With Lee in Virginia: A Story of the American Civil War

by G. A. Henty

  CHAPTER XVIII.

  A PERILOUS UNDERTAKING.

  Vincent Wingfield had had an arduous time of it with his squadron ofcavalry. He had taken part in the desperate charge that checked theadvance of Sheridan's great column of cavalry, which approached withinthree miles of Richmond--the charge that had cost the gallant Stuart hislife; and the death of his beloved general had been a heavy blow forhim. Jackson and Stuart, two of the bravest and noblest spirits of theConfederate army, were gone. Both had been personally dear to Vincent,and he felt how grievous was their loss to the cause for which he wasfighting; but he had little time for grief. The enemy, after thetremendous battles of the Wilderness, swung their army round to ColdHarbor, and Vincent's squadron was called up to aid Lee in his strugglethere. Then they were engaged night and day in harassing the enemy asthey marched down to take up their new base at Petersburg, and finallyreceived orders to ride round at full speed to aid in the defense ofthat place.

  They had arrived in the middle of the second day's fighting, anddismounting his men, Vincent had aided the hard-pressed Confederates inholding their lines till Longstreet's division arrived to theirassistance. A short time before the terrible disaster that befell theFederals in the mine they exploded under the Confederate works, he waswith General Wade Hampton, who had succeeded General Stuart in thecommand of the cavalry, when General Lee rode up.

  "They are erecting siege works in earnest," General Lee said. "I do notthink that we shall have any more attacks for the present. I wish I knewexactly where they are intending to place their heavy batteries. If Idid, we should know where to strengthen our defenses and plant ourcounter-batteries. It is very important to find this out; and now thattheir whole army has settled down in front of us, and Sheridan's cavalryare scouring the woods, we shall get no news, for the farmers will nolonger be able to get through to tell us what is going on."

  "I will try and ride round if you like, general," Vincent said. "Bymaking a long detour one could get into the rear of their lines and passas a farmer going into camp to sell his goods."

  "It would be a very dangerous service, sir," General Lee said. "You knowwhat the consequence would be if you were caught?"

  "I know the consequence," Vincent said; "but I do not think, sir, thatthe risk is greater than one runs every time one goes into battle."

  "Perhaps not," General Lee replied; "but in one case one dies fightingfor one's country, by an honorable death; in the other----" and hestopped.

  "In the other one is shot in cold blood," Vincent said quietly. "Onedies for one's country in either case, sir; and it does not much matter,so far as I can see, whether one is killed in battle or shot in coldblood. As long as one is doing one's duty, one death is surely ashonorable as the other."

  "That is true enough," General Lee said, "although it is not the way mengenerally view the matter. Still, sir, if you volunteer for the work, Ishall not feel justified in refusing the opportunity of acquiringinformation that may be of vital consequence to us. When will youstart?"

  "In half an hour, sir. I shall ride back to Richmond, obtain a disguisethere, and then go round by train to Burksville Junction, and then rideagain until I get round behind their lines. Will you give me an orderfor my horse and myself to be taken?"

  "Very well, sir," General Lee said. "So be it! May God be with you onyour way and bring you safely back!"

  Vincent rode off to his quarters.

  "Dan," he said, "I am going away on special duty for at least threedays. I have got a couple of letters to write, and shall be ready tostart in half an hour. Give the horse a good feed and have him at thedoor again by that time."

  "Am I to go with you, sah?"

  "No, Dan; I must go by myself this time."

  Dan felt anxious as he went out, for it was seldom that his master everwent away without telling him where he was going, and he felt sure thatthe service was one of unusual danger; nor was his anxiety lessenedwhen, at the appointed time, Vincent came out and handed him twoletters.

  "You are to keep these letters, Dan, until I return, or till you hearthat something has happened to me. If you hear that, you are to take oneof these letters to my mother, and take the other yourself to MissKingston. Tell her before you give it her what has happened, as gentlyas you can. As for yourself, Dan, you had your letters of freedom longago, and I have left you five hundred dollars; so that you can get acabin and patch of your own, and settle down when these troubles areover."

  "Let me go with you, master," Dan said, with the tears streaming downhis cheeks. "I would rather be killed with you a hundred times than geton without you."

