers was captured behind a
ridge, which hid the marauders from the view of the
sentinels.
“Now, Yank, we’ll march,” said Turkin, who, though
he wore no badge of his rank, appeared to be the
sergeant or corporal commanding the squad. “Be
you ready?”
“Well, no, I’m not ready; but as you fellows have
such an insinuating way with you, I suppose I shall have
to go,” replied Somers, glancing in the direction of the
Union line.
“You guessed about right that time, Yank. ’Tain’t no
use to look over yender. If yer don’t walk right along,
jest like a Christian, I’d jest as lief shoot yer as not.”
// 262.png
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“Don’t trouble yourself, Reb; I’m with you. But
I’m not much used to walking without boots, of late
years, and if you take my boots I may make hard work
of it.”
“No, yer won’t; if yer do, I’ll save yer the trouble
of walking any further.”
“No trouble at all,” added Somers, who, in spite of
his apparently easy bearing, was in momentary fear of
being shot by the ruffians in charge of him.
“What’s yer name?” demanded Turkin, abruptly,
as they moved towards the wood, beyond which flowed
Peach-tree Creek.
“Thomas Somers.”
“What d’yer b’long ter?”
“To the army.”
“See here, Yank; I asked yer a civ’l question; if yer
don’t give me a civ’l answer, dog scotch me if I don’t
give yer pineapple soup for supper.”
By pineapple soup Somers understood him to mean
a minie ball, deducing this conclusion from the resemblance
of this messenger of death to the fruit mentioned.
The rebel seemed suddenly to have changed his humor,
and the captive found that it was not safe to give indirect
answers; so he told who and what he was in full,
without any equivocation.
“Can you tell me what became of the owner of that
horse?” said Somers, pointing to the animal, led by one
// 263.png
.pn +1
of the rebels; but he did not venture to put the question
to Turkin.
“May be I can; but may be I won’t,” replied the
man, in surly tones.
“Was he killed?”
“If he was, he was; if he wasn’t, he wasn’t.”
Somers could obtain no information on this subject
and he feared the worst.
// 264.png
.pn +1
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.h2 id=ch25
CHAPTER XXV.||THE MONKEY AND THE CAT’S PAW.
.sp 2
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NOTWITHSTANDING his own misfortunes,
Somers could not help thinking of his friend
De Banyan, whom he regarded as an elder
brother. They had endured much suffering,
and passed through many perils together, and the bond
of union between them was very strong. The riderless
horse indicated that he had been killed. The rebels had
fired upon Somers before they summoned him to surrender,
and probably a shot aimed at De Banyan had
been more unfortunate. It was very sad for Somers to
think of his noble companion, shot down by an unseen
foe; but he could hardly cherish a hope that he was still
alive. It would have been better for him to fall in
the front of battle, where he had so often distinguished
himself.
It was hard to give him up; yet all the probabilities
were, that he had been killed, and that his body lay
unnoticed and unhonored on the spot where he had
fallen. Somers was a prisoner himself, and had been
// 265.png
.pn +1
plundered even of the most necessary articles of wearing
apparel, and subjected to needless insult and brutality.
The condition of the Union prisoners at Richmond, Andersonville,
and Salisbury was too well known to him to
render the prospect before him even tolerable. But a
desponding spirit would only aggravate his miseries, and
he determined to submit to his fate with patient resignation.
He felt that he was in the keeping of the good
Father, who doeth all things well; and in His appointed
time he would be rescued from peril and restored to his
friends; or, if it was the will of Heaven that he should
lay down his life in grief and misery for the cause he
had chosen to serve, he would try to be faithful and
patient unto the bitter end.
The rebels conducted him through the woods to the
creek, which they forded, and continued on their way
till they reached a grove, where it now appeared that
they had picketed their horses. It was also evident to
the unfortunate prisoner that his captors were not regular
cavalrymen, but guerillas, who hung on the flanks of
the army to rob the wounded, plunder the dead, capture
stragglers worth the trouble, and gather up the spoils
of battle. When this was apparent to Somers, from
the words and the actions of the wretches, he felt that
he had reason to be thankful that they had not murdered
him, as they probably had his friend. His life had been
spared, but this new revelation of the character of his
// 266.png
.pn +1
captors suggested a doubt whether death was not preferable
to captivity in the hands of such miscreants. At
the grove the men halted.
“Now, cap’n, off with them boots!” said Turkin, in
savage tones.
Somers felt that he had not a moment’s lease of life
secured to him, and he promptly complied with the unreasonable
demand of the guerilla.
“Who’s gwine to hev them boots?” suggested one of
the gang.
“The man as they fits,” replied Turkin, who proceeded
at once to try them on.
“No, sir! I’ll be dog-on’d if anything of that sort
shall be did!” protested the other.
“Well, Gragg, what’s the use of them boots to you?
You couldn’t put ’em outside yer feet, more’n yer could
crawl inter the barrel of yer shooter.”
“May be I couldn’t; but them boots is wuth more
to you than the hoss. Draw lots fur ’em.”
The guerillas debated this question for some time, and
with so much acrimony that Somers ventured to hope
they would resort to knives and bullets in the adjustment
of the quarrel, and thus afford him an opportunity to
profit by the discussion. But it was finally agreed to
value the property, and make an equal division of it.
Turkin could not get the boots on; whereat he was
greatly enraged, and looked at Somers as though he
// 267.png
.pn +1
intended to annihilate him for not having a larger foot.
A young fellow of the party succeeded in getting them
on, and they were apportioned to him. It was pleasant
to think that he was dooming himself to a great deal of
misery by his apparent good fortune; for, if he had
corns, the boots would be agony to him; if not, they
would be tight enough to raise a crop of the tormentors
in a very brief period. If through tribulation we are
brought to the truth, it is to be hoped that the sufferings
of the young guerilla brought him to a belief that “honesty
is the best policy,” though this is not the highest
rule of morality.
Each of the marauders was supplied with a horse,
and apparently to save the trouble of leading him, rather
than for the comfort of the prisoner, Somers was ordered
to ride the animal which had belonged to De Banyan.
The party were loaded with plunder, taken from the
dead and wounded of both armies, as Somers judged
from the appearance of the articles. They moved in the
direction of the rebel camps, and in a short time they
had passed beyond the reach of danger from the Union
army.
“Gragg, what we gwine to do with this feller?” said
Turkin, as he pointed to the prisoner. “We don’t want
him.”
“Knock him on the head, and leave him here,” replied
the benevolent Gragg.
// 268.png
.pn +1
“I don’t keer,” added Turkin, as he rubbed his matted
hair beneath his hat, as if to stimulate a half developed
idea which was struggling for existence in his
brain.
Somers did care: it would make considerable difference
to him. He had patiently submitted to the policy
of his captors in order to save his life; but upon the
question of murdering him in cold blood, he felt that he
had something to say. If resorting to desperate measures
would afford the slightest hope of escape, he was
ready to accept the issue. There were seven of the
guerillas, and resistance was almost hopeless, yet not
entirely so, for there was a single favorable circumstance
to aid him.
As the prisoner rode along between Turkin and Gragg,
he happened to discover that the holsters of De Banyan’s
horse still contained the pistols of his friend. They
were two navy revolvers, which the guerillas had neglected
to secure. With these formidable weapons Somers
believed that he could make a tolerably good fight,
though such a course would be madness on his part,
unless he was reduced to the most desperate extremity,
when death was certain if he did not resort to it.
“We don’t want ter be bothered with this carri’n,”
continued the philanthropic Gragg.
“I was thinkin’,” said Turkin.
“Was yer?” demanded Gragg, as the thinker did
// 269.png
.pn +1
not develop the result of his meditations. “What was
yer thinkin’?”
“Yer know what happened yesterday?”
Gragg did know, and as it appeared from their conversation,
Colonel Grayhame, of the Confederate cavalry,
had threatened to hang the whole of the gang for some
irregular proceedings among the rebel wounded.
“The kun’l’s down on us, Gragg,” added the politic
Turkin.
“I don’t keer.”
“He’ll spile our prospects. We kin make him good
natered by givin’ him a young scrub of a Yankee officer
like this.”
“I don’t keer.”
“It won’t cost nothin’. We don’t want the young cub;
and he’ll think we’re doin’ sunthin’ for the cause.”
“He’ll make yer give up the boots and the coat,” suggested
the prudent Gragg.
“You bet he won’t!” replied Turkin, positively.
“The feller is a staff officer, belongin’ to one of the
big Yankee gin’rals; and the kun’l will be glad to
git him.”
“But the coat and the boots, the watch and the
money? The kun’l’s foolish about sech things. He
don’t take ’em from the Yanks.”
It was finally decided to say that the prisoner had been
robbed of these articles before they captured him, and to
// 270.png
.pn +1
deliver the captive to the colonel, as a conciliatory offering.
Somers was much relieved when this decision was
readied, for it was some satisfaction to be handed over
to an officer who was a gentleman, and had some regard
for the comfort of his prisoners.
