CHAPTER VIIIAN ORDER FROM HEADQUARTERS
While Captain de Banyan and Lieutenant Somers were asleep, the commanding general received the intelligence of a movement on our right by the famous Stonewall Jackson. The position which had been gained by the advance at Oak Grove was abandoned, and the troops returned to their old line. The next day was heard the roar of the guns at Mechanicsville; and on that succeeding was fought the battle of Gaines’s Mills—the only defeat in the field sustained by the Union army during that battle-week.
General McClellan then decided to change his base of operations; which, rendered into plain English, meant that he had been flanked, and was obliged to make the best move he could to save his army and material. The troops fought all day, and ran all night, till they reached the James River, where they were protected by the all-powerful gunboats. In the battles of Savage’s Station, Glendale and Malvern Hills, they were victorious, and fought as no troops had ever fought before. As a retreat, it was successful; but it was the sad and inglorious end of the Peninsular campaign.
The whole brigade to which Lieutenant Somers belonged went on picket every third day. While the tremendous operations to which we havebriefly alluded were taking place on the right, the soldiers on the left were leading their ordinary military life. But they were thinking men, and, while they were firm in their devotion to the good cause, they were disturbed by doubts and fears. They knew not, as they listened to the booming guns, whether they were in the midst of victory or defeat. Occasionally, they were shelled behind their breastworks; apparently for the purpose, on the part of the rebels, of keeping our forces from interfering with the work on the right.
The brigade went on picket, and here the troops were face to face with the enemy. Lieutenant Somers, by the illness of the captain and the absence of the first lieutenant, was in command of his company. But there was no chance to do anything to distinguish himself, except that steady and patient attention to duty which is the constant opportunity of every good officer.
“Well, captain, was there anything like this at Magenta?” asked Somers, as he met De Banyan.
“This is tame, Somers. Magenta was a lively scene.”
“I fancy it will not remain tame much longer. We shall either be in Richmond as victors or prisoners within a few days.”
“Don’t croak, Somers. It will all come out right in the end.”
“I have no doubt of that; but I feel just as though some big thing was going to happen.”
“So do I; and I felt so just before the battle ofSolferino. By the way, on the night before that battle, I captured a whole brigade with my single company, while I was out on picket-duty.”
“Indeed!” laughed Somers.
“I’ll tell you how it was.”
“Don’t take that trouble, captain; for I shall not believe you if you do.”
“Do you mean to doubt my word, even before I utter it?” demanded the captain, apparently much hurt by the insinuation.
“Captain de Banyan, I wish I could persuade you to speak the truth at all times.”
“Come, Somers, that’s rather a grave charge; and, if it came from any other man than yourself, I should challenge him on the spot,” added the captain, throwing back his head, and looking dignified enough to be the commander-in-chief.
“You may challenge me if you please; but let us be serious for a moment.”
“I am serious, and have been all the time.”
“You are a first-rate fellow, captain; I like you almost as well as I do my own brother.”
“You are a sensible young man, Somers,” replied De Banyan, slightly relaxing the rigid muscles of his face.
“You are a brave man, and as brilliant as you are brave. I have only one fault to find with you.”
“What’s that?”
“You will draw the long-bow.”
“In other words, I will lie. Somers, you hurt my feelings. I took a fancy to you the first timeI ever saw you, and it pains me to hear you talk in that manner. Do you think that I, an officer and a gentleman, would stoop to the vice of lying?”
“You certainly do not expect any one to believe those wretched big stories you tell?”
“Certainly I do,” replied the captain with dignity.
“But they contradict themselves.”
“Perhaps you don’t believe there ever was such an event as the battle of Magenta.”
“Come, come, my friend; just slide off that high horse.”
“Lieutenant Somers, my word has been doubted; my good faith maligned; my character for truth and veracity questioned.”
“Yes, I know all that very well; but answer me one question, captain. Seriously and solemnly, were you at the battle of Magenta?”
“I decline to answer one who doubts my veracity. If I answered you in the affirmative, you would not believe me.”
“I don’t think I should; but, if you should answer me in the negative, I should have full faith in your reply.”
“I cannot answer on those terms. Somers, I am offended. I don’t know but that I am in duty bound to challenge you. Just after the battle of Magenta, I felt compelled to challenge a young officer who cast an imputation upon my word. We fought, and he fell. His brother challenged me then, and I had to put a bullet through his head.The family were Corsicans, I believe; and one after another challenged me, till they got down to fifth cousins; and I laid out fifteen of them—I think it was fifteen; I don’t remember the exact number, but I could tell by referring to my diary. You are so precise and particular, that I want to give you the facts just as they are.”
