Rodney The Partisan

by Harry Castlemon

  CHAPTER XVIII.

  CONCLUSION.

  General Howard did not look or act like a man who was very badlyoverworked, nor did he seem to be at all anxious over the result of theheavy firing that was going on on the left of the line. He had pulledoff his coat and riding boots, and when the orderly entered to tell himthat Private Rodney Gray of the --th Missouri Cavalry had come there tosee him by his orders, he was tilling his pipe preparatory to indulgingin a smoke. He greeted Rodney pleasantly, and pointed with the stem ofhis pipe to an empty cracker box.

  "Turn that up and sit down," said he; whereupon the orderly opened hiseyes in wonder. There was a much wider gulf between the officers andprivates in the rebel army than there was in our own, especially afterthe war had been going on for about a year. The sons of rich men, whohad shouldered a musket at the beginning, began working their way out ofthe ranks, leaving behind them only those who were too poor or too lowin the social scale to command the influence that was necessary to bringthem a commission. As a rule rich people in the South did not think muchof poor white trash. The latter were good enough to fight and obeyorders, but scarcely good enough to be treated with civility; so whenGeneral Howard told his visitor to turn up the cracker box and sit downon it, the orderly straightway made up his mind that Rodney Gray was alittle better than the common run of folks, even if he was a privatesoldier.

  "I don't suppose you have thought of me once since I bid you good-by atthat woodcutters' camp," said the general, throwing himself upon a rudecouch and propping his head up with his hand. "But I have often thoughtof you, and a few months ago I was down Mooreville way on a scout. Ipassed right by your father's plantation, and finding out who he was,and being a trifle hungry besides, I dropped in and invited myself todinner with him and your mother."

  Rodney was delighted to hear this, but all he said was that he hoped thegeneral had enjoyed his visit.

  "I assure you I did, and the dinner too," was the smiling reply. "Andduring the hour I passed there I learned a good deal concerning yourlife in Missouri, and heard some portions of your letters read. Yourparents were much surprised to know that I met you on your way up theriver, and I renewed to them the promise I believe I made you on thesteamer that if I could ever do you a fatherly kindness I would. I amglad to see you in my brigade, but I don't quite understand how it comesthat you are still a private. Haven't you done your duty, or wouldn'tyour officers push you?"

  "The fault is my own, sir," answered Rodney. "I might have gone higherbut I didn't care to."

  Then he went on to tell the general about Dick Graham. The latter was aBarrington boy too, he said, and they had made it up between them thatit wouldn't be worth while for them to accept promotion, for they hadonly a year to serve, and besides they did not want to run the risk ofbeing separated.

  "Oh, as to that, you mustn't expect to stick together all the time,"replied the general. "The exigencies of the service will not admit ofit; you know that yourself. Still I will try to do something for yourfriend too, if I find upon inquiry of your regimental and companyofficers that he is worthy. I lost four of my staff at the battle ofFarmington, and, if you like, will order you and Sergeant Graham topresent yourselves for examination."

  Rodney fairly gasped for breath, and wished that the general had nottaken quite so deep an interest in him. The crisis was coming now, andhe nerved himself for it.

  "I am very much obliged, general," he faltered. "But my time will be upin about two weeks, and I should like to go home and see my folks."'

  Rodney expected that his superior would be surprised to hear this, andhis actions showed that he certainly was, and a little angry, as well.He arose to a sitting posture on the couch, and jammed the tobacco downin his pipe with a spiteful motion as he said, rather curtly:

  "You must give up all such nonsense. I am not going to deplete mybrigade, at this most critical time, by letting everybody go home whotakes a fool's notion into his head that he wants to. According to law Iam obliged to discharge all one year's men when their term of serviceexpires; but they shall never get out of my lines. I'll conscript themas fast as a provost guard can catch them."

  The general settled back on his elbow again and looked at his visitor asif to inquire what he thought of the situation. Rodney thought it wasdark enough, and showed what he thought by the gloomy expression thatcame upon his face. He gazed down at the cap he was twirling in hishands and said nothing. The general relented.

