Spake As a Dragon

by Larry Edward Hunt

  Robert estimates it is about a three-day trip to the nearest town, Frederick, Maryland, he is right. Around midnight of day three, they roll into the outskirts of this small Maryland burg. The prisoners are allowed to get out of the wagons and get a bowl of hot potato skin soup from a Union mess tent. In the meantime, the drivers replace the mules with a fresh team.

  Once the new teams of mules have been hitched, the driver yells, “Load up!” and the men swallow their soup and scamper to get back into the wagons. Those that are slow receive the business end the bullwhip used on the mule teams. These slow movers quickly decide to speed up their movement. Robert has hoped their stop in Frederick would allow him to see a doctor and get his wounds dressed. Not only did he not receive any attention to his chest wound now he has a couple of bleeding stripes across his shoulders from the Yankee bullwhip in addition to the bullet wound on his head.

  Returning to the wagons, they begin to move southeast toward Washington, D.C. Robert was depressed and in pain. Why, he though, can’t I remember everything? Luke and Matthew, I know they are someone important to me, but who exactly are they?

  He guessed their destination is about 40 to 50 miles away, but in these slow, mule pulled wagons, the prison and a doctor is still four or five days down the road.

  Had Robert only known, his spirits would have been lifted tremendously, since back in the wagon train close to the rear rides his son Luke. Injured but alive; however, Luke is but a name, unassociated with anything in his memory. However, Robert and Luke seem to be heading to the same destination.

  Five days later the wagon train pulls into a large tent city just a couple of blocks from the White House. This city of tents has twelve rows of ten tents each. The large tents hold twelve men; approximately 1200 to 1500 prisoners can be accommodated at this one facility. The men are taken from the wagons and assigned a tent. Ben and Robert are again bunkmates. They are assigned the first tent in row two. At last, a couple of medical attendants are sent by the Yanks to clean and dress the wounds of the soldiers. Fortunately Robert’s, despite the harrowing wagon trip, wounds have not become infected and are beginning to heal.

  “How long yer figure, Robert, ‘till them Yanks move us to our permanent home place?”

  “I don’t know Ben, but from the looks of this set-up I’m reasoning this may be our home for awhile.”

  Before Ben can respond they notice a large hubbub occurring outside in front of their tent. The orderlies and Union soldiers all seem to be hurrying to the excitement.

  Luke turns to the man lying in the bunk next to him “Hey what’s all the commotion next door?”

  One of the men standing at the tent flap answers, “Seems like someone important is visitin’ that thar tent,” he says pointing at one of the tents. “Whos you reckon they went to see?”

  Turning his back to the man talking Luke grunts and replies,

  “Huh! Don’t know, and don’t care!”

  “It’s the President, it’s President Lincoln. He’s come to visit us.” The fellow at the flap hollers.

  As Robert begins to respond the soldier snapped to ramrod straight attention and yells in a loud voice for all to hear, “A-TEN-SHUN!” Robert and Ben both turn and look toward the entrance flap to their tent. There in the open flap stands a tall, slender man, dressed in all black. The stovepipe hat he is removing catches their eye, the soldier is right it is the President of the United States, Abraham Lincoln.

  Although Ben and Robert are technically at war with this man, he after all WAS the President. Old loyalties are hard to die, both men clicked their heels together and stood, as the Union soldiers, ramrod straight at attention too.

  President Lincoln enters the tent; speaks a word or two to the Confederate prisoners as he makes his way down the aisle toward Ben and Robert. A Federal colonel leads the Presidential party right up to Robert and stops. The colonel looked directly at Robert and asks, “Are you Sergeant Robert Scarburg?”

  “Uh, uh, yes sir.”

  The colonel speaks as he steps aside allowing the President to advance, “The President of the United States Abraham Lincoln wishes to have a word with you Sergeant.”

  President Lincoln extends his hand to Sergeant Scarburg. Robert is shocked. Robert rubs his hand on his britches in an attempt to clean it, then he shakes the President’s hand. “Sergeant I understand your family has a long history of military service. Proud, brave service to our United States. Your grandfather served in the Revolutionary War and was hanged for his loyalty, your father fought in the War of 1812 and you bravely served in the Great Seminole Indian War, receiving a commendation for bravery. The Congress of the United States granted you public land as a token of America’s appreciation to you as an American veteran for your service to your country, is this correct?”

  Robert hardly can speak; he can’t even remember the people of whom the President spoke, he only muttered, “Yes sir.”

  “Tell me Sergeant,” said the President. “How many slaves do you own?” This statement struck a nerve. He, for some reason, remembers he has no slaves.

  “None Mr. President. I do not believe a man has the right to own another person.”

  “And yet, Sir, you fight for the right of slave owners to continue the dreadful act of slavery!”

  “No, Mr. President I fight for the South. I fight for my home state of Alabama. If it were in my power, I would free all the slaves today. I would issue an emancipation order proclaiming to all slave owners that on a date appointed their slaves would be then and forever free; however, I think the owners should be paid a fair price for what is now legally their property.”

  “I see... you would free all the slaves? Hmmm...,” the President scratches his beard as though thinking. “And they tell me, Sergeant Scarburg, you were wounded at Gettysburg, how you getting along? How’s the treatment from our fellows?” Without waiting for an answer, “Speaking of Gettysburg, I am being prompted to go to Gettysburg and dedicate their military cemetery when it’s ready. You were there, albeit, fighting against us,” said the President as he smiles and turns to his entourage. Addressing Robert, “You have any thoughts on what I should say in my dedication speech?”