“You haven’t the diary with you, I suppose?”
“Of course not; I couldn’t carry a volume like that around with me. I only mention this circumstance to show you the sad results which sometimes follow in the wake of a duel.”
“But I’m not a Corsican; and I don’t think you need fear any such results in my case, if you should conclude to challenge me,” answered Somers with abundant good nature.
“Now, seriously and solemnly, Somers, this doubting a comrade’s word is a vicious habit. It shows that you have no confidence in what I say.”
“That is precisely the truth; but I think you are responsible for the fact, not I. If you would only tell the truth——”
“Tell the truth! My dear fellow, you keep making the matter worse, instead of better.”
“So do you; for, instead of abandoning your bad habit, you tell me an absurd story about killing fifteen men in a series of duels!”
“I told you I couldn’t fix the exact number. You are too critical by half.”
“I am not particular about the number; for I don’t believe you killed even a single person in aduel. You are too good a fellow to do anything of the sort.”
“Somers, I have been laboring to keep my temper; but I am afraid you will make me mad, if you keep on. I think we had better suspend this conversation before it leads to any unhappy results;” and the captain rose from the ground, and glanced in the direction of the enemy’s pickets.
“The most unhappy result I could conceive of would be your continuing this bad practice of telling big stories,” replied Somers, standing up by the side of his companion.
“No more; you add insult to injury, Somers.”
“Really, captain, you injure yourself by this habit, and——”
Captain de Banyan, at this point of the conversation, suddenly turned round, and sprang upon the lieutenant, bearing him to the ground before the latter could even make a movement in self-defense. Together they rolled upon the earth, at the foot of the tree whose sheltering branches had protected them from the intense heat of the sun. Somers, as the reader already knows, was bold and belligerent before an attack; and, on the impulse of the moment, he proceeded to repel the sharp assault of his companion.
“If you fight a duel in that way, I am ready to take part in it,” said he, his face red with anger. “Let go of me!”
“With pleasure, my dear boy,” replied De Banyan, edging away from him.
“What do you mean by pitching into me in that way?” demanded Somers angrily.
“I have been trying this half hour to teach you a useful lesson; but you don’t know who your best friends are.”
“I think I do. Some of them tell the truth sometimes.”
“Somers!” said the captain sternly.
“Captain de Banyan!” replied the lieutenant firmly.
“Do you see that hole in the tree?” continued Captain de Banyan, pointing to a fresh bullet-mark.
“I do.”
“I only pulled you down to keep that rifle-ball from going through your head. I saw a rebel picket through the trees, ready to fire at us. The ball struck the tree before we struck the ground.”
“Forgive me, captain. I did not understand the movement,” replied Somers, extending his hand.
“With all my heart,” replied the captain, taking the proffered hand. “We don’t always know who our best friends are.”
“Perhaps not; but I know that you are one of my best friends. You have just given me another reason for wishing you did not——” Somers hesitated, not thinking it exactly fair to reproach his companion for his vile habit, after he had rendered him such a signal service.
“Lie,” added De Banyan, finishing the sentence.
“Perhaps it isn’t exactly lying; you don’t meanto deceive any one. At the worst, they are only white lies. Now, captain, don’t you think you exaggerate sometimes?”
“Well, perhaps I do; my memory is rather poor. I don’t carry my diary with me.”
“Don’t you think it would be better if you could confine yourself to the exact truth?” added Somers, who really felt a deep interest in his associate.
“I think it very likely it would; but things get a little mixed up in my mind. My memory is poor on details. Just after the battle of Magenta, while I was lying wounded on the ground, one of the emperor’s staff rode up to me, and asked how many cannon my regiment had captured. To save my life, I couldn’t tell whether it was two hundred or three hundred. My memory is very treacherous on details.”
“I believe you are hopeless, captain,” laughed Somers.
“Hopeless?”
“Why, you have told the biggest story that has passed your lips to-day.”
“What, about the cannon?”
“Two hundred or three hundred! Why, your regiment captured all the guns the Austrians had!”
“Didn’t I tell you I couldn’t remember whether it was two hundred or three hundred? You are the most critical young man I ever met in the whole course of my life!”
“But two hundred would be an abominable exaggeration. Perhaps you meant muskets?”
“No; cannon.”
“But, my dear captain, just consider for one moment. Of course the batteries were supported?”
“To be sure they were.”
