Chief among those exciting the people was Tompkins, the head of the "Knights of the Golden Circle." He raged through the streets, defying all authority. Fred looked on the growing excitement with the blood swiftly coursing through his veins. His eyes blazed with fury when he saw the stars and stripes trailed in the dust of the street. He trembled with suppressed rage when he saw Union men reviled, insulted.
"It is true," he said, bitterly, to himself, "that Union men are cowards, miserable cowards, or theywould resent these insults." But Fred was mistaken; braver men never lived than the Union men of Louisville, who endured the taunts and insults of that day, rather than provoke a conflict, the end of which no man could tell.
After a time Fred found himself on a residence street where there was a break in the mob, and the street was comparatively quiet. During this quiet a young lady came out of a house, and hurriedly passed down the street. Suddenly a fragment of the mob drifted through the street, and she was caught in the vortex. On her bosom was pinned a small Union flag. A burly ruffian in the mob espied it, and rushing up to her, shouted: "Off with that dirty rag, you she-Lincolnite!"
"Never," she exclaimed, with a pale face but flashing eye.
"Then I will take it," he exclaimed, with a coarse oath, and snatched at the flag so roughly as to tear her dress, exposing her pure white bosom to the gaze of the brutal mob.
There was a howl of delight, and the wretch made bolder, cried: "Now for a kiss, my beauty," and attempted to catch her in his smutty arms. But the avenger was at hand. Fred had seen the outrage, and picking up a brick that happened to lie loose on the pavement, he sprang forward and dealt the ruffian such a blow on the side of the head that he fell like a log, striking the pavement with such force that the blood gushed from his nose and mouth.
He dealt the Ruffian such a Blow that he fell like a log
He dealt the Ruffian such a Blow that he fell like a log.
"Kill the young devil of a Lincolnite!" was the cry, and the crowd surged towards Fred. But those in advance drew back, for they looked into the muzzle of a revolver held by a hand that did not tremble, and gazed into young eyes that did not waver.
"The first man that attempts to touch her or me, dies," said Fred, in a clear, firm voice. The mob shrank back; then a fierce cry arose of "Kill him! kill him!"
"Take the young lady to a place of safety," said a low voice by Fred's side; then to the mob, "Back! back! or come on at your peril."
Fred looked, and by his side stood a stalwart policeman, a glistening revolver in his hand. Near him stood other determined men, ready to assist.
"Come," said Fred, taking the young lady's arm, and the two quickly made their way out of the mob, which, balked of its prey, howled in futile rage.
"I live here," said the young lady, stopping before a palatial residence. "My name is Mabel Vaughn. You must come in and let my mother thank you. How brave you were, and Policeman Green, too. How can I thank you both enough for what you did!"
"You must excuse me now," replied Fred, politely raising his hat; "but to-morrow, if possible, I will call, and see if you have experienced any ill effects from the rough treatment you have received. But I must go now, for I may be of some further use," and with a bow, Fred was gone.
"If he were only older, I would have a mind to throw Bob overboard," said the young lady to herself, as she entered the house.
Going back to the scene of his adventure, Fred found that a great crowd had gathered around the place where he had knocked the ruffian down.
"What is this?" yelled Tompkins, coming up at the head of a multitude of followers.
"Shure," cried an Irish voice, "Big Jim is kilt intoirely, intoirely."
"Who did it?" demanded Tompkins, with an oath. No one knew. By this time Big Jim, with the aid of two companions, had staggered to his feet, and was looking around in a dazed condition.
"He will come around all right," said Tompkins. "To the City Hall, boys. Down with the rag floating there! Down with the city officials; let's throw them into the Ohio," and with frightful cries, the mob started for the city hall.
But the brave, loyal policeman, G. A. Green, the one who had assisted Fred, was before them. "Stop," he cried, "the first man who tries to enter this building dies."
With a curse, Tompkins rushed on with the cry, "Down with the Lincolnites!"
There was the sharp crack of a revolver, and Tompkins staggered and fell dead. His followers stood dumfounded. Before they could rally there stood around the brave policeman a company of armed men. This was not all; as if by magic, armed Home Guards appeared everywhere. Themob stood amazed. Then a prominent officer of the Home Guard came forward and said:
"We do not wish to shed more blood, but the first blow struck at the city government, and these streets will run red with the blood of Secessionists. We are fully prepared."
Cowed, muttering, cursing, the mob began to melt away. The crisis was passed. The sun went down on one of the most exciting days Louisville ever saw—a day that those who were there will never forget.
The city was saved to the Union, and never afterward was it in grave danger.
"Quite an adventure," said Mrs. Spear, to whom Fred had been relating his experience. "I am proud of you. Why, you are a regular hero."
"Hardly that," replied Fred, blushing.
"I am so glad it has ended well," continued Mrs. Spear; "you ran a terrible danger, and I should never have forgiven myself for letting you go out, if any evil had befallen you."
"I should never have forgiven myself if I had not been there to protect that brave young lady," answered Fred, firmly.
"Of course, a true knight must protect a fair lady," said Mrs. Spear. "And you were fortunate, Sir Knight, for Mabel Vaughn is one of the fairest of Louisville's daughters. It was just like her to brave any danger rather than conceal her colors. She is loyal to the core."
"She seems to be a very nice young lady," replied Fred, "and she is extremely pretty, too."
"What a pity you are not older," said Mrs. Spear, "so you could fall in love with each otherand get married, just as they do in well-regulated novels."
"How do you know that I am not in love with her now?" answered Fred, his eyes sparkling with merriment; "and as for my youth, I will grow."
"Oh! in that case, I am really sorry," replied Mrs. Spear, "for I think she is spoken for."
Fred assumed a tragic air, and said in bloodcurdling tones: "Where was the recreant lover that he did not protect her? Never shall my good sword rest until it drinks his craven blood."
Mrs. Spear laughed until she cried. "You will call on your lady love before you return?" she queried.
"Most assuredly, and it must be an early morning call, for I leave for home at ten o'clock."