When the guerillas arrived at the spot where the camp
of Colonel Grayhame had been on the previous day, their
plans were entirely changed by learning that the cavalry
under his command had been ordered away to look after
the Union force, sent down to destroy the West Point
Railroad; not that this information affected their purposes,
but because it suggested a field for the better
prosecution of their irregular work. Somers heard
them discuss the matter; and he found that they believed
the Union cavalry would burn and plunder public
and private property, without discrimination, wherever
they went. Their presence would create a panic; houses
would be abandoned, citizens killed, and the spoils would
be plentiful. When Turkin suggested that the party
should follow the colonel, and gather up the plunder,
his companions readily assented.
Somers did not learn what was to be done with himself,
but he concluded that he was to go with them.
Though it was now dark, the guerillas immediately
started for the new field of operations, and the prisoner
was placed between Gragg and Turkin, as before. These
worthies were less communicative during the evening
// 271.png
.pn +1
than they had been immediately after his capture, and
Somers listened in vain for any hint in regard to the
disposition which they intended to make of him.
They rode till about nine o’clock, when Gragg suggested
that they were human, and ought to have some
supper. They were approaching the mansion of a
planter, and as they owed allegiance to neither side in
the great conflict, it mattered but little to them who or
what the owner was. Their sympathies were undoubtedly
with the South, but their love of plunder was stronger
than their sympathies.
“Git off the hoss, cap’n,” said Turkin, as the party
halted in the yard of the house.
Somers obeyed. In the darkness of the evening he
had contrived to remove one of the revolvers from its
holster, and place it under his vest; for he did not know
that he should again be permitted to mount the horse.
He had also transferred from a leather bag on the
pommel of the saddle, two or three at a time, a sufficient
number of patent cartridges and caps. He was not
without a hope that the present halt would afford him
an opportunity to attempt an escape.
“Lead your horse to the stable,” added Turkin.
He put the horse in the stable with the others; but he
was closely watched all the time. While he was thus
engaged, he saw Gragg and Turkin in close conversation;
and, though Somers could not hear what was said, he
was satisfied that they were talking about him.
// 272.png
.pn +1
“Cap’n,” said Turkin, as the prisoner came out of the
stall.
“I’m here,” replied Somers.
“Will you be shot afore supper, or arter?”
“Neither.”
“That’s jest what I expected you mought say, because
it stands to reason no man don’t want to be shot.”
“Just my sentiments; I don’t want to be shot.”
“Jes so; and yer ought to be much obleeged ter me
fur not shoot’n yer before.”
“I am very grateful to you for your consideration.”
“Exac’ly; you ain’t no more use to us than a knife
and fork to a cow.”
“I don’t do you any harm.”
“That may be; but yer don’t do no good. Cap’n,
will yer be shot afore supper, or arter?” repeated
Turkin.
“I have already expressed my views on that subject.”
“Yes or no?”
“No.”
“Cap’n, you kin read, I take it.”
“I can.”
“D’yer ever read the story about the monkey that took
the cat’s paw to haul the chestnuts out the fire with?”
“I have.”
“I knew yer hed; yer Yanks is great readers. Do
yer know what the moril is to that story?”
// 273.png
.pn +1
“I think I do.”
“I knew yer did; yer Yanks is great on morils. I’m
gwine ter tell yer the moril of that story. Did yer say
you’d be shot afore supper, or arter?”
“Neither, if it will accommodate you just as well,”
replied Somers, greatly perplexed to know what the
fellow was going to do.
“Never mind, then; we’ll talk about the moril. It
ain’t jest the thing fur us to go inter this house, and make
’em get supper fur us, because we ain’t exac’ly reg’lar.
We wan’t the supper, and we may want sunthin’ more,
arter that. We don’t want to be seen in the business.
Now, we are the monkey, and you are the cat’s paw—don’t
yer see?”
“I don’t quite understand you.”
“You shall go in, order the supper, and do the talkin’
for us. When they git supper ready, we’ll go in and
eat it, without any of the folks seein’ on us. Yer’ll be
cap’n, and do the talkin’ for us—don’t yer see?”
“I see.”
“And keep the folks from seein’ us too—don’t yer
see?”
“I see.”
“Now, cap’n, will yer be shot afore supper, or arter?”
demanded Turkin.
“Neither,” replied Somers, thereby consenting to the
plan proposed by the guerilla.
// 274.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch26
CHAPTER XXVI.||SUPPER FOR SEVEN.
.sp 2
.di w.jpg 50 55 1.5
WHATEVER the merits of the plan in which
Somers was compelled to take a part, he
did not relish the idea of being made a cat’s
paw in the hands of such unmitigated villains as the
guerillas. It involved no sacrifice of principle, and did
not require him to give “aid and comfort to the enemy;”
otherwise he would have taken his chances in an encounter
with the whole squad. It was one portion of the
enemy feeding on another portion; and if the planter, who
was himself a rebel, objected to the forced contribution,
he had only to thank himself for the state of things he
had assisted in bringing about.
“I am ready,” said Somers, when Turkin had fully
explained his plan.
“We’re all half starved, and I cal’late we’re ready
too.”
“But do you think I shall look much like an officer,
when I go in without any coat or boots?”
“May be we mought lend you a coat,” replied Turkin,
struck with the force of the suggestion.
// 275.png
.pn +1
By his order, Somers’s coat was restored to him, with
the remark that he would not want it after supper; which
led him to believe that he was to be shot when the
wretches had no further use for him.
“An officer usually wears a sword,” added Somers,
“and a pair of boots.”
“Ger ’long!” said Gragg.
“Do you think an officer would be without boots, when
all his men are so well shod? I think I should be a cat’s
paw without any claws.”
“Give him his boots; he won’t want ’em arter supper,”
replied Turkin; and the young man who had these
useful articles was compelled to pull them off, which he
did with a great deal of difficulty.
Somers put them on, and began to feel like himself
again.
“See here, cap’n; couldn’t you send the folks all out
the house for a while, when we are at supper?”
“Perhaps I could; but I fancy they will think I am a
humbug, when I go in without a sword.”
“Give him his sword,” said Turkin. “Now, kin
yer send the folks off?—play ’em some Yankee trick?—don’t
yer see?”
“Perhaps I could; I’ll try.”
“Ef yer do well, we’ll give yer supper afore—”
“You git!” said Gragg, expressively.
“I’ll do the best I can,” replied Somers, confirmed in
// 276.png
.pn +1
his opinion that the savages meant to kill him, by the interrupted
remark of Turkin, and the expressive tones of
Gragg.
“Kin yer write, Yank?” asked Turkin.
“I can.”
“I knew yer could; yer Yanks is great at writin’.
Write ’em a note, sayin’ somebody wants ter see ’em
down to the next house.”
“Capital!” exclaimed Somers. “I should think you
were a Yankee yourself.”
“Don’t call me a Yank.”
“I only meant that you can beat the Yankees at playing
tricks.”
“I’m some.”
All the servants outside the house had been captured,
and kept in the darkness, where they could not recognize
any of the guerillas. They had already been questioned,
and enough was known of the family to enable Somers to
write a note; but they had no paper.
“I can manage it,” said Somers, suddenly, as though a
splendid suggestion had occurred to him. “If I take
from my Testament one of those pictures, and tell them
the person represented wishes to see them, they will go.
If they don’t recognize the picture, they will be the more
curious to know who it is.”
“May be they will,” replied Turkin, doubtfully.
But it appeared from the story of the negroes that a son
// 277.png
.pn +1
of the gentleman in the next house had married a daughter
of the planter; that both were at Savannah; and it
was finally agreed that the spokesman of the party should
say the daughter had suddenly arrived, was quite ill, and
wished all the family would come down and see her.
“But I want one of those pictures to write the message
on,” added Somers.
“I’ll give yer one.”
“And I want to take it from the Testament. It will
look more natural.”
The guerillas thought so too, and by the light of the
lantern which one of the negroes brought, he wrote in
pencil, “These villains mean to rob your house after supper;
get a force and capture them.”
“He’s great at writin’—ain’t he?” said the admiring
Turkin.
“Will you look at it?” asked Somers, innocently.
Turkin took the card, and looked at it steadily by the
light of the lantern for a moment, and then handed it
back to the writer.
“That will do, you bet,” added Turkin. “We’re great
on a trick—ain’t we?”
“There’s nothing like a well-managed trick,” answered
Somers, as he placed the card in the Testament, which
had been given him for the purpose. “You are sharp
fellows, and this thing will work to a charm.”
“I cal’late it will; but ger ’long; we want our supper.
// 278.png
.pn +1
After that we’ll show you a trick wuth two of
that.”
They walked to the side door of the house, which was
some distance from the stable, so that the arrival of the
guerillas had not been noticed by the people within. The
villains seemed to have a very wholesome dread of Colonel
Grayhame, for they often alluded to him in connection
with the present operation; and they had already
discovered that his main force was not far in advance of
them, while detachments of his regiment were guarding
the railroad, not half a mile from the house.