“Six guns to a battery would have made fifty batteries; and——”
“Oh, confound your statistics!” exclaimed the captain impatiently.
“But statistics enable us to see the truth. Now, captain, at the battle of Bunker Hill, I saw a man——”
“You?” demanded Captain de Banyan.
“I said so.”
“Were you at the battle of Bunker Hill?”
“Didn’t you see me there?”
“Come, come, Somers; you shouldn’t trifle with the truth. I was not at the battle you speak of.”
“But I was——”
“You! You were not born till sixty years after the battle of Bunker Hill.”
“But I was—only illustrating your case.”
“Here comes an orderly with something from headquarters,” said Captain de Banyan, apparently as much rejoiced to change the conversation as the reader will be to have it changed.
The orderly proceeded to the position occupied by the field and staff officers of the regiment; and, a few moments later, came an order for Lieutenant Somers, with twenty of his men, selected for special duty, to report at the division headquarters.
“You are in luck, Somers; you will have aglorious opportunity to distinguish yourself,” said Captain de Banyan, whose second lieutenant was ordered to the command of Somers’s company.
“I don’t know what it means,” replied our lieutenant.
“Don’t you, indeed?” added the captain with a smile. “Don’t you know what special duty means? On the night before the battle of Solferino——”
“Excuse me, Captain de Banyan; but I am ordered to report forthwith,” interrupted Somers, who had no desire to hear another “whopper.”
The young lieutenant marched off, with his little force, to report as he had been directed. He knew his men well enough to enable him to make a good selection; and he was confident that they would stand by him to the last.
“Do you know Senator Guilford?” demanded the general, after Somers had passed through all the forms of reporting.
“I do, general,” replied the lieutenant, with a fearful blush, and with a wish in his heart that the distinguished Senator had minded his own business.
“He speaks well of you, Lieutenant Somers,” added the general.
“I am very much obliged to him for his kindness; but I never saw him but once in my life.”
“He asks a favor for you.”
“I am very much obliged to him; but I don’t ask any for myself, and I hope you will not grant it.If any favors are bestowed upon me, I prefer to earn them myself.”
“Good!” exclaimed the general. “But I assure you and Senator Guilford that no man in this division of the army will get a position he does not deserve. I assure you, Lieutenant Somers, I should have thrown the Senator’s letter among the waste paper, if I had not known you before. I remember you at Williamsburg; and you did a pretty thing in the wheat-field yesterday. You are just the man I want.”
“Thank you, sir; I should be very glad to prove that your good opinion is well founded.”
Apart from others, and in a low tone, the general gave his orders to Lieutenant Somers to undertake a very difficult and dangerous scouting expedition.
“Before sundown you will be a prisoner in Richmond, or a first lieutenant,” added the general as Somers withdrew.
CHAPTER IXLIEUTENANT SOMERS CHANGES HIS NAME AND CHARACTER
Like the major-generals in the army, Lieutenant Somers had strong aspirations in the direction of an independent command. Like those distinguishedworthies, no doubt, he felt competent to perform bigger things than he had yet been called to achieve in the ordinary routine of duty. He had the blood of heroes in his veins; and, in spite of all he could do to keep his thoughts within the limits of modesty, he found them soaring to the regions of the improbable and fanciful. His imagination led him a wild race, and pictured him in the act of performing marvelous deeds of valor and skill.
Fancy is a blind and reckless leader; and it gave our hero oftentimes a command which his reason would not have permitted him to accept. What boys, and even what men, think, when stimulated by ambition, would be too ridiculous to put upon paper. If their thoughts could be disclosed to the impertinent eye of the world, the proprietors would blushingly disown and disclaim them.
Still, almost every live man and boy gives the reins to his fancy; and in the Army of the Potomac, we will venture to say, there were a hundred thousand privates and officers who permitted themselves to dream that they were brigadiers and major-generals; that they did big things, and received the grateful homage of the world. At any rate, Lieutenant Somers did, modest as he was, even while he felt that he was utterly incompetent to perform the duties incumbent on the two stars or the one star.
Experience had given him some confidence in his own powers; and there was something delightfulin the idea of having an independent command. It was a partial, a very partial, realization of the wanderings of his vivid fancy. He felt able to do something which Lilian Ashford would take pleasure in reading in the newspapers; perhaps something which would prove his fitness for a brigadier’s star at some remote period. Now, we have made all this explanation to show how Somers had prepared himself to accomplish some great thing. The mission with which he had been intrusted was an important one; and the safety of the whole left wing of the army might depend upon its faithful performance.