The warmth of welcome given Fred by the Vaughns surprised him, and, to his astonishment, he found himself a hero in their eyes.
Miss Mabel Vaughn was a most charming young lady of eighteen, and when she grasped Fred's hand, and, with tears in her eyes, poured out her thanks, he felt a curious sensation about his heart, and as he looked into her beautiful face, he could not help echoing the wish of Mrs. Spear, "Oh, that I were older."
But this fancy received a rude shock when a fine looking young man, introduced as Mr. Robert Marsden, grasped his hand, and thanked him for what he had done for his betrothed.
"And to think," said Marsden, "that Mabelwas in danger, and that you, instead of me, protected her, makes me insanely envious of you."
"As for that, Bob," archly said Miss Mabel, "I am glad you were not there. I dare say Mr. Shackelford did far better than you would have done."
Marsden flushed and said nothing. Seeing he looked hurt, Miss Vaughn continued: "I mean you would have been so rash you might have been killed."
"Which would have been far worse than if I had been killed," said Fred, meekly.
"Oh! I didn't mean that, I didn't mean that!" cried Miss Vaughn, bursting into tears.
"Which means I ought to be kicked for uttering a silly joke," answered Fred, greatly distressed. "Please, Miss Vaughn, let us change the subject. How did you happen to be on the street?"
"I had been calling on a sick friend a few doors away, and I thought I could reach home in safety during the few moments of quiet. My friend wanted me to remove the little flag from the bosom of my dress before I ventured out, but I refused, saying, 'I would never conceal my colors,' and I was caught in the mob, as you saw."
"And I shall consider it the happiest day of my life I was there," gallantly answered Fred. "And we must not forget the brave policeman."
"That I will not," replied Miss Vaughn.
"There is one good thing it has brought about, anyway," said Marsden. "Mabel has at lengthconsented that I shall enter the army. She would never give her consent before. I shall wear this little flag that she wore yesterday on my breast, and it will ever be an incentive to deeds of glory, and it shall never be disgraced," and the young man's eyes kindled as he said it.
"Oh! Robert, if you should be killed!" and the girl sobbed piteously. Had a shadow of the future floated before her? Months afterward that little flag was returned to her bloodstained and torn.
"Come, come!" said Mrs. Vaughn, "this will never do, rather let us rejoice that we are all alive and happy this morning. Mabel, give us some music."
Two or three lively airs dispelled all the clouds, and Fred took his leave with the promise that he would never come to Louisville without calling.
Fred's return to Nicholasville was without adventure. He wondered what had become of Captain Conway, and laughed when he imagined the meeting between the captain and Major Hockoday. He found Prince none the worse for his fast riding, and jumping gaily on his back, started for home, returning by way of Camp Dick Robinson. Here he met Lieutenant Nelson, who warmly grasped his hand, and thanked him for his services in delivering his message.
"But," continued Nelson, "I have heard rumors of your performing a still more important part, and securing papers of the greatest value to us. Tell me about it."
When Fred related his meeting with Major Hockoday and Morgan, and how he had wrung the dispatch from Captain Conway, Nelson nearly went into an apoplectic fit from laughter. Then he stood up and looked at the boy admiringly.
"Fred," he said, "you have done what one man in a hundred thousand could not have done. The government shall know of this. Not only this; but if you will enter my service, not as a spy, but as a special messenger and scout, I will see that you are enrolled as such with good pay."
Fred shook his head. "You must remember, sir, I am but a boy still under the control of my father. I accepted the mission from you, which I did, on the impulse of the moment; and I fear when I return home, I shall find my father very much offended."
"Is your father a Union man?" asked Nelson.
"I do not know. My mother died but a few weeks ago, and since her death father has taken no interest in the events going on around him. I have never heard him express any opinion since the war really began. Before that he was in hopes it could be settled peaceably."
"Well, my boy, whatever happens, remember you have a friend in me. Not only this, but if you can arrange it amicably with your father, I may call on you, if at any time I have a very delicate mission I wish to have performed."
Fred thanked him, and rode on to his home. He found his father in very earnest conversationwith his uncle, Judge Pennington, and Colonel Humphrey Marshall, a well-known Kentuckian. The trio were earnestly discussing the war, Judge Pennington and Colonel Marshall trying to convince Mr. Shackelford that it was his duty to come out boldly for the South, instead of occupying his position of indifference.
When Mr. Shackelford saw Fred, he excused himself a moment, and calling him, said: "Where in the world have you been, Fred? I thought you were with your Cousin Calhoun, and therefore borrowed no trouble on account of your absence. But when your uncle came a few moments ago, and informed me you had not been there for three days, I became greatly alarmed, and as soon as I could dismiss my visitors I was going to institute a search for you."
"I am all right, father," answered Fred. "I have been to Louisville. I will tell you all about it when you are at leisure."
"Very well," replied Mr. Shackelford, and went back and resumed the conversation with his guests.
In the evening, when father and son were alone, Fred told where he had been, and who sent him. Mr. Shackelford looked grave, and said:
"Fred, this is a bad business. Since the death of your mother, I have taken but little interest in passing events. I have just awakened to the fact that there is a great war in progress."
"Yes, father," said Fred in a low tone, "war on the old flag. Which side should one be on?"
Mr. Shackelford did not answer for a moment, and then he said, with a troubled countenance: "I had almost as soon lose my right arm as to raise it against the flag for which my fathers fought. On the other side, how can I, a man Southern born, raise my hand against my kindred? Kentucky is a sovereign State; as such she has resolved to be neutral. The South is observing this neutrality, the North is not. Even now the Federal government is raising and arming troops right in our midst. This Lieutenant Nelson, to whom you have rendered such valuable services, is foremost in this defiance of the wishes of Kentucky. The raising and arming of Federal troops must be stopped, or the whole State will be in the throes of a fratricidal strife. Your uncle and Colonel Marshall are for Kentucky's seceding and joining the South. For this I am not prepared, for it would make the State the battleground of the contending armies. But the neutrality of Kentucky must be respected. Let me hear no more of your aiding Nelson, or you are no son of mine."
