CHAPTER XIVTHE REBEL DIVISION GENERAL
The sentinel listened very patiently to the explanation of Owen Raynes; but, as he proceeded,the face of the soldier relaxed till his muscles had contracted into a broad grin. The sergeant of the guard was then sent for, and the explanation repeated. At its conclusion, both the sentinel and the sergeant seemed to be disposed to laugh in the faces of the twin friends, so keenly were the former alive to the ludicrous.
“That’s a very pretty story, my men! You, without the pass, are going to see that everything is right about the man that has the pass; in other words, the devils are going to see that the angels don’t do anything wicked,” said the sergeant, laughing at the awkward position of Owen and Allan, and perhaps quite as much at the sharpness of his own illustration.
“We are entirely satisfied in regard to this young man,” said Owen; “but we have come in order to satisfy another person, who believes that he is an impostor. We promised to take him to Major Platner.”
“You can’t enter these lines without a pass,” replied the sergeant firmly. “This man can go through; for he has a pass,” he added to Somers.
“As I am all right, and in a hurry, I will proceed to the brigade headquarters,” said Somers. “Now, good-by, my friends; I am very glad to have met you, and much obliged to you for the trouble you have taken to come so far with me.”
“You take it coolly,” laughed Owen.
“Perhaps, if you desire to go to the brigade headquarters, the sergeant will let you pass, if Iwill vouch for you,” continued Somers with great good humor.
“We are not very particular.”
“What do you say, sergeant?”
“My orders are to permit no stragglers from other camps to pass these lines, and I shall obey my orders to the letter,” replied the official, who, for some reason or other, seemed to be prejudiced against Somers’s friends.
“Stragglers!” exclaimed the sensitive Allan. “I think we have gone far enough.”
“I think you have,” added the sergeant; “and, if you don’t leave at once, it will be my duty to arrest you.”
“Whew!” exclaimed Owen. “That would be carrying the joke altogether too far. I think mypaterought to be satisfied with what we have done.”
“Move on,” said the sergeant.
They did move on; and Somers, attended by the officer of the guard, walked towards headquarters.
“Those are the coolest fellows that ever came near my lines,” said the sergeant. “Men without a pass looking out for one who has a pass!”
“Well, they are good fellows; but I played a joke upon them, which makes them a little sour towards me,” replied the scout. “I am even with them now.”
“What was the joke?” demanded the sergeant, who was filled with interest at the mention of the word.
Somers gave him a modified account of the affair at the house of Mr. Raynes; which he embellished a little for the occasion, to allay any suspicion which might arise in the mind of the auditor. But the officer of the guard had no suspicion. Why should he have any? for Somers, armed with a pass signed by the officer of the day, was walking as directly as he could towards the headquarters. The sergeant of the guard left him when they reached the guard tent; and Somers proceeded to report in due form to the major, whom he found smoking his cigar under a tree as complacently as though there was not a traitor or a spy in the land.
“Well, young man! you have returned promptly at the time specified,” said the major, as Somers very deferentially touched his cap to this magnate of the rebel army.
“Yes, sir; I have endeavored to discharge my duty faithfully,” replied Somers.
“Did you find the regiment?”
“No, sir; I lost my way; and finding I should not have time to go to the place where it is, without overstaying my time, I hastened back, knowing that the service upon which you wished to employ me was very important indeed.”
“You did right, young man. Where is your coat?”
“It was one I picked up just after I had passed the lines, and a soldier down below claimed it. I gave it up when he convinced me it was his property.”
“You are very honest as well as patriotic.”
Somers bowed, but made no reply to the compliment; which, however, was fully appreciated.
“You seem to be a young man of good address, and you can render your country a great service, but it will be at the peril of your life,” said the major with impressive formality.
“I am willing to serve my country, even with my life.”
“I do not doubt it. I was impressed by your manner, and I have recommended you to the general for the service he has in view. I hope you will do credit to the selection I have made; for the most important duty which a commander has to perform is to select proper persons for the execution of special missions.”
“I will endeavor to serve my country to the best of my ability; and I am satisfied that I can go all over the Yankee camps without difficulty.”
“Very well! You have confidence in yourself; and that is the first requisite of success. If you discharge this duty with fidelity and skill, you may be sure of being made a sergeant the moment you return.”
“Thank you, Major Platner. I am very grateful to you, sir, for the opportunity you thus afford me to distinguish myself.”
“You will find me a good friend, if you are faithful and intelligent.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Now you shall go with me to General M——’sheadquarters, and he will give you your final instructions.”
Major Platner led the way; and Somers reverently followed a pace or two behind him, flattering the officer in every action as well as word. They reached the division headquarters, and our hero was ushered into the presence of the general. He was a large, red-faced man, and had evidently taken all the whiskey he could carry, at his dinner, from which he had just returned.
