The important information brought to my notice by Operative Curtis, on his return from Richmond, concerning the character and working of the "Subterranean Headquarters," at once determined me on a plan of using the same body of men, or rather the information they carried, for the benefit of the Union forces, instead of allowing them to use it in the interests of the Confederates. To accomplish this, I detailed several members of my force, both at Washington and Baltimore, to co-operate with Curtis, whom I intended now should become an active agent of the rebels in carrying dispatches to and from Richmond. The plan was, in short, that all dispatches entrusted to him should be accurately copied, the copies to be delivered to his confederates, and the originals forwarded to their destination.
In war, as in a game of chess, if you know the moves of your adversary in advance, it is then an easy matter to shape your own plans, and make your moves accordingly, and, of course, always to yourown decided advantage. So in this case, I concluded that if the information intended for the rebels could first be had by us, after that, they were welcome to all the benefit they might derive from them.
In a few days, then, having completed my arrangements, Curtis started to Richmond, by the way of Wilson's Landing and Glendale, he having decided that, provided as he was with his pass from the Secretary, it would be perfectly safe, and at the same time a much shorter route than by the way of Petersburgh.
Leaving him for the present, then, to make his way to Richmond as best he can, we will turn our attention to other persons and to other scenes. The interior of a comfortable farm-house, the place, and early evening the time.
The family are gathered around the tea-table, and are discussing earnestly the war, and the chances of the success of the Northern troops. The family consisted of five persons: the husband and wife, both traveling down the western slope of life, a young and beautiful daughter, apparently about twenty years of age, and two younger children, a boy and girl, aged, respectively, fourteen and twelve years.
These latter are listening attentively to the conversation going on about them, and anon interjecting some childish observation, or asking some question commensurate with the quaint views and ideas of childish years.
"Well," finally observed the old gentleman, "it is hard that one dare not speak their own sentiments in a country like this; my grandfather fought in the revolution, my father in the war of 1812, and I, myself, took a hand in the brush with Mexico; but I never dreamed of seeing the day when a man dared not speak his honest convictions, for fear of having his roof burnt from over his head, and, worse than all, endanger even his own life, and those dearest to him."
"I have always told you, William," replied his good wife, "that the day would come when this fearful curse of slavery would have to be wiped out in blood, and you all know now that I prophesied truly. And," she added, "as for me, I have no fears for the result.Ouronly mistake has been in casting our lot and settling in the South, and in the very presence of an evil we could not avert."
"True, mother," rejoined her husband, "but you know I have ever been outspoken against slavery, and its attendant curses. I also flatter myself that I have had some influence in mitigating, at least, the condition of not a few of the black race. You remember Colonel Singleton liberated his slaves at the very outset of this war."
"And was compelled to flee to the North to save his own life," answered his wife; "and had we been wise, we would have gone to a country more congenial to our views, and while we could have done sowith safety. I am afraid," she continued, "if it becomes known that our son has joined the Union army, serious trouble may befall us at the hands of men who have long desired an excuse for arresting you and confiscating your property; if, indeed, they would be content with sparing your life."
"If I were younger," said the old gentleman, "I would defy them to do their worst; and, as it is, my only fears are for my family, not for myself. Still," he added, "my neighbors are all friendly, and the majority of them, though thinking differently from me on these questions, are under obligations to me, so that I feel I have but little to fear at their hands. As to our boy, who has gone to fight for the old flag, I am proud of him; I fought for it, so did my fathers before me, and I would disown the child who would refuse, if necessary, to lay down his life in its defense."
And here, fired with the sentiments he had just uttered, he arose from the table in an agitated manner and began to pace the floor.
"Ah," he continued, "I love that old flag, and old as I am, would fight for it yet."
Going to a case that stood in a corner of the room, he took from a shelf a beautiful silken banner, and holding it aloft, he exclaimed, with great earnestness, "There is the flag I fight under—the flag of the Union and of the country our fathers fought to save."
"Father," exclaimed his eldest daughter, "youforget yourself in your enthusiasm; even now some one may be outside listening; you forget that Dan McCowan and his desperate gang may be in the vicinity and give us a call at any moment."
Scarcely had the warning fell from her lips, when there came a loud knocking at the door, followed by a few vigorous and well-directed blows that threatened to take it from its hinges.
The whole family started up in alarm, and while one snatched the flag from the old gentleman and hastily deposited it in its hiding-place, another answered the summons from without.
The old man himself, while not frightened, was somewhat disconcerted by the noise, and remained standing in the center of the room, when the door was suddenly burst open, revealing a body of Confederate soldiers headed by a villainous-looking fellow, their leader, who now entered the room, and approaching him, said:
"Mr. Harcourt, I have orders to place you under arrest, so you will prepare to accompany us to Glendale at once!"