He was wrought up to the highest pitch of patriotic inspiration by the charge which had been laid upon him; and he was determined to bring back the information required of him, even if he had to fly through the air to obtain it. It was of no use to suggest impossibilities to a young man in such a frame of mind; he did not know the meaning of the word. To impress him with the importance of the duty intrusted to him, the general of division had given him a faint outline of the intended movements of the army. If the enemy massed his forces in this direction, it was of vital necessity that the general should know it.
Thus prepared and thus inspired, Lieutenant Somers marched his little force to the point from which he proposed to operate. On his right hand there was a dense wood, on the border of which extended one of the numerous cross-roads thatchecker the country. On his left was another piece of woods, terminating in a point about a quarter of a mile from the road and in the center of a valley.
On the hill beyond was the intrenched line of the rebels. In front of it, at the foot of the slope, was a line of rifle-pits, which were occupied by the rebel pickets. The hill and the woods concealed the operations of the enemy; and no signal station was high enough to obtain the necessary information. The woods on both sides of the open space were picketed by the rebels; and the rifle-pits in front were an effectual check to the advance of a small force, while a large one could not be sent up without bringing on a general engagement, which had been prohibited by the commanding general.
Lieutenant Somers surveyed the ground, and came to the conclusion that his chance of spending the night in Libby Prison was better than his chance of being made a first lieutenant. The rifle-pits had a chilling effect upon the fine dreams in which his fancy had indulged. He was not a grub, and could not burrow through the earth to the rebel lines; he had no wings, and could not fly over them. The obstacles which are so easily overcome in one’s dreams appear mountain-high in real life. He looked troubled and anxious; but, having put his hand to the plow, he was determined not to turn back.
The best way to conquer a difficulty is to chargeupon it; and this Somers decided to do, even though he had no well-defined plan for the accomplishment of his purpose. Avoiding the observation of the rebels in the rifle-pits, he moved round, and reached the point of woods on the left of the road.
“Excuse me, Lieutenant Somers,” said Sergeant Hapgood with a military salute: “’tain’t none o’ my business, but I’d like to know where you are goin’ to.”
“Through this woods,” replied Somers doggedly.
“You used to be a good boy, when you was a boy; and I hope you’ve said your prayers,” replied old Hapgood, appalled at the prospect before his young friend.
“Don’t you croak, uncle,” added Somers.
“The rebels’ pickets are up here, not twenty rods distant. Do you calculate to go through them, or over them?”
“Either—just as I can; but I am going through, somehow or other.”
“It can’t be done! Thunderation! you’ll bring down the whole rebel army upon us! You don’t think of going over there with only twenty men!”
“I do, uncle. I’m going over on that hill yonder, and I’m coming back again before night.”
Hapgood tapped his forehead significantly with his finger to indicate that the young lieutenant had lost his senses.
“I was ordered to do it, and I am going to do it,uncle. You can set your mind at rest on that point.”
“It can’t be did!” said the old man positively. “I don’t keer who told you to do it; it can’t be did with less’n twenty thousand men. You will sacrifice yourself and all the rest of us.”
“You may return to the camp, if you wish.”
“Tom Somers—Lieutenant Somers,” said the old man, much hurt by the words of the young officer, “you know I’m not afraid of anything; and I didn’t expect you’d say that to me.”
“Excuse me, uncle; I didn’t mean it. Now, hear me a moment.”
In a low tone, Lieutenant Somers told the sergeant the nature of his mission, and what depended upon its prompt and successful execution.
“He ought to have sent a division to do such a job,” muttered the old man, taking off his cap, and scratching his bald head. “Howsomever, I’m ready to follow you wherever you choose to go.”
“Forward, then,” replied Somers; and they advanced cautiously through the woods till they came to a kind of bog-hole, beyond which they discovered the rebel pickets.
The party lay down on the ground, and crawled on the edge of the bog, till they obtained a fair view of the rebels.
“Now, uncle, the time has come, and my plan is formed,” said Somers in a whisper. “When they discover you, retreat with the men as fast asyou can. Fire on the rebels; but don’t pay any attention to me.”
“Where are you going?” demanded the old man.
“When you retire, I am going to roll into that grass. They will follow you; and, as soon as they have passed me, I shall move forward.”
“I won’t do anything of the sort. Thunderation! you are goin’ to run right into the arms of the rebels.”
“Obey my orders! That’s all you have to do. I can take care of myself.”
“Excuse me, Tom—Lieutenant Somers.”