“What have you got there, Platner?” demanded the general, in a tone so rough, that Somers was reminded of the ogre in Jack the Giant-killer.
“The young man of whom I spoke to you this forenoon. He is a person of remarkable address, courage and skill; and is just the man you need.”
“All right; adieu, major!” added the general, bowing to the other.
Major Platner took the hint, and took himself off, leaving Somers standing alone and somewhat abashed in the presence of the great man.
“Young man!” said, or rather roared, the rebel general, as he raised his eyes from the ground, and fixed them with a half-drunken leer upon our hero.
“Sir!”
“How much whiskey can you drink without going by the board?”
Somers did not know, had never tried the experiment, and was utterly opposed to all such practices. But he desired to conciliate the tipsygeneral; and, if he had not been fearful of being put to the test, he would have signified his belief that he could carry off half a dozen glasses. As it was, he did not dare to belie his principles.
“Not any, sir! I never drink whiskey,” he replied, with the utmost deference in his tones.
“Hey?” gasped General M——, darting a sudden glance at the young man.
“I never drank a glass of whiskey in my life, sir,” added Somers.
The general jumped off his camp-stool with a sudden jerk, and stared at our lieutenant in silence for an instant.
“Give me your hand,” said he.
Somers extended his hand.
“Yes! you are flesh and blood. You are the first man I ever saw that never drank a glass of whiskey. You drink brandy, don’t you?”
“No, sir! I never drank a glass of liquor or wine of any kind in my life.”
“Give me your hand,” said the general again.
“Flesh and blood! You are the first man I ever saw that never drank a glass of liquor or wine of any kind. ’Tis a bad practice,” he added with an oath.
“I think so, sir,” replied Somers with due deference.
“Young man!”
“Sir.”
“The greatest enemy—hic—that the Confederate army has to contend against is whiskey.Yes, sir! whiskey. If the Confederate States of—hic—of America ever win their independence, it will be when the whiskey’s all gone.”
“I am very glad to hear officers of your high rank condemning the practice,” said Somers, alive to the joke of the general’s proceedings, but prudently looking as serious as though it had been a solemn tragedy instead of an awful farce.
“Yes, sir! I’m opposed with all my might to the practice. Yes, sir! Whiskey is the greatest enemy I have on the face of the footstool, young man.”
Somers believed him.
“Always be temperate, young man. You are in the sunshine of—hic—of life. Never drink whiskey. It will ruin your body and soul. Don’t touch it, young man,” added he, as he sank back on the camp-stool, whose center of gravity was nearly destroyed by the shock, and closed his eyes, as if overcome by the potency of his great enemy, which was just then beginning to have its full effect, and which produced a tendency to sleep.
“I will endeavor to profit by your good advice, sir,” said Somers.
“That’s right; do so,” added the general, as he jerked up his head to banish the drowsy god, who was struggling for the possession of his senses. “That will do, young man. You may go now.”
The general, in his drunken stupor, had certainly forgotten the business for which Major Platner had brought him to the division headquarters;and Somers began to fear that he should have no errand that day.
“I beg your pardon, general; but Major Platner was kind enough to say that you had some service for me to perform.”
“Eh?” demanded he, tossing up his head again.
Somers repeated the remark more explicitly than before.
“Exactly so; I remember. Do you know what I was thinking about just then, young man?” said the general, spasmodically leaping to his feet again, as though the thought was full of inspiration.
“No, sir; a man in my humble position could hardly measure the thoughts of a great man in your situation.”
“I’ll tell you; I was thinking about issuing a division general order on the subject of temperance. What do you think of it?”
“It would be an excellent idea,” replied Somers.
“Young man!”
“Sir.”
“I believe you said—hic——”
Somers did not say anything of the sort; but he waited patiently for the rebel general to recover the idea which he appeared to have lost.
“I believe you said you never drank any whiskey?”
“I never did, sir.”
“Then you never was drunk?”
“Never, sir.”
“Young man!”
“Sir.”
“Are you a—hic——”
Somers was not a “hic;” but he was an impatient young man, and very anxious to be instructed in regard to his difficult and dangerous mission.
“Are you a minister of the gospel?” demanded the general, after a mighty effort.
“No, sir; I am not.”
“I’m sorry for—hic—for that; for I wanted to appoint you a division chaplain, to preach against whiskey to the general officers. Some of them are—hic—drunken fellows, and no more fit for a command than the old topers in the streets of Richmond.”
“I am sorry I am not competent to fill the office; but I think, if you should lecture them yourself, it would have a better effect.”