"What crime have I committed?" demanded the old man, now perfectly calm, "that you dare enter my house in this manner!"
"You will know that soon enough," replied the officer; "so hustle on your duds, as we must be going. Bill," he commanded, turning to a fellow near him, "you will search the house and take possessionof anything contraband or treasonable that you can find."
This order was exactly what his followers wanted, as it meant really an order to plunder the house and appropriate to their own use whatever articles of value they found and that pleased them to take.
As none of the family had offered the slightest resistance, the unwelcome intruders had conducted themselves, so far, very orderly. Mrs. Harcourt, a kind and matronly-looking woman, with a firmness and self-control, that under the circumstances was admirable, bustled about the room, getting together a small bundle of clothing for her husband to take with him on his enforced journey to Glendale; and anon, while doing this, spoke soothing words of comfort and encouragement to the younger children, who, white and speechless with terror, were crouching in the darkest corner of the room.
The eldest daughter, at a sign from her father, accompanied the two men detailed to search the premises, and proceeded with them from room to room, as they rummaged chests and drawers, appropriating various little articles to their own use, in spite of the indignant protest of the spirited girl at such barefaced robbery.
Finally, with much reluctance, she was compelled to admit them to her own room, and to witness their ruthless handling of the contents of a small trunk, in which were various little articles, trinkets and mementoes,worthless to any one else, but, of course, priceless to her.
But what she most prized among them, and which caused her the most alarm should they be discovered, was a small packet of letters from her brother already mentioned as serving in the Union army, and a small locket containing his miniature. Judge of her dismay were one of the men picked up the letters, and with a laugh exclaimed: "These are from your feller, I suppose;" and then, observing the locket, he opened it and with a leer on his face, said: "And this is his picture, I reckon, eh?"
"Yes," said the girl eagerly uttering, or rather echoing, the falsehood. "Yes," she repeated, "please don't take them, as they are of no account to any one but myself."
"All right," said the fellow, good-naturedly, "I guess you can have them;" as he handed them to her. She eagerly seized them, trembling at the narrow escape they had had from falling into the possession of those, who knowing their contents, would have given her poor old father much trouble indeed.
Having completed their search, and finding nothing that could be considered of a treasonable character, they returned to the room below, and reported to their Captain the result of their search. He then ordered his men to retire to the outside, where he followed them, and after consulting a short time, he returned to the house and brusquely informed Mr.Harcourt that as he had found nothing to convict him of treason against the Confederate government, he might go this time, but to be d—d careful in the future, or he would get him yet. He then slammed the door behind him, rejoined his companions who mounted their horses and rode slowly away.
Satisfied that they had left, the family ventured to express their congratulations at the departure of their unwelcome visitors, and at once set to work rearranging the disordered room. They, however, felt that this was only the commencement of their prosecutions, and they well knew that another time, the chances were that they would not escape so easily; for should it become known that their son was in the Federal army, they could no longer hope to live in peace and safety. The men who had visited them on this occasion, were evidently strangers in the neighborhood, and were, no doubt, a scouting or foraging party, who had stopped more from a want of having anything else to do, than from a desire to do them any injury. They, however, knew, that from those in their own vicinity, there was much more to be feared; and of one person in particular, they stood in especial dread. That person was Dan McCowan, the man whose name was mentioned by Mary Harcourt, in her warning to her father, only a moment before the soldiers, had entered their dwelling. Dan McCowan was a man who for years had pursued the detestable calling of a negro-hunter.
He was about thirty-five years of age, tall, of an ungainly form, and slightly stoop-shouldered; his hair and eyes were dark, and his complexion as swarthy as an Indian. His features, naturally coarse and repulsive, were rendered still more so, by being bronzed and hardened by long-continued exposure to the weather. His only associates and his most intimate friends appeared to be his blood-hounds, which he used in hunting and bringing back to their masters, the poor negroes who were seeking to escape from a life of continued toil and bondage. The following unique hand-bill, which he used to post up in various places over the country, will serve to show the nature of his business, and also the vast amount of intelligence necessary to carry it on.
NO TIS.The undersind taiks this methed of makkin it none that he has got the bestNigger Houndsin the state, and is always redy to ketch runaway niggers at the best rates.My hounds is well trained, and I heve hed 15 yeres experience. My rates is 10 dollurs per hed if ketched in the beate where the master lives; 15 dollurs in the coonty, and 50 dollurs out of the coonty.Dan McCowan.N. B.Planters should taik panes to let me know, while the niggers tracks is fresh, if they want quick work and a good job.
NO TIS.
The undersind taiks this methed of makkin it none that he has got the bestNigger Houndsin the state, and is always redy to ketch runaway niggers at the best rates.