“I know all about it, uncle. You do what I tell you, and you shall have all the particulars to-night, when I return.”
“Return! You will be in Libby, if you are not shot, by dark.”
“If I am, leave that to me,” replied Somers, as he rolled over into the long grass of the bog, and entirely concealed himself from the view of his own men. “Now fire one or two shots into the rebel picket and then retire.”
Hapgood reluctantly obeyed the order; though he felt as though he was signing the death-warrant of his young friend by doing so. The bullets began to fly; but the sergeant took care to keep his men out of sight as they retreated. The enemy followed; for they always chase a retiring foe, and run from an advancing one. They reached the bog in which Somers was concealed, where one of the three fell before a ball which the lieutenant wassure had been directed by the practiced eye of the veteran sergeant. The other two swore at the calamity, and vowed vengeance on the Yankee who had done the deed.
Hapgood continued to retire, and led his foe to the very verge of the woods. In the meantime, the lieutenant emerged from his hiding-place. The first object that attracted his attention was the ghastly face of the dead rebel. The sight of him was not pleasant, but it was suggestive; and, without the loss of a moment, he dragged the body into the grass, and hastily removed the uniform from it. It was a loathsome task; but the necessity of the moment seemed to justify the act. Taking off his own uniform, he put on that of the dead rebel, who was fortunately about his own size. Rolling up his own clothing in as small a bundle as possible, he concealed it in the bog, at some distance from the place where the picket had fallen. Dragging the corpse to a quagmire, he sunk it beneath the muddy waters, and it passed from his view. After taking the precaution to straighten up the long grass, which might have betrayed his movements, he advanced towards the rebel lines.
Lieutenant Somers felt that he was now actually embarked in his perilous venture. He was within the enemy’s line, and in disguise. If discovered, he would be liable to the penalty of being a spy. But inasmuch as he did not intend to be discovered, he did not think it necessary to expend his nervous energy in a discussion of this question. Successwas a duty to him; and he spent no time in considering the dark side of the picture.
He was excited, and he knew that he was excited. He knew that coolness and impudence were the essential elements of success in such an adventure; and when he had followed the woods nearly to the top of the hill, he sat down to recover his self-possession, and compose his nerves to their natural quietude. It was not a very easy matter. He had already arranged his plan of future operations, and he diligently set about the business of making his appearance correspond with his circumstances.
He felt that he was hardly dirty enough to be a rebel; so he rubbed his face, neck and hands with some dark-colored earth, ripped his pants and coat in sundry places, and otherwise disfigured his comely person, till Miss Lilian Ashford would not have known him, or if she had known him, would have been ashamed to acknowledge his acquaintance. Having completed this work to his entire satisfaction, he rose, and resumed his march towards the rebel line. He had advanced but a few paces before he felt something in the breast-pocket of his coat, which excited his curiosity. It was a diary which the dead soldier had kept from the time he entered the army.
Such a work would have been deeply interesting to the lieutenant at any time, but especially at the present, when he was sadly in want of the information which would enable him to personate thedifficult part he had chosen to perform. Seating himself on the ground again, he was soon absorbed in the contents of the note-book. The owner’s name was Owen Raynes; and from the diary Somers learned that he had been a clerk in Richmond when the war broke out; and that his father resided on the Williamsburg road, near Seven Pines, where the battle had been fought. Somers was alarmed at this information; for the young man must be well known in the neighborhood. Of course he could not assume the name and character of Owen Raynes.
Though the time was precious, he continued to read the diary till he came to an entry which excited his deep interest: “Poor Allan Garland was captured to-day by the Yankees; and I suppose they will torture and starve the poor fellow, as they have the rest of our boys who have fallen into their hands. We shall never meet again. He was a good fellow. He was on a scout.”
Somers was deeply concerned about poor Allan Garland, who had fallen into the hands of the terrible Yankees, to be tortured and starved; and he turned back to the beginning of the diary to obtain further particulars in regard to this interesting person. Fortunately for history, and particularly for Lieutenant Somers, Owen Raynes had given a tolerably full account of his friend. They had been to school together in Union, Alabama, where Owen had an uncle, and where Allan resided. They were fast friends; and both agreed to enlistas volunteers in the Fourth Alabama, Colonel Bush Jones; for their schoolmates were mostly in this regiment.