“See here, Yank; I don’t know as we kin trust yer,”
said Turkin, who had accompanied him to the door, leaving
his companions in an arbor, within hail of the
mansion.
“I don’t care whether you do or not,” answered
Somers. “This isn’t my job; it is yours.”
“I’ll go in with yer, with my face kivered up, and if
yer don’t talk right up, I shan’t ask yer whether yer’ll
be shot afore supper or arter.”
“I’ll do just what you tell me to do.”
“Ger ’long, then.”
Somers knocked at the door, which seemed to displease
his rude companion, who wished him to walk in without
any ceremony; but the “cat’s paw” explained that a
certain degree of courtesy would help the enterprise, and
the guerilla assented, though with an ill grace. The
door was opened by a sleek, black servant.
// 279.png
.pn +1
“Is Colonel Roman within?” asked Somers, using the
name of the planter which had been given him by
Turkin.
“Yes, sar.”
“I wish to see him.”
“Walk in, sar.”
Somers was conducted to an elegant library, where the
planter and his family were seated. He was closely followed
by Turkin, who had tied a red silk handkerchief
over his face, so that his ugly physiognomy was entirely
concealed from the inmates of the room. The planter
rose from his chair, and bowed with stately courtesy to
his unexpected visitors.
“I beg your pardon for disturbing you, Colonel
Roman,” said Somers.
“Whom have I the honor of addressing?” demanded
the planter, rather coldly.
“Captain Somers, of the army, at your service, sir.”
“You seem to wear the uniform of the Yankees.”
“That’s inter yer,” whispered Turkin, who stood
close by his spokesman.
“I was so fortunate as to obtain this uniform from a
Yankee officer whom I captured,” replied Somers, with
promptness.
“There yer hev him,” added Turkin.
“That explains it, though some officers prefer to go
in rags rather than wear the colors of the Yankees,
especially when obtained in that manner.”
// 280.png
.pn +1
“I have only to say, sir, that the Yankee from whom
I got them had no further use for his clothes,” added
Somers, pleased to find that the chivalry did not justify
the system which prevailed of robbing prisoners of their
clothing.
“May I ask your business with me, sir?”
“I have a small squad of seven men with me. We
have had no supper, and we wish to trespass so far on
your hospitality as to obtain one in your house.”
“Eight of you?” asked the planter. “You shall be
supplied at once.”
“We are in great haste.”
“All possible expedition shall be used in preparing
the meal,” answered the planter, as he ordered his servant
to give the proper directions to the cook and others.
“Do you belong to Colonel Grayhame’s force?”
“Tell him yer do,” whispered Turkin.
“We do, sir. We stopped at the next house below,
to get some supper, for we are almost starved; but they
had just received some friends from Savannah, and could
not provide for us.”
“From Savannah?” said the planter, with evident
surprise; and immediately the ladies present suspended
their sewing, and looked at the young officer.
“Yer smart, Yank!” muttered Turkin, who appeared
to enjoy the situation amazingly.
“I think they said from Savannah,” replied Somers.
// 281.png
.pn +1
“They recommended us to come here, assuring us that
you never turned a hungry soldier from your door.
They gave me a card, requesting me to deliver it to
you.”
Somers handed the planter the photograph, on the
back of which was written the appalling statement of
the character of the guerillas. It was a fearful moment
to him, for the alarm of the planter might betray him to
the bloodthirsty villain who stood at his side. Though
the silk handkerchief over the face of Turkin impaired
his vision, it did not entirely obstruct it.
Colonel Roman read the words on the card; he was
startled by them, and glanced at the bearer of the message.
Somers contracted his brow, shook his head
slightly in the direction of Turkin, and assumed a deprecatory
expression, which the planter seemed to understand.
“The persons at the next house wish to see you as
soon as possible,” added Somers.
“We will go at once,” replied Colonel Roman, “if
you will excuse my absence.”
“Certainly, sir,” answered Somers, now fully assured
that he was understood.
“What is it, father?” asked one of the daughters,
puzzled by the remarks which had been made in her
presence.
“Your sister Lucretia has arrived from Savannah;
// 282.png
.pn +1
she is ill, and we will go down and see her immediately,”
replied the planter.
The wife and both of the daughters expressed their
surprise; but the colonel directed them to get ready as
speedily as possible, and they left the room for this
purpose.
“I am sorry to leave you, captain,” continued the
planter; “but I will endeavor to return as soon as
you have finished your supper. Pray make yourselves
entirely at home. Why don’t your men come into the
house. My doors are always open to the defenders of
my country.”
“Thank you, Colonel Roman. I will take them into
the dining-room at once.”
“Do so,” said the planter, as he left the room.
“You’re smart, Yank!” exclaimed Turkin.
“I have only done what you told me to do. If
there is any credit about the affair, it belongs to you,”
replied Somers, in a deprecatory tone.
“That’s so, Yank; but yer kerried it through right
smart, and yer shall hev some supper afore—”
“You are shot,” the ruffian would have said, if not
prevented by prudential motives.
The planter and his family left the house by the front
door; and it is probable that they used all possible haste
to escape from the presence of the guerillas, whose character
they now understood. In the mean time, Turkin
// 283.png
.pn +1
amused himself by opening the various drawers in the
planter’s secretary, and prying into every hole and corner
which might be supposed to contain any valuables.
In half an hour, supper was announced, and Turkin
went to the dining-room. The servants were sent off,
and ordered not to show themselves again. The guerillas
then sat down to supper, making Somers stand before the
door leading into the hall, to notify them of the approach
of any person. They ate and drank, but they did not
hear the sounds of horses’ hoofs in the yard, just as they
finished their meal.
// 284.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch27
CHAPTER XXVII.||THE CAT’S PAW TOO SHARP FOR THE MONKEY.
.sp 2
.di t.jpg 50 67 1.1
THE side door of the house opened into the hall,
where Somers stood as sentinel for the hungry
guerillas, and from which a flight of stairs led
to the second floor. The prisoner had carefully noted
all the surroundings, for he had learned from “Fighting
Joe” that the battle was gained only by good strategy,
which must depend upon a thorough knowledge of the
ground.
When the precious plan of his captors was first developed,
Somers regarded it as the means of his deliverance,
though he could not then tell precisely in what
manner it was to be accomplished. He knew that an
important bridge on the railroad, not far from Colonel
Roman’s house, was guarded by a squad of cavalry, and
he readily perceived that this force would be brought up
by the planter for the protection of his family and the
capture of the guerillas. These wretches were by no
means an anomalous class on the flanks of Sherman’s
grand march to the sea; and Colonel Roman readily
// 285.png
.pn +1
understood who and what they were. They were nominally
southern partisans, organized, protected, and encouraged
by the president of the Confederate States; but
they were as willing to plunder one party in the strife as
the other.
Somers had no special sympathy for the planter,
though he would have gladly raised his arm in defence
of the female members of his family, even against the
wretches whom treason and rebellion had brought into
the field. What he had done was for his own benefit,
rather than for that of the hospitable rebel. He had
recovered possession of his boots and coat, his Testament
and photographs, when he became the “cat’s paw” of the
guerillas, and he was now in condition to make a movement
as soon as the circumstances would justify it.
The land-pirates—for they can be called by no more
appropriate name—finished their supper, and turned
their attention to the second part of the programme they
had laid out. Evidently they did not intend to sack the
mansion, but only to appropriate such valuable small
articles as could be conveniently carried about their persons.
For this purpose Turkin and Gragg entered the
library; two others crossed the hall into the sitting-room;
and the other three went up stairs. They had not heard
the tramp of horses in the yard; but Somers, being near
the side door, which was partly open, listened to the
sounds as the notes of his own deliverance.
// 286.png
.pn +1
The time for action had come, and while the guerillas
were intent upon their plunder, Somers left the door
where he had been stationed, and moved round to the
rear of the staircase, where he expected to find a passage
to the cellar; but he found none. The house was surrounded
by rebel cavalry, and it was not safe for him to
go out, for he did not forget that it was necessary for him
to escape from the foe without, as well as the foe within.
They were both enemies; and though one was less barbarous
than the other, he had hardly more relish for Andersonville,
than for being shot by the wretches who
held him.
As the only alternative, he went up the stairs; and
avoiding the three men who were searching the chambers
there, he found the garret steps, and went up, where
he was not likely to be followed by any of his late companions.
He had scarcely reached this secure position
before the commotion below indicated that the cavalrymen
had commenced their work. One or two shots were
fired; but the noise immediately subsided, and it was evident
that the robbers had all been captured.
“There were eight of them, you said,” Somers heard
some one in the entry below remark.
“There were; but one of them was the officer who
gave the information,” replied another, whom the fugitive
recognized as Colonel Roman.
“But he was one of the gang.”
// 287.png
.pn +1
“He looked like a Yankee officer,” added the colonel.
“We want him, whatever he is, if it is only for his
evidence against these villains we have captured. Colonel
Grayhame threatened to hang these same scoundrels only
yesterday.”
“The officer who gave me the card is clearly not one
of this gang.”