  "I don't want to be hard on you, Rodney," said he, speaking in much thesame tone that a kind and indulgent father might use in reproving anerring son, "but can't you see for yourself what would happen to us andour government if we should weaken our armies by discharging troops atthis juncture? The enemy has a hundred and forty thousand men in ourfront at this minute, and more coming. Memphis is taken, New Orleans hasfallen, the railroads, except those that run south of us, are inHalleck's possession, and if the enemy along the river moves quickly,the troops we have sent to fortify Vicksburg will not have time to lifta shovel full of dirt before the Mississippi clear to the Gulf will belost to us. I tell you the situation is critical in the extreme, and ifwe don't look out, and fight as men never fought before, the Lincolngovernment will have us in the dust in less than two months. I'll notlet a man of you go, and that's all there is about it."

  The general puffed vigorously at his pipe and looked as though he meantevery word he said. Was this the man who had promised on two differentoccasions that he would lend Rodney a helping hand if the opportunitywas ever presented? Discouraged and perplexed as he was, the boy couldstill think clearly enough to draw a contrast between this arbitraryaction of a so-called government, which claimed to be fighting for therights of its people, to do as they pleased and the course pursued bythe Union General Lyon at the battle of Wilson's Creek. Rodney learnedthrough some prisoners his regiment captured (and history to-dayconfirms the story) that Lyon had seven thousand men when he reachedSpringfield; two thousand short-term men demanded their release and gotit; and the Union commander went on and fought the battle with fivethousand. Perhaps the old government was not quite so bad after all.

  "But you see, sir," said Rodney, after a moment's reflection, "mycomrade and I do not come under the terms of the Conscription Act. Weare not yet eighteen years of age."

  The surprised look that came over the general's face showed very plainlythat that was a point that had slipped his mind entirely. The boy hadhim there, and he hardly knew whether to laugh or get angry over it.

  "And do you intend to take advantage of that provision of the Act?" heinquired.

  "We'd like to, sir," was all Rodney thought it prudent to say in reply.His superior was nettled, and the boy wanted to leave him in good humorand get out of his presence as soon as possible.

  "That settles it," said the general, getting upon his feet and knockingthe ashes from his pipe in a manner which seemed to say that theinterview was at an end. "I'll take pains to see your colonel, but I dohope there are not many in my command whose ages are under eighteen orover thirty-five. However, I may be able to infuse a little patriotisminto them, and shall have something to say about it in a generalorder."

  "I thank you, sir, for the assurance," replied Rodney.

  He made his best salute and retired, but during the rest of the day hewas not as jubilant as he had been when he came off post; and when hewent back that night to do duty at the general's tent, he took note ofthe fact that his commander paid no more attention to him than he wouldhave paid to an entire stranger. Rodney felt hurt at that, and as soonas he could do so, after guard-mount the next morning, he hunted up hisfriend Dick and told him the whole story. He wanted sympathy andencouragement and got both.

  "You did perfectly right," said Dick, emphatically. "We could havepassed the examination easy enough, and in a week or two might have beengalloping around camp covered with gold lace, and looking as sweet astwo government pets; but we don't care half as mu
ch for staff office aswe do for our discharges. You made the general mad and I am sorry forthat; but after all it's natural, for the commander who discharges thesmallest number of men will stand highest in the good graces of hissuperiors. See? So long as he keeps his troops in the service, itdoesn't make a particle of difference whether he keeps them in bypromises or threats. He's a bully fellow, and the despots at Richmondwill reward him."

  Some of the sergeant's words were confirmed that very afternoon, and ina most startling manner. For days it had been whispered about among themen that there was trouble brewing in General Bragg's corps, and on thisparticular day it was brought to a head by the mutiny of a Tennesseeregiment, who stacked arms and refused to do duty. The twelve months forwhich they volunteered had expired and they wanted to go home. Beforeentering the service they made provision for their families for just oneyear, and since that time their State had been over-ran with raidingparties from both armies, their crops had been destroyed, their stockkilled, their buildings given to the flames, and their wives andchildren turned out into the weather. They wanted to see these helplessones taken to places of security, and then they would return to a man,and stand by their comrades until the last Yankee invader had beendriven into the Ohio river. But Bragg said they shouldn't go, and fixedthings so they couldn't. He did just what Beauregard did when Hindman'sArkansas troops prepared to return to their State to repel the"invasion" of General Curtis. He told them that if they didn't pick upthose guns in less than five minutes he would have the last one of themshot, and they picked them up; but in an hour's time it was whisperedthrough the ramp that all the service old Daddy Bragg would get out ofthose Tennesseans wouldn't amount to much. We shall presently see howmuch truth there was in the report.