  "I would take you if I could, Dan; but this is a service that I must doalone. Good-by, my boy; let us hope that, in three or four days at theoutside, I shall be back here again, safe and sound."

  He wrung Dan's hand, and then started at a canter and kept on at thatpace until he reached Richmond. A train with stores was starting for thesouth in a few minutes; General Lee's order enabled Vincent to have ahorse-box attached at once, and he was soon speeding on his way. Healighted at Burksville Junction, and there purchased some rough clothesfor himself and some country-fashioned saddlery for his horse. Then,after changing his clothes at an inn and putting the fresh saddlery onhis horse, he started.

  It was getting late in the afternoon, but he rode on by unfrequentedroads, stopping occasionally to inquire if any of the Federal cavalryhad been seen in the neighborhood, and at last stopped for the night ata little village inn. As soon as it was daybreak he resumed his journey.He had purchased at Burksville some colored calico and articles offemale clothing, and fastened the parcel to the back of his saddle. Ashe rode forward now he heard constant tales of the passing of parties ofthe enemy's cavalry, but he was fortunate enough to get well round tothe rear of the Federal lines before he encountered any of them. Then hecame suddenly upon a troop.

  "Where are you going to, and where have you come from?"

  "Our farm is a mile away from Union Grove," he said, "and I have beenover to Sussex Courthouse to buy some things for my mother."

  "Let me see what you have got there," the officer said. "You are rebelsto a man here, and there's no trusting any of you."

  Vincent unfastened the parcel and opened it. The officer laughed.

  "Well, we won't confiscate them as contraband of war."

  So saying, he set spurs to his horse and galloped on with his troop.Vincent rode on to Union Grove, and then, taking a road at random, kepton till he reached a small farmhouse. He knocked at the door, and awoman came out.

  "Mother," he said, "can you put me up for a couple of days? I am astranger here, and all the villages are full of soldiers."

  The woman looked at him doubtfully.

  "What are you doing here?" she asked at last. "This aint a time forstrangers; besides, a young fellow like you ought to be ashamed to showyourself when you ought to be over there with Lee. My boys are boththere and my husband. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, astrong-looking young fellow like you, to be riding about instead offighting the Yankees. Go along! you will get no shelter here. I wouldscorn to have such as you inside the door."

  "Perhaps I have been fighting there," Vincent said significantly. "Butone can't be always fighting, and there are other things to dosometimes. For instance, to find out what the Yankees are doing and whatare their plans."

  "Is that so?" the woman asked doubtfully.

  "That is so," he answered earnestly. "I am an officer in Wade Hampton'scavalry, and now Sheridan's troopers have cut off all communication, Ihave come out to find for General Lee where the Yankees are buildingtheir batteries before Petersburg."

  "In that case you are welcome," the woman said. "Come straight in! Iwill lead your horse out and fasten him up in the bush, and give him afeed there. It will never do to put him in the stable; the Yankees comein and out, and they'd take him off sharp enough if their eyes fell onhim. I think you will be safe enough, even if they do come. They willtake you for a son of mine, and
if they ask any questions I will answerthem sharp enough."

  "I wonder they have left you a feed of corn," Vincent said, when thewoman returned after taking away his horse.

  "It's no thanks to them," she answered; "they have cleared outeverything that they could lay their hands on. But I have been expectingit for months, and, as I have had nothing to do since my man and boyswent away, I have been digging a great pit in the wood over there, andhave buried most all my corn, and have salted my pigs down and buriedthem in barrels; so they didn't find much. They took the old horse andtwo cows; but I hope the old horse will fall down the first time theyuses him, and the cow meat will choke them as eats it. Now, is thereanything as I can do to help you?"

  "I want a basket with some eggs and chickens or vegetables to take intotheir camp to sell, but I am afraid I have not much chance of gettingthem."

  "I can help you there, too," the woman said, "I turned all my chickensinto the wood the day I heard the Yankees had landed. They have gotrather wild like; but I go out and give them some corn every evening. Iexpect, if we look about, we shall find some nests; indeed I know thereare one or two of them sitting. So, if you will come out with me, we cansoon knock down five or six of the creatures, and maybe get a score ortwo of eggs. As for vegetables, a horde of locusts couldn't havestripped the country cleaner than they have done."