My hounds is well trained, and I heve hed 15 yeres experience. My rates is 10 dollurs per hed if ketched in the beate where the master lives; 15 dollurs in the coonty, and 50 dollurs out of the coonty.
Dan McCowan.N. B.
Dan McCowan.
N. B.
Planters should taik panes to let me know, while the niggers tracks is fresh, if they want quick work and a good job.
It is scarcely necessary to say that his services were frequently employed to catch and bring back the poor runaways, and more than once had the Harcourt family been awakened in the night by his hounds, as they made the woods echo with their baying. Often had they pictured to themselves the terror of the poor wretches, over whose trail, with unerring scent, swept the monsters, who would tear them limb from limb, and whose only choice was death at their hands or the old life of labor and the lash.
Mr. Harcourt was a strong anti-slavery man. Holding these views, he had ever spoken consistently against slavery. He was also a man of deeds, as well as words, for many a poor fugitive had been assisted by him on his long and perilous journey northward in search of friends and the freedom he craved.
Owing to these proclivities, and to the fact that he had never taken pains to conceal his views, a mutual antipathy had long existed between Mr. Harcourt and Dan McCowan, the nigger-hunter. While the latter had no direct proofs, yet he had long suspected Mr. Harcourt of being a friend to, and a sympathizer with the very runaways whom it was his business to catch and return to the bondage they were endeavoring to escape from. Notwithstanding his dislike for the father, however, the fellow had conceived a violent attachment for Mary Harcourt, his daughter, and for a year past had greatly annoyednot only the poor girl herself, but the whole family, by his uncouth attentions.
Finally, Mr. Harcourt told him plainly that his attentions to his daughter were extremely distasteful to her, and added a polite, yet firm request, that he cease his troublesome visits.
Mary, who was a young lady of sweet and lovely disposition, possessing both intelligence and refinement, shrank from the fellow as she should from a viper in her path; while his odious attempts to lavish his unsought affections upon her so disgusted and frightened her that she always avoided his presence.
Dan McCowan, however, was just the man, when thwarted in his plans, to at once take steps for revenge. For some time he had kept a close espionage of the house and the movements of its inmates. He had somehow obtained possession of the knowledge that young Harcourt was in the Union army, and he determined to use this in his well-laid plans to persecute the poor girl, who had been so unfortunate as to have been the object of his passion.
On the day following the incidents just related, Mary, who had been spending the afternoon with a neighbor's family, towards evening was returning to her home, when she was suddenly and most unexpectedly confronted by Dan McCowan. So startled was she by this unlooked-for meeting, that she involuntarily gave a slight scream, as she recognized who it was that stood before her.
"I see as how I have skeered you right smart now," said the fellow, grinning in her face with a wicked leer. "Your father told me as how he would be much obliged to me if I would stop my visits to his house, which, bein' a gentleman, I was bound to do, and as I had a little something to say to you, I thought this would be the time to say it."
The girl, who had now somewhat recovered her composure, yet fully realizing the character of the man with whom she had to deal, stood quietly looking him full in the face, and said, in a tone that betrayed her contempt, "I suppose I must listen to you, sir, but be brief, as it is getting late, and my folks will be uneasy at my long absence."
"Well, Miss Harcourt," he replied, "I will come to the point at once. You have a brother, who has been away from home fur some time. Do you know where he is?"
Mary was silent, and he muttered, half to himself, "I thought so; the whole family are traitors. No more than is to be expected from these d—d abolitionists. I can tell you where he is," he continued; "he is on the other side, and fighting against the South."
"And what if he is in the Federal army? He is fighting for the government you and yours are seeking to destroy," answered the spirited girl.
"It don't matter much to me which side he fights on; but suppose I tell it around, that he is fighting with the Yankees, do you think it would matter to you then?"
"While she was struggling in his grasp, he was startled by a violent clutch upon his collar from behind." P. 441."While she was struggling in his grasp, he was startled by a violent clutch upon his collar from behind." P. 441.
"My brother is his own man," replied Mary, "and he alone is responsible for his acts; surely they would not harm my father and us for that; and surely you would not tell what you know, to injure us?"
"That depends on you, Miss Mary," the fellow replied, now approaching closer, and attempting to take her hand.
"What do you mean, you scoundrel?" demanded the girl, drawing back, while the fire flashed from her eyes. "Don't offer to touch me, Dan McCowan, or I'll——"
"What would you do, now?" he exclaimed; and, before she was aware of his intentions, he had sprang quickly forward, seized her about the waist, and placed one hand over her mouth, but not until she had given one long and piercing call for help.