When the regiment arrived at Richmond, Owen had not time to visit his father; for the troops were instantly ordered to Manassas, and he enrolled himself without discovering that his friend was not in the ranks. He was too sick to come with his comrades; “wrote letter to Allan” was a frequent entry in the diary, until June 18, 1862, when this record appears: “Allan joined the regiment to-day; has been sick about a year; is very well now; he is a handsome fellow. Sue shall be his wife, if I can bring it about; they have kept up a correspondence for three years; she never saw him, but she will like him.”
“All right!” exclaimed Somers, as he closed the book, and put it in his pocket. “I am Allan Garland. Don’t think I shall marry Sue, though, whoever she may be. I wonder if Lilian Ashford would object. I don’t know as she would. Never mind; I am a soldier of the Fourth Alabama, Colonel Jones, just now. How are you, Allan Garland?”
He walked along towards the rebel lines, feeling in his pockets for further revelations. An old letter from Allan Garland rewarded his search. He spoke tenderly of Sue, who was Owen’s sister.
“Sue wouldn’t think I’m very handsome just now,” said Somers, glancing at his dirty hands,and imagining his dirty face, as he continued to advance.
CHAPTER XALLAN GARLAND AND FRIENDS
Allan Garland,néeSomers, advanced confidently towards the rebel line. As he was to perform the leading part in the exciting drama about to be acted, he conducted himself with the utmost caution. Everything depended upon the amount of impudence he could bring to bear upon the case before him, and the skill with which he personated the part he had chosen. He knew of nothing, short of falling on the Fourth Alabama, which could disconcert him. Even if he did, there were only a few who knew the captured scout; and his chances were fair, even if the worst should befall him.
“Stand!” said a rebel sentinel on the breastwork of the line. “Who goes there?”
“Friend,” replied Somers confidently.
“What’s your name?”
“Allan Garland. Can you tell me where the Fourth Alabama is?”
“About four miles from here. Do you belong to the Fourth Alabama?”
“Well, I did before I was captured; I don’t know where I belong now.”
“Where d’ye come from?”
“Just got away from the Yankees. They gobbled me up about three weeks ago.”
“Bully for you! Come in; you can report to the officer of the day.”
Somers was entirely willing, and hastened in the direction indicated by the sentinel; and was soon ushered into the presence of Major Platner, brigade-officer of the day. He was a very pompous little man, and Somers saw his weakness as soon as he spoke. With a most profound bow, he answered the questions of the major, using the utmost deference in his tone and manner.
“How dare you present yourself before an officer of the day with such a dirty face?” demanded Major Platner.
“I hope your honor will pardon me; but I have just escaped from the Yankees, and have not had time to wash my face. If you please, sir, I will go and do it now. I thought I ought to come to you without any delay.”
“You did right, young man,” replied the major with a consequential flourish of the hand. “You were out scouting when you were taken?”
“Yes, sir.”
Major Platner then proceeded to ask a great many questions in regard to the force and position of the Yankees; all of which Somers answered entirely in the interest of the Union party. He was very careful not to give a particle of information that could be useful to the rebels; at the same timeavoiding any gross exaggerations which would throw discredit on his story.
“You seem to be a very intelligent and patriotic young man,” added the officer. “I have heard some inquiries for a person of your description to-day.”
“I have always endeavored to do my duty to my country,” answered Somers, trying to blush under the compliment of the patronizing little major; “and I kept my eyes wide open while I was in the Yankee camps.”
“I see you did. Your information is very definite, and, I doubt not, very reliable.”
“My only desire has been to serve my country, sir,” added Somers very modestly.
“Well, go and wash your face, so that we can see what color you are, and I will report your name to the general, who was inquiring for a useful person like yourself. I trust that you will have discretion enough not to mention anything that has passed between us.”
“Certainly not, sir. I judge, from what you have said, that my poor services may be required for some special service.”
“That is the idea which I intended to convey. In a word, the commander of this division wants information. You have just come from the Yankee lines, and you know where to look for the intelligence that will be of the most value to us.”
“I think I do, sir.”
“The fact that you have just made your waythrough the Yankee lines shows that you possess the necessary address.”
“I thank you for your good opinion; and I assure you, sir, that I should be very glad to serve my country in any capacity in which she may require my humble labors.”
“Very well, young man.”
“A plan occurs to me now, by which I could easily enter the Yankee lines.”
“Indeed! What is that?”
“When I ran through the enemy’s pickets, they fired upon me, and one of them chased me. I brought him down with my pistol,” replied Somers, producing the weapon, which he had taken the precaution to bring with him. “I know just where that Yankee lies now; I could borrow his uniform, and go in among the enemy without suspicion.”
“Very well arranged, young man.”