"Father, you say Kentucky is a sovereign State. Is it right then for those who favor the South to try and force Kentucky into the Southern Confederacy against the will of a majority of her people?"
Mr. Shackelford hesitated, and then said: "As much right as the Unionists have to force her to stay in. But I do not ask you to aid the South, neither must you aid Nelson."
Mr. Shackelford drew a deep sigh, and thencontinued: "Your mother being a Northern woman, I suppose you have imbibed some of her peculiar ideas. This war is a terrible thing, Fred. Oh, God! why must the two sections fight?" And he turned away to hide his feelings.
Under the circumstances, Fred thought it best not to say anything about his adventure with Captain Conway, or what happened in Louisville. But he readily promised his father he would do nothing to aid either side without consulting him.
"Now, Fred," said Mr. Shackelford, "this business being settled, I have another matter I wish to talk about. My business is in such shape it is of the utmost importance that I get some papers to your Uncle Charles in Nashville for him to sign. Mail, you know, is now prohibited between the two sections. To travel between the two States is becoming nearly impossible. It will soon become entirely so. Even now, the journey may be attended with great danger; and I would not think of asking you if it was not so important for your Uncle Charles to sign the papers. But as much as I would like to have you make the journey, I shall not command you, but let you exercise your own pleasure."
"Just the thing!" shouted Fred, his boyish enthusiasm and love of adventure aroused. "I shall enjoy it. You know a spice of danger adds enjoyment to one's journey."
"Well," said his father, "it is all settled, then, but be very careful, for they tell me the wholecountry is in a state of fearful ferment. One thing more, Fred; if you have any Union sentiment, suppress it entirely while you are gone. It will not do in Middle Tennessee; there are no Union men there."
The next morning, after kissing his little sister good-bye, and promising his father to be very careful, Fred started on his journey. Nashville was about one hundred and sixty miles away, and he calculated he could reach it in three days. From Danville he took the main road to Liberty, thence to Columbia, where he stopped for the night. His next day's ride took him to Glasgow, then south to Scottsville. He found the whole country in a state of the greatest excitement; and passed numerous companies of Kentuckians going south to join the Confederate army. After leaving Columbia, he saw nothing but the Confederate flag displayed. If there were any Unionists, they did not let the fact be known.
Just over on the Tennessee side, as he passed into that State, was a large encampment of Confederate troops; and Fred was repeatedly asked to enlist, while many a covetous eye was cast on his horse. It was afternoon before he reached Gallatin, where he stopped for refreshments for himself and horse.
He found the little city a perfect hotbed of excitement. The people were still rejoicing over the victory at Bull Run, and looking every day for Washington to fall. To them the war was nearlyover, and there was joy on every countenance. When it became known at the hotel that Fred was from Kentucky, he was surrounded by an eager crowd to learn the news from that State.
In reply to his eager questioners, Fred said:
"Gentlemen, I do not know that I can give you anything new. You know that Kentucky has voted to remain neutral, but that does not prevent our people from being pretty evenly divided. Many of our most prominent men are advocating the cause of the South, but as yet they have failed to overcome the Union sentiment. The day after the battle of Bull Run there was a riot in Louisville, and it was thought that the friends of the South might be able to seize the city government, but the movement failed."
"Where did you say you were from?" asked one of the bystanders.
"From Danville," answered Fred.
"You are all right in that section of the country, are you not?"
"On the contrary," replied Fred, "a Lieutenant Nelson has organized a camp at Dick Robinson, but a few miles from where I live, and is engaged in raising ten regiments of Kentucky troops for the Federal army."
The news was astounding, and a murmur of surprise ran through the crowd, which became a burst of indignation, and a big red-faced man shouted:
"It's a lie, youngster; Kentuckians are not allcowards and Abolitionists. You are nothing but a Lincolnite in disguise. Hang him, boys! hang him!"
"You are right," said Fred, advancing on the man, "when you say all Kentuckians are not cowards. Some of them still have courage to resent an insult, especially when it is offered by a cur," and he dealt the man a blow across the face with his riding-whip with such force as to leave an angry, red mark.
The man howled with pain and rage, and attempted to draw a revolver, but stout hands laid hold of him, and he was dragged blaspheming away.
Meanwhile it looked as if there might be a riot. Some were hurrahing for the boy; others were shaking their heads and demanding that Fred further give an account of himself. He had been called a Lincolnite, and that was enough to damn him in the eyes of many.
"What is all this fuss about?" cried a commanding looking young man, dressed in the uniform of a lieutenant of the Confederate army, pushing his way through the crowd.
"Oh, this hyear young feller struck Bill Pearson across the face with his ridin'-whip for callin' him a Lincolnite and a liah," volunteered a seedy, lank looking individual.
"Which seems full enough provocation for a blow. Bill is fortunate he hasn't got a hole through him," responded the young lieutenant.
"But maybe he is a Lincolnite," persisted the seedy individual. "He said Kentuck wouldn't 'cede, and that they was raisin' sogers to help whip we 'uns."
"How is it, my boy?" asked the lieutenant, turning to Fred. "Who are you, and where did you come from?"
Fred explained what had happened; how he had been asked for news from Kentucky, and that he had told them only the truth. He then gave his name, and said he was on his way to Nashville to visit his uncle, Charles Shackelford.
"Fellow-citizens," said the young officer in a voice that at once commanded attention, "this young man informs me that he is a nephew of Major Charles Shackelford of Nashville, who is now engaged in raising a regiment for the Confederate service. No nephew of his can be a Lincolnite. (Here Fred winced.) As for the news he told, unfortunately it's true. Kentucky, although thousands of her gallant sons have joined us, still clings to her neutrality, or is openly hostile to us. It is true, that a renegade Kentuckian by the name of Nelson is enlisting troops for the Yankees right in the heart of Kentucky. But I believe, almost know, the day is not distant, when the brave men of Kentucky who are true to their traditions and the South will arise in their might, and place Kentucky where she belongs, as one of the brightest stars in the galaxy of Confederate States. In your name, fellow-citizens, I want to apologize to thisgallant young Kentuckian for the insult offered him."