The fellow's base designs were evident, and that he would have been successful there is no doubt; but help, fortunately, was at hand. While he was yet struggling with the girl, he felt a violent clutch on his collar, from behind, and before he could see from whence it came he was thrown violently to the ground, and was writhing under the well-directed kicks, which were most lavishly bestowed upon him by the new-comer, who was no less a personage than my operative George Curtis.
The girl had sank to the ground almost faintingfrom fright, but so enraged was Curtis at the scene he had witnessed, that he continued to shower his kicks on the miserable wretch, who roared and begged for mercy, until the girl interposed, and begged him, for her sake, not to kill him, but to desist, and let him go.
At this my operative ceased, more, however, from mere lack of breath than from a feeling that the fellow had been sufficiently punished, and allowed him to regain his feet. "You contemptible, cowardly brute," he exclaimed, as McCowan arose; "I have a mind to finish you, while I have my hand in. Miss," he continued, turning to the girl, "I am happy to have arrived in time to be of service to you. I do not know anything about this difficulty, but from what I saw, I concluded that I had not time to make any inquiries."
"I am very grateful to you, sir, for what you have done in saving me from that villain. Look out!" she exclaimed, "he has a pistol."
Curtis turned his head in time to see the fellow in the act of drawing a revolver. Quicker than a flash, his own weapon was in his hands, and covering the man, he said, coolly:
"Drop your hands, you hell-hound, or I will blow you to atoms in a second."
The fellow saw that he was foiled, and dropped his hands at his sides.
Curtis advanced and disarmed him; then, stepping back a pace, he said:
"Go now while I am in the humor to let you; another move like that, and I will shoot you as I would a dog."
McCowan reluctantly obeyed, and slunk away muttering threats of vengeance.
My operative, however, paid no attention to him now, but turned to the young lady who proceeded to relate the circumstance of her meeting with McCowan, from which his timely interference had saved her, and ended by a cordial invitation, blushingly given, that he would accompany her home, and spend the night under her father's roof. As he was anxious to find a lodging-place for the night, at any rate, the detective gratefully accepted the invitation, feeling such an interest in this really beautiful girl that he could not resist the desire to cultivate further the acquaintance, so strangely begun. He hastily brought his horse from where he had left him by the roadside, and leading him by the bridle, walked by the side of his companion until they reached the house. As they strolled along, Mary frankly told him the secret of McCowan's attack, and proceeded to explain the man's character, and the detestable nature of the business in which he was engaged.
By this time, they had reached her father's house, where they were met at the gate by the old gentleman himself, who was alarmed and anxious at his daughter's absence so far beyond her usual time for return.
"Father," said the girl, "this is"—here she paused, visibly embarrassed, and gazed timidly into the face of the detective.
"Pardon me," said Curtis hastily, seeing the cause of her confusion; "my name is George Curtis; we have been so busy talking that I had not thought of names."
She then introduced them, and briefly related to her father the cause of her detention, and her adventure with McCowan, not forgetting to mention the part my operative had played in her timely rescue from the villain's hands.
The old man thanked him again and again, and so profusely, that Curtis begged that he would not mention it, as he had done nothing more than any gentleman, under the same circumstances, would have done, gone to the lady's rescue at her call for help.
His horse was ordered to be taken to the barn, and he himself was soon seated in the house, receiving the tearful thanks of good Mrs. Harcourt, and the object of the admiring gaze of Mary's younger brother and sister, who regarded him as a hero, and a person who had no small claim on their affection and esteem.
The next day, my operative took his leave of the Harcourt family, and continued on his way to Richmond. He, however, gave them his promise, that he would visit them again before long, a promise he was in no wise loath to keep, as Mary had joined her request to that of her father, that he should not fail to give them a call, when he was in their vicinity.
The truth was my operative, who was a very excellent young man, and, notwithstanding his calling, susceptible to the charms of the fair sex, was not a little smitten by the fair Mary, whom he had met under circumstances that would have caused even a less romantic person than himself to have fallen in love with her at once.
On the other hand, the girl's feelings of gratitude and admiration for the young man, who had rescued her from McCowan's clutches, were those almost akin to love; but with true maidenly modesty, she simply treated him with that delicate courtesy that, while it showed plainly her high regard for him, yetit in no way overstepped the bounds of strict propriety. It was evident, however, that she regarded him as one who certainly had strong claims upon her friendship and esteem.
Bidding them good-bye, then, Curtis took leave of the family, whom he had known but a single night, yet who, in that brief space, had grown to be like old acquaintances; and his regret on leaving them, was very much like that in parting from old and intimate friends.
Taking the route by Glendale, he, towards evening, arrived at Richmond, without any event worthy of notice, and put up at Miller's Hotel.