  They went out into the wood. Six hens were soon killed, and huntingabout they discovered several nests and gathered about three dozen eggs.Vincent aided in plucking the chickens, and they then returned to thehouse.

  "You had best take a bite before you go," she said. "It's noon now, andyou said you started at daybreak. Always get a meal when you can, sayI."

  She produced a loaf and some bacon from a little cupboard hidden by herbed, and Vincent, who, now he thought of it, was feeling hungry, made ahearty meal.

  "I will pay you for these chickens and eggs at once," he said. "There'sno saying whether I shall come back again."

  "I will not say no to your paying for the chickens and eggs," she said,"because money is scarce enough, and I may have long to wait before myman and the boys come back; but as to lodging and food I would not toucha cent. You are welcome to all I have when it's for the good cause."

  Vincent started with the basket on his arm, and after walking threemiles came upon the Federal camps.

  Some of the regiments were already under canvas, others were stillbivouacked in the open air, as the storeships carrying the heavy baggagehad not yet arrived. The generals and their staffs had taken up theirquarters in the villages. Vincent had received accurate instructionsfrom his hostess as to the position of the various villages, and avoidedthem carefully, for he did not want to sell out his stock immediately.He had indeed stowed two of the fowls away in his pocket, so that, incase anyone insisted upon buying up all his stock, he could place thesein his basket and still push on.

  He avoided the camps as much as he could. He could see the smoke risingin front of him, and the roar of guns was now close at hand. He saw onhis right an elevated piece of ground, from which a good view could beobtained of the fortifications upon which the Federals were working. Acamp had been pitched there, and a large tent near the summit showedthat some officer of superior rank had his quarters here. He made adetour so as to come up at the back of the hill, and when he reached thetop he stood looking down upon the line of works.

  They were nearly half a mile distant. The intervening ground had alreadybeen stripped of its hedges, and the trees cut down to form gabions,fascines, and platforms for the cannon. Thousands of men were at work;but in some parts they were clustered much more thickly than in others,and Vincent had no difficulty in determining where the principalbatteries were in course of construction along this portion of theposition. He was still gazing intently when two horsemen rode up frombehind.

  "Hallo, you, sir! What are you looking at?" one of them asked sharply."What are you spying about here?"

  Vincent turned slowly round with a silly smile on his lips.

  "I am spying all them chaps at work," he said. "It reminds me for allthe world of an ant-hill. Never did see so many chaps before. What bethey a-doing? Digging a big drain or making a roadway, I guess."

  "Who are you, sir?" the officer asked angrily.

  "Seth Jones I be, and mother's sent me to sell some fowls and eggs. Doyou want to buy any? Fine birds they be."

  "Why, Sheridan," laughed the other officer, "this is a feather out ofyour cap. I thought your fellows had cleared out every hen-roost withintwenty miles of Petersburg already."

  "I fancy they have emptied most of them," the general said grimly."Where do you come from, lad?"

  "I comes from over there," Vincent said, jerking his thumb back. "Ilives there with mother. Father and the other boys they have gonefighting Yanks; but they wouldn't take me with them 'cause I aint sharpin my wits, though I tells them I could shoot a Yank as well as theycould if they showed me."

  "And who do you suppose all those men are?" General Sheridan asked,pointing toward the trenches.

  "I dunno," Vincent replied. "I guess they be niggers. There be too manyof them for whites; besides, whites aint such fools to work like that.Doesn't ye want any fowl?" and he drew back the cloth and showed thecontents of the basket.

  "Take them as a matter of curiosity, general," the other officerlaughed. "It will be a downright novelty to you to buy chickens."

  "What do you want for them, boy?"

  "Mother said as I wasn't to take less nor a dollar apiece."

  "Greenbacks, I suppose?" the officer asked.

  "I suppose so. She didn't say nothing about it; but I have not seenaught but greenbacks for a long time since."

  "Come along, then," the officer said; "we will take them."

  They rode up to the large tent, and the officers alighted, and gavetheir horses to two of the soldiers.