“I don’t understand it,” said the other person, who was
probably the officer in command of the squad of cavalry.
“I should be very glad of an explanation, but I am
greatly indebted to the gentleman, and I wish to thank
him, if nothing more, for the favor he has done me,”
continued the colonel.
“I have nothing against him, but I wish to know what
he is.”
Somers hoped he would not trouble himself, and he
was even willing the planter should omit to thank him;
for the officer’s curiosity and the colonel’s gratitude threatened
to consign him to a rebel prison. He heard a call
from the former, followed by the tramp of heavy feet on
the lower staircase.
“Lieutenant, I hope you will consider my position in
this matter,” said the planter.
“I must do my duty. If the man is a Yankee officer,
as you think, he must not be permitted to roam around
the country. He may belong to the force which is now
destroying the railroad; perhaps gobbled up by these
// 288.png
.pn +1
miscreants. It is not for me to say what shall be done
with him. I must catch him if I can. I saw him standing
at the door of the dining-room, when I looked in at
the window, and I am positive he has not left the house.”
“I regard the person as my friend,” added the planter,
warmly. “My wife and daughters, as well as myself,
are very grateful to him, for he has saved them from
insult and outrage, for aught I know.”
“Your feelings and those of your family shall be respected,
Colonel Roman; but I must do my duty,” answered
the lieutenant, firmly.
The officer then ordered his men to search the various
apartments and closets of the second floor. Somers,
though the case certainly looked very hopeful for him,
with the powerful influence of the wealthy planter in his
favor, wished to escape; but he thought it would be an
easy and safe thing to return to Sherman’s army before
Atlanta, and he was not disposed to be introduced to the
lieutenant, or even to improve his acquaintance with
Colonel Roman. If he could conceal himself until the
squad of cavalry retired, he was satisfied that the planter
would enable him to return to the army.
It was very dark in the garret, and while the lieutenant
and his party were searching the chambers, Somers carefully
felt about him for some place of concealment. The
roof was a four-sided one, in which there were no windows;
but while he was walking about, he struck his
// 289.png
.pn +1
head against a long iron handle, which proved to be
attached to a shutter or scuttle. This he unfastened
and raised, and his eyes were greeted by a view of the
starry sky. The discovery was a welcome one, and he
lost not a moment in availing himself of the advantage
which it seemed to afford.
The lower end of the aperture was within reach of his
hands; and with great care and no little difficulty he
raised himself, and succeeded in gaining the roof—an
operation which his gymnastic practice enabled him to
accomplish, for it was a feat an untrained person could
hardly have performed. But he had scarcely reached
the roof before he heard his pursuers in the attic, and
the light from their lamps shone up through the scuttle.
“I see where he has gone!” shouted the lieutenant,
as he discovered the open shutter.
“He will fall and break his neck,” added the planter.
Somers closed the scuttle, and sat down upon it; but
the game seemed to be up with him. He drew his
sword, and thrust the point into the roof as far as he
could, causing it to act as a bolt over the shutter—hoping
by this means to gain a moment’s time to examine
the situation. There appeared to be no means
of descending from the roof to the ground except by the
lightning-rods, which he saw rising above the chimneys.
Then, if he reached the ground, the house was surrounded
by rebels, and his fate would only be deferred.
// 290.png
.pn +1
While he was considering these facts, the men in the
attic were endeavoring to raise the scuttle. They did
not at once succeed; but Somers’s prospects were presently
destroyed, when several of the rebels took hold of
the shutter and raised it, tumbling the fugitive over on
the roof. A short ladder was placed on the floor, and
the lieutenant mounted to the top of the house.
“Surrender!” said the officer.
“I suppose there is no help for it,” replied Somers.
“Not the least; resistance would be useless.”
“I surrender.”
“Go down, then, if you please.”
Somers descended the ladder to the garret, where he
found Colonel Roman and half a dozen cavalrymen.
“I am sorry you are taken, since you did not wish to
be taken,” said the planter.
“I could not very well help myself.”
The lieutenant led the way down stairs to the library,
which was the largest room in the house, and in which
the seven guerillas, now disarmed, were held by their
captors.
“Well, Yank, you be counted in with us,” said Turkin,
with a malicious grin.
“I have the satisfaction of escaping from your hands,
if nothing more,” replied Somers.
“See here, Yank; I cal’lated to shoot you after supper,
but I reckon we’ll all hang together.”
// 291.png
.pn +1
“I think not,” interposed the lieutenant; “you have
said enough already to convince me that this gentleman
does not belong to your gang.”
“He’s a Yank; we took him over yender, and he belongs
to some gin’ral’s staff. I reckon he’s a good
haul, and I ought to hev the credit of ketchin’ him.”
“Your accounts will be settled in a few days; and I
fancy Colonel Grayhame will hang you higher than Haman,
when he understands this business.”
“That would be moighty onhandsome, arter we ketched
the Yankee officer.”
“Your name, if you please, sir,” said the lieutenant,
turning to the prisoner.
“Captain Thomas Somers,” replied he, at the same
time giving his official position and connections.
“You were captured by these men?”
“I was;” and Somers detailed the particulars of the
event. “Major de Banyan was shot at the same time,”
he added, turning to Turkin, who, he hoped, would endeavor
to improve his prospects by telling what had
become of his friend.
“I shot him,” said Gragg; “and if I’m to be hung
fur that, I cal’late it won’t be safe to fight the Yanks
much longer.”
“Was he killed?” asked the lieutenant.
“I reckon he wan’t; we got him over the creek;
there he gin out, and we left him, and stivered back arter
// 292.png
.pn +1
his hoss. That’s when we took this Yank; but Turkin
shot his hoss instid of him.”
“Was the major dead when you left him?”
“Not jest then; but I cal’late he didn’t stand it long.”
Somers’s worst fears in regard to his friend seemed to
be confirmed. To the questions of the officer he gave
true answers, until the history of the guerillas’ movements
up to the time of their arrival at the mansion of
the planter had been elicited.
“I was made the cat’s paw of these men, who wished
to procure a supper, and to rob the house without exposing
themselves to detection. Their purpose was to
get the family out of the house,” continued Somers.
“You did not find your friends from Savannah at the
next house—did you, Colonel Roman?”
“I did not expect to find them there. Was that your
scheme?”
“You bet it wan’t, kun’l,” exclaimed Turkin, as
though he feared Somers would obtain more credit than
he deserved. “That’s some of my thinkin’, kun’l. The
Yank ain’t so good on tricks as I be. I told him what
to write on that keerd. The Yank is great at writin’,
but I’m some for plannin’.”
“Did you read what he wrote on the card?” asked
Colonel Roman, who could not help laughing at the simplicity
of the wretch.
“I reckon I didn’t; I ain’t much at readin’ writin’.”
// 293.png
.pn +1
“I will read it to you,” added the planter, taking the
card from his pocket: “‘These villains mean to rob
your house after supper; get a force and capture them.’”
“Is that what he writ?” demanded Turkin, in a fearful
rage.
“It is. The cat’s paw had a fang.”
“Then I’ll hang him.”
“You will be hung yourself first.”
Everything was explained; and now came up the
question in regard to the disposition of Somers. The
lieutenant declared he had no authority to discharge the
prisoner, who was a Union officer; but he would report
the case to his superiors.
“That’s inter yer, Yank,” said Turkin. “You’ll go
with us.”
Colonel Roman interposed to prevent Somers’s longer
remaining in the company of the villains. The prisoner
gave his parole for three days, and the officer left
him with the planter, who promised to go with him to
the headquarters of the rebel army within that time.
The lieutenant then departed with his prisoners, and
Somers was treated as a guest in the house of the
colonel.
// 294.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
.pb
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.h2 id=ch28
CHAPTER XXVIII.||THE BLOOD-HOUNDS ON THE TRACK.
.sp 2
.di i.jpg 50 72 0.9
IN one week from the day on which Somers made
the acquaintance of Colonel Roman, he was inside
of the stockade at Andersonville. It so
happened that the general officer with whom
rested the decision in the case of the prisoner, was a personal
and political opponent of the planter, and the
colonel had no influence with him. An appeal was
made to higher authority, but it was unavailing; and
Somers was hurried away to that miserable place, where
officers and soldiers died by thousands, of sheer inhumanity.
Colonel Roman promised to continue his exertions for
the release of his friend, or, if he could not obtain that,
for better treatment than had usually been accorded to
prisoners of war by the Confederacy. It is quite probable
that he did so, but the subject of his intercession
obtained no favor on account of it. His experience at
Andersonville was that of thousands of others. It
would require a volume to narrate it; and the sad story
// 295.png
.pn +1
has been so often told, that it needs not a repetition here.
The whole civilized world condemns the barbarous treatment
of prisoners by the Confederacy.
Week after week, and month after month, dragged
away amid suffering and privation, until Sherman’s
grand march to the sea filled the rebels with terror; and
a portion of the prisoners remaining in their hands were
sent to Columbia, South Carolina. Somers was among
the number. He had been a prisoner for nearly five
months, and his health was already much impaired by
his sufferings; by the scanty and mean food, but quite
as much by being compelled to witness the misery and
death which prevailed in the horrid slaughter-pen in
which he had been confined. Once he had made an attempt
to escape, but had been hunted down and recaptured.
He arrived at Columbia; but he had made up his
mind not to stay there. It was sure death to one of his
temperament to live such a dog’s life as that to which he
had been doomed. It was better to be shot down by the
sentinels, or even to be torn in pieces by the fangs of the
merciless blood-hounds, than to die by inches within the
camp of the prisoners.
Every day a certain number of prisoners, paroled for
the purpose, were allowed to go out after wood, for two
hours. Those who were thus favored were obliged to
sign a parole, and their names were handed to the officer
// 296.png
.pn +1
of the day, who was authorized to permit them to pass.
When Somers found an opportunity to join one of these
parties, he gave his parole, as others did; and even his
sufferings had not so far demoralized him that he could
violate the solemn pledge. He went out with the others,
but immediately returned with his load of wood. Hastening
to the officer of the day, he told him he had done
his share of the work, and requested to be released from
his parole, which was then given back to him. He was
now free from his obligation, and having destroyed the
paper, if he should happen to be recaptured in his
attempt to escape, it could not be brought against him to
subject him to the penalty of its violation.
Others were bringing in wood and timber, and passing
out again for more. Somers walked out with the rest.
When they came to the guard they were carefully examined
again, to see that none but paroled officers passed
out. They gave their names, and the sentinel referred
to the list of those paroled for that day, and if it was all
right, they were allowed to pass.
“Your name?” said the guard to Somers.
The prisoner gave it.
“All right,” replied the sentinel, who, of course, found
the name in the list.
Somers was now outside of the camp, and discharged
from his parole; but his difficulties had only just commenced,
for a guard of eighty men was stretched around
// 297.png
.pn +1
the tract of woods in which the prisoners were at work.
He walked away from the stockade animated by a hope,
though it was but a dim one, of breathing once more
the air of freedom. Intent upon the object before him,
he passed a group of emaciated forms, whose constitutions
were strong enough to enable them to overcome
the horrors of the hospital, in which they were still patients.
“Somers!” exclaimed one of them, rushing towards
him.
The young officer turned, and in the tall, pale, attenuated
person who addressed him, he recognized his friend
De Banyan. He looked like a wreck, and there was
little to remind him of the manly and noble form of the
major, as he had known him five months before.
“De Banyan!” cried Somers, rushing into the arms
of his friend, and weeping like a child with the joy he
could not conceal.
It was a tender and a touching reunion, and even the
rebel sentinels did not interpose to separate them.
“How came you here?” demanded De Banyan, when
the first emotions of the happy meeting had subsided.
“I was captured at the time you were shot; but I
have been at Andersonville till a week ago,” replied
Somers.
“I have been in the hospital; that’s the reason I did
not see you.”
// 298.png
.pn +1
“That must be the reason,” replied Somers, in a loud
tone; and then, dropping his voice to a whisper, he added,
“I am going to escape to-day.”
“I have been quite sick,” continued the major, aloud.
“I am on parole”—in a whisper.
“Are you better?”
“Much better; I feel pretty well now,” said the
major. “Wait half an hour for me in the woods.”
“I will,” replied Somers, as he moved on.
De Banyan soon joined him. At his own request the
surgeon had discharged him, and he had taken up his
parole. With a basket of vials, which he found in an
ante-room of the hospital, he walked boldly through the
guards, who, believing him still to be a paroled prisoner,
permitted him to pass. During his convalescence, he
had been employed in various light duties connected
with the hospital, and had had frequent occasion to pass
the sentries, so that no suspicion attached to him after
he had been relieved from his parole.
With Somers he walked to the woods, and with him
chopped and gathered sticks. At a point near the centre
of the space surrounded by the sentinels, they found a
pine tree, whose dense foliage promised to afford them
the shelter they required. At a favorable moment Somers
sprang up into the tree, and the major followed him
a few minutes later. Of course they were seen by their
fellow-prisoners, and they were obliged to run the risk of
// 299.png
.pn +1
being exposed by any one of them who was vile enough
to do such a mean act. Men have been known at Andersonville,
Columbia, and other prison camps, to stoop to
the contemptible and cowardly meanness of betraying a
comrade under such circumstances; but with only a few
rare exceptions, the prisoners were too manly and noble
to be guilty of such a base act.
They had escaped the observation of the soldiers, who
were too indolent, or too far off, to notice what took place
within their line. The only duty they were called upon
to perform, as they seemed to regard it, was to prevent
any of the prisoners from passing beyond the bounds
allotted to them. The two hours in which the men were
allowed to gather wood expired soon after Somers and
De Banyan ascended the tree.
“Good by, Captain; report me at home, if you get
through,” said a Massachusetts officer, who stood at the
foot of the tree when the prisoners were ordered back to
the camp.
“I will,” replied Somers, who knew the officer’s address.
The prisoners, laden with their sticks of timber and
bundles of wood, were driven back to the camp, to endure
other weeks and months of suffering, or to die there,
as many had done before. Somers and the major kept
perfectly still until the guard had passed the tree, and
disappeared from their view.
// 300.png
.pn +1
“We shall be missed before long,” said Somers.
“We will not stop here,” replied De Banyan, as he
descended the tree and lay down on the ground at the
foot of it.
Somers followed him, lying down by his side. Having
satisfied themselves that they had not been observed,
they crawled away until the slope of a hill concealed
them from the view of the camp, when they ventured to
stand upright, like men, and press forward for life and
liberty. They continued to walk in a southerly direction
till they came to a creek, over which they swam, in
the hope that the water would interrupt the scent of the
blood-hounds which would be put on their track as soon
as their absence was discovered.
It was a vain hope. They were in a kind of swampy
jungle, not more than half a mile from the creek, when
they heard the fearful cry of the dogs.
“We are lost!” exclaimed Somers, appalled at the
horrible sounds.
“No!” replied De Banyan, with his old energy.
“Don’t give it up!”
“I won’t, if you do not,” added Somers, inspired with
courage by the firmness and self-possession of his friend.
“Find a club, if you can!”
They were fortunate enough to find a couple of sticks,
soaked full of water, with which they hoped to make a
good fight.
// 301.png
.pn +1
“Shall we climb a tree?” asked Somers.
“You are lost if you do,” replied De Banyan, as he
took from his pocket a roll of cord, which he had appropriated
in the hospital for another purpose.
Unrolling it, he cut it into two pieces, with one of
which he made a slip-noose, and directed Somers to do
the same with the other. The dogs were still some distance
from the spot, and the men in pursuit seemed to
be unable to follow them on their horses, which explained
the major’s policy in choosing a swamp for his flight.
Selecting a narrow pass between two clumps of bushes,
which had been beaten into a path, he stretched the slip-noose
over it, just as boys in the country set snares for
foxes and rabbits. Somers did precisely the same thing
in another locality.
De Banyan then bent down a small sapling, so that
the top of it came over the snare, and attached the end
of the cord to it. The little tree was held down by
weaving the branches into the bushes, just strong enough
to hold it down, but so that any force beyond its own
elasticity would disengage it. The contrivance formed
what is sometimes called a “twitch-up snare.” Somers
knew all about it, and set his own in the same manner.
By this time the dogs were upon them, and each of
them stepped behind the trap he had set. The hounds
made directly towards them, two by one path and one by
the other.
// 302.png
.pn +1
“Come on, doggy,” said De Banyan, as he stood
coolly waiting the issue of the enterprise. “Stand by
with your club, Somers, if it fails.”
“I am all ready,” replied Somers, as he nerved his
arm for the conflict, if one should be necessary.
On rushed the blood-hounds, with their fiendish yelp
the one that approached De Banyan being a few feet in
advance of the others. He dashed into the narrow path,
thrusting his head through the noose, drawing it tight
around his neck, and detaching the tree. The elasticity
of the sapling gave him a tremendous twitch, and lifted
his fore legs from the ground. The spring was not strong
enough to hold his whole weight, and the hound hung
by the neck, partially supported by his hind legs.
Somers’s snare was not quite so successful; but the
spring choked the dog, and held him fast. The third
hound, dodging the obstruction in his path, rushed
towards him from another direction; but De Banyan was
at his side by this time, and with a few heavy blows,
they killed the ugly beast. Of the other two, one was
nearly choked to death, but both were quickly despatched
with the clubs.
“That job is done,” said De Banyan.
“And well done,” replied Somers, as they resumed
their flight.
// 303.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
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.h2 id=ch29
CHAPTER XXIX.||THE PILGRIMAGE TO THE SEA.
.sp 2
.di i.jpg 50 72 0.9
IT was not very easy travelling in the swamp,
but it had this advantage, that they could not
be pursued by cavalry. They had silenced the
howl of the dogs, and their pursuers could have
no idea of the direction they had taken. The killing of
the blood-hounds gave the fugitives all the advantage, and
they “doubled” on the hunters by returning to the creek
which they had crossed before. After following the
stream for about five miles, as there were no signs of a
pursuit in this direction, they halted to wait for the protecting
shades of night, when they hoped to find some
of the negroes, whom recaptured prisoners had uniformly
represented as kind and devoted to the last degree.
It would be several hours before the journey could be
safely resumed, and our reunited friends had much to
say of the past and the future. Each wished to know
the history of the other since they had parted. Somers
accounted for himself first, and De Banyan then exhibited
the scar of an ugly wound in the head, which
// 304.png
.pn +1
was the one given him by the guerilla. It had knocked
him from his horse; but he had soon recovered his
senses, and the villains had conducted him over the
creek where he fainted. When he came to himself, his
captors had left him; but he was soon picked up by a
squad of the regular rebel cavalry, and sent first to the
hospital, then to Columbia, where he had been from that
time. He had fully recovered from his wound, but his
health was much impaired by hard usage and poor food.
He had gone to the hospital to die, as he thought; but
his vigorous constitution enabled him to survive the
medical treatment.
He had been too feeble to attempt to escape, as
hundreds of others had done; but he was now in better
condition than he had been before since his capture. In
the hospital, by the exercise of his ingenuity, he had
obtained better food, which had, in a measure, improved
his health. The sight of Somers had given him new
life and hope; and though he was but a shadow of his
former self, he felt able to undergo all perils and privations
on the road to liberty.
“I think we have avoided our pursuers,” said Somers,
when the major had finished his narrative. “What
shall we do next?”
“Keep clear of the rebels, if we can; if we can’t,
bluff them off,” replied De Banyan, hopefully.
“But where shall we go?”
// 305.png
.pn +1
“We must take the best route to the sea; perhaps
the nearest is not the best. A great many men have
escaped from Camp Sorghum, but I believe one half of
them have been caught again.”
“Then our chances are not first rate.”
“They are very good, if we manage well. So far as
I know, all who have had the escape fever attempt to
reach the sea by the Santee River; and I fancy that river
is pretty closely watched now.”
“Then it is not best to go that way.”
“No: about twenty miles from us to the southward,
the road to Augusta crosses the Edisto River. I am in
favor of taking that route, because I don’t know that any
of the prisoners have gone that way.”
The point was settled, and as soon as it was dark, the
fugitives started on their journey to the sea. Before
night they had decided upon the direction of the Augusta
road, and succeeded in reaching it. Both of them were
in rags, and they were wet and cold. They had eaten
nothing since morning, and the greatest obstacle with
which they had now to contend was their own feebleness.
They reached the road; but though the night was not
half gone, they were completely exhausted. They were
too cold to sit down and rest, and the exercise of walking
seemed to impart no warmth to their weak and almost
bloodless frames. They were not in condition to encounter
the hardships in their path.
// 306.png
.pn +1
De Banyan, with his soul of iron, gave out first, and
actually sank down by the side of the road. Somers
could hardly keep from weeping when he realized the
condition of his companion. He was not much stronger
himself, and the enterprise promised to be an utter failure.
It was the month of December; the air was
chilly, and the ground cold and wet, and something
must be done for the major, or he would perish before
morning.
Somers was weak in body, but he was still strong in
spirit. The condition of his friend appealed to him with
an eloquence which he could not resist, and moved him
to greater energy. Taking from the fence a number of
rails, he made a kind of platform of them in a concealed
spot in the field, which he covered with leaves, twigs,
and cornstalks, obtained from an adjacent lot, until he
had made a tolerably dry and comfortable bed. He
conducted the major to his new quarters, and laid him
on the couch he had prepared.
“Somers,” said De Banyan, feebly.
“What shall I do for you now?”
“Nothing more, Somers. I am used up.”
“You will be better soon.”
“Never, my dear fellow.”
“Don’t give up.”
“I wouldn’t give up while there is a fibre left of me
to lean on; but I am almost gone. Somers, take care of
// 307.png
.pn +1
yourself now. You can do me no good; follow this
road till you come to the river, and then find a boat, and
float down to the blockading ships.”
“I shall not leave you, De Banyan,” exclaimed
Somers, horrified by the suggestion.
“You can’t do a thing for me. I shall die in a few
hours. I didn’t think I was so near gone when I left
the camp, or I wouldn’t have burdened you with the
care of me.”
“I should have been caught before this time, if it
hadn’t been for you. I will never desert you, De
Banyan. God would not suffer me to live, if I should
do so mean a thing!” replied Somers, earnestly.
“As you love me, Somers, save yourself. It would
be the greatest favor you could do me to insure your
own safety,” replied the sufferer, in quivering tones.
“I will not leave you, but I will save you. I can
and will,” added Somers, with energy. “You shall not
die. Keep a good heart for a little while, and you shall
be saved.”
“I will keep up as well as I can; but when a strong
man, like me, sinks, he generally goes all at once. Leave
me, I beg of you, Somers. It is the last favor I have to
ask of you.”
“I would not if you begged it on your bended knee.
I must leave you for a time, but you shall be saved, if
God will permit.”
// 308.png
.pn +1
“God bless you, Somers,” faintly ejaculated the sufferer.
Somers left him, and hastened back to the road, carefully
noticing the path, so that he could easily find the
spot again. When he reached it, he was almost overcome
by his emotions, and by his own exhaustion. He
wanted strength, at that trying moment, more than ever
before in his life—strength to save himself and his
friend. He knelt down upon the cold ground, and
prayed for strength with an earnestness which had never
before burned in his soul. He trusted in God, and he
asked for guidance in this most trying experience of
his life.
He rose from his knees. He knew that the good
Father had heard him—was with him. Strength came,
if not to his muscles, in the increased earnestness of his
purpose. He walked along the road till he came to the
house, which the cornfields he had seen assured him
could not be far distant. It was the mansion of a large
plantation, and beyond it was its village of negro huts.
The blacks were friendly, but he could hardly expect to
find among them what he required to restore the waning
life of De Banyan.
Somers was a desperate man. It seemed to him then
that the rebels had no rights which he was bound to
respect. Throwing off his dilapidated boots, he approached
the house, and went to one of the windows.
// 309.png
.pn +1
To his surprise he found it partly open. With all necessary
care he raised the sash, and got into the house.
There was just light enough in the room to enable him
to find his way to the mantel, on which were a lamp and
matches. He lighted the lamp and looked about him.
There was a bed in the room, on which lay an object
which would have frozen the blood in the veins of a timid
person.
It was a corpse, the eyes covered with cents, enclosed
in paper, and the jaw tied up with a handkerchief.
Somers glanced at it: he was startled, but not appalled;
for death, in its most horrid forms, was so familiar to
him that he did not shrink from the sight. He had a
mission to perform, and he proceeded to search the room
for what he wanted. In a large closet he found two full
suits of men’s clothing, one of them a rebel uniform; and
he concluded that the deceased had been an officer in the
army. On a table, with a number of vials, he found a
bottle of brandy, of which he drank a few swallows
himself.
Dropping the clothing out of the window, where he
could take it at his leisure, he continued the search, and
found a couple of revolvers in a drawer, with caps and
cartridges, which he appropriated. He then left the
room, and in the hall found an overcoat; but the most
needed articles were bacon and bread, of which he discovered
a plentiful supply in another room. Filling a
basket with the food, he hastened to make his escape.
// 310.png
.pn +1
“Is that you, Alfred?” said the voice of a woman on
the second floor.
“Yes,” replied Somers.
“Is everything right?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t you think you had better shut the windows?
I am afraid some creature will get into the room.”
“I will,” answered Somers, afraid to use many words.
He crept back into the chamber of death, and respecting
the fears of the woman, who might be the wife or
the mother of the deceased, he closed three of the four
windows, and when he had passed out himself, shut the
remaining one. With the utmost care, he departed from
the house laden with the precious articles he had obtained.
It was one o’clock at night, as he had seen by a
clock in the house, and all was still. At a safe distance
from the mansion, he took off the rags he wore, and put
on the rebel uniform, leaving the other suit, which was
heavier and warmer, for De Banyan. Thus relieved of
a portion of his burden, he hastened to the couch of his
perishing companion.
“How do you feel, my best friend?” said Somers, as
he bent over the sick man.
“Is that you, Somers? I hoped you had gone,” replied
the major, very faintly.
“No: I am come with life and hope,” added Somers,
as he placed the bottle of brandy to the sick man’s lips.
// 311.png
.pn +1
He drank all that his faithful companion dared to give
him. It warmed his stomach, and gave him new life.
“God bless you, Somers! I was thinking that brandy
would save my life. I felt as though my vitals were
frozen.”
“Could you get up for a moment or two?”
“O, yes! I feel like a new man,” answered the patient,
who was not only strengthened but exhilarated by
the strong liquor he had taken.
“Let me put these clothes on you.”
“Clothes?” said the major, as he rose to his feet.
“Yes: I have a whole suit for you,” replied Somers,
as he assisted him to put on the dress he had brought.
They were warm and dry, and the poor fellow manifested
a childish delight as he put them on. They were
rather small, but they were warm and comfortable. To
these was added the overcoat.