A few weeks later found him on his return to the Army of the Potomac, and in his possession important dispatches that he had obtained in the rebel capital. As he left Richmond, the news reached that city of the evacuation of Yorktown by the rebels, and their retreat up the peninsula towards Williamsburgh. The effect of these tidings was anything but encouraging to those who had hoped that a final and decisive battle would have been fought at Yorktown, and the further advance of the Union troops effectually checked.
McClellan's vigorous preparations, however, for a protracted siege, had decided the rebels that it would be useless to risk a battle here, and they consequently determined to evacuate the place, which they did on the fifth of May, and by noon of thesame day McClellan's army had broken camp and was in full pursuit. With such celerity did he make his movements, and so closely did he press the Confederates, that on the following day they were compelled to make a stand, and here was fought the battle of Williamsburgh, in which the rebels were defeated, and continued their retreat towards Richmond.
The army of the Potomac now continued its advance, with all the rapidity the terrible condition of the roads would permit, having for its base of supplies the York River, until two weeks later it rested between the Pamunkey and the Chickahominy. It was at this stage of affairs on the Peninsula, that Curtis was on his return trip from Richmond. With his passes in his pocket, his dispatches securely concealed about him, and his trusty horse as his only companion, he set out for his long ride to Wilson's Landing, and the headquarters of the Union army.
It was his purpose to stop by the way long enough to at least inquire after the health of the Harcourt family, and learn how they had fared during his absence. So, pushing rapidly ahead, towards the close of what had been a beautiful day in May, he, near nightfall, found himself at Farmer Harcourt's door, where he was most cordially welcomed.
His jaded horse was led to the barn to be watered and fed, while he was soon resting his tired limbs in an easy chair, while waiting a tempting supper thatwas almost ready for an appetite keenly whetted by his long and hard day's ride.
His object now, was to stop long enough to rest himself and horse, and then push on by night and endeavor to reach the Federal lines by daybreak. Mr. Harcourt informed him that they had not been molested by McCowan since his former visit, and that it was reported that he had formed a band of Guerrillas, and at their head was pillaging and robbing the people in an adjoining county.
"He is an unscrupulous villain," observed the old gentleman, "and I confess I stand in no little dread that he may pay us a visit at any time, in which case, if we escape with our lives, we may consider ourselves fortunate. I have," he added, "fully made up my mind to take my family, leave my home here, and, if possible, go North, where a man of my way of thinking can live in security and peace. If I were younger, I would enlist, myself, but my fighting days are past."
"I trust you may soon be able to get away from here," said Curtis; "and as the Union army is now advancing up the Peninsula, you can, I think, with little danger, make your way into its lines."
He then informed him of the evacuation of Yorktown, and of the retreat of the Confederates, and advised him to hasten his arrangements to go North, while this opportunity afforded him a way to do so with safety.
After the evening meal was over the family seated themselves on a pleasant little porch, that ran along one side of the old-fashioned house, facing the west, and in the deepening twilight they sat and talked over the trying times, and united in their wishes for a speedy termination of the fratricidal conflict.
Thus the evening passed until near ten o'clock, when my operative informed his friends that he must take his departure, as he was determined, if possible, to reach the Union lines by daybreak.
The whole family urged him to pass the night with them; but finding him bent on going, his horse was ordered to the door, and he prepared to take his leave.
He shook hands with the good farmer and his wife, and looked anxiously around for Mary; surely she would bid him good-bye before he went away, but she was nowhere to be seen. He even lingered a few moments, hoping she would return; she did not, however, put in an appearance; so, leaving his regards for her with her parents, he mounted his horse, and with a heavy heart rode along down the long, narrow lane that led from the house to the main road.
He could not understand why the girl should have absented herself just as he was taking his leave; could it be that he had in any way offended her, that she should avoid him on purpose? Revolving the matter in his mind, and feeling that hereafter he would take pains to avoid the Harcourt mansion, henow approached the terminus of the lane, still buried in thought, when his horse, becoming frightened, shied slightly to one side; hastily raising his eyes, he saw, to his amazement, the object of his thoughts standing by the roadside.
He checked his horse, and, in a tone that betrayed his astonishment, exclaimed, "You here, Miss Mary!"
"Yes," she answered, evidently a little confused, "I wanted to see you a little while alone. I trust you will pardon me for adopting the means I have to secure a short talk with you."
By this time Curtis had dismounted, and was standing at her side.
"Well, what is it, Miss Harcourt? I am happy to be at your service in any way in my power."
"Thank you," she answered, hastily, "you have placed me under obligations to you, but I venture to-night to ask one favor more."
"It is granted already," said Curtis.