  "Give your basket to this soldier."

  "I want the basket back again. Mother would whop me if I came backwithout the basket again."

  "All right," the officer said; "you shall have it back in a minute."

  Vincent stood looking anxiously after the orderly.

  "Do you think that boy is as foolish as he seems?" General Sheridanasked his companion. "He admits that he comes of a rebel family."

  "I don't think he would have admitted that if he hadn't been a fool. Ifancy he is a half-witted chap. They never would have left a fellow ofhis age behind."

  "No, I think it's safe," Sheridan said; "but one can't be too particularjust at present. See, the trees in front hide our work altogether fromthe rebels, and it would be a serious thing if they were to find outwhat we are doing."

  "That boy could not tell them much, even if he got there," the othersaid; "and from this distance it would need a sharp eye and somemilitary knowledge to make out anything of what is going on. Where doesyour mother live, boy?"

  "I aint going to tell you," Vincent said doggedly. "Mother said I wasn'tto tell no one where I lived, else the Yankee thieves would be a-comingdown and stealing the rest of our chickens."

  The officers laughed.

  "Well, go along, boy; and I should advise you not to say anything aboutYankee thieves another time, for likely enough, you will get a brokenhead for your pains."

  Vincent went off grumbling, and with a slow and stumbling step made hisway over the brow of the hill and down through the camps behind. Here hesold his last two fowls and his eggs, and then walked briskly on untilhe reached the cottage from which he had started.

  "I am glad to see you back," the woman said as he entered. "How have yougot on?"

  "Capitally," he said. "I pretended to be half an idiot, and so gotsafely out, though I fell into Sheridan's hands. He suspected me atfirst, but at last he thought I was what I looked--a fool. He wanted toknow where you lived, but I wouldn't tell him. I told him you told menot to tell anyone, 'cause, if I did, the Yankee thieves would beclearing out the rest of the chickens."

  "Did you tell him
that, now?" the woman said in delight; "he must havethought you was a fool. Well, it's a good thing the Yanks should hearthe truth sometimes. Well, have you done now?"

  "No, I have only seen one side of their works yet. I must try round theother flank to-morrow. I wish I could get something to sell thatwouldn't get bought up by the first people I came to--something I couldpeddle among the soldiers."

  "What sort of thing?"

  "Something in the way of drinks, I should say," Vincent said. "I saw awoman going among the camps. She had two tin cans and a little mug. Ithink she had lemonade or something of that sort."

  "It wouldn't be lemonade," the woman said. "I haven't seen a lemon forthe last two years; but they do get some oranges from Florida. Maybe itwas that, or perhaps it was spirits and water."

  "Perhaps it was," Vincent agreed; "though I don't think they would letanyone sell spirits in the camp."

  "I can't get you any lemons or oranges neither," the woman said; "but Imight make you a drink out of molasses and herbs, with some spirits init. I have got a keg of old rye buried away ever since my man went off,six months ago; I am out of molasses, but I dare say I can borrow somefrom a neighbor, and as for herbs they are about the only thing theYankees haven't stole. I think I could fix you up something that woulddo. As long as it has got spirits in it, it don't much matter what youput in besides, only it wouldn't do to take spirits alone. You can callit plantation drink, and I don't suppose anyone will ask too closelywhat it's made of."

  "Thank you, that will do capitally."

  The next morning Vincent again set out, turning his steps this timetoward the right flank of the Federal position. He had, in the course ofthe evening, made a sketch of the ground he had seen, marking in all theprincipal batteries, with notes as to the number of guns for which theyseemed to be intended.

  "Look here," he said to the woman before leaving; "I may not be as luckyto-day as I was yesterday. If I do not come back to-night, can you findanyone you can trust to take this piece of paper round to Richmond? Ofcourse he would have to make his way first up to Burksville Junction,and then take train to Richmond. When he gets there he must go down toPetersburg and ask for General Lee. I have written a line to go with it,saying what I have done this for, and asking the general to give thebearer a hundred dollars."