The young lieutenant ceased speaking, but as with one voice, the multitude began to cry, "Go on! go on! A speech, Bailie, a speech!"
Thus abjured, Lieutenant Bailie Peyton, for it was he, mounted a dry-goods box, and for half an hour poured forth such a torrent of eloquence that he swayed the vast audience, which had gathered, as the leaves of the forest are swayed by the winds of heaven.
He first spoke of the glorious Southland; her sunny skies, her sweeping rivers, her brave people. He pictured to them the home of their childhood, the old plantation, where slept in peaceful graves the loved ones gone before.
Strong men stood with tears running down their cheeks; women sobbed convulsively. "Is there one present that will not die for such a land?" he cried in a voice as clear as a trumpet, and there went up a mighty shout of "No, not one!"
He then spoke of the North; how the South would fain live in peace with her, but had been spurned, reviled, traduced. Faces began to darken, hands to clench. Then the speaker launched into a terrific philippic against the North. He told of its strength, its arrogance, its insolence. Lincoln was now marshaling his hireling hosts to invade their country, to devastate their land, to desecrate their homes, to let loose their slaves, to ravish and burn. "Are we men," he cried, "and refuse toprotect our homes, our wives, our mothers, our sisters!"
The effect was indescribable. Men wept and cried like children, then raved and yelled like madmen. With clenched hands raised towards heaven, they swore no Yankee invader would ever leave the South alive. Women, with hysterical cries, beseeched their loved ones to enlist. They denounced as cowards those who refused. The recruiting officers present reaped a rich harvest. As for Fred, he stood as one in a trance. Like the others, he had been carried along, as on a mighty river, by the fiery stream of eloquence he had heard. He saw the Southland invaded by a mighty host, leaving wreck and ruin in its wake. He heard helpless women praying to be delivered from the lust of brutal slaves, and raising his hand to heaven he swore that such things should never be.
Then came the reaction. His breast was torn with conflicting emotions, he knew not what to think. In a daze he sought his horse. A pleasant voice sounded in his ear.
"I think you told me you were going to Nashville." It was Bailie Peyton who spoke.
"Yes, sir."
"It is getting late. Will you not go with me to my father's and stay all night, and I will ride with you to Nashville in the morning?"
Fred readily consented, for he was weary, and he also wanted to see more of this wonderful young orator.
Colonel Peyton, the father of Bailie Peyton, resided some three miles out of Gallatin on the Nashville pike, and was one of the distinguished men of Tennessee. He opposed secession to the last, and when the State seceded he retired to his plantation, and all during the war was a non-combatant. So grand was his character, such confidence did both sides have in his integrity, that he was honored and trusted by both. He never faltered in his love for the Union, yet did everything possible to save his friends and neighbors from the wrath of the Federal authorities. It was common report that more than once he saved Gallatin from being burned to the ground for its many acts of hostility to the Union forces. War laid a heavy hand on Colonel Peyton; and his son the apple of his eye was brought home a corpse. Even then Colonel Peyton did not complain. He bound up his broken heart, and did what he could to soothe others who had been stricken the same as he.
Fred was given a genuine Southern welcome at the hospitable mansion of Colonel Peyton. As for Bailie, the younger members of the household went wild over him, even the servants wore a happier smile now "dat Massa Bailie had cum."
After supper the family assembled on the old-fashioned porch to enjoy the cool evening air, and the conversation, as all conversations were in those days, was on the war. Bailie was overflowing with the exuberance of his spirits. He believed that the victory at Bull Run was the beginning of the end,that Washington was destined to fall, and that President Davis would dictate peace from that city. He saw arise before him a great nation, the admiration of the whole world; and as he spoke of the glory that would come to the South, his whole soul seemed to light up his countenance.
Throughout Bailie's discourse, Colonel Peyton sat silent and listened. Sometimes a sad smile would come over his features at some of his son's witty sallies or extravagant expressions.
Bailie seeing his father' dejection, turned to him and said:
"Cheer up, father; I shall soon be back in Nashville practicing my profession, the war over; and in the greatness and grandeur of the South you will forget your love for the old Union."
The colonel shook his head, and turning to Fred, began to ask him questions concerning Kentucky and the situation there. Fred answered him truthfully and fully to the best of his knowledge. Colonel Peyton then said to his son:
"Bailie, you know how dear you are to me, and how much I regret the course you are taking; yet I will not chide you, for it is but natural for you to go with the people you love. It is not only you, it is the entire South that has made a terrible mistake. That the South had grievances, we all know; but secession was not the cure. Bailie, you are mistaken about the war being nearly over; it has hardly begun. If Beauregard ever had a chance to capture Washington, that chance is nowlost by his tardiness. The North has men and money; it will spare neither. You have heard what this young man has said about Kentucky. He has told the truth. The State is hopelessly divided. Neither side will keep up the farce of neutrality longer than it thinks it an advantage to do so. When the time comes, the Federal armies will sweep through Kentucky and invade Tennessee. Their banners will be seen waving along this road; Nashville will fall."
"What!" cried Bailie, springing to his feet, "Nashville in the hands of the Lincolnites. Never! May I die before I see the accursed flag of the North waving over the proud capitol of my beloved Tennessee."
He looked like a young god, as he stood there, proud, defiant, his eye flashing, his breast heaving with emotion.
His father gazed on him a moment in silence. A look of pride, love, tenderness, passed over his face; then his eyes filled with tears, and he turned away trembling with emotion. Had he a dim realization that the prayer of his son would be granted, and that he would not live to see the Union flag floating over Nashville?
That night Frederic Shackelford knelt by his bedside with a trembling heart. Bailie Peyton's speech, his enthusiasm, his earnestness had had a powerful influence on him. After all, was the North wrong? Was the South fighting, as Bailie claimed, for one of the holiest causes for which apatriotic people ever combated; and that their homes, the honor of their wives and daughters were at stake?
"Oh, Lord, show me the right way!" was Fred's prayer.