Thanking him again, she proceeded: "You know my brother is in the Union army, and I have not heard from him for several weeks; I wish you would try to get this letter to him, and, if it is not asking too much," she added, hesitatingly, "will you kindly bring me his reply, or at least some word that I may know he is safe and well?"
Curtis took the letter from her hands, and, depositing it safely in an inside pocket of his coat, hesaid "I will do my best to deliver the letter, and, should I not return soon with an answer, you may know something unavoidable has detained me."
As he stood there, gazing earnestly into the sweet face of his fair companion, a sudden purpose to then and there declare his love for her came into his mind. With him, to resolve was to act; extending his hand, he took hers in a friendly clasp, and said: "Miss Harcourt, I am going to bid you good-bye, with the hope of seeing you again very soon; but I will not conceal from you the fact, that, in the fortunes of war, it is possible that we may never meet again. Under these circumstances, then, I make bold to tell you to-night something that, ordinarily, I would not mention until your longer acquaintance with me would make it appear more proper, at least so far as society rules are concerned.
"Miss Harcourt," he continued, still holding the hand that now lay passively in his, "in the short time I have known you I have learned to love you, and I am confident time only will strengthen that love. I do not ask your answer now; when we meet again, if we do, you can tell me my fate. If your answer then should be nay, I will try to bear it like a man, respecting you none the less even if I fail to win the love I would so highly prize. Good-bye, darling!" and lightly pressing her hand to his lips, he threw himself into his saddle, and giving his noble animal the rein, dashed away, leaving Miss Harcourt standingin a half-dazed manner, straining her eyes after his figure, that in the pale moonlight was rapidly disappearing from her view.
Curtis now set off for the headquarters of the Union army. Our friend pushed on, and shortly after midnight arrived at the Landing, and from here faced about to the east, and in the direction of Williamsburgh, where the Union army, victorious in the battle just fought, were encamped.
He now slackened his speed somewhat, to rest his jaded steed, and, dropping the reins, allowed him to take a moderate walk, while he himself fell into a deep reverie over the events of his trip.
On this occasion he had been very successful in his work in the rebel capital, and had, so far, effectually escaped any suspicion as a spy. Considering the watchful vigilance that at this time was maintained by the rebels, Curtis had indeed done well; and it was with feelings of thorough satisfaction that now, near the close of his arduous journey, and when he felt reasonably secure from being molested, that he relaxed somewhat his usual vigilance, and allowed himself and animal a much needed rest.
He was not, however, destined to get through so easily as he had anticipated. As he entered a small clump of timber, and while he was unsuspecting any danger at this nearness to the Union camp, two mounted men suddenly made their appearance from the side of the road, and from where they had beenconcealed in the bushes, and, holding their cocked weapons at his head, commanded him to halt.
At the same instant, men came pouring in from both sides of the woods, that here skirted his path, and almost before he could realize his situation, or who were his assailants, he was overpowered, taken from his horse, and securely bound.
He soon discovered his captors were a band of guerillas, who had been quartered in the grove, and he had by the merest chance stumbled right into their midst. While he was quickly debating in his mind his chances for escape, and his probable fate at their hands, he was led into the presence of the captain of the band, who, with a few of his followers, had evidently been sleeping about a camp-fire that had now burned low, leaving only a bed of glowing embers, that cast a faint light on the swarthy faces of the rough-looking men that now grouped yawningly about it awaiting his coming.
"Who have you here," asked the Captain, as the party escorting Curtis came up.
"Don't know, Capten," laconically answered one of the men; "we jest now found him and handed him in here without askin' him enny questions; but here he is, you can talk to him yourself."
Curtis was now unbound, and led forward, and stood facing the Captain. As their eyes met, the recognition was mutual and instantaneous; in the man that stood before him, my operative recognizedno less a personage than Dan McCowan, the man whom he had so unmercifully drubbed on a former occasion, which has already been described.
At the same moment, McCowan saw who it was that had so unexpectedly fallen into his hands, and with a wicked laugh and a horrible oath, he sprang forward, and clutching him by the throat, exclaimed:
"By G—d, I have been looking for you for some time; it is my turn now."
It was evident that the fellow in his rage meant murder; but Curtis, who was both brave and cool, besides being strong and active, wrenched loose from his grip, and springing hastily backward, he dealt him, with the rapidity of lightning, a powerful blow between the eyes, that felled him like an ox. Then, before the lookers-on could scarcely realize what had taken place, he leaped over the form of the prostrate man, and disappeared in the darkness of the wood.
The Captain by this time regained his feet, and showering curses upon his men for a pack of cowardly idiots, started off in pursuit, followed by a half a score of his fellows, who now, in order to conciliate their enraged leader, determined to retake the detective at all hazards.
Fortunately for Curtis, he had been allowed to retain his weapons, and being fleet of foot, he had but little to fear.