  "I will take it myself," the woman said; "not for the sake of thehundred dollars, though I aint saying as it wouldn't please the oldman, when he comes back, to find I had a hundred dollars stored away;but for the cause. My men are all doing their duty, and I will do mine.So you trust me, and if you don't come back by daybreak to-morrowmorning, I will start right away with these letters. I will go out atonce and hide them somewhere, in case the Yanks should come and make asearch. If you are caught they might, like enough, trace you here, andthen they would search the place all over and maybe set it alight. Ifyou aint here by nightfall I shall sleep out in the wood, so if theycome they won't find me here. If anything detains you, and you aint backtill after dark, you will find me somewhere near the tree where yourhorse is tied up."

  Provided with a large can full of a liquor that the woman compounded,and which Vincent, on tasting, found to be by no means bad, he startedfrom the cottage. Again he made his way safely through the camps, andwithout hindrance lounged up to a spot where a large number of menbelonging to one of the negro regiments were at work.

  "Plantation liquor?" he said, again assuming a stupid air, to a blacksergeant who was with them. "First-rate stuff, and only fifteen cents aglass."

  "What plantation liquor like?" the negro asked. "Me not know him."

  "First-rate stuff!" Vincent repeated. "Mother makes it of spirit andmolasses and all sorts. Fifteen cents a glass."

  "Well, I will take a glass," the sergeant said. "Mighty hot work dis inde sun; but don't you say nuffin about the spirit. Ef dey ask you, justyou say molasses and all sorts, dat's quite enough. De white officerwon't let spirits be sold in de camp.

  "Dat berry good stuff," he said, smacking his lips as he handed back thelittle tin measure. "You sell him all in no time." Several of thenegroes now came round, and Vincent disposed of a considerable quantityof his plantation liquor. Then he turned to go away, for he did notwant to empty his can at one place. He had not gone many paces when aparty of three or four officers came along.

  "Hallo, you, sir, what the deuce are you doing here?" one asked angrily."Don't you know nobody is allowed to pass through the lines?"

  "I didn't see no lines. What sort of lines are they? No one told menothing about lines. My mother sent me out to sell plantation liquor,fifteen cents a glass."

  "What's it like?" one of the officers said, laughing. "Spirits, I willbet a dollar, in some shape or other. Pour me out a glass. I will try itanyhow."

  Vincent filled the little tin mug and handed it to the officer. As helifted his face to do so there was a sudden exclamation:

  "Vincent Wingfield!" and another officer, drawing his sword, attackedhim furiously, shouting, "A spy! Seize him! A Confederate spy!"

  Vincent recognized with astonishment, in the Federal officer rushing athim with uplifted sword, his old antagonist, Jackson. Almostinstinctively he whirled the can, which was still half full of liquor,round his head and dashed it full in the face of his antagonist, who wasknocked off his feet by the blow. With a yell of rage he started upagain and rushed at Vincent. The latter snatched up a shovel that waslying close by and stood his ground. The officers were so surprised atthe suddenness of the incident and the overthrow of their companion, andfor a moment so amused at the latter's appearance, covered as he wasfrom head to foot with the sticky liquor and bleeding from a cutinflicted by the edge of the can, that they were incapable ofinterference.

  Blinded with rage, and with the liquid streaming into his eyes, Jacksonrushed at Vincent. The latter caught the blow aimed at him on the edgeof the shovel, and then swinging his weapon round, smote his antagonistwith all his strength, the edge of the shovel falling fairly upon hishead. Without a cry the traitor fell dead in his tracks. The otherofficers now drew their swords and rushed forward. Vincent, seeing thefutility of resistance, threw down his shovel. He was instantly seized.

  "Hallo, there!" the senior officer called to the men, who had stopped intheir work and were gazing at the sudden fray that had arisen, "asergeant and four men!" Four of the negro soldiers and a sergeant atonce stepped forward. "Take this man and conduct him to the village. Puthim in a room, and stay there with him. Do you, sergeant, stationyourself at the door, so that I shall know where to find you. Put onyour uniforms and take your guns." The men put on their coats, whichthey had removed while at work, shouldered their muskets, and took theirplaces, two on each side of the prisoner. The officers then turned toexamine their prostrate comrade.