  A few days after this the order of which General Howard had spoken wasissued, and read to those regiments in the brigade whose term of servicewas about to expire. They were informed that they would now come underthe Conscript Act, and that every man of them who was subject to serviceunder that Act would be summarily conscripted unless he chose tore-enlist. The regiments to whom the order was addressed had allperformed gallant service and gained imperishable honors, and thegeneral hoped they would preserve both their name and organization byvolunteering in a body to serve for two years, or until the end of thewar. If they did, they would have the privilege of electing their ownofficers, and would be placed on the same footing as the other volunteerregiments; and those of their number who, by reason of age, were notsubject to conscription, would serve until the 15th of July, when theywould be discharged.

  The order concluded with a fierce denunciation of General Butler's rulein New Orleans and a glowing appeal to their patriotism, all of whichthe men cheered lustily; but when the ranks were broken and thedifferent "cliques" got together, they did not try to keep up any showof spirit. So far as Rodney Gray could learn, there was not a man in hisregiment who would have volunteered if he had seen a fair chance todesert and get across the river. Desertion was a thing that had neverbeen talked of before among Price's men. As volunteers, they would havedied rather than think of such a cowardly way of getting out of thearmy, but it was different now. Even, if they re-enlisted under theprovisions of the Conscript Act, how much better would they be thanconscripts while bearing the name of volunteers? They would be forcedinto the army against their will, wouldn't they and wouldn't that makethem conscripts? They appeared to submit because they could not helpthemselves; but desertions took place every day. Some got safely off,but those who were caught in the act were shot without any trial at all.The men were sullen, talked mutiny among themselves, and Rodney Graylooked for nothing else but to see them rise in a body, kill theirtyrannical officers, and disperse to their homes. It was a terriblestate of affairs, the nearest approach to anarchy there ever was or everwill be in this country, and during those troublous days and thesubsequent retreat to Tupelo, General Halleck received into his lines noless than fifteen thousand deserters.

  The farce of electing new officers and reorganizing the variouscompanies and regiments in the brigade took place in due time, and oncemore Dick Graham found himself in the ranks. He was not a candidate forany office and neither was Rodney, although they might have hadcommissions if they had chosen to accept them. They did not so much ashint that they had been offered something better than the company orregiment could give them--a position on the general's staff--for theydid not think it would be policy to do it. There were plenty of mean menin their regiment, as there were in every one in the service, and sincethey could not get discharges themselves, they would have been glad ifthey could have kept Rodney and Dick from getting them; and if they hadsuspected that Rodney had a friend in the general of the brigade, theywould have reported him every chance they got, no matter whether he haddone anything wrong or not. After this the two friends waited with asmuch patience as they could for the time to come around when they wouldbe free once more.

  During this time almost constant fighting had been going on somewherealong the line, and although Rodney and Dick could not see the use ofit, those in authority could, for they were quietly making preparationsto withdraw from a place which was no longer of use to them. On the26th, 27th, and 28th of the month, the fighting was very severe, andRodney's regiment, which was at the front, was badly cut up. AlthoughDick Graham was now a private he was called upon at times to do duty asa sergeant, and on the afternoon of the 28th, he was sent with a smallsquad, one of whom was Rodney Gray, to take charge of an advanced post.It was much nearer our lines than were the trenches in which theregiment was fighting, but it was also much safer, for the shells fromboth sides went high over their heads. Here they remained in perfectsecurity, talking, laughing and telling stories while the roar of battlewas going on all around them, and waiting for their relief, which was tocome at six o'clock. It did not come, however, until after nine, and bythat time it had grown so dark that it was only after infinite troubleand bother that they succeeded in finding their way back to the mainline, only to learn after they arrived there, that their regiment hadbeen withdrawn three hours before, and nobody could tell where it wasnow. Dick Graham didn't care much where it was, for he had no intentionof going to it that night. It was more than three miles to camp, andDick saw, when he passed that way three days before, that the road wasblocked with wagons, artillery trains and stable-lines, and to theseobstructions were now added sleeping men, who would not be over civil toany one who chanced to stumble against them in the dark. So Dick drewhis squad off into the woods out of the way and went into camp; that isto say, he ate the little piece of hard tack he found in his haversack,washed it down with a drink of warm water from his canteen, rolledhimself up in his blanket and went to sleep.