He soon succeeded in eluding his pursuers, and,shortly after daylight, found his way into the Union camp.
He then reported to me with his dispatches from Richmond, and related his adventures here recorded.
I ought to state, however, that he did not, at that time, inform me of his proposal to Miss Harcourt; but after remaining with me until the close of the war, during which time he made many trips to and fro between Richmond and the headquarters of the Federal army, after the struggle was ended and we both had retired to the life of a citizen, he, as a salesman in a business house in Chicago, I to my business as a detective in the same city, then it was he related the story of his courtship, and the manner in which he wooed and won the woman who was then, and still is, his wife. As for the Harcourt family, they made their way to the North, by the aid of my operative and young Harcourt, and the courtship between Curtis and the daughter was kept up until the close of the war, when they were married.
I will also say, that they are still living happily together, surrounded by an interesting family of children, who with childlike eagerness clamber on their papa's knees to hear him tell them stories of the war, and his adventures before they were even born, a period that to them seems ages and ages ago.
Dan McCowan was killed in an attack that his party, led by him, made on a band of our scouts,shortly after the occurrence of the incidents described in this chapter.
I would fain have dwelt longer on the work of young Curtis, and noted more minutely the importance of his labors in the secret service, but a lack of space and time compel me here to drop him with the passing comment, that he was an excellent operative, and that he so faithfully and efficiently did his work, that the subterranean headquarters, with its corps of operatives, never did the Union cause any practical harm, but a great deal of good, in furnishing intelligence of the movements and intentions of the rebel forces.
NIGHT ON THE BATTLE-FIELD.NIGHT ON THE BATTLE-FIELD.
It is not my purpose to attempt to detail the various movements of the army, to describe the battles which were fought, or to chronicle the victories and defeats which were achieved and sustained by the brave soldiers who fought under the flag of the Union. That duty belongs to the historian; mine simply to relate the experiences of my own men in the delicate, dangerous and laborious duties which devolved upon them. Far less is it my desire to enter into a discussion upon the various subjects that have, since that fratricidal conflict, engrossed the attention of the student of history.
I trust, however, that I may be pardoned, if, for a time, I depart from the main narrative and devote a brief space to the consideration of that much discussed subject, the campaign of the Peninsula. I make no pretension whatever to being a military scholar, nor in any sense a military man, but my connection with the government during the war, and participation in the movements of the Army of the Potomac,together with my long and intimate acquaintance with its commander, General McClellan, may entitle me to a brief expression of my own views of that campaign. I may be pardoned, also, if I attempt to ascribe to their proper source, some of the causes which contributed largely to the disasters that attended it.
There can be no doubt of the fact, that the young commander-in-chief was subjected to the persecutions of the most malignant political intriguers, who feared that his growing popularity would result in political exaltation. Taking advantage of the fact, therefore, that General McClellan was an avowed Democrat, a scheming cabal was working to weaken his influence with the people by vague insinuations against his loyalty to the Union cause. To further that end, his plans, so carefully and intelligently matured, for the speedy crushing of the rebellion, were either totally disregarded by an unfriendly cabinet, or were so frequently thwarted, that to successfully carry them out was an utter impossibility.
As I have always been a faithful adherent of the maxim, "speak the truth, though the heavens fall," and believing it to be a doctrine, that if practically carried, will right all wrongs, uphold the innocent, administer censure where deserved, and praise where it is due, I have invariably attempted to form my judgment of my fellow-men upon their own intrinsic merits.
Whatever may have been his faults as a man, his mistakes as a General, he was throughout unflinchingly loyal to the cause of the North. With him it was but one sentiment, and one ambition—to whip the rebels into subjection—and manfully did he perform his duty toward the accomplishment of that object. Much of the censure which has been heaped upon him and his conduct as Commander of the Army of the Potomac, is due to a hasty and inconsiderate judgment of the man and his motives, or the result of direct prejudice and ill-will. In the eyes of his critics his great fault lay in what they considered his inexcusable delay in moving against the enemy in the Spring of 1862, after, as they supposed, he had ample time to prepare his army for the field.
From this point began the open and unfriendly criticisms which were designed to excite an impatient people, who did not, and could not, understand why active operations were not at once begun. This delay was adroitly used by scheming politicians to cast the shadow of disloyalty upon a man, who never for one moment entertained a disloyal thought, nor performed a single action which he did not believe would redound to the credit and honor of the Union troops, and of the Government which he served.
My acquaintance with General McClellan began before the war, and when he was the Vice-President of the Illinois Central Railroad. That corporation had, on frequent occasions, employed my services invarious operations affecting their interests, and in this way I first met and became associated with the General. From this date began my warm regard for the man, which, during the many years that have passed, has known no diminution.