Then there came to him, as if whispered in his ear by the sweetest of voices, the words of his mother, "God will never permit a nation to be founded whose chief corner-stone is human slavery." He arose, strong, comforted; the way was clear; there would be no more doubt.
The next morning the young men journeyed to Nashville together. On the way Bailie poured out his whole soul to his young companion. He saw nothing in the future but success. In no possible way could the North subjugate the South. But the silver tones no longer influenced Fred; there was no more wavering in his heart. But he ever said that Bailie Peyton was one of the most fascinating young men he ever met, and that the remembrance of that ride was one of the sweetest of his life.
When a few months afterward, he wept over Peyton's lifeless body stretched on the battlefield, he breathed a prayer for the noble soul that had gone so early to its Creator.
Fred found Nashville a seething sea of excitement. Nothing was thought of, talked of, but the war. There was no thought of the hardships, the suffering, the agony, the death that it would bring—nothing but vain boasting, and how soon theNorth would get enough of it. The people acted as though they were about to engage in the festivities of some gala day, instead of one of the most gigantic wars of modern times. It was the case of not one, but of a whole people gone mad.
Although Fred's uncle and family were greatly surprised to see him, he was received with open arms. Mr. Shackelford was busily engaged in raising a regiment for the Confederate service, and as Bailie Peyton had said, had been commissioned as major. Fred's cousin, George Shackelford, although but two years older than he, was to be adjutant, and Fred found the young man a little too conceited for comfort.
Not so with his cousin Kate, a most beautiful girl the same age as himself, and they were soon the closest of friends. But Kate was a terrible fire-eater. She fretted and pouted because Fred would not abuse the Yankees with the same vehemence that she did.
"What if they should come here?" asked Fred.
"Come here!" echoed Kate, with the utmost scorn. "We women would turn out and beat them back with broomsticks."
Fred laughed, and then little Bess came toddling up to him, with "Tousin Fed, do 'ankees eat 'ittle girls?"
"Bless you, Bessie, I am afraid they would eat you, you are so sweet," cried Fred, catching her in his arms and covering her face with kisses.
"No danger," tartly responded Kate; "they will never reach here to get a chance."
"Don't be too sure, my pretty cousin; I may yet live to see you flirting with a Yankee officer."
"You will see me dead first," answered Kate, with flashing eye.
It was a very pleasant visit that Fred had, and he was sorry when the four days, the limit of his visit, were up. The papers that he had brought were all signed, and in addition he took numerous letters and messages back with him.
When leaving, his uncle handed him a pass signed by the Governor of the State.
"There will be no getting through our lines into Kentucky without this," said his uncle. "Tennessee is like a rat-trap; it is much easier to get in than to get out."
Fred met with no adventure going back, until he approached the Kentucky line south of Scottsville. Here he found the road strongly guarded by soldiers.
"Where are you going?" asked the officer in charge.
"To my home near Danville, Kentucky," answered Fred.
"No, you don't," said the officer; "we have orders to let no one pass."
"But I have permission from the Governor," replied Fred, handing out his pass.
The officer looked at it carefully, then looked Fred over, for he was fully described in thedocument, and handed it back with, "I reckon it's all right; you can go." And Fred was about to ride on, when a man came running up with a fearful oath, and shouting: "That's you, is it, my fine gentleman? Now you will settle with Bill Pearson for striking him like a nigger!" and there stood the man he had struck at Gallatin, with the fiery red mark still showing across his face.
As quick as a flash Fred snatched a revolver from the holster. "Up with your hands," said he coolly but firmly. Pearson was taken by surprise, and his hands went slowly up. The officer looked from one to the other, and then asked what it meant.
As quick as a flash Fred snatched a Revolver from the holster
As quick as a flash Fred snatched a Revolver from the holster.
Bill, in a whining tone, told him how on the day he had enlisted, Fred had struck him "just like a nigger." Fred, in a few words, told his side of the story.
"And Bailie Peyton said ye were all right, and Bill here called ye a coward and a liah?" asked the officer.
"Yes, sir."
"Well, Bill, I reckon you got what you deserved. Let the gentleman pass."
With a muttered curse, Pearson fell back, and Fred rode on, but had gone but a few yards when there was the sharp report of a pistol, and a ball cut through his hat rim. He looked back just in time to see Bill Pearson felled like an ox by a blow from the butt of a revolver in the hands of the angry officer.
Once in Kentucky Fred breathed freer, but he was stopped several times and closely questioned, and once or twice the fleetness of his horse saved him from unpleasant companions. It was with a glad heart that he found himself once more at home.
Fred's journey to Nashville and back had consumed eleven days. It was now August, a month of intense excitement throughout Kentucky. It was a month of plot and counterplot. The great question as to whether Kentucky would be Union or Confederate trembled in the balance. Fred found conditions changed. Those who had been neutral were becoming outspoken for one side or the other. Thus it was with Mr. Shackelford. He was fast becoming a partisan of the South. Letters which Fred brought him from his brother in Nashville confirmed him in his opinion. In these letters his brother begged him not to disgrace the name of Shackelford by siding with the Lincolnites.
He heard from Fred a full account of his journey, commended him for his bravery, and said that he did what every true Kentuckian should do, resent an insult; but he should not have sent him had he known he would have been exposed to such grave dangers.
"Now, Fred," he continued; "you and your horse need rest. Do not leave home for a few days."
To this Fred readily assented. His cousin Calhoun came to see him, and when he told him how he had served the fellow in Gallatin who called him a liar, Calhoun's enthusiasm knew no bounds. He jumped up and down and yelled, and clapped Fred on the back, and called him a true Kentuckian, even if he didn't favor the South.
"It seems to me, Fred, you are having all the fun, while I am staying here humdrumming around home. I can't stand it much longer."
"It isn't all fun, Cal. I might have been killed. Look at that hole through my hat."
"That's what I envy, Fred; I must be a soldier. I long to hear the singing of bullets, the wild cheering of men, to be in the headlong charge," and the boy's face glowed with enthusiasm.
"I reckon, Cal, you will get there, if this racket keeps up much longer," answered Fred.