“Now, could you eat bacon and bread?” asked
Somers.
“Could I eat them? I could if I had them.”
“You have them,” replied his attentive friend, as he
brought the basket to his couch.
They both ate heartily, and when they had finished,
De Banyan declared that he could walk ten miles more
that night.
Somers knew that he could not—that he was under the
influence of the brandy, and over-estimated his strength.
// 312.png
.pn +1
When he left the hospital he was as feeble as an infant,
and nothing but the flashing hope of freedom could have
sustained his weak body in the battle with the blood-hounds,
and the walk from the creek. His friend determined
to keep him quiet for a few days, if possible,
assured that otherwise the enterprise must fail.
“Do you feel warm?” asked Somers, when he had
told the story of his visit to the house.
“All but my feet,” replied the patient.
“I will warm them,” added the devoted nurse, as he
took from his pocket a pair of socks, which he had transferred
from the old to the new suit. “These are my
fighting socks, but they shall do the best work now they
have ever done.”
De Banyan protested, but Somers persisted, and put
the cherished mementoes of Lilian upon his feet.
“Now go to sleep,” continued Somers, as he adjusted
the overcoat, and placed the rags—of which the major
had divested himself—on his feet.
He went to sleep, and Somers departed on an exploring
expedition. In a pine forest, half a mile distant, he
found an old shanty, which had been used for men engaged
in drawing pitch from the trees. To this he transferred
his patient, and kept him there for a week. The
negroes on the plantation discovered the fugitives, but
they were faithful friends, and supplied them with food
and bed-clothes, so that they were quite comfortable.
// 313.png
.pn +1
From these devoted allies of the Union army, Somers
learned that the deceased person he had seen in the house
was the son of the planter, who had been sent home
wounded. The articles taken had been missed, but the
robbery was attributed to a couple of negroes who had
run away at the time.
De Banyan gained strength each day, now that he was
well clothed and well fed. After a week’s rest, the fugitives
started again, guided by a negro belonging to the
plantation, who conducted them to the river, and provided
them with a boat. Night after night they floated
down the stream, guided and fed by the negroes, till they
reached the sea, and went on board of one of the blockaders.
Once more they were beneath the old flag; once more
they were in the hands of friends; and from their hearts
went up the song of jubilee to Him who had guided and
strengthened them in their pilgrimage from darkness and
death to light and liberty. When they reached Port
Royal, they heard of the capture of Savannah and the
conquering march of Sherman from Atlanta to the sea.
Then they sang a new song of jubilee, for the days of
the rebellion were numbered.
// 314.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch30
CHAPTER XXX.||MAJOR SOMERS AND FRIENDS.
.sp 2
.di s.jpg 50 64 1.1
SOMERS and De Banyan proceeded from Port
Royal to Washington, by the way of Fortress
Monroe. “Fighting Joe” was no longer in
the field of active operations, and our officers resigned
their positions on the staff. The doughty general had
won the admiration of the nation; the present generation
will gratefully remember his efficient services, and
posterity will enroll his name among the ablest and
bravest defenders of the Union.
The term of service of the major’s regiment had
expired, and it had been sent home, and mustered out.
Consequently he was out of employment. Somers was
determined that he should not remain so long. There
was a certain Senator Guilford in Washington, who considered
himself under strong obligations to the young
officer, and Somers immediately paid his respects to the
distinguished man. He was warmly greeted, and when
he had told his story, he was bold enough to ask a great
favor for his friend.
// 315.png
.pn +1
“I will do what I can for him, Captain Somers, you
may be sure. I remember him well, and I have always
heard excellent accounts of him from your friend the
general.”
“There is not a better man in the service, sir; and he
is worthy of any place which the government can give
him,” replied Somers, warmly.
“I know he is. By the way, captain, a certain general
called upon me in relation to your affairs more than
a year ago.”
“Indeed, sir?” And Somers understood that he was
indebted to the senator for his position in the regular
army. “I am very grateful to you, Mr. Guilford.”
“Don’t mention it; my daughter, whose life you
saved, thinks I have not half paid the debt yet.”
“You have more than paid it, sir; and if I had known
that I was indebted to you for my position, I should
hardly have dared to speak to you in behalf of Major de
Banyan.”
“Don’t be modest, Captain Somers. I have no scruples
whatever in asking favors for such officers as yourself
and your friend. I invariably refuse to say a word for
any military man, unless I know that he is thoroughly
meritorious. But, captain, you do not ask for my
daughter.”
“I heard she was married, and lived in Philadelphia,”
replied Somers, with some confusion.
// 316.png
.pn +1
“That is the case; she often speaks of you, and when
you pass through Philadelphia you must see her.”
“I will certainly do so, sir,” replied the captain, as he
took his leave.
Three days after he received a note from the senator,
with De Banyan’s commission as a major in the regular
army. He hastened to communicate the news to his
friend. The gratitude of the major knew no bounds,
and he declared that Somers had been more to him than
all the rest of the world. A furlough of thirty days had
been granted them, and they started, the one for Pinchbrook,
and the other for Tennessee, in search of his son,
who had returned to Nashville when the army moved
from Chattanooga.
On the way home Somers called upon the senator’s
daughter, and found her as pleasing, as pretty, and as
grateful as ever; but his heart was farther north, and
he hastened to the waiting arms of his loving friends.
Lilian wept with joy when she saw him, and grandmother
Ashford insisted upon telling about the defence of Boston
during the “last war.”
“Lilian, I have lost my socks,” said Somers, when
Mrs. Ashford had safely returned to their homes the
firemen who went out to cut away the bridges in case of
an invasion. “I had to put them on my friend De
Banyan’s feet, when he had nearly perished from cold
and exhaustion.”
// 317.png
.pn +1
“I am so glad you did!”
“I suffered myself, in Andersonville and Columbia,
rather than wear them out, but I could not resist the
appeal of my suffering friend.”
“I am glad you did not.”
“De Banyan is a noble fellow,” added Somers.
“Shall I never see him?”
“I hope you will;” and she did, as the reader will
soon learn.
Somers went to Pinchbrook, and was welcomed as one
who had come forth from the grave. His mother wept
over him, his father rejoiced over him, and Captain
Barney, the friend of the family, “crowed” over him.
He spent his thirty days between Boston and Pinchbrook,
and at the end of that time reported for duty in Washington.
He was ordered to join the regiment in which
he had been commissioned, then in the line before Petersburg.
In the bloody battle for the recovery of Fort
Steadman, which had been captured by the rebels in a
night attack, he was one of the first to mount the rampart,
and turn the tide against the enemy. He fought
with desperation, and urged his men to deeds of valor,
which did much to retrieve the fortunes of the day.
For his heroic conduct on that eventful morning, he
was made a major. De Banyan was there also, and
what one did for his company the other did for his regiment.
The brave Tennesseean was not forgotten nor
// 318.png
.pn +1
overlooked. His merit was promptly recognized, and
when the conquering host moved forward in pursuit of
the flying brigades of the rebels, he was a brigadier
general of volunteers.
Then came to them in the field, and then flashed over
the telegraph wires to all parts of the nation, the thrilling
intelligence that Richmond was captured. Still the indomitable
Grant drew his grip tighter and tighter upon
the scattering hordes of the Rebellion; still Meade pressed
on, and still Sheridan thundered over and through the
shattered host of treason, until Lee surrendered the remnant
of the vaunted army of Northern Virginia. The
gallant Army of the Potomac was there to witness the
humiliation of its old enemy.
All over the land cannon roared, bells pealed, bonfires
blazed, and all the people shouted “Glory, Hallelujah,”
as the military power of the Rebellion crumbled and fell.
Firmly had it stood, defying freedom, justice, and humanity;
it drooped and expired almost in the twinkling
of an eye.
The nation was filled with joy. Soldiers, sailors, and
civilians rejoiced together, and from the hearts of all rose
the pæan of thanksgiving for the victory which had
crowned our arms. Then, in the midst of the people’s
gladness, came the terrible shock of the assassination of
the nation’s ruler—of the wise, noble, and good President
Lincoln; and the redeemed Union was shrouded in
// 319.png
.pn +1
mourning for him, who fell just as he rose to the glory of
the mighty work he had accomplished.
The war was virtually ended. The surrender of Lee
was followed by that of Johnston, and others in command
of portions of the rebel army. The regiment to which
Major Somers belonged was ordered to garrison a post;
and De Banyan, who was attached to the same regiment,
but for brave and skilful conduct in one of Sheridan’s
mighty charges, had been promoted to the rank of lieutenant
colonel, also joined the command when his brigade
was dissolved.
“General De Banyan, we meet again!” exclaimed
Somers, as they joined hands, after several months of
separation.
“Glory, Hallelujah!” shouted the general. “The
war is over! The Union is saved! Rebellion is forever
crushed! Somers, my dear fellow, I would hug you if it
were dignified for a lieutenant colonel to do such a
thing.”