“My words are—hic—powerless. They laugh when I talk to them about the error of their ways,” added he with a string of oaths, which seemed to exhibit a further necessity for a chaplain on the division staff.
“I beg your pardon, sir; but I am afraid your interest in the moral welfare of your officers——”
“That is it, young man!” interrupted the drunken general, catching at his idea with remarkable promptness. “My interest in the moral welfare of my—hic—of my officers! You are a trump, young man [big oath]. You are a major now?”
“No, sir.”
“Only a captain?”
“No, sir; nothing but a private.”
“Then you shall be a captain. I haven’t heard any such—hic—sentiments as you expressed used in this division before. You ought to be a—hic—a brigadier-general.”
“Thank you, sir. You are very kind. I came to you for instructions in regard to my mission over to the enemy.”
“Bless me! yes; so you did. Well, I have not written them yet.”
“I only want a pass from you, general, with such verbal instructions as you may please to give me.”
“So you do; the fact of it is, my interest in the moral welfare of my men had driven the matter out of my mind.”
The general called an orderly; and Somers was sent off to the adjutant for the pass, which was given to him under the name he had assumed. When he returned, the general was sound asleep on his camp-stool, rolling about like a ship in a gale, with a prospect of soon landing at full length onterra firma. Somers would gladly have received some military information from the general, who was in a condition to tell all he knew; which, however, could not have been much, under the circumstances. He concluded that it would be best for him not to awaken the tipsy moralist; and, after waiting a short time on the spot to avoid suspicion, he joined Major Platner, who was smoking his cigar under a tree near the headquarters.
“Well, young man, did you obtain your instructions?”
“Yes; all I require.”
“Perhaps we ought to have seen the general before dinner,” added the major, using the remark as a “feeler” to induce his companion to inform him what had transpired during the interview.
“Perhaps it would have been more agreeable to the general. However, he seemed to be in a very talkative mood.”
“He commonly is after dinner.”
“He is a very jovial, good fellow.”
“Very.”
“But he appears to feel a deep interest in the moral welfare of those under his command. He expressed himself as very averse to habits of intemperance.”
“Humph!” coughed the major.
“He said that whiskey was the great enemy the army has to contend against, and intends to issue a general order directed at the vice of intemperance.”
“Did he?”
“He did; but I ought to add, that he took me to be a major in the service; a mistake which was very natural, since I wore no coat.”
“Very natural—after dinner,” replied Major Platner suggestively.
“I told him I never drank any strong drink; and he kindly advised me never to do so.”
“The general is a brave man, and I hope he will be able to overcome all his enemies.”
The major permitted the conversation to go by default, and Somers respectfully dropped a pace or two behind him. They reached the brigade headquarters, and then repaired to the guard tent, from which the scout took his departure upon his arduous and difficult mission, with the best wishes of the rebel officers.
With his pass he had no difficulty in going through any line, and made his way down to the woods on the left of the open fields. He began to feel easier when he had passed the field-works, and experienced a sensation of exultation as he thought of the reception which awaited him at headquarters as well as in the regiment.
CHAPTER XVTHE SHARPSHOOTER IN THE WOODS
Somers found the picket guard nearer the rebel line than he had anticipated; but the exhibition of his pass, which had been prepared with special reference to this purpose, prevented any long detention, though a sergeant had to be called who was scholar enough to read the mysterious document.
“I reckon you haven’t got the best place to gothrough,” said the sergeant, after he had examined the pass, and satisfied himself of its correctness.
“Why not?”
“There’s a whole squad of Yankees a good piece in there,” he replied, pointing in the direction of the Federal lines. “They’ve been there all day watching for something.”
“What do they want?”
“There was a man run through the line this forenoon from their side, and I reckon they are trying to find him.”
“Was he a Yank?” asked Somers, desirous of obtaining their idea of the fugitive.
“Dunno what he was. We didn’t see him till he got a good piece behind us. We were chasing the Yanks who run away when they saw us.”
This was satisfactory to our scout; for the sergeant appeared to have no knowledge that would be dangerous to him, and none of the graybacks recognized the pants he wore. He advanced cautiously, as though he was afraid of stumbling upon the squad of Yankees described by the sergeant, till he could no longer be seen by the pickets. The last obstacle seemed to be overcome; and he hastened to the place where he had concealed his uniform, which he wished to put on before he approached the pickets on the other side. It was now nearly dark, and he had no time to spare; for, if he approached his own men in the darkness, he would be in danger of being shot before they discoveredwho he was, though he had full confidence in the discretion of Hapgood.
Without difficulty, he found the place where he had concealed his clothes; and, after assuring himself that none of the rebel pickets were in sight, he hastily put them on. To prevent any unpleasant suspicions, he took the precaution to hide the gray pants he had worn, in the long grass of the swamp, so that they need not attract the attention of any stroller who might pass in that direction. Though we have frequently held our hero up as a model of modesty, we are compelled to acknowledge that he felt exceedingly well satisfied with himself on the present occasion. He felt that he had done what, in the homely vocabulary of the boys of Pinchbrook, might well be called “a big thing.”
He had fully and successfully accomplished the arduous purposes of his mission. He had examined the positions, and counted the forces of the rebels. He had received very valuable information from Mr. Raynes, and from others whom he had encountered in his walk through the enemy’s lines. He was satisfied that he should receive a warm welcome from those who had sent him upon the perilous tour. He had earned the first bar to his shoulder-straps, and was proud of his achievement.
The work had been done, and he was within a short distance of the Union lines—within a short distance of the devoted Hapgood, who was patiently but anxiously waiting to give him a soldier’sreception. Above all, he was safe; and he trembled when he thought of the perils through which he had passed, of the consequences which must have followed the discovery of his real character. As he thanked God for the boon of life after the battle was over, so now he thanked Him for the signal success which had crowned his labors in the good cause. The last article of his raiment was put on and adjusted; he rose from the ground to walk towards the Union lines.
“I say, Yank, you look better’n you did ’fore yer changed your clothes,” said a voice, which struck his ear with startling distinctness.
Somers looked in the direction from which the voice came, and discovered a villainous-looking countenance, that had just risen from the tall swamp-grass, within a couple of rods of the spot where he stood. The man was unmistakably a rebel—one of the most savage and implacable of rebels at that; such a character as we read of in connection with slave-hunts in Mississippi, or “free fights” in Arkansas. He wore a long, tangled beard; and his hair had probably never known the use of a comb. The grayback looked as cool and impudent as though he was perfectly assured of his prey, and intended to torture his victim with his tongue, as he would with his knife or his rifle if occasion required.
“I say, Yank, you look better’n yer did ’fore yer changed your colors,” repeated the rebel, as he received no reply to his first salutation.
Somers looked at him again; indeed, he had hardly taken his eyes off the savage-looking fellow, who would have made a very good representative of Orson in the fairy story. He held a rifle in his hand, the muzzle of which could easily be brought to bear upon his victim. Our lieutenant at once understood the humor of the fellow; and, having recovered his self-possession in the momentary pause, he determined not to be behind his foe either in word or in deed.
“I say, reb, when did you shave last?” demanded Somers, with something as near akin to a laugh as he could manufacture for the occasion.
“’Fore you was born, I reckon, Yank,” replied the rebel; “and I sha‘n’t shave ag’in till after you’re dead. But I reckon I sha‘n’t hev ter wait long nuther.”
“I suppose you don’t know what a comb is for, do you?” continued Somers, who was, however, thinking of some method by which he might get out of this scrape.
“I reckon I’ve heerd about such things; but Joe Bagbone ain’t a woman, and don’t waste his time no such way. I say, stranger, you’ve got about three minutes more to live.”
“How long?”
“Three minutes, stranger, I’ve sat here by them clothes, like a dog at a ’possum’s nest, all the arternoon. Now I’ve treed the critter, and I’m gwine to shoot him.”
“Is that so?”
“That’s so, stranger.”
“Do you usually shoot any man you happen to meet in the woods?”
“Well, I don’t reckon we do, every man; but some on ’em we does. I calkilate you got on Tom Myers’s clothes now, and yer shot the man ’fore you took the rags.”
“I didn’t shoot him.”
“No matter for that, stranger; he was shot by a Yank, and you’ve got to settle the account.”
Somers began to be of the same opinion himself. The grayback had evidently found the clothes, and suspected the purpose for which they were concealed. It was possible he had even more definite information than this; for he seemed to be prepared for precisely what had taken place.
“My friend——”
“I’m not your friend, stranger. You kin say anything you like, if yer don’t insult me; Joe Bagbone don’t take an insult from any live man.”
“Well, Joe Bagbone,” continued Somers, who was disposed to parley with the fellow to gain time, if nothing else, “if you shoot me, you will make the worst mistake you ever made in your life; and I can prove it to you in less than five minutes.”
“No, yer can’t, stranger. Don’t waste yer time no such way. If yer want ter say yer prayers, blaze away lively, ’cause three minutes aren’t long for a man to repent of all his sins.”
“I have a pass from General M——, which permitsme to go in safety through these lines,” persisted Somers. “The sergeant above just examined it, and passed me through.”
“Don’t keer nothing about yer pass. I respects Jeff Davis just as much as the best man in Mississip’. If yer had a pass from him, you mought as well not have it as have it. Tom Myers was killed, and somebody’s gwine up for him.”
“But I have important business on the other side.”
“I knows that, stranger,” replied the imperturbable Joe Bagbone. “It don’t make no difference.”
“I am sent over by General M——. I belong to the Fourth Alabama.”
“Shet up! Don’t tell no lies, ’cause yer hain’t got no time ter repent on ’em.”
“Then, if I understand it, you mean to murder one of your own men in cold blood.”
“Nothin’ of the sort; only gwine to shoot a Yank.”
Somers looked into that hard, relentless eye; but there was not the slightest indication of any change of purpose. He felt that he stood in the presence of his executioner. All the errors of his past life crowded upon him, and the grave seemed to yawn before him.
“Call the sergeant above, and he will satisfy you that I am all right,” said he, making one more effort to move the villain from his wicked purpose.
“Don’t want the sergeant. Yer time’s out, stranger.”
“Let me call him, then.”
“If yer do, I’ll fire. Say yer prayers now, if yer mean ter; but I reckon the prayers of a Yank ain’t of much account,” replied Joe with a sneer.
Somers stood within a few feet of a large tree. Joe had several times raised his rifle to his shoulder; but, when he magnanimously offered his victim the last moment of grace, he dropped it again; and our lieutenant, taking advantage of this interval, darted behind the tree. Joe raised his piece quicker than a flash; but he did not fire, for the reason that he could not secure a perfect aim, and because he was sure of a better opportunity. Our lieutenant, who had carefully preserved his revolver during the various changes he had made in his dress, now took it from his pocket, and prepared to contest the field like a man.
The grayback, chagrined at this movement on the part of his victim, whom he had evidently intended to intimidate by his coolness and his ferocious words, rose from his seat in the long grass, and moved towards the tree behind which Somers had taken refuge. Probably he was not aware that the Yankee was armed; for he adopted none of the precautions which such a knowledge would have imposed upon any reasonable man.
“Come out from that tree, stranger, or you shall die like a hog, with a knife; not like a man, with a rifle-ball.”
“I intend to die by neither,” said Somers resolutely, as he discharged his pistol in the directionfrom which the voice of the grayback came; for he dared not take aim, lest the bullet of the ruffian should pierce his skull.
He might as well have fired into the air, so far as any injury to his enemy was concerned; but the report had the effect to assure the rebel that he was armed, and thus put an end to his farther advance in that direction. Somers listened with intense anxiety to discover the next movement of his wily persecutor. He had only checked, not defeated him; and an exciting game was commenced, which promised to terminate only in the death of one of the belligerents. Somers hoped that the discharge of his pistol would bring the sergeant down to his relief; but then to be discovered in Federal uniform was about equivalent to being shot by his relentless foe, burning to revenge the death of Tom Myers.
The report of pistols and muskets was so common an occurrence on the picket-lines as to occasion nothing more than a momentary inquiry. No one came for his relief, or his ruin, as the case might be; and he was left to play out the exciting game by himself. The grayback, with a wholesome regard for the pistol, had retired beyond the reach of its ball, while he was still a long way within rifle-range of his doomed enemy. Somers dared not look out from the tree to obtain even a single glance at the foe; for he knew how accurate is the aim of some of these Southern woodsmen. He had nothing to guide him but the rustling of thedried branches beneath his tread, or the occasional snapping of a twig under his feet.
Joe Bagbone, after retreating beyond pistol-shot from the tree, had commenced describing a circle which would bring him into a position that commanded a view of his concealed victim. It must be confessed that Joe’s tactics were singularly deficient in range; for nothing but a surprise could make them successful. While he was moving a hundred rods to secure his position, Somers could defeat his purpose by taking a single step. As soon as he determined in what direction his persecutor was going, he changed his position; and Joe discovered the folly of his strategy, and sat down on a stump to await a demonstration on the part of his victim.
The game promised to be prolonged to a most unreasonable length; and Somers, now in a measure secure of his life, was impatient to join his anxious companions, with whom he had parted in the forenoon. He was satisfied that Joe would never abandon the chase, and the slightest indiscretion on his own part would result in instant death. It was a fearful position, and one which was calculated to wear terribly upon his nerves. He was anxious to bring the contest to a conclusion; and, while he was debating in his own mind the chances of escaping by a sudden dash in the direction of the Union lines, a happy thought in the way of strategy occurred to him.
He had determined as nearly as he could thesituation of his bull-dog opponent, and thought that, if he could draw his fire, he might get out of range of his rifle before it could be reloaded. Placing his cap on the barrel of his pistol, he cautiously moved it over, just as it would have appeared to the rebel if his head had been inside of it, and projected it a little beyond the tree. He withdrew it suddenly two or three times to increase the delusion in the mind of his enemy. He could not see the effect of the stratagem; but he was hopeful of a satisfactory result. He continued to repeat the operation with the cap, till he was confident Joe was not to be fooled in this way. He was probably one of the sharpshooters, and had too often fired at empty caps to be caught in this manner when success depended upon the single charge of his rifle.
Somers did not despair, but slipped off his coat; and, rolling it up so as to form the semblance of a head, he placed the cap upon the top of the bundle, and cautiously exposed the “dummy” on the opposite side of the tree. The crack of Joe’s rifle instantly followed this exhibition, and Somers felt the blow of the ball when it struck the cap. The critical moment had come; and, without the loss of a second, our lieutenant darted towards the Union lines. This movement was followed by a shrill yell from the Mississippian, which might have been a howl of disappointment at his failure; or it might have been intended to startle, and thus delay the fugitive.
Somers had listened to that battle yell too many times to be moved by it, especially when uttered by a single voice; and, with all the speed of which his limbs were capable, he fled to the arms of his friends. Joe was not content to give up the battle; and, dropping his rifle, he drew his long knife, and gave chase. They made a long run of it; and it was only ended when Tom heard the demand of his faithful sergeant—
“Who goes there?”
“Friend,” gasped Somers, utterly exhausted by his exertions.
“Lieutenant Somers? God be praised!” replied Hapgood, instantly recognizing his voice.
CHAPTER XVIRETURN TO THE CAMP
The moment Somers was recognized, Hapgood and his party rushed forward, rightly judging, from the rapidity of his motions, that he was pursued. The sharp eye of the veteran sergeant was the first to perceive the ferocious Mississippian, who, undaunted by the appearance of the Union soldiers, continued the pursuit as long as there was even a gleam of hope that he could overtake his intended victim. He was only a few paces behind the lieutenant when the latter was discovered.
Hapgood raised his musket and fired, just as the implacable pursuer abandoned the chase, and turned his steps back to the rebel line. He staggered for a few paces more, and fell just as a dozen other muskets were leveled at him. He appeared to have been hit in the leg; for he did not fall flat upon the ground, as he would if he had been struck in a vital part, but sank down to a sitting posture.
The Union men rushed up to him, and found that the supposition was correct; the ball had passed through the fleshy part of his thigh, disabling, but not dangerously wounding him. The ruffian—we do not call him so because he was a rebel, but he was naturally and by education just what the term indicates—was as savage and implacable as before.
“Better leave me where I am, Yanks,” said he; “’case, if I get well, I shall be the death of some of you. You kin shoot me through the head if you like.”
“Don’t consarn yourself about us, reb,” replied Hapgood. “We’ll take good care that you don’t hurt yourself, or any one else, while you are in our hands.”
“Mebbe you will, Yanks; but, just as sure as you was born, I’ll hev the heart’s blood of that younker as fotched Tom Myers down.”
“Who’s Tom Myers?” demanded the veteran.
“The man that you Yanks killed this forenoon.”
“Whose heart’s blood do you want?”
“That younker with the badge on his shoulder; the un I chased in.”
“He didn’t kill Tom Myers, or any other man.”
“Show me the man, then,” growled the rebel, now beginning to feel the pain of his wound.
“I’m your man. I brought Tom Myers down,” replied Hapgood, anxious to remove any cause of peril from hisprotégé.
“Did yer?”
“Sartin I did; saw him drop when I fired.”
“Then, stranger, yer kin make up yer mind to die like a hog within ten days. I tell yer, Yank, there ain’t bolts and bars enough in Yankee land to keep me away from yer. You kin shoot me if yer like now, and that’s all the way yer kin save yerself.”
“Well, reb, you are great at blowing; but I’ve seen a good many jest sich fellers as you be. I’ve fit with ’em, and fit agin’ ’em; and I tell you, your uncle can take keer of just as many of you as can stand up between here and sundown. Put that in your hopper, reb; and the sooner you dry up, the sooner you’ll come to your milk. We’ll take keer on you like a Christian, though you ain’t nothin’ but a heathen. Here, boys, make a stretcher, and kerry him along. Take that jack-knife out of his hand fust, and keep one eye on him all the time.”
Having thus delivered himself, Sergeant Hapgood hastened to the spot where Somers had seated himself on the ground to recover his wind and rest his weary limbs. The terrible excitement of thelast hour seemed to fatigue him more than the previous labors of the whole day; and he was hardly in condition to march to the division headquarters, where he was to report the success of his mission.
“Oh, Tom—I mean Lieutenant Somers—I’m glad to see you!” exclaimed the veteran as he grasped both the hands of the young soldier.
“Thank you, uncle; I’m just as glad to see you as you can be to see me,” replied Somers.
“You’re all tuckered out, Somers.”
“I had to run for some distance, with the odds against me; but I shall get rested in a little while.”
The sergeant began to ask questions; and, as soon as he had recovered his breath, Somers gave him a brief sketch of his adventures, dwelling mainly on the last and most thrilling event of the day.
“I can hardly believe that I am alive and well after all that has happened,” said he in conclusion. “That was the most bloodthirsty villain I ever encountered in the whole course of my life.”
“If you say shoot him, leftenant, it shall be done quicker’n you can say Jack Roberson,” added Hapgood, indignant at the conduct of the savage rebel.
“Of course, I don’t say anything of that kind. It would be murder to do anything of that sort while he is our prisoner.”
“He desarves hanging more’n Kyd the pirate did; and if I had my way, he’d swing afore sunrise to-morrow. He’s a consarned heathen!”
“Never mind him; only keep him safe, andwhere he can’t do any mischief; for he is wicked enough to kill the man that feeds him.”
“I’m only sorry I didn’t hit him a little higher up, where I hit the other feller this mornin’,” added the veteran. “How do you feel now, leftenant?”
“I am improving. I shall be ready to go with you in a few moments more.”
After sitting on the stump half an hour longer, he was in condition to march; but the danger was past, the tremendous excitement had subsided, and his muscles, which had been strained up to the highest tension, seemed to become soft and flaccid. The party passed the Union pickets, and reached the headquarters of the division general, who had just finished his supper.
“Somers! by all that is great and good!” exclaimed the general, who probably never expected to see the scout again.
“I have come to make my report, sir,” replied the lieutenant.
“You are all used up. You look as though you could hardly stand up.”
“I am very tired, sir,” added Somers languidly.
“Sit down, then. Here, Peter,” he added, addressing his servant, “bring in a glass of whiskey for Lieutenant Somers.”
“Thank you, general; I never drink anything stronger than coffee.”
“But a little whiskey would do you good in your present condition; you need it.”
“I thank you, general; I never drink whiskey, as I had occasion to say to a rebel general of division to-day.”
“Eh? ’Pon my conscience! Were you asked to drink by a rebel major-general?” demanded the officer, greatly surprised at the statement of the scout
“Not exactly, sir. About the first question he asked me was, how much whiskey I could drink without going by the board.”
“Who was he? Bring coffee, Peter.”
“General M——.”
“So I supposed. He is a jovial, good-hearted fellow; but I’ll wager my shoulder-straps he was tight at the time,” laughed the general.
“Very tight, sir.”
“Well, he is a fighting man, drunk or sober; but I should rather lead than follow him in action. Where have you been all day?”
“Shall I tell my story in full, or only give you the information I obtained?”
“Tell the story, so that I can determine whether the information is good for anything or not.”
Somers drank the tin cup of coffee which the general’s servant brought to him, and then proceeded to relate the incidents of the day in the rebel camp. His distinguished auditor, who, in the Army of the Potomac, had well earned the title of “the bravest of the brave,” listened with eager interest to the details of the lieutenant’s story, asking occasional questions upon pointswhich were not only calculated to elicit particular information, but to display the skill and intelligence of the scout. The interview was prolonged for several hours; and at its close a staff-officer was despatched to the corps commander; for what purpose, of course, Somers had no intimation.
“Lieutenant Somers, you have earned your promotion; and if you don’t have it, it will be because I have not influence enough to procure it. You have done well.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Your friend, Senator Guilford, shall hear of you within forty-eight hours.”
“I beg your pardon, sir; but, grateful as I am to Senator Guilford for the interest he has expressed in me, I don’t care to be patronized by any man in civil life.”
“Whew!” laughed the general. “I wish some of our colonels and brigadiers would take a lesson from you. Never mind, Lieutenant Somers; you will deserve all you ever get.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Go to your quarters now. Here,” he added, dashing off a note at his table, in which he desired that Somers might be excused from duty for the next two days, to enable him to recover from the fatigues of his arduous expedition.
I need not inform my readers how soundly our hero slept in his shelter tent that night, nor how his slumbers were disturbed by a horrid rebel with a bowie-knife, and a horrid feminine monstrositywhich seemed to be called Sue by her attendant demons; but he slept as a tired boy only can sleep.
The next morning the brigade was relieved from picket duty, and the regiment returned to its camp. Captain de Banyan had neither seen nor heard from his young friend since his departure on the forenoon of the preceding day. Of course he was overjoyed to see him, as well as intensely curious to know where he had been, what he had done, and whether he had been promoted. Somers told his adventures to the mess, omitting such military information as was “contraband” in the camp.
“Somers, my dear fellow, you are a man after my own heart!” exclaimed the captain, grasping his hand, and wringing it with all the enthusiasm of his fervid nature. “Somers, my boy, did you ever hear of a man having his double?”
“I have read of such things in old legends.”
“I believe in it, Somers. You are my double! You are my second self! You are as near like me as one pea is like another! Just before the battle of Magenta——”
At this interesting point in the conversation, the officers of the mess burst into an involuntary roar of laughter, ending up Magenta with a long dash.
“Not exactly like you, Captain de Banyan,” added Somers.
“You can’t tell half so big a story,” said Lieutenant Munroe.
“Gentlemen,” interposed the captain with dignity,“you interrupted me at the wrong moment. I was about to prove to you wherein Lieutenant Somers was my double; and with your permission, I will proceed with my argument. Just before the battle of Magenta, I was sent out on a scout; and I went at the particular request of the Emperor Napoleon, who—permit me to add, in the presence of a company which seems to be inimical to my antecedents, if not to me—had unlimited confidence in my ability to perform this delicate duty with skill and success. Well, gentlemen, I passed our pickets; of course I mean the French pickets; for I was, as you are all aware, a colonel in the French infantry at that time.”
“We are all aware of it,” laughed Munroe—“over the left.”
“That is a slang phrase, and repulsive to the ears of a cultivated gentleman. As I was saying, gentlemen, I passed our pickets, and soon encountered a Russian general of division.”
“Russian?”
“Austrian, I should have said; and I thank you, Somers, for the correction. I suppose he was making the grand rounds with the officer of the day. Be that as it may, he considered it his duty to stop me; and I was under the disagreeable necessity of putting a bullet through his head. He was a count, and the father of a large family; however, I could not help it, though I was sorry to make orphans of his children. I stepped into his uniform without the delay of a moment.”
“Where was the sergeant of the guard, the officer of the day, and the sentinels?” demanded Lieutenant Munroe.
“I beg you will not interrupt me, Lieutenant Munroe, with these ill-timed remarks, which are merely intended to throw discredit on my character for truth and veracity. I remarked, that I stepped into the uniform of the defunct major-general. To abbreviate the narrative somewhat, I walked through the Austrian lines for three hours, till I had discovered the position of the infantry, cavalry and artillery. But the most singular part of the affair was, that, when the long roll was beat once during that eventful night, I placed myself at the head of the departed general’s division, and maneuvered it for an hour on the field, intending to place it in such a position that the French could capture it. Unfortunately, no attack was made by the Emperor’s forces, and I could not carry out my plan.”
“Can you talk the Austrian lingo, captain?” asked Munroe.
“Of course I can,” replied De Banyan with dignity.
“Here, Schrugenheimer, let us have a specimen of the lingo!” said the tormentor, appealing to a German officer. “Ask him some questions in your own language.”
“Gentlemen, if my word is not sufficient, I shall not condescend to demonstrate what I have said.You will notice the similarity between the adventures of Lieutenant Somers and my own.”
The officers of the mess all laughed heartily at the conclusion of the comparison; for the story, like a fairy tale, was pleasant to hear, but hard to believe. But weightier matters than these were at hand for these gallant men; and before night the gay laugh had ceased, and they had nerved themselves for the stern duties of the hour. Cannon had been thundering to the right of them for three days; and in the afternoon they had seen the smoke of burning bridges, which assured them that their communications with White House had been cut off. At night, orders were given to have the men ready to move, and to prepare for a hurried march. Extra stores were destroyed, clothing thrown away, and tents were cut in pieces, or otherwise rendered useless to the next occupants of the ground. Everything to be transported was reduced to the smallest possible compass.
These orders were ominous of disaster; but on the following morning a general order was read, to the effect that all was right. The troubled expression on the countenances of officers and men indicated their incredulity; for the destruction in which they had been engaged belied the words of the order. The brigade was then moved back three miles from the camp. A portion of the regiment was posted near a house, in which was a bedridden old woman, attended by her daughter. The rebels were advancing by the Williamsburg road, andsoon had a battery of artillery in position to shell the vicinity of the house.
It was an intensely hot day. Captain de Banyan sat asleep on the fence near the house. He was very much exhausted by the labors of the two preceding nights on picket, and at the destruction of the stores; and while Somers was watching the progress of the battle on the right, where a sharp fight was in progress, a shell screamed between them, and struck the house about a foot from the ground.
“That reminds me of the night before Magenta,” said the veteran, opening his eyes, without even a start. “A hundred-pounder shell knocked my hat off, and then passed through the two open windows at each gable of a house, without even breaking a pane of glass.”
“A narrow escape for you and for the house,” replied Somers with a languid smile.