  "There goes reveille," exclaimed Rodney, hitting him a poke in the ribsthe next morning about daylight. "But it's in the enemy's camp, and Idon't think we'll pay much attention to it. I am going to sleep again."

  "Say," said one of the men, "I reckon we'd best be toddling along, forif I didn't hear wagons and troops moving all night, I dreamed it. Let'sget up and go as far as the diggings any way, and get a bite to eat."

  The "diggings" referred to was a pile of hard-tack which, when Rodneyfirst saw it, was almost as long and high as the railroad depot. Therewere several thousand boxes in the pile, and there they had been besidethe road, exposed to all sorts of weather, ever since they arrived inCorinth. Why they were not served out to the men instead of lying thereto waste no one knew or cared to ask; but every squad that passed thatway made it a point to stop long enough to break open a few boxes andfill their haversacks. Toward these "diggings" Dick and his men benttheir steps, and before they were fairly out of the woods in which theyhad slept, they became aware that they had been deserted. There was nota man in sight, and the guns which looked threateningly at them over thetop of the nearest redoubt, they found on inspection to be logs ofwood.

  "Beauregard's whole army has fallen back, and done it so silently thatthey never awoke us," said Dick. "Let us hu
rry on and get into our linesbefore some of the enemy's cavalry come along and gobble us up. What doyou see, Rodney?"

  "I am afraid we are gobbled already," was the answer, "I saw some mendodging about in the woods over there. If they are not the enemy'spickets they must be our rear guard, and as we can't get away we hadbetter go over and make ourselves square with them."

  This proposition met with the approval of his comrades, but it did notseem to suit the men in the woods, for Dick's squad had not gone manysteps in their direction when some one called out:

  "By the right flank, march!" and the command was emphasized by thesudden appearance of half a dozen muskets which were pointed straight atthem.

  "Who are you, and what are you doing there?" demanded Dick.

  "Who are you, and what do you want of us?" asked one of the men inreply. "Are you from Tennessee?"

  "No; Missouri."

  "By the right flank, then, and toddle right along. You want no truckwith us; but if you meet old Daddy Bragg tell him to come and see us.We've got something for him."

  "All right," answered Dick, as he and his squad faced to the right andmarched away. "Good-by, and good luck to you. I don't think old Braggwill come out," he added, when the men had been left out of hearing."They'd shoot him as quick as they would any other varmint. There mustbe two or three hundred in that party, and they straggled out of theranks last night in the dark. They'll stay there until the enemy'sadvance passes, and then they'll come out and give themselves up. Slickscheme, but I'd die before I would do it myself."

  The squad halted at the "diggings" long enough to fill their haversacks,and then kept on after the army, marching with a quick step and keepinga good look-out for the Federal cavalry, which they knew would be sentout to pick up stragglers as soon as Beauregard's retreat became knownto Halleck. They were in no hurry to overtake their comrades, for theywere doing very well by themselves, and neither did they want to bepicked up and treated as deserters by their own rear guard. But if there_was_ any rear guard they never saw it, although they ran into anotherbody of Tennesseans, more than a thousand of them this time, who toldthem that the army gone on toward Tupelo, thirty-five miles fromCorinth. No one seemed to know why Corinth had been abandoned, and itturned out afterward that the Richmond government disapproved of it, forthe command was taken from Beauregard and given to Bragg, the man whomall his soldiers feared and hated, and who, a few months later, said tothe people of Kentucky, "I am here with an army which numbers not lessthan sixty thousand men. I bring you the olive-branch which you refuseat your peril." But proclamations and threats did not take Kentucky outof the Union.

  It took the boys five days to cover the thirty-five miles that laybetween Corinth and Tupelo, and they were by no means the last of thestragglers to come in. The men who had been left behind, and who had nointention of deserting, were nevertheless bound to enjoy their libertywhile they had the chance, and some of them did not arrive for twoweeks.