"Speed the day," shouted Cal, as he jumped on his horse and rode away, waving back a farewell.
During these days, Fred noticed that quite a number of gentlemen, all prominent Southern sympathizers, called on his father. It seemed to him that his father was drifting away, and that a great gulf was growing between them; and he resolved to open his whole heart and tell his father just how he felt. The opportunity came sooner than he expected.
One evening his uncle, Judge Pennington, came out from Danville, accompanied by no less distinguished gentlemen than John C. Breckinridge,Humphrey Marshall, John A. Morgan and Major Hockoday. Breckinridge was the idol of Kentucky, a knightly man in every respect.
They had come to discuss the situation with Mr. Shackelford. Ten thousand rifles had been shipped to Cincinnati, to be forwarded to Camp Dick Robinson, for the purpose of arming the troops there; and the question was should they allow these arms to be sent. The consultation was held in the room directly below the one Fred occupied, and through a friendly ventilator he heard the whole conversation.
Morgan and Major Hockoday were for calling out the State Guards, capturing Camp Dick Robinson, then march on Frankfort, drive out the Legislature, and declare the State out of the Union.
This was vigorously opposed by Breckinridge. "You must remember," said he, "that State sovereignty is the underlying principle of the Southern Confederacy. If the States are not sovereign, the South had no right to secede, and every man in arms against the Federal government is a traitor. Kentucky, by more than a two-thirds vote, declined to go out of the Union. But she has declared for neutrality; let us see that neutrality is enforced."
"Breckinridge," said Morgan, "your logic is good, but your position is weak. What about those arms?"
"Their shipment in the State would be a violation of our neutrality; the whole power of the State should be used to prevent it," answered Breckinridge.
"Oh! that General Buckner were here!" exclaimed Major Hockoday. "Now that he is gone, the State Guard is virtually without a head."
"Where is General Buckner?" asked Mr. Shackelford.
"Hobnobbing with President Lincoln in Washington, or with President Davis in Richmond, I don't know which," answered Marshall, with a laugh.
"Oh! Buckner is all right," responded Breckinridge; "but he ought to be here now."
It was finally agreed that a meeting should be called at Georgetown, in Scott county, on the 17th, at which meeting decisive steps should be taken to prevent the shipment of the arms.
All of this Fred heard, and then, to his consternation, he heard his father say:
"Gentlemen, before you go, I want to introduce my son to you. I am afraid he is a little inclined to be for the Union, and I think a meeting with you gentlemen may serve to make him see things in a different light."
So Fred was called, and nerving himself for the interview, he went down. As he entered the room, Major Hockoday stared at him a moment in surprise, and then exclaimed:
"Great God! Shackelford, that is not your son; that is the young villain who stole my dispatch from Conway!"
"The very same," said Fred, smiling. "How do you do, Major; I am glad to see you looking sowell. I see that the loss of that dispatch didn't worry you so much as to make you sick."
"W-h-y why!" stammered the major, choking with rage, "you—you impudent young——" here the major did choke. He could say no more.
Fred rather enjoyed it, and he continued: "And how is my friend Captain Conway? I trust that he was not injured in his hurried exit from the cars the other night."
All the rest of the company looked nonplused, but Morgan, who roared with laughter.
"What does this mean?" sternly asked Mr. Shackelford of Fred.
"It means," answered Fred, "that I got the major's dispatches away from Captain Conway, and thus saved Louisville from a scene of bloodshed and horror. And, Major, you should thank me, for your scheme would have failed anyway. The Union men were too well prepared. I really saved any number of your friends from being killed, and there you sit choking with rage, instead of calling me a good boy."
"Leave the room, Fred," commanded Mr. Shackelford; "that you should insult a guest here in my own house is more than I can imagine."
Bowing, Fred retired, and the company turned to Major Hockoday for an explanation of the extraordinary scene. The major told the story and ended with saying: "I am sorry, Shackelford, that he is your boy. If I were you, I should get himout of the country as soon as possible; he will make you trouble."
"I will settle with him, never fear," replied Mr. Shackelford, grimly.
"Look here, Major," spoke up Morgan; "you are sore because that boy outwitted you, and he did you a good turn, as he said. If your program had been carried out, Louisville would be occupied by Federal troops to-day. Thank him because he pulled the wool over Conway's eyes. Ha! ha! two old duffers fooled by a boy!" and Morgan enjoyed a hearty laugh, in which all but Major Hockoday and Mr. Shackelford joined.
"And, Shackelford," continued Morgan, after he had enjoyed his laugh, "I want you to let that boy alone; he is the smartest boy in Kentucky. I want him with me when I organize my cavalry brigade."
"I am afraid, Morgan," said Breckinridge, "that you will be disappointed in that, though I hope not for Mr. Shackelford's sake. The boy looks to me as if he had a will of his own."
"Oh, he will come around all right," responded Morgan.
After making full arrangements for the meeting to be held in Scott county on the 17th, the company dispersed.
Hours after they had gone Fred heard his father restlessly pacing the floor.
"Poor father!" thought he, "like me, he cannot sleep. I wonder what he will say to me in themorning; but come what may, I must and shall be for the Union."
At the breakfast table Mr. Shackelford was silent until the close of the meal, when he simply said, "Fred, I would like to see you in the library."
Fred bowed, and replied, "I will be there in a few moments, father."
When Fred entered the library, his father was seated at the table writing. There was a look of care on his face, and Fred was startled to see how pale he was.