  "It's all over with him," one said, stooping down; "the shovel has cuthis skull nearly in half. Well, I fancy he was a bad lot. I don'tbelieve in Southerners who come over to fight in our ranks; besides, hewas at one time in the rebel army."

  "Yes, he was taken prisoner," another said. "Then his father, who had tobolt from the South, because, he said, of his Northern sympathies, butlikely enough for something else, came round, made interest somehow andgot his son released, and then someone else got him a commission withus. He always said he had been obliged to fight on the other side, butthat he had always been heart and soul for the North; anyhow, he wasalways blackguarding his old friends. I always doubted the fellow. Well,there's an end of him; and anyhow he has done useful service at last byrecognizing this spy. Fine-looking young fellow that! He called himVincent Wingfield. I seem to remember the name; perhaps I have read itin some of the rebel newspapers we got hold of; likely enough someonewill know it. Well, I suppose we had better have Jackson carried intocamp."

  Four more of the negroes were called out, and these carried the bodyinto the camp of his regiment. An officer was also sent from theworking party to report the capture of a spy to his colonel.

  "I will report it to the general
," the latter said; "he rode along hereabout a quarter of an hour ago, and may not be back again for somehours. As we have got the spy fast it cannot make any difference."

  As he marched back to the village Vincent felt that there was no hopefor him whatever. He had been denounced as a spy, and, although the lipsthat had denounced him had been silenced forever, the mischief had beendone. He could give no satisfactory account of himself. He thought for amoment of declaring that a mistake had been made, but he felt that nodenial would counterbalance the effect of Jackson's words. The fury,too, with which the latter had attacked him would show plainly enoughthat his assailant was absolutely certain as to his identity, and eventhat there had been a personal feud between them. Then he thought thatif he said that he was the son of the woman in the hut she would bearhim out in the assertion. But it was not likely that this would beaccepted as against Jackson's testimony; besides, inquiry among herneighbors would certainly lead to the discovery that she was speaking anuntruth, and might even involve her in his fate as his abettor. But mostof all he decided against this course because it would involve thetelling of a lie.

  Vincent considered that while in disguise, and doing important servicefor his country, he was justified in using deceit; but merely for thepurpose of saving his own life, and that perhaps uselessly, he would notlie. His fate, of course, was certain. He was a spy, and would be shot.Vincent had so often been in the battlefield, so often under a fire fromwhich it seemed that no one could come alive, that the thought thatdeath was at hand had not for him the terrors that possess thosedifferently circumstanced. He was going to die for the Confederacy astens of thousands of brave men had died before, and he rejoiced over theprecaution he had taken as to the transmission of his discoveries onthe previous day, and felt sure that General Lee would do full justiceto his memory, and announce that he had died in doing noble service tothe country.

  He sighed as he thought of his mother and sisters; but Rose had beenmarried in the spring, and Annie was engaged to an officer in GeneralBeauregard's staff. Then he thought of Lucy away in Georgia, and for thefirst time his lips quivered and his cheek paled.

  The negro guards, who had been enlisted but a few weeks, were whollyignorant of their duties, and having once conveyed their prisoner intothe room, evidently considered that all further necessity for militarystrictness was at an end. They had been ordered to stay in the room withthe prisoner, but no instruction had been given as to their conductthere. They accordingly placed their muskets in one corner of the room,and proceeded to chatter and laugh without further regarding him.

  Under other circumstances this carelessness would have inspired Vincentwith the thought of escape, but he knew that it was out of the questionhere. There were Federal camps all round, and a shout from the negroeswould send a hundred men in instant pursuit of him. There was nothingfor him to do but to wait for the end, and that end would assuredly comein the morning. From time to time the door opened, and the negrosergeant looked in. Apparently his ideas on the subject of disciplinewere no stricter than those of his men, for he made no remark as totheir carelessness. Presently, when he looked in, the four soldiers werestanding at the window, watching a regiment passing by on its way totake its share of the work in the trenches. Vincent, who was sitting ata table, happened to look up, and was astonished at seeing the sergeantfirst put his finger on his lips, then take off his cap, put one hand onhis heart, and gesticulate with the other.