The major then directed an orderly to attend to the wants of the fugitive, and gave the latter orders to report to him within two hours. Somers washed his face, and partook of some cold bacon and corn bread, which constituted the staple of the rebel rations. He then told the orderly that he wanted to look round a little, and find his regiment, if he could; but was informed that the camp regulations did not permit any strolling about the camps. He suggested that the officer of the day would give him a pass, and he returned to the major to beg this favor. It was readily granted; and the time for him to report was extended tofour hours, as his regiment was situated at some distance from the brigade camp, though it belonged to the same division.
Thus provided, Somers commenced his tour of observation. Of course, he had no intention of visiting the Fourth Alabama; for that would have been putting his head into the lion’s mouth. We need only say, that he used his time to the best advantage for the country in whose service he had enlisted. He noted the brigades, regiments, and batteries of artillery, which he saw in his walk; and arranged a little scheme in his mind, by which he could remember the number of each.
In the course of his perambulations, he reached the Williamsburg road, and was on the point of extending his observations in the direction of the railroad, when he was stopped by a sentinel. He produced his pass, which the rebel soldier could not read; and he was conducted to the sergeant of the guard, who was listening to a conversation between a captain and an old man who appeared to be a farmer. They were bargaining about some forage which the captain wanted, and which the farmer was not disposed to sell.
“What have you there?” demanded the officer, as the sentinel brought in the doubtful case.
“Man with a pass.”
“Your pass is good up to the Williamsburg road, and no farther,” said the sergeant when he had read the document.
“I didn’t know where the lines were,” replied Somers, returning the pass to his pocket.
“Where are you going?” asked the officer, apparently not satisfied with the appearance of the “man with a pass.”
“Looking for my regiment, sir,” replied Somers, giving the military salute; which excess of politeness, however, was lost on the matter-of-fact captain.
“What regiment?”
“The Fourth Alabama.”
“The Fourth Alabama! What are you doing over here, then?”
“I am a stranger in these parts; and I don’t know where to look. I have just escaped from the Yankees, and don’t know much about this part of the country.”
“What is your name?”
“Allan Garland, sir.”
“What!” exclaimed the old farmer, suddenly becoming interested in the conversation.
“In my opinion, you are a deserter,” added the officer in a crabbed tone. “I advise you to arrest him, sergeant. That pass is good for nothing on this road.”
“No, captain, he is not a deserter,” interposed the farmer with energy. “I know him well; and he is as true and patriotic a young man as there is in the Southern Confederacy.”
Somers looked at the farmer with astonishment. He did not remember to have seen him before; andhe could not account for the interest he manifested in his case.
“What do you know of him, Mr. Raynes?”
Mr. Raynes! That explained the matter; and Somers could not help shuddering in the presence of the man whose son he had buried in the soft mud of the bog.
“He is my son’s friend,” replied the farmer. “Both of them belong to the Fourth Alabama.”
“That may be, Mr. Raynes; but do you suppose a man looking for the Fourth Alabama would be wandering about here?”
“He is a stranger in Virginia. He came on from Alabama only a few weeks since, and was captured while out on a scouting expedition. I assure you, captain, it is all right; I will vouch for him.”
“Very well, Mr. Raynes! If the sergeant is willing to take your word for it, I have nothing further to say. Indeed, it is no business of mine; but our soldiers are allowed to walk over to the enemy, or back into the woods, without let or hindrance. It’s a disgrace to the service. Major Platner gives this man a pass to go all over the country. Do as you please, sergeant.”
“I mean to,” replied the sergeant in an undertone; for he was not pleased at this interference on the part of a commissary of subsistence, who had nothing whatever to do with the affair. “I am satisfied,” he added aloud.
“Allan, I am very glad to see you; and I thankGod that you have been enabled to escape from the Yankees. Have you seen Owen since you got back?”
Somers trembled at the question; and, while he did not dare to tell the old man the truth, the thought of telling him a falsehood was utterly repulsive to his nature. It was easy enough to deceive the enemy in war—his duty called upon him to do this; but to deceive an old, fond father, in regard to a true and devoted son, seemed terrible to him.
“He was out on picket when I came through,” he replied after some hesitation.
“Then you did not meet him. He will be delighted to see you again; for really the boy is as fond of you as he is of his sister.”