Pushing aside his writing, he sat for some moments looking at his son in silence. At last he said:
"Fred, you can hardly realize how pained I was last night to hear what I did. I would not have thought it of you. But the past is gone. You are old enough to realize something of the desperate nature of the struggle in which the two sections of the country are engaged. For the past two weeks I have thought much of what was the right thing to do. I love my country; I love and revere the old flag. As long as the slightest hope remained of restoring it as it was, I was for the Union. But this is now hopeless; too much blood has been shed. Neither would the South, if granted her own terms, now go back to a Union she not only hates, but loathes. The North has no lawful right to use coercion. Kentucky, in her sovereign right as a State, has declared for neutrality; and it has been contemptuously ignored by theNorth. Nelson, a man to be despised by every patriot, has not only organized troops in our midst, but now seeks to have the Federal government arm them. Such true men as Breckinridge, Marshall, Buckner, Morgan, and a host of other loyal Kentuckians have sworn that this shall never be. General Buckner is now in Washington. If he ascertains that the Lincoln government will not respect the neutrality of the State by withdrawing every Federal officer and soldier, he is going to proceed to Richmond and offer his services to the Confederate Government. Once accepted, he will immediately form the State Guards into an army, and turn them over to the Confederacy. Regiments must be formed, and I have been offered the colonelcy of one of these regiments."
Fred was startled, and stammered, "You—father—you?"
"Yes, my son, why not? If your mother had lived, it would have been different, but now I can go far better than many who have gone. I have arranged all of my business. I shall place Belle in school in Cincinnati. John Stimson, who has been our overseer for so many years, will remain and conduct the plantation. My only trouble has been to dispose of you satisfactorily. My wish is to send you to college, but knowing your adventurous disposition, and how fond you are of exciting and, I might add, desperate deeds, I am afraid you would do no good in your studies."
"You are right, father," said Fred, in a low voice.
"This being the case," continued Mr. Shackelford, "I was going to offer to take you with me in the army, not as an enlisted soldier, but rather as company and aid to me. But from what I heard last night, I do not see how this is possible, unless what you have done has been a mere boyish freak, which I do not think."
"It was no freak," said Fred, with an unsteady voice.
"So I thought. Therefore, the only thing I can do is to send you away—to Europe. What do you say, an English or a German university?"
"And you are really going into the Confederate army, father?"
"Yes, my son."
"And you want me to play the coward and flee my country in this her hour of greatest peril? Oh, father!"
Mr. Shackelford looked astonished, and then a smile of joy passed over his features; could it be that Fred was going with him?
"Not if you wish to go with me, my son."
Fred arose and tottered to his father, sank beside his knee, and looking up with a tear-stained face, said in a pleading voice:
"Don't go into the Confederate army, father; don't turn against the old flag." And the boy laid his head on his father's knee and sobbed as if his heart would break.
Mr. Shackelford was deeply moved. He tried to speak, but a lump arose in his throat and choked him; so he sat in silence smoothing the hair of his son with his hand as gently as his mother would have done.
"What would mother say," at length sobbed the boy.
Mr. Shackelford shivered as with a chill; then said brokenly: "If your mother had lived, child, my first duty would have been to her. Now it is to my country. Neither would your mother, it mattered not what she thought herself, ever have asked me to violate my own conscience."
"Father, let us both stay at home. We can do that, you thinking as you do, and I thinking as I do. We can love each other just the same. We can do good by comforting those who will be stricken; and mother will look down from heaven, and bless us. We cannot control our sympathies, but we can our actions. We can both be truly non-combatants."
"Don't, Fred, don't tempt me," gasped Mr. Shackelford. "My word is given, and a Shackelford never breaks his word. Then I cannot stand idly by, and see my kindred made slaves. I must draw my sword for the right, and the South has the right. Fred, the die is cast. I go in the Confederate army—you to Europe. So say no more."
Fred arose, his face as pale as death, but with a look so determined, so fixed that it seemed as if in a moment the boy had been transformed into a man.
"Father," he asked, "I have always been a good son, obeying you, and never intentionally grieving you, have I not?"
"You have, Fred, been a good, obedient son, God bless you!"
"Just before mother died," continued Fred, "she called me to her bedside. She told me how my great-grandfather had died on Bunker Hill, and asked me to always be true to my country. She asked me to promise never to raise my hand against the flag. I gave her the promise. You would not have me break that promise, father?"
"No, no, my son! Go to Europe, stay there until the trouble is over."
"She said more, father. Listen, for I believe her words to be prophetic: 'God will never prosper a nation whose chief corner-stone is human slavery.'"
"Stop, Fred, stop, I can't bear it. Your mother did not understand. This war is not waged to perpetuate slavery; it is waged to preserve the rights of the States guaranteed to them by the Constitution."
"Do not deceive yourself, father; slavery has everything to do with it. No State would have thought of seceding if it had not been for slavery. Slavery is the sole, the only cause of the war. It is a poor cause for noble men to give up their lives."
"We will not argue the question," said Mr. Shackelford, pettishly; "you will forget your foolishness in Europe."
"I shall not go to Europe."
"What!"
"I shall not go to Europe."
"Do you dare to disobey me?"
"I shall not only not go to Europe, but I shall enter the army."
"The army! the army! What army?" asked Mr. Shackelford, dismayed.
"The Union army."
The father staggered as if a knife had pierced his heart. He threw out his hands wildly, and then pressed them to his breast and gasped: "Fred, Fred, you don't mean it!"
"I was never more in earnest in my life."
Mr. Shackelford's feelings underwent a sudden change. His face became purple with rage; love for his son was forgotten.
"Do that," he thundered, "do that, and you are no son of mine. I will disown you, I will cast you out, I will curse you."
"Father," said Fred, in a low tremulous voice, "if part we must, do not let us part in anger. Never have I loved you better than now; you do what you believe to be right; I do what I believe to be right. We both perform our duty as we see it. God will hold the one who blunders blameless. Let us then part in peace."
Mr. Shackelford, with white, drawn face, pointed to the door, and uttered the one word, "Go!"
"Oh, father, father, do not send me away witha curse. See, father," and he turned to his mother's portrait which hung on the wall, "mother is looking down on us; mother, who loved us both so well. How can you account to her that you have turned away her only son with a curse, and for no crime, but the one of loving his country."
"Boy, boy, have you no mercy that you will not only break my heart, but tear it out by the roots."
"I am the one who asks for mercy, who pleads that you send me not away with a curse."
"Fred, for the sake of your mother, I will not curse you, but I will, if you remain in my sight. Here," and he went to his safe, opened it, and took out a package of money. "Here is $1,000, take it and Prince, and begone. Go to that man, Nelson, who has seduced you. It is a heavy account I have to settle with him. Go before I forget myself and curse you."