  In process of time the descriptive list and discharges of those who cameunder the exemption clause of the Conscription Act were made out, butthere was so much red tape to be gone through with before all theprovisions of the Act could be carried out, that the two friends were ina fever of suspense for fear that something might happen at the lastminute to blast their hopes. Their officers did not want to let them go,and the slightest hitch in the proceedings would have made conscripts ofthem. But in their case everything worked smoothly, and finally all theyhad to do was to go to the paymaster and get their Confederate scrip.Being provided with passes which would take them as far as the lines ofthe Confederacy extended, they took leave of their friends, not withouta feeling of regret it must be confessed, and boarded the cars for CampPinckney, which was located a hundred miles from New Orleans. After theyleft the camp their passes would be of no use to them, for it was saidthat the country between there and Mooreville, forty miles east of BatonRouge, was over-run with Federal cavalry. They reached the camp withoutany mishap, ran the guard in order to get out of it (but that was not adifficult thing to do, for nearly all the soldiers in camp wereconscripts who had not had time to learn their business), and beforethey had gone ten miles on their way toward Mooreville, came plump upona small squad of Union cavalry, who covered them with their carbines andtold them to "come in out of the rain." It was hard to be "gobbled up"within two days' walk of home, but the boys put a bold face on thematter. The corporal and his three men seemed to be a jolly,good-natured lot, and the ex-Confederates knew they would be sure ofkind treatment as long as they remained in their hands.

  "You've got us easy enough," said Dick. "Now what are you going to dowith us?"

  "Take you down to Baton Rouge and put you where you'll not have a chanceto shoot any more Yanks," replied the corporal. "Where's yourregiment?"

  "We don't know; and not wishing to give you a short answer, we don'tcare. We never shot any Yanks, and neither do we mean to go where theyare again if we can help it. We've got our discharges in our pockets."

  "Seeing is believing. Hand 'em out."

  The boys complied, and as they did so Rodney remarked that if they hadknown that the corporal was as white a man as they had found him, theywouldn't have "come in out of the rain" so readily. They would havetaken to their heels and trusted to his forbearance.

  "I am glad you didn't try it," replied the corporal, reading thedischarges one after the other and passing them over to his men. "Agray-back streaking it through the bushes would be a mighty temptingtarget, even to fellows like ourselves who don't shoot only when we haveto. Have you got enough of the service?"

  "More than we want," answered Dick.

  "Well, you can't be forced into the army until you are of the right age,and in the meantime I don't suppose you will do us any great damage.What do you say, boys?"

  "I say let 'em go home and see their mammies," replied one of the squad;and the others nodding assent, the corporal jerked his thumb over hisshoulder and told them to "git."

  "It is no more than we expected of you, but we thank you all the same,"said Rodney, gratefully. "I live down this way, three miles fromMooreville, and if you ever come along our road, drop in and we'll treatyou right. The mouse did the lion a favor once, and who knows but that aboy who is not old enough to be conscripted, may be able to do somethingfor one of Uncle Sam's men?"

  "Good for you, Johnny. You're no reb. Any up this way?"

  "None nearer than Camp Pinckney. If there are we did not see them."

  With hearts full of thankfulness the boys resumed their journey, and onthe afternoon of the second day following, came within sight of Rodney'shome. It set his eyes to streaming, and gave such elasticity to his stepthat Dick could scarcely keep pace with him. As he led his friend up thewide front steps he recalled to mind the parting that had taken placethere more than fifteen months before, and the confident words he haduttered about "driving the Yankees out of Missouri." He and his friendshad been driven out instead, and there was no hope that Missouri wouldever belong to the Confederacy.

  "Alabama--here we rest," exclaimed Rodney, pushing Dick into an easychair in the parlor, which they found to be unoccupied. "Stay there tillI find somebody."

  "I don't look fit," began Dick, glancing down at his dusty uniform; butjust then a door opened, a lady came in, and the words "Mother!" and"Oh, my son, my son!" told Dick that "somebody" had found Rodney.

  If ever a boy appreciated home and its comforts it was Rodney Gray, nolonger a wild, unreasoning partisan, but sober and thoughtful beyond hisyears. Here we will leave him until the time comes for us to tell howDick Graham got across the river, and take up the history of theadventures and exploits of our Union hero, Marcy Gray, whom we left inhis home in North Carolina. Marcy's "_Secret Enemies_" and hisdetermination to be "_True to his Colors_" brought him into difficultymore than once; and what those difficulties were, and how he camethrough them, shall be told in the third volume of this series, whichwill be entitled "MARCY, THE BLOCKADE-RUNNER."

 
THE END.