  Vincent gazed at him in blank surprise, then he started and almostsprang to his feet, for in the Yankee sergeant he recognized TonyMoore; but the uplifted hand of the negro warned him of the necessity ofsilence. The negro nodded several times, again put his hand on hisheart, and then disappeared. A thrill of hope stirred every vein inVincent's body. He felt his cheeks flush and had difficulty inmaintaining his passive attitude. He was not, then, utterly deserted; hehad a friend who would, he was sure, do all in his power to aid him.

  It was extraordinary indeed that it should be Tony who was now hisjailer; and yet, when he thought it over, it was not difficult tounderstand. It was natural enough that he should have enlisted when theblack regiments were raised. He had doubtless heard his name shouted outby Jackson, and had, as Vincent now remembered, stepped forward as asort of volunteer when the officer called for a sergeant and four men.

  Yes, Tony would doubtless do all in his power to save him. Whether itwould be possible that he could do so was doubtful; but at least therewas a hope, and with it the feeling of quiet resignation with whichVincent had faced what appeared to be inevitable at once disappeared,and was succeeded by a restless longing for action. His brain was busyat once in calculating the chances of his being ordered for instantexecution or of the sentence being postponed till the following morning,and, in the latter case, with the question of what guard would beprobably placed over him, and how Tony would set about the attempt toaid him to escape.

  Had the general been in camp when he was brought in he would probablyhave been shot at sunset, but if he did not return until the afternoonhe would most likely order the sentence to be carried out at daybreak.In any case, as he was an officer, some time might be granted him toprepare for death. Then there was the question whether he would behanded over to a white regiment for safe-keeping or left in the hands ofthe black regiment that had captured him. No doubt, after the sentencewas passed, the white officers of that regiment would see that a muchstricter watch than that now put over him was set.

  It was not probable that he would still be in charge of Tony, for as thelatter would be on duty all day, he would doubtless be relieved. In thatcase how would he manage to approach him, and what means would he use todirect the attention of the sentries in another direction? He thoughtover the plans he himself would adopt were he in Tony's place. The firstthing would be, of course, to make the sentries drunk if possible. Thisshould not be a difficult task with men whose notions of discipline wereso lax as those of the negroes; but it would be no easy matter for Tonyto obtain spirits, for these were strictly prohibited in the Federalcamp. Perhaps he might help Tony in this way. He fortunately had a smallnotebook with a pencil in his pocket, and as his guards were still atthe window he wrote as follows:

  "I am captured by the Yankees. So far as I can see, my only chance ofescape is to make the sentries drunk. The bearer is absolutely to betrusted. Give him his canteen full of spirits, and tell him what I havewritten here."

  He tore this page out, folded it up, and directed it to Mrs. Grossmith,Worley Farm, near Union. Presently Tony looked in again and Vincent heldup the note. The sergeant stepped quickly forward and took it, and thensaid sharply to the men:

  "Now den, dis not keeping guard. Suppose door open and dis fellow runaway. What dey say to you? Two of you keep your eye on dis man. SupposeCaptain Pearce come in and find you all staring out window. He kick upnice bobbery."

  Thus admonished to do their duty, two of the negroes took up theirmuskets and stood with their backs to the door, with their eyes fixed onthe prisoner with such earnestness that Vincent could not suppress asmile. The negroes grinned responsively.

  "Dis bad affair young sah," one said; "bery bad affair. Ob course wesoldiers ob de Union, and got to fight if dey tell us; but no like disjob ob keeping guard like dis."

  "It can't be helped," Vincent said; "and of course you must do yourduty. I am not going to jump up the chimney or fly through the window,and as there are four of you, to say nothing of the sergeant outside,you needn't be afraid of my trying to escape."

  "No, sah, dat not possible nohow; we know dat bery well. Dat's why we notrouble to look after you. But as de sargeant say watch, of course wemust watch. We bery pleased to see you kill dat white officer. Datofficer bery hard man and all de men hate him, and when you knock himdown we should like to hab given cheer. We all sorry for you; still yousee, sah, we must keep watch. If you were to get away, dar no sayingwhat dey do to us."

  "That's all right," Vincent said; "I don't blame you at all. As you say,that was a very
bad fellow. I had quarreled with him before, because hetreated his slaves so badly."