For a moment Fred gazed in his father's face; there was no wrath, nothing but love in his look. Then he took the money and said: "Father, I thank you; I not only thank you, but bless you. May God protect you in the midst of dangers. Not a day shall pass but I shall pray for your safety. Good-bye, father."
He turned and went out.
Mr. Shackelford staggered towards the door. "Fred!" It was the cry of a repentant soul. The boy's footstep echoed outside along the hall, fainter and fainter.
The father groped blindly, as if about to fall.
"Fred, Fred, come back!"
The outer door closed; his boy was gone.
Mr. Shackelford staggered backward and groaned, as if in mortal agony. Then his eye caught the portrait of his wife looking down on him. Raising his arms beseechingly, he cried: "Oh, Laura! Laura! What have I done? Don't look at me so; I didn't curse him. I would have called him back. My boy! my boy! Oh, God! Oh, God!"
It was with a heavy heart that Fred left the house. As he shut the door, he thought he heard his father call. He stopped and listened, but hearing nothing, he went on. Getting his horse, he rode to Danville. His little sister was visiting at Judge Pennington's, and he wanted to see her, as well as to bid farewell to his uncle, and see Calhoun. He had no idea but that his uncle would forbid him the house when he heard of his being cast off by his father.
He found Judge Pennington at home, and frankly told him what had happened, shielding his father as much as possible, and not sparing himself.
The judge went into a fearful passion.
"Why, why, you young jackanapes," he roared; "it's a horse-whipping you want, and you would get it if you were a boy of mine! Disowned you, did he? And drove you away? Well, he is a fool, too. A good tanning is what you need, and, by Jove! I have a mind to give it to you," and heshook his cane threateningly. "Going to join the Yankee army, are you? Join and be hanged, you idiot! A Shackelford in the Yankee army! I'll, I'll—" but the judge was too angry to say more.
"Now, uncle, don't get in a rage; it's no use. My mind is fully made up. I shall join the Union army in some capacity."
"Get out of my sight, you young idiot, you!" thundered the judge.
Just then Calhoun came in. "What's the row?" he asked, looking from one to the other.
"Row, row!" sputtered the judge. "If you were as big a fool as your cousin there, I would skin you alive."
"Glad you have at last come to a full appreciation of my worth," coolly replied Calhoun. "For years I have had the virtues of my cousin held up to me as a shining mark to follow. Now, I find I am saving my skin by surpassing him in the wisdom of this world. Congratulate me, dear father."
"Why, this fool says he is going to enlist in the Yankee army," foamed the Judge, pointing at Fred.
"And this fool says he is going to enlist in the Southern army," answered Calhoun, pointing to himself.
The judge was sobered instantly. "Calhoun, you don't mean it?" he asked.
"Yes, I do mean it," stoutly replied the boy. "Why not? Haven't you been talking for years of the rights of the South? Are you not doingeverything possible to take Kentucky out of the Union? Haven't you encouraged the enlistment of soldiers for the South? Then why not I? Why am I better than others? Father, I don't want to quarrel with you as Fred has with his father, but I am going into the Southern army, and I hope with your blessing."
The judge was completely sobered. Having his son go to war was so much different from having some one else's son go.
"Do not do anything rash, my son," he said to Calhoun. "When the time comes if you must go, I will see what can be done for you. As for you, Fred," he said, "you stay here with Calhoun until I return. I am going to see your father," and calling for his horse, the judge rode away.
It was afternoon before the judge came back. Calling the boys into a room for a private interview, he said: "Fred, I have been to see your father, and he is very much chagrined over your disobedience. His fierce anger is gone, and in its place a deep sorrow. He does not ask you to give up your principle, but he does ask that you do not enter the Federal army. You are much too young, to say nothing of other considerations. You should accept his proposition and go to Europe. We have come to this conclusion, that if you will go I will send Calhoun with you. That will be an even stand off. Calhoun wants to enter the Southern army, you the Northern, so neither section loses anything. You have both done your duty to your section,and both will have the pleasure and advantage of a university course in Europe. What do you say, boys?"
"That it is a mean underhanded way to prevent me from entering the army," flared up Calhoun. "I hope Fred will not accept."
"Be careful, boy," said the judge, getting red in the face. "You will not find me as lenient as Mr. Shackelford has been with Fred. You will go where I say."
Calhoun's temper was up, and there would have been a scene right then and there if Fred had not interfered.
"Uncle," said he, "there is no use of Calhoun and you disagreeing over this matter. I shall not go to Europe; so far as I am concerned, it is settled. As for Calhoun entering the army, you must settle that between you."
Calhoun pressed Fred's hand, and whispered, "Good for you, Fred; you have got me out of a bad scrape. I think father will consent to my going in the army now."
The judge stared at the boys, and then sputtered: "Both of you ought to be soundly thrashed. But if Fred's mind is made up, it is no use pursuing the matter further."
"I am firmly resolved," answered Fred.
"Then," answered the judge, "I will say no more, only, Fred, my house is open to you. When you get sick of your foolish experiment you canhave a home here. Your father refuses to see you unless you consent to obey."
"I thank you, uncle," said Fred, in a low voice, "but I do not think I shall trouble you much."
In justice to Mr. Shackelford, it must be said it was by his request that Judge Pennington made this offer to Fred. Mr. Shackelford's heart had softened towards his son, and he did not wish to cast him off entirely. But the destiny of father and son was to be more closely interwoven than either thought.
Fred remained at his uncle's until the next day. He and Calhoun slept together or rather occupied the same bed, for they had too much talking to do to sleep. Both boys were romantic and fond of adventure. Both longed for the fierce excitement of war. They did not talk as enemies. They did not realize that they might face each other on the field of battle. They talked of their oath, and again promised to keep it to the letter.
They were like two brothers, each going on a long journey in different directions.
Their parting the next morning was most affectionate, and when Fred rode away he turned his horse's head in the direction of Camp Dick Robinson.