Somers found himself unable to answer to the warm congratulations of the old man, or to enter into the spirit of the conversation. The staring, death-sealed eyes of Owen Raynes haunted him; and, when he attempted to reciprocate the friendly sentiments of the doting father, his heart seemed to rise up in his throat, and choke his utterance. The only consolation he could derive from the remembrance of the scene in the woods was in the fact that he had not taken the life of Owen Raynes himself. He wore his clothes, and had his diary and letters in his pocket.
“You are very sad, Allan! I should think you would be happy to escape from the Yankees. They would have starved you to death in time.”
“I think not, sir! They are not so cruel as that,” added Somers, who desired to remove such a reproach from the mind of the old man.
“Perhaps they would not willingly starve their prisoners; but I don’t see how they could avoid it. They say that the people of the North are suffering terribly for the want of food. In New York, the laboring classes have attacked the banks and the flour-stores, urged on by hunger. There will be terrible times in the North before many months have gone by. I pity the people there, though it is their own fault. I hope God will be merciful to them, and spare them from some of the consequences of their own folly. I am thankful that you have escaped from them.”
“I don’t think they are quite so badly off as you say,” answered Somers, provoked by this view of the condition and resources of the North. “I have talked with a great many Yankee soldiers, and they say that plenty abounds in all the Northern States.”
“They would tell you so. They are deceived by their officers.”
“That’s the way it is done,” added the rebel sergeant, who had been listening to the conversation.
“But I saw what rations these soldiers have. They live like lords.”
“That’s the very thing which will starve all the people in the North. Their big armies will eatthem out of house and home in a few months, Allan.”
“I think not, Mr. Raynes.”
“A gentleman from New York, who got through the lines last week, says the grass is a foot high in some of the streets of New York. The people can’t find anything to do, and are cursing their rulers for plunging them into this horrid war.”
“I think the gentleman from New York lied,” replied Somers with a smile. “I saw the New York papers every day while I was in the Yankee lines; and they are full of advertisements, which look like business. Why, in one paper I saw four columns of ‘Wants,’ in which people advertised for farm-laborers, house-servants, clerks and sailors.”
“Ah! Allan, those papers are printed to sell in the Yankee army. I’m sure I hope they are not so badly off as has been represented. I should not want my worst enemy to suffer what they are called upon to endure. It is all their own fault; but I hope God will be merciful to them.”
“I think you needn’t feel bad about them,” added Somers, amused, but indignant at the pitiful stories which were circulated in the South to keep up the courage of the people.
“Let that pass, then. Really, Allan, I am very glad to see you. You must go to the house with me. Sue will be delighted to meet you. She talks about you a great deal; and I can insure you a warm welcome.”
“I think I cannot stop to call now; but I will try to come over in a few days,” replied Somers, embarrassed beyond measure at the idea of facing Sue and the rest of the family.
“Not stop!” exclaimed Mr. Raynes, holding up his hands with surprise.
“Not now, sir; I am in no condition to appear before ladies,” he added, extending his arms so as to display his tattered garments to the fullest advantage. “You know a young man is rather particular about his appearance when he is going into the company of ladies, and especially into the presence ofsomeladies. The fact is, I tore my uniform all to pieces after I passed through the Yankee lines.”
“Never mind your uniform, my boy. It looks as though it had seen service; and that is the best recommendation a young man can have to the girls in these times. You must go, Allan.”
“Indeed, sir, I hope you will excuse me for a few days,” pleaded Somers.
“Come, Allan! this is not kind of you. Sue has been dying to see you for a year. She was terribly disappointed when you did not come up with your regiment, and again when she heard you had joined without calling upon us. If it had been Owen, she could not have felt worse when you were captured. Now you want to disappoint her again.”
“You need not mention that you have seen me, Mr. Raynes,” suggested Somers.
“Not tell her that you have escaped, when sheis fretting about you every day of her life! That would be too bad.”
“You can tell her as much as you please without informing her that you have seen me.”
“I could not tell a lie, Allan. It would choke me,” said the old man solemnly. “You must go with me.”
“Let me get another uniform, and it would surprise her when I come.”
“No more words, young man. You must go. It is only a short distance,” replied Mr. Raynes, passing his arm through that of Somers, and walking towards his house. “It will be the happiest day for Sue which she has seen for a year.”
“Happier for her than it will be for me,” thought Somers, who was disposed to break away from the old man, and make his escape.
By this time, Sue had become an awful bugbear to the poor fellow. In these days of photographs, it is more than probable that she had a picture of the original Allan Garland, and the cheat would be discovered the moment he showed his face. He was deliberating a plan for breaking away from his persistent friend, when a young lady of eighteen stepped out from the bushes by the roadside, and hailed the old man.