I knew the man so well, and my confidence in his integrity and patriotism was so thorough, that a doubt of his loyalty never entered my mind. Many of my old-line abolition friends went so far as to reproach me for my steadfast adherence to McClellan, and accused me of abandoning my principles. I, however, knew my own ground, and held it. I knew that the General was not an abolitionist, but that he was not a patriot I could not believe for a moment. I have always thought, and my opinion remains unchanged to this day, that had he been left free to carry out his plans in the Peninsula campaign, the Army of the Potomac would have escaped the disasters that befell it; Richmond would have been reduced, and occupied by the Federal troops; and victory instead of defeat would have crowned their heroic efforts from the river to the rebel seat of government.
"How do you account for General McClellan's 'masterly inactivity' during all these months that his army lay at Washington?" is asked. Ah, there is the mistake. It was anything but inactivity, and it is beginning to be pretty generally understood now what he was doing at that time.
More than one writer on the campaigns of theCivil War, has taken occasion to say that the splendid achievements of the Army of the Potomac at subsequent periods, and under other commanders, were mainly due to the careful drilling and the rigid discipline inculcated under McClellan. At the time he was called to the command of the army it was nothing better than a band of disorganized men, who had not recovered from the defeat of Bull Run, and whatever efficiency it attained, was accomplished by the indefatigable efforts of General McClellan and the officers under his command.
The South, at the outbreak, was far better prepared for war than the North. For months preceding the election of Mr. Lincoln the people of the South were secretly preparing for a struggle. They had even then determined, if beaten by the ballot, to resort to the bayonet, and to decide upon the battle-field the questions which they failed to settle by fair discussion and honest legislation in the National Congress. The people of the North, on the contrary, being so long accustomed to submit to the expressed will of the majority, apprehended no danger. While they were keenly alive to the important nature of the issues presented in the campaign, they did not dream that the new party, if successful, would have a gigantic civil war on its hands as the result of its triumph in a contest peaceably decided by the silent yet all-powerful ballot. Resting in this fancied security fromdanger, the war was a surprise, for which they were but illy prepared.
I need not detail the situation of affairs when the news flashed over the wires that Fort Sumter was fired upon. Suffice it do say, that the South was up in arms, in full preparation almost, before the North could realize that war was at hand.
The first great battle of the war was fought, and the Union troops suffered a most humiliating defeat, falling back in disordered crowds upon Washington, and at this time General McClellan took command and brought order out of chaos.
The community did not seem to consider, or to understand, that it was necessary to spend so much time in drilling the troops and making elaborate preparations for the field. But the commanding officer was too good a general to imitate the impetuous actions of his predecessors, and to make an aggressive campaign with raw and undisciplined troops. It was in consequence of this, that months were spent in the patient and persistent task of properly organizing, drilling and equipping his men for the field, and in the spring of 1862, when the army did move, in the language of the General, it was one "from which much was to be expected."
Unfortunately, however, at the very outset, the General and the President had each matured a plan for the conduct of the war, and, in many respects, these were diametrically opposed to each other. Atthis point the question might be asked, whose plan should have been followed?
By the Constitution, the President is the Commander-in-Chief of all the armies and the navy of the United States, and is, of course,ex-officio, the highest military authority in the land. "But if a President disclaims all knowledge of military affairs," as President Lincoln did, "it then becomes a question how far he should defer the conduct of a war to his appointed Commander-in-Chief, who is supposed to be chosen on account of his skill and sagacity in military matters, and upon his presumed fitness for the position."
In President Lincoln's hesitation between the advice of his Generals in the field, and the views urged by his Cabinet lay the foundation of many of the blunders and mistakes of the war, the trouble being, as one writer affirms, that "instead of one mind, there were many minds influencing the management of military affairs." As the result of this there was a lack of concert and action between the two heads of the military department, and at the critical period of the campaign, McDowell's forces were held at Washington when McClellan expected him to re-enforce the army of the Potomac.
Notwithstanding all that has been said and written upon this subject, I have no hesitation in expressing the opinion, that had not the President and his advisors, stood in such ungrounded fear for the safetyof Washington, and had not withheld McDowell's forces at a time when their absence was a most serious blow to the plans of General McClellan, the close of the year would have seen the Rebellion crushed, and the war ended.
At the commencement of the campaign I had an interview with General McClellan, and he expressed the utmost confidence in his ability, provided his plans were fully supported and carried out, to gain the objective point of the war, and to accomplish the reduction of the rebel capital. My force of operatives had been diligently at work in procuring what information that was possible of attainment, of the numbers of the enemy, and with such success that in March I was able to report the approximate strength of the rebel army at 115,500 men, apportioned about as follows: