CHAPTER XXCAPTAIN DE BANYAN FINDS AN OLD FRIEND
Both Somers and De Banyan flew to the rescue, and made a most enthusiastic attempt to checkthe fire; but the raging element was now past control. The flames spread through the combustible material which had been stored on the deck; and they were compelled to abandon the ill-starred steamer with the utmost precipitation, in order to save their own lives.
De Banyan had rolled up an old newspaper, making of it a kind of torch, some three feet in length, which he had inserted in a mass of pitch-wood shavings, and set the end on fire. It had burned long enough to remove suspicion from him; and, when the pilot and crew went on shore, Captain Osborn had no idea of the trick of which he had been made the victim. Our scouts kept up appearances in the most remarkable manner, and Somers was only afraid that his zealous companion would overdo the matter.
“What do you mean by that, Captain Osborn?” demanded Somers, as he shook the cinders from his clothes in the presence of the rebel officer. “Did you intend to sacrifice our lives?”
“Yes; burn us up before we had time to leave the old hulk!” added De Banyan furiously. “I thought we were to light the fire ourselves.”
“I didn’t do it,” replied Captain Osborn.
“You didn’t? Who did do it, then?” persisted Somers.
“I don’t know.”
“Well, I don’t know; but, in my opinion, you did it yourself.”
“You are an idiot! Do you think I would destroythe work of my own hands?” added the rebel warmly.
“Well, I supposed you fired the train so as to be sure the thing was done right.”
“You are a fool, or else you didn’t suppose any such thing.”
“I didn’t know but what you had one of those clock machines, that touch a thing off at a certain time. Well, how did it happen, then?”
“I don’t know; perhaps from a spark from the fire. No matter how it was done now. It is done, and can’t be helped. I have lost the satisfaction of seeing half the Yankee fleet burnt up. I would rather have given a year’s pay than have had this accident happen.”
“Haven’t they got most ready for the Yankee fleet above here?” asked Somers as carelessly as he could.
“What do you mean?”
“They are building batteries up above, to knock the Yankees into pieces, aren’t they?”
“Perhaps they are.”
“Well, Captain Osborn, I don’t believe your plan would have succeeded if the steamer hadn’t caught afire.”
“Don’t you? Why not?”
“Suppose the Yankees had stopped us on our way up, and come on board the steamer. Don’t you think they would have known what she was for?”
“Perhaps they would.”
“Of course they would. Why didn’t you fit out your steamer up the river?”
“We haven’t so many steamers that we can afford to burn them up. We took this one because she happened to be in the creek, where the Yankees could capture her at any time they pleased.”
“It wouldn’t need a steamer above the fleet; a raft would do just as well. I think I shall go up the river, and see what can be done. Well, boys,” added Somers to the men in the boat, “there will be no fun to-night, and you may as well go home.”
As this order was in conformity with previous instructions, the men pulled down the creek to its mouth, where they could remain concealed till their officers returned.
By the light of the burning steamer, Captain Osborn had attentively scanned the features of the pilot and his companion, apparently for the purpose of determining where he had seen the former. As they had both dressed themselves for the occasion, they submitted to his scrutiny without fear. When he had finished his survey, he mounted his horse, which was fastened to a tree near the creek, and had become very restive as the glaring fire scattered burning cinders near him. As the rider had no further use for our enterprising operatives, he bestowed no further notice upon them, and rode off to report to his commanding officer the failure of the hopeful enterprise.
“Well, we have done some good by coming overhere,” said Captain de Banyan as the officer galloped up the road above the creek.
“Hush, captain!” replied Somers. “You forget where you are.”
“No, I don’t; we are alone.”
“Perhaps not; the trees have ears sometimes.”
“Well, where are you going now?”
“Up the river. We will take a walk up to the batteries, if there are any there.”
They proceeded in the direction indicated for about three miles without being molested, or even challenged by a sentinel. The Army of the Potomac had been on the other side of the river nearly a month, and had ceased to be a curiosity to the rebel inhabitants in the vicinity; and like sensible people, as they were in this respect if in no other, they devoted the hours of darkness to sleep. On the shore opposite the camp, they found a battery of artillery. Rude field-works had been constructed near the water, on which the guns of the company had been placed. Our travelers were too modest to make the acquaintance of the rebels, and kept at a respectful distance from them, crawling on the ground near enough to ascertain the force of the enemy.
Taking to the fields for greater safety, the scouts went up the river several miles farther, without making any discoveries worthy of notice. The object of the excursion had been fully accomplished; and they began to retrace their steps towards the creek, where the boat was waiting their return.When we are well employed, time passes away very rapidly; and our adventurers had taken no note of its passage. Before they had made a single mile, the bright streaks of day in the east warned them that they had remained too long for their own safety.
The prospect of being examined by rebel officers in broad daylight was not pleasant; and, increasing their speed, they walked by the shortest way towards the creek. When they had passed the battery of artillery, they abandoned the fields, through which they could make but slow progress, for the road. They had three miles farther to go, and it was now nearly sunrise.
“I think we must have lost two or three hours,” said Somers as they hastened on their way. “I had no idea that it was more than two o’clock in the morning when we turned about.”
“Nor I,” replied De Banyan. “We must have spent two or three hours in crawling on the ground about that battery.”
“I don’t see where the time is all gone.”
“It goes fast when we are busy. When I was in the Crimea——”
“Never mind the Crimea now,” protested Somers, who was in no mood for his companion’s fibs.
“Don’t be crusty, Somers.”
“I did not mean to be crusty; but you know my opinion about those stories of the Crimea and theItalian war, and I don’t think it is a good plan to talk so much over here.”
“As you please; it is your turn to speak next.”
“I meant no offense.”
“I know you didn’t, Somers; but you reproved me, and I can only hold my peace; for you are the commander of this expedition.”
“You know I like you as a brother; but I don’t like those silly yarns about your impossible achievements. Hark! What’s that?”
This last remark was caused by the sound of horses’ feet behind them; and our travelers looked back with eager interest to ascertain what was approaching. It was a body of cavalry, which had just swept round a bend of the road, and was now in plain sight of them.
“That won’t do,” said De Banyan with energy. “We must conceal ourselves.”
“I think they have seen us, and we may as well make the best of it. If we hide, they will certainly suspect us.”
“They have not seen us yet. They are half a mile off,” replied the captain, as he retired to the field by the side of the road.
Somers followed him, though he did not fully approve the policy of his friend. They walked a short distance till they came to a covert of bushes, in which they concealed themselves.
“I think we have made a mistake. The dog always bites when you attempt to run away from him,” said Somers.
“I don’t think they saw us,” persisted De Banyan. “If they did, we can tell as good a story here as we could in the road.”
“I always believe in facing the music. I have found that impudence will carry a man a great deal farther and a great deal faster than his legs can.”
“Perhaps you are right, Somers. When I was in Italy——”
“Bah! Don’t say Italy or Crimea again till we reach the other side of the river,” interposed Somers, who was too seriously affected by the perils of their situation to be willing to listen to any of his companion’s hallucinations.
“Just as you please, Somers,” answered the captain, unmoved by the rebuff; “but, when I was doing scout duty before the battle of Magenta, I saw the advance of the Austrians coming up behind me. I crawled into a haystack, and remained there while the whole army of the Austrians, about four hundred thousand men, passed by me.”
Somers could not but smile at the infatuation of his friend, who at such a perilous moment could indulge in such a vicious practice as that of inventing great stories. He did not even ask him how long it took the Austrian army to pass the haystack, whether they had haystacks in Italy, nor if it was probable that such an army would pass over a single road. He waited patiently, or impatiently, for the approach of the rebel cavalry,which soon reached the road near the bushes where they were hidden.
To his consternation, they came to a dead halt; and he could see the men gazing earnestly in the direction they had retired. Then half a dozen of the troopers entered the field, and rode directly towards the covert of bushes.
“We are caught!” whispered Somers.
“That’s so. Just after the battle of Palestro, when I——”
“Hush!”
“Hush it is,” replied De Banyan, as coolly as though he had been under his shelter tent on the other side of the James.
Taking a knife from his pocket, he began to cut away at a straight bush which grew near him, and was thus busily employed when the soldiers reached the spot. Somers stretched himself on the ground, and waited the issue of the event; deciding to let his companion, who had got him into the scrape, extricate him from it. The coolness of the captain, and the peculiar manner he assumed, convinced him that he had some resources upon which to draw in this trying emergency.
“Hallo, there!” shouted one of the troopers savagely, as though he intended to carry consternation in the tones of his voice.
“How are you, old hoss?” inquired De Banyan, as impudently as though he had been the lord of the manor.
“What ye doin’ in here?” demanded the horseman,as he forced his animal into the bushes far enough to obtain a full view of both of the fugitives.
“Well, old hoss, if Heaven gin you two eyes, what were they gin to ye fur?” replied the captain, still hacking away at the sapling.
“What d’ye run for when you saw us coming?”
“Didn’t run.”
“Yes, yer did.”
“You know best, then.”
“What d’ye come in here fur?”
“Don’t ye see what I came in here for?” replied De Banyan, as he finished cutting off the bush, and proceeded to trim off the branches.
“Who are you?”
“Well, old hoss, I’m the brother of my father’s oldest son.”
“What’s yer name?”
“Hain’t got any; had a difficulty with the district attorney in our county, and lost it.”
“Come out here, and show yerself. The cap’n wants to see yer down to the road.”
“Just goin’ down there. Say, you hain’t got a spare hoss in your caravan, have you? I’m gettin’ amazin’ tired.”
“Come out, both of you. I can’t stay here all day.”
“Needn’t wait for me; I’m in no hurry,” answered the captain, as he slowly emerged from the bushes, followed by Somers.
“But I shall wait for yer; and, if yer don’t stepalong lively, I’ll let yer know how this cheese-knife feels.”
“Don’t distress yourself to do anything of the sort,” said De Banyan; and he hobbled along on his new-made cane.
A walk of a few rods brought them to the road, where the commander of the company was impatiently awaiting their arrival. He looked daggers at the travelers, and evidently intended to annihilate them by the fierceness of his visage.
“Give an account of yourself,” said he.
“We’re no account,” replied De Banyan.
“I’ve seen you before,” continued the cavalry commander, gazing intently at the captain.
“No; you saw me behind.”
“That sounds like you. Why, really, it is Barney Marvel.”
“Who?” demanded De Banyan with an expression of humor.
“Barney Marvel! Don’t you know your own name? Give us your hand, Barney,” added the officer, as he extended his own.
“Well, cap’n, perhaps I’m Barney what’s-his-name; but, ’pon my word, I don’t think I am;” and De Banyan wore a troubled expression, even to the eyes of his anxious companion.
“Don’t be modest about it, Barney. You left us rather unceremoniously; but I hope you’ll be able to show that it was all right.”
“’Pon my word it was all right, though I haven’t the least idea what you mean.”
“Haven’t you, indeed, Barney?” laughed the captain, who, in spite of his present happy manner, was evidently as much puzzled as the other party.
“’Pon my word, I haven’t.”
“Do you mean to say you are not Barney Marvel, formerly a lieutenant in the Third Tennessee?”
“Not if I know it.”
“I suppose I understood your position, Barney; but I advise you not to deny facts.”
“I never deny facts, captain; you haven’t told me your name yet.”
“No need of that. Now, be honest, Barney. Tell us all about it. There wasn’t an officer in the regiment that didn’t mourn you as a brother when you left us.”
“I’m very much obliged to them,” replied De Banyan lightly; but even Somers began to have some doubts in regard to his popular friend.
“How are Magenta, Solferino, and the Crimea, now-a-days?” demanded the officer.
“Never heard of such places. Don’t know much about geography,” answered the captain.
Somers was confounded when the officer repeated these words, which was proof positive that he was the man whom the captain represented him to be.
“Sergeant, dismount, and tell me if you find B. M. on that man’s right arm.”
The sergeant obeyed, and, with the assistance ofanother, bared the captain’s arm, where they found, plainly marked in India ink, the initials B. M.
CHAPTER XXITHE THIRD TENNESSEE
Probably there was no one in either party who was so thoroughly bewildered by the incident which had just transpired as Captain Somers. The mystery of his companion’s antecedents was in a fair way to be cleared up, though in a very unsatisfactory manner to those most intimately concerned. The conversation, and the verification of the rebel officer’s statements, showed that De Banyan was not De Banyan; that the brave and brilliant Federal officer was not a Federal officer; that, of all he had been, only the “brave” and “brilliant” remained.
It was painfully evident that the bold and dashing captain was, or had been, a rebel officer. Somers was terribly shocked at the discovery, even while it was a satisfaction to have the mystery of his companion’s previous life explained. For the time, he forgot the perils of his own situation in the interest he felt in the affairs of his friend. Perhaps De Banyan was a spy, who had been serving in the Union army for the purpose of conveying information to the enemy. He had been very gladof the opportunity to cross the river; and it seemed probable to our hero that he wished to return to his friends. It is true, the efficient services of the captain in the Army of the Potomac, his readiness at all times to fight the rebels, and especially his shooting down the enemy’s pickets in the swamp, were not exactly consistent with such a record; but perhaps he had done these things to keep up appearances, and thus enable him the better to promote the objects of the rebellion.
He was anxious to hear the captain’s explanation of these gross charges; but, of course, that was utterly impracticable at present. In the meantime, there was no room to doubt that the cavalry officer had all the truth on his side. He had hinted very strongly that De Banyan was a deserter; but he might have deserted for the purpose of performing the special duty which had been assigned to him. Officers and soldiers, sent out as spies, had often incurred the odium of such a reputation, in order to keep their own counsels, and serve their country the more faithfully.
If Captain de Banyan was a deserter in appearance only, he would, of course, soon be able to make his fidelity and patriotism apparent to the rebel authorities; and being a patriot, in the traitor use of the word, he could not do less than denounce his companion as a Federal spy. Whatever turn the affair might take, Somers felt that his own chances of escape were every moment becoming beautifully less. If De Banyan was a faithfulrebel, there was proof positive that his companion was a spy; if not, he was in the company of a deserter, and would be subjected to all manner of suspicion.
De Banyan still held his head up, and did not lose his impudence, even after the letters had been found upon his arm. He did not appear to be at all confused by the discovery and the triumph of the cavalry officer’s argument. He punched Somers in the side with his elbow; but the latter was unable to divine the significance of this movement.
“Well, Barney, I wish somebody else had caught you instead of me; for it is not pleasant to find an old friend under such circumstances.”
“If you please, captain, I haven’t the pleasure of knowing your name.”
“Come, Barney, don’t keep up this farce any longer.”
“I was about to beg the favor, that you would not call me by that offensive name any longer.”
“You seem to be changing your colors very rapidly,” laughed the officer. “When I first saw you, you were a rough-spoken fellow; but now you use the language of a polished gentleman. Barney, you and I were good friends in the Third Tennessee; and, though I am sorry to meet you under these circumstances, we must both make the best of it.”
“I tell you, captain, you are entirely mistakenin your man. I never was in Tennessee in my life.”
“Good! You were always celebrated for monstrous stories; and they are fully in keeping with your past history. Well, since you refuse to recognize an old friend, of course I shall be excused for any unpleasant measures to which I may be compelled to resort.”
“Anything you please, captain, so long as you refrain from calling me Barney, which in my estimation is a low and vulgar cognomen, that I am unwilling to have applied to me.”
“Who is the man with you?” demanded the officer in more business-like tones.
“His name is Tom Leathers; he’s a pilot on the James. We refer you to Captain Osborn for evidence of our character. We came here to do a job for him.”
“All right, then. Captain Osborn lodges at the next house on this road, and we will let him speak for the other man. He can’t speak for you; for I know you better than he does, or any other man who has not served in the Third Tennessee. As you were going this way, you can walk along with us.”
“Thank you for the polite invitation, and this is a handsome escort for a man of my humble pretensions.”
The captain of the company ordered his men to keep back, and Somers and De Banyan walked by the side of his horse, a few yards in advance of theplatoons. He had evidently adopted this method to draw out his prisoners; for as such our officers were compelled to regard themselves.
“Marvel, you used to be a very sensible fellow when you were in the Third Tennessee,” said the rebel captain. “I am surprised to see you adopting such a stupid method to conceal your identity.”
“I had good reasons for it,” replied De Banyan, casting his eyes behind him, as if to assure himself that none of the soldiers were within hearing.
“What reasons?” asked the officer curiously.
“I should think a man of your discretion would easily understand the reason, without any explanation. If I am to be tried for any offense, I don’t want to be judged by a whole company of cavalry. You know I always took pride in my reputation.”
“I used to think so; but, when we missed you one day, we got rid of that opinion in the Third Tennessee.”
“Then you wronged me; for I have faithfully served my country from that day to this.”
“I am glad to hear it, and I hope you will be able to prove what you have said. How came you here?”
“I came over from the other side of the river last night. You intimated that my departure from the Third was not all regular,” added the captain.
“In a word, it was understood that you had deserted.”
“That was a mistake.”
“I am very glad to hear it; but you will rememberthat your loyalty to the Southern Confederacy was not above suspicion when you joined the regiment.”
De Banyan punched Somers with his elbow at these words, as though he wished him to take particular notice of them; but his admiring friend needed no such admonition to induce him to give strict attention to the statement, for it was the most satisfactory remark he had heard during the interview. Captain de Banyan rose twenty-five per cent in his estimation at the utterance of those words, however injurious they were in the opinion of him who had spoken them. There was hope for the captain; and Somers trusted that he would be able fully to exonerate himself from the foul charge, when the occasion should permit such an exposition.
“My loyalty ought to be considered above suspicion, and those who know me best do so regard it,” added De Banyan as he administered another mild punch on the ribs of his fellow-sufferer. “I was taken by the Yankees, in short; and, at the first convenient opportunity, I have come over to see you again.”
“I hope it is all right, Barney; but I am afraid it is not.”
“I shall be able to clear myself of every imputation of disloyalty, before the proper tribunal.”
“How did you get over?”
“I have been following the fortunes of the Yankee army till last night; when I took a boat,and came over the river. On the way I met a pilot whose name was Andy, who turned me over to this man, who is also a pilot, and came down to take out a fire-ship.”
“The one that was burned in the creek last night?”
“The same. I refer you to Captain Osborn for the truth of the last part of my statement; though the time was when you did not ask me to bring vouchers for what I said.”
“For nothing, except your stories of the Crimea and the Italian war,” replied the captain of cavalry with a significant smile. “I must do you the justice to say, that I never knew you to tell a falsehood on any matter connected with your social or business relations.”
“Thank you for so much,” replied De Banyan. “Now that I have made it all right, I suppose you needn’t trouble yourself to attend to my affairs any further.”
“No trouble at all, I assure you. Under the circumstances, I shall feel it my duty to deliver you into the hands of my superiors, and they can do as they please with you. But I sincerely hope that you will be able to vindicate your character from the stain which rests upon it.”
“I don’t think it needs any vindication.”
“There is some difference of opinion between us on that point. Where are you going now?”
“To Richmond,” replied De Banyan promptly; and perhaps he intended to go there with the Armyof the Potomac, though its present prospects of reaching the rebel capital were not very favorable.
“This is not the way to Richmond. Your stories don’t agree very well.”
“I thought it was; or rather to Petersburg, and from there we expected to get a ride up in the cars.”
“Oh, very well! I can procure you a pass to Richmond,” added the rebel.
“And an escort to attend us, I suppose,” replied De Banyan with a smile.
“A small one; but here is the house where Captain Osborn lodges. If he knows your friend here, and can vouch for his loyalty, all well; if not, we shall not part two such loving friends.”
Captain Osborn had not risen when the company of cavalry reached his quarters; but he was called from his bed, and appeared in front of the house in the worst possible humor; for, being human, he did not like to have his slumbers disturbed by unseasonable calls. As Somers feared Captain Osborn denied all knowledge of the prisoners, except so far as related to his interview with them during the night. He had never seen either of them before; and he even took the trouble to add that he didn’t believe the young fellow was a pilot, which was gratuitous and uncalled for on his part.
“Well, Marvel,” added the cavalry officer rather coldly, “this business is settled very much as I supposed it would be. I shall have to send you upto Richmond, where, if your stories are all true, I doubt not you will be able to clear yourself.”
“Thank you, captain. You are the same affectionate fellow you used to be when you were a lieutenant in the Third Tennessee,” replied De Banyan with a sneer; for it was evident that he was not at all pleased with the result of the affair.
Four soldiers were detailed from the company to conduct the prisoners to a certain camp near the railroad at City Point, and there deliver them over to the keeping of an officer whose name was mentioned.
“Good-morning, captain,” said De Banyan with forced gayety.
“Good-morning, Marvel, and success to you.”
“Thank you.”
“By the way, Barney, if there is anything I can do for you, don’t fail to call upon me; that is, anything consistent with the duty of a faithful officer.”
“Such a remark was entirely uncalled for,” said De Banyan with dignity. “Do you think I would ask an officer to sacrifice his conscience?”
“Excuse me, Barney. I meant no offense,” added the rebel captain, touched by the proud and dignified manner of his former friend.
“Your words and your conduct are in keeping with each other.”
“Really, Barney, I meant nothing by the remark.”
“Then it was the more unmanly to make it.”
“I am still your friend. In proof of it, permitme to do you a favor,” pleaded the rebel, much concerned at the wound he had inflicted on the sensitive nature of his late associate in the Third Tennessee.
“I ask no favors,” answered De Banyan proudly.
“You are too hard upon me. Upon my word, I meant no offense. As a proof of my friendship, I will take your parole of honor not to escape, and you shall report at Richmond at your own pleasure. If you have any interest in this young man, I will allow him the same favor.”
“After what has happened, I cannot accept a favor at your hands. I can’t see how an officer who doubts my word should be willing to take my parole.”
“As you please, Marvel,” added the captain petulantly. “I can do no more for you.”
Somers was greatly relieved when the rebel officer rode off, followed by his company. He had trembled with anxiety, when the parole was offered to De Banyan, lest he should accept it, and thus compel him to do the same. Although he could not see how it was to be brought about, he intended to escape from the hands of his captors at the first convenient opportunity, with or without De Banyan, as the case should demand.
One of the four troopers detailed to guard the prisoners was a sergeant, who intimated to them that they might take up the line of march for the camp where they were bound. To preclude thepossibility of an escape, he ordered two of his men to ride ahead of the captives, while himself and the other followed in the rear. The little procession moved off; and there was never a sadder-hearted young man than Somers, who, were his true character discovered, was liable to the pains and penalties of being a spy.
“Sergeant, have you been to breakfast?” demanded De Banyan, after they had walked a couple of miles, and were passing a farm-house.
“No, sir.”
“I smell fried bacon, and am willing to pay for breakfast for the whole party. What do you say?”
“There is nothing in my orders to prevent me from taking up your offer; and I will do it, if you will agree not to run away while we are at the house,” replied the prudent soldier.
“How shall we run away, with four men watching us?” demanded De Banyan.
The sergeant seemed to be satisfied with this argument; and they entered the house, where breakfast was soon in preparation for them.
CHAPTER XXIITHE REBEL FARM-HOUSE
Somers, besides the chagrin caused by his capture, was greatly disturbed by the astounding discoverieshe had made in regard to Captain de Banyan. He was extremely anxious to obtain an opportunity to converse with him in relation to his disgraceful antecedents; but the presence of the rebel soldiers prevented him from saying a word. Yet his looks must have betrayed the distrust he felt in his companion; for De Banyan seemed to study his face more than the faces of their captors.
By this time, the six trusty soldiers who had been selected to participate in the enterprise must have given them up, and returned to the camp with the sad story of their capture. It was mortifying to Somers to have such a report carried to the general of the division; for it seemed to be an imputation upon his skill and tact; but he found some consolation in believing that he should not have been taken if it had not been for his unfortunate connection with Captain de Banyan, who was rash beyond measure in venturing within the rebel lines, unless he really meant to return to the Third Tennessee.
Whatever the captain was, and whatever he intended to do, Somers could not believe that his late friend had deliberately betrayed him into the hands of the enemy. It might be so; or it might be that to save himself from the consequences of his alleged desertion, he would claim to have been always a faithful adherent of the Southern Confederacy. Somers was perplexed beyond description by the perils and uncertainties of his situation. He had, in fact, lost confidence in his companion;and the result was, that he resolved to make his escape, if he could, from the hands of the rebels without him. Under other circumstances, he would have deemed it infamous to harbor, for an instant, the thought of deserting a friend in the hour of extremity; and nothing but the remembrance of the Third Tennessee could have induced him to adopt such a resolution. Having adopted it, he kept his eyes wide open for any opportunity which would favor his purpose. His curiosity, excited to the highest pitch to know what the captain could say in defense of the heinous charge which had been fastened upon him by the rebel cavalry officer, and which he himself had substantiated, rendered the intention to part company with him very disagreeable; but the terror of a rebel prison, and perhaps a worse fate, were potent arguments in its favor.
In the course of half an hour, the breakfast was ready, and the party sat down with a hearty relish to discuss it. The fried bacon and biscuit were luxuries to Somers, and he partook of them with a keener satisfaction than he did of the costly viands of the “Continental” and the “National;” but, deeply as he was interested in this pleasant employment, he hardly ceased for a moment to think of the grand project of making his escape. For the time, this had become the great business of existence, and he banished from his mind all minor questions.
Opportunity is seldom wanting to those who are resolutely determined to do great deeds. Only theslow-molded and irresolute want a time and a place. The breakfast was finished, and the troopers and their prisoners were on excellent terms with each other long before the conclusion of the repast. Eating and drinking promote the social feeling; and Captain de Banyan was as brilliant as he had ever been in the camps of the Chickahominy. He made the rebels laugh, and excited their wonder by the most improbable stories in which even he had ever indulged. It would have been impossible to distinguish between the captives and the captors; for the latter were extremely considerate, as they had probably been instructed to be by the captain of the company.
When the meal was finished, the troopers rose, and proposed to resume the journey. De Banyan paid the bill in gold; for there was still a small portion of the precious metal in the army.
“Now we are ready,” said the sergeant; “and we will get our horses. It’s a pity we haven’t horses for you; but, when you get tired, we will give you the use of the saddles for a time.”
“Thank you, my friend. That’s handsome. You remind me of a Russian major-general, who insisted that I should ride his animal while he walked by my side, after I was taken prisoner in the battle of Austerlitz.”
“He was a good fellow,” replied the sergeant, who probably did not remember the precise date of the celebrated battle quoted by the versatile captain.“We shall not be behind him; and, if you like, you shall have the first ride on my horse.”
“Thank you; but I couldn’t think of depriving you of your horse, even for a moment.”
“Well, we will settle all that by and by. Come with me now, if you please,” said the sergeant, as he led the way out of the house.
As very little attention seemed to be paid to Somers—for the rebels evidently did not regard him as either a slippery or a dangerous person—he was permitted to bring up the rear. Now, it is always mortifying to be held in slight esteem, especially to a sensitive mind like that of our hero; and he resented the slight by declining to follow the party. Near the outside door, as they passed out, he discovered another door, which was ajar, and which led up-stairs. Without any waste of valuable time, he slyly stepped through the doorway, and ascended the stairs. The rebels were so busy in listening to the great stories of Captain de Banyan, that they did not immediately discover the absence of the unpretending young man.
When our resolute adventurer saw the stairs through the partially open door, they suggested to him a method of operations. It is true, he did not have time to elaborate the plan, and fully determine what he should do when he went up-stairs; but the general idea, that he could drop out of a window and escape in the rear of the house, struck him forcibly, and he impulsively embraced the opportunity thus presented. The building was anordinary Virginia farm-house, rudely constructed, and very imperfectly finished. On ascending the stairs, Somers reached a large, unfinished apartment, which was used as a store-room. From it opened, at each end of the house, a large chamber.
No place of concealment, which was apparently suitable for his purpose, presented itself; and, without loss of time, he mounted a grain chest, and ascended to the loft over one of the rooms; for the beams were not floored in the middle of the building. The aspect of this place was not at all hopeful; for there were none of those convenient “cubby holes,” which most houses contain, wherein he could bestow his body with any hope of escaping even a cursory search for him.
In the gable end, on one side of the chimney, which, our readers are aware, is generally built on the outside of the structure, in Virginia, was a small window, one-half of which, in the decay of the glass panes, had been boarded up to exclude the wind and the rain. The job had evidently been performed by a bungling hand, and had never been more than half done. The wood was as rotten as punk; and without difficulty, and without much noise, the fugitive succeeded in removing the board which had covered the lower part of the window.
By this time the absence of the prisoner had been discovered, and the rebels were in a state of high excitement on account of it; but Somers was pleased to find they had not rightly conjectured the theory of his escape. He could hear themswear, and hear them considering the direction in which he had gone. Two of them stood under the window, to which Somers had restored the board he had removed; and he could distinctly hear all that they said.
“Of course he did,” said one of them. “He slipped round the corner of the house when we came out.”
“If he did, where is he? It’s open ground round here; and he couldn’t have gone ten rods before we missed him.”
“The captain will give it to me,” replied the other, whose voice the fugitive recognized to be that of the sergeant.
“We shall find him,” added the other. “He can’t be twenty rods from here now.”
“I did not think of the young fellow running off, but kept both eyes on the other all the time; for I thought he wasn’t telling all those stories for nothing.”
“Maybe he is in the house,” suggested the other.
Somers thought that was a very bad suggestion of the rebel soldier; and, if there had been any hope of their believing him, he would himself have informed them that he was not in the house, and reconciled his conscience as best he could to the falsehood.
“Can’t yer find ’em?” demanded a third person, which Somers saw, through the aperture he had left between the board and the window, was the farmer.
“We haven’t lost but one.”
“He can’t be fur from this yere.”
“Isn’t he in the house?” demanded the sergeant anxiously.
“No; I saw them both foller yer out.”
“So did I,” added the farmer’s wife, who had come out to learn the cause of the excitement.
“Well, then, we must beat about here, and find him;” and the party beneath the window moved away in the rear of the house.
Thus far, the project was hopeful; but it was apparent to Somers that the rebels would not leave the place without searching the house, after they had satisfied themselves that the fugitive was not hidden in any of the out-buildings of the farm. If they did so, his situation would at once become hopeless, if he remained where he was. The remembrance of his former experience in a chimney, in another part of Virginia, caused him to cast a wistful eye at the great stone structure which adorned the end of the building. At that time, he had occupied his smoky quarters with the knowledge and consent of the lady of the house. But now his secret was lodged in his own breast alone; not even Captain de Banyan knew where he was, or what he proposed to do.
When the party beneath the window left the place, he carefully removed the board, and thrust out his head to reconnoiter the position. The only way by which he could enter the chimney, which his former experience and prejudice assured himwas the only safe place in the vicinity, was by the top. To achieve such a result was a difficult piece of gymnastics, even if it could have been performed without reference to any spectators; but to accomplish it without being seen by any of the party below was as near an impossibility as any impracticable thing could be.
The rebels, both civil and military, were now out of sight; but he doubted not from his eyrie on the ridge-pole of the house, if he could reach it, they could all be seen. Somers was as prudent as he was bold, and he decided not to run any risks until necessity should absolutely compel such a course. Quietly ensconcing himself beneath the window, where he could hear what transpired below, he waited the issue; but he had studied out the precise steps which it would be necessary for him to take in order to reach the roof of the house. He knew exactly where his right and his left foot were to be successfully planted to achieve his purpose, when it could no longer be postponed. But he indulged a faint hope that the rebels would widen the area of their search, and finally abandon it when it should be unsuccessful.
A long quarter of an hour elapsed—long enough to be an hour’s time as its ordinary flow is measured; so burdened with intense anxiety was each second that made up its sum total. The rebels, assisted by the farmer and his wife, who were now hardly less zealous than the soldiers, had examinedevery hole and corner in the vicinity of the house, without finding the escaped prisoner.
“I tell you, he must be in the house,” said the sergeant, as the party paused under the window on their return to the front of the house.
“Of course, ye kin look in the house if yer like; but I see ’em both go out of the door with yer,” persisted the farmer.
“We will search the house,” added the sergeant resolutely.
“Yer kin, if yer like; but I hope yer won’t lose the other feller while ye’re looking for this one.”
“I told Gordon to shoot him if he attempted to get away; and I can trust Gordon.”
They passed out of hearing, and Somers felt that his time had come. But, as we have several times before had occasion to remark, strategy is successful in one only by the blunders and inertness of the other; and he cherished with increased enthusiasm his project of hiding in the chimney. Neither the farmer nor the soldiers were trained detectives, and the blunder they made which rendered Somers’s strategy more available was in hunting in crowds instead of singly. They all entered the house together; and even Gordon, in charge of the other prisoner, conducted him to the interior, that he might have the pleasure of seeing the fugitive unearthed.
Taking down the board, Somers emerged from the little window, and, by the steps which he had before marked out, ascended to the roof; a difficultfeat, which would have been impossible to one whose father was not the master of a vessel, and who had not explored a ship from the step to the truck of the mainmast. It was done, safely done, and without much noise, which would have been as fatal as a fall. As he sprang from the window still to a projecting stone in the chimney, he heard the steps of the whole party on the stairs below. He was not an instant too soon in the execution of his project; and, when he reached the ridge-pole of the house, he paused to recover the breath which he had lost by excitement and exertion.
The pursuers occupied some time in examining the store-room and the adjoining chambers, and he had a sufficient interval for rest before he renewed his labors. But in a few moments he heard the noise caused by the party ascending to the loft over the room beneath him, and the movement could no longer be delayed.
“I tell yer, sergeant, the feller isn’t in here!” protested the farmer violently, and in a tone loud enough for Somers to hear him on the roof. “Be keerful there, or you’ll break down the plastering.”
Somers could not hear what the sergeant said in reply; but the farmer was so earnest in his protest against any further search of his house, that the fugitive was almost willing to believe that the protester knew he was in the house, was his friend, and meant to save him from the hands of his enemies. But this supposition was too absurd tobe tolerated, for the farmer could have no possible interest in his welfare.
While watching, he had taken off his shoes, and thrust one into each side-pocket of the old blouse he wore, partly to save noise, and partly to prevent his feet from slipping on the smooth stones of the chimney. Thus prepared, he climbed to the top, and commenced the descent of the smoky avenue. He found the opening much smaller than that of his previous experience in chimneys; and, after he had descended a few feet, the place became inconveniently dark. He could no longer hear the steps or the voices of his pursuers; and he had begun to congratulate himself on the ultimate success of his stratagem, when his foot struck upon something which moved out of his way. It was an animal—perhaps a cat. He moved on.
“Quit! Lemme alone!” said a snarling voice beneath him.