“Never mind your dignity, general. I feel like being
silly, now that ‘this cruel war is over.’ I am delighted
to see you. Do you remember Columbia? Do you remember
the blood-hounds?”
“Shall I ever forget them?” replied De Banyan, feelingly.
“Do you remember that night when we reached the
Augusta road?”
// 320.png
.pn +1
“I could not forget that any more than I could forget
you,” answered the general, as he again wrung the hand
of his devoted friend. “Somers, our country is saved.
We have fought it through to the end.”
“We have had a hard time of it. Do you suppose,
De Banyan, if it were to be done over again, you would be
willing to go through with it once more?” asked Somers.
“Upon my soul, I should!” replied the general,
warmly. “If I knew I had to die on the cold, wet
ground, by the side of the Augusta road, after three
years of hard service, I would go in as cheerfully as I
would eat my dinner when I am hungry. Somers, if
there is any man that loves his country, I do. I am
willing to fight for her, and willing to die for her. This
was a most infernal rebellion, and I thank God I have
lived to see the end of it.”
“So do I,” responded Somers, fervently.
With the end of the war ends our story, though a
few months later, an interesting event occurred in Boston,
which we have not the heart to withhold from our readers,
who have patiently followed our hero through his
career of duty and suffering. As they have seen him
in the carnage of battle, in the toils of the foe, in the
loathsome prison camps of the rebels, so should they now
see him in the hour of his greatest earthly joy. The
event to which we allude was chronicled in the papers of
the city as follows:—
// 321.png
.pn +1
“December 7, by the Rev. Dr. ——, Major Thomas
Somers, of the —th United States Infantry, to Miss Lilian
Ashford, daughter of Richard C. Ashford, Esq., of
this city. (No Cards.)”
No. — Rutland Street was brilliantly illuminated, as
the stars broke forth from the storm clouds of that snowy
Thanksgiving evening. There was a select assemblage
of gentlemen, civil and military, and of ladies, young
and old, from the matrons in sober black, to the maidens
decked in colors appropriate to the joyous occasion.
“Fighting Joe” had been cordially invited, but a severe
illness alone prevented his attendance.
Half an hour before the time appointed for the ceremony,
a carriage stopped at the door, from which
stepped a tall gentleman, dressed in an elegant new
uniform, on the shoulder-straps of which glistened the
silver leaves that indicated his rank. With nervous
energy he dashed up the steps, and endangered the bell
wire by the desperate pull he gave. His summons was
promptly answered by a colored gentleman in white
cotton gloves.
“Major Somers,” said the gentleman, sententiously.
“The major is engaged just now, sir, and cannot be
seen,” replied the waiter.
“Can’t be seen!” exclaimed the arrival.
“Not just now, sir. Walk in, if you please, sir.”
“Tell him Colonel De Banyan is here; and if that
don’t fetch him, say ‘Magenta’ to him.”
// 322.png
.pn +1
The waiter went up stairs to the front room, where the
bride and groom and their more intimate friends were
assembled.
“Colonel De Banyan, from Magenta, sir, is—”
“From where?” roared Somers, jumping from his
chair, so thoroughly convulsed with laughter that the
buttons on his new coat threatened to be wrenched from
their proper spheres. “Show him up,” added he, when
he could speak the words.
“My dear Somers, I am with you once again,” said
the colonel, as he rushed into the room and seized his
friend by both hands. “From the deepest depths of an
honest heart I congratulate you upon your approaching
happiness.”
“Thank you, general. I am delighted to see you,”
replied Somers. “It needed only your presence to complete
my happiness.”
“Mrs. Somers, I greet you,” continued the colonel,
dashing towards the old lady, and saluting her with the
most courtly elegance.
“Sakes alive!” exclaimed the happy matron. “If it
ain’t Captain de Bangyang.”
“Colonel de Banyan, if you please, is my present
appellation; though I am sometimes called General de
Banyan. I trust you are quite well, madam.”
“Well, I’m pretty toler’ble, I thank ye, General de
Bang—Well, I’m—I declare, I’m so flustrated I
can’t speak a word to-night.”
// 323.png
.pn +1
“Madam, you are the proud and happy mother of the
noblest young man in this noble republic,” said the
colonel, magnificently.
“Excuse me, De Banyan, but there is a lady here
who has long desired to make your acquaintance,” interposed
Somers, as he led his friend to another part of
the room, where Lilian sat, blushing and beautiful.
“Lilian, this is my friend, General de Banyan. General,
Miss Ashford.”
“Miss Ashford,” said the general, with a dignified
bow, as he took the gloved hand that was extended to
him, “I bend in homage before one who is mighty
enough in her beauty and her virtues to win the heart of
my friend Major Somers.”
Lilian blushed deeper than ever as she expressed her
pleasure at meeting the man who had shared the toils
and the sufferings of her intended husband.
“Miss Ashford, I have long known you, though we
now meet for the first time; but permit me to add, that
my friend is the only man in the United States who is
worthy of the hand which is so soon to be his,” added
De Banyan, who was clearly in a “magnificent” mood
on this occasion.
“I am afraid I shall be jealous of you, general,”
laughed Lilian.
“Nay, the major’s heart is big enough to hold us all,
// 324.png
.pn +1
Miss Ashford,” continued De Banyan, still holding the
little hand. “I pray to God that he may never be
called upon to do as much for you as he has done for
me. When you sink down to die upon the cold, wet
ground in winter, exhausted by sickness, borne under by
starvation, with the savage blood-hounds baying in the
distance, and more savage rebels lying in wait for you;
when you lie down to die under these awful conditions,
and he”—pointing to the major—“steps between you
and the quaking messenger of death, who already has a
grip upon you; when he, at the imminent peril of his
life, procures food and clothing to restore you; when he
has stood over you like an angel, and won back the
breath of life to your feeble body; when he has done
this for you, you will know him as I know him.”
As he finished, a great tear slid down each side of his
bronzed face; but he dashed it away, and smiled again.
Lilian pressed the great hand she held, and a tear
burned among the roses of her bright cheek.
“But all this, and more, has he done for me!” exclaimed
Somers, pointing to the colonel. “When I was
wounded and helpless—”
“Upon my word, we are getting sentimental, major:
and we had better subside,” interposed the colonel.
“Introduce me to the rest of the people.”
Somers complied; and to each De Banyan made one
// 325.png
.pn +1
of his characteristic speeches; and perhaps he would
have been voted ridiculous, if his eloquence had not a
moment before started the tears of more than half the
persons in the room.
Among those present was John Somers, the major’s
twin brother, who had come home to participate in this
festive scene. On his arm was a beautiful young lady;
but who and what she was, we must, for prudential
reasons, decline to explain in this volume.
The clergyman came; the ceremony was performed,
and the interesting incidents which follow it were duly
and properly disposed of; and never was a happy couple
more sincerely congratulated.
“Mrs. Somers, permit me to express my warmest
hopes for your future happiness,” said De Banyan.
“May your husband be to you all that he has been to
me; he can be no more; he will be no less.”
There was nothing to mar the harmony of the occasion.
Grandmother Ashford mercifully permitted the
heroes of the “last war” to rest in their honored
graves; and all gave a hearty God-speed to the happy
couple, as they twain set out on the blissful journey of
wedlock.
.tb
Major Somers is a man of good motives, and of high
Christian principles, won in the day of trial and suffering,
// 326.png
.pn +1
no less than in prosperity; and we doubt not he
will be as true to his God, his country, and himself, in
the future, as he has been in the past; when, by his
fidelity, his bravery, and his patriotism, he carved out
his fortunes on the battle-fields of The Great Rebellion.
// 327.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
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.hr 15%
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All-Over-the-World Library. By Oliver Optic. First Series.
Illustrated. Price per volume, $1.25.
1. A Missing Million; or, The Adventures of Louis Belgrade.
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3. A Young Knight Errant; or, Cruising in the West Indies.
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All-Over-the-World Library. By Oliver Optic. Second
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1. American Boys Afloat; or, Cruising in the Orient.
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1. Across India; or, Live Boys in the Far East.
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.nf l
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2. Within the Enemy’s Lines.
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4. Stand by the Union.
5. Fighting for the Right.
6. A Victorious Union.
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3. A Lieutenant at Eighteen.
4. On the Staff.
5. At the Front.
6. An Undivided Union.
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Any volume sold separately. Price per volume, $1.25.
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The Starry Flag Series. By Oliver Optic. In six volumes.
Illustrated. Any volume sold separately. Price per volume, $1.25.
.nf l
1. The Starry Flag; or, The Young Fisherman of Cape Ann.
2. Breaking Away; or, The Fortunes of a Student.
3. Seek and Find; or, The Adventures of a Smart Boy.
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6. Down the River; or, Buck Bradford and the Tyrants.
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so long as good sentiments are inculcated such books ought to be read.”
.sp 2
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.ul
.it Transcriber’s Notes:
.ul indent=1
.it Missing or obscured punctuation was silently corrected.
.it Typographical errors were silently corrected.
.it Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation were made consistent only when a\
predominant form was found in this book.
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