  “Well...well,” Robert’s brain is moving at breakneck speed he has to say something intelligently to the President of the United States, “Well, Sir, I saw a lot of good, brave men both Confederate and Union die at Gettysburg. I think if I were you I would say as President, you understand: I’m not able to dedicate this cemetery; I’m not even able to consecrate this hallowed ground. I’d say the brave men, those living and those dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above my power to add or detract. Then, I guess, I would say something about the world will little note, or long remember what is said here, but it can never forget what they did here. I know, for a fact Mr. President I will never forget. Well, I suppose that’s about all I would say.”

  The President did not speak – one could have heard a pin drop. After a moment, the President looks at Robert and says, “Well said Sir, well said,” with a laugh he continues, “I may need for you to go in my stead, Sergeant.” His entourage breathes a sigh and breaks into laughter. “Sergeant, you are an interesting fellow,” again he scratches his whiskers and with a faraway look continues, “Yes, very interesting...uh, good luck to you. I must say it has been a real pleasure meeting you. A real pleasure.” With these words, the President and the group following him turns and as swiftly as they arrived they swiftly leave.

  The last man has barely gotten outside when Ben says to Robert, “What wuz that all about. I ain’t never...I ain’t never...the President of these United States wuz here, wuz right here next to me, talking to you...the President of the United States...I ain’t never...”

  Chapter Fifteen

  JAMIE ARRIVES

  The soldier at the flap walks to Luke’s bunk and sits down, “I hear’d a rumor on the way down from one of them blue-bellies that we is being sent to sommers called Point Lookout. You ev
er hear’d of that place?”

  Luke turns over and sits up, “Point Lookout, you say? Yeah, I’ve heard of it. It’s in Maryland, I believe. From what I have picked up it’s not high on the list of prisoner camps to go to.”

  “You think we might have a chance to escape?”

  “Naw, from what I can tell Point Lookout is on a peninsula on the south end of Maryland.”

  “Pen...penne...”

  “A peninsula, it’s just a name for land that is surrounded on three sides with water. Kind of an island, but not exactly, only one way in and only one way out. It’ll be hard for us to get out of there I’m afraid.”

  “Hey,” a voice from the tent entrance yells, “anybody here know a ugly, Alabama hick named Luke Scarburg?” The soldier enters as Luke is turning to confront the man who is calling him names.

  Standing in the glare of the open flap it is hard for Luke to identify the big mouth, then, “Well I’ll be! If it ain’t Morefield!” He says leaping from his bunk and grabs Jamie Morefield and hugs him tightly.

  “Whoa! Whoa, you are talkin’ to a wounded man!” Jamie says grabbing his left arm and laughing, “just a bullet through my arm didn’t hit no bone or nothin’. They say I’ll be fine.”

  They both sit down on Luke’s bed and began reminiscing about the past year. Although, Luke is in Company ‘E’ and Jamie in Company ‘B’ they have not had many occasions to see each other or visit. Jamie tells Luke he heard that Luke was here in this tent and he came looking for him.

  “Jamie when’s the last time we saw each other?”

  “I believe it was at Shiloh.”

  After Luke agreed, he begins to fill Jamie in on his part in the Battle of Gettysburg. He explains how his father, Robert is last seen lying hurt beside the boulder at Devil’s Den and how he had to leave Matthew badly wounded at the split rail fence at Emmitsburg Road. He thrust his face into his hands, and tears formed in his eyes as he remembered them both, both badly hurt yet he was unable to help them. He tells how he asked everyone he came into contact with about both of them, but no one had seen either after the battle.

  “Luke, I caught a bit news that might get your hopes up. I heard that your Pa is alive. Last I heard he was at one of them temporary hospitals out there in them woods close to Gettysburg. One of the boys in my wagon comin’ down here had been in there with him.”

  “What else Jamie? Who is that soldier? I need to talk to him!”

  “Nothing more Luke, that’s the only thang I know, but that’s good ain’t it? Yer Pa was alive, but I ain’t heard nothing about Matthew. As fer as talking with my mate in the wagon he died afore we got here. There’s one other thang, but I don’t know if’n I should tell you. He said all the wounded in the tent had black armbands.” Sorry about that news Luke.”

  Luke sits back up straight, slaps Jamie on the back, “Black bands or not now I’ve got hope! Thank you Jamie, thank you my friend.”

  “Luke, what you been hearin’ ‘bout us stayin’ here for the rest of the war? You think that might be right? Some of the fellers in my tent thanks they’re wrong they say we’re goin’ to sommers caller Pint Lookout. They say they heard one of our Yankee guards say so. What say you Luke?”

  “No, I don’t think we are staying here, but it’s ‘Point’ Lookout and I also hear it’s a nice place to visit but you wouldn’t want to live there,” Luke says grinning.

  Chapter Sixteen

  TAXES

  “Mama!” Mattie Ann yells as she runs up the steps into the house. “There’s dust down on the main road, looks like somebody’s comin’ from town.”

  Leaving the kitchen Malinda wipes her hands on her apron as she walks to the front door to see for herself. Mattie Ann was right she could see the dust floating above the treetops, but it worries her too. She fears it is someone coming from the Western Union office. Were they coming to tell her something terrible has happened to Robert or one of her sons? A fear of dread flows over her, she tries to push the thought from her mind, but it is too overwhelming...she remembers the hawk!

  Watching the dust she thinks this might not be the telegraph man, after all, it might be that rascal Simeon LaPree. He did say he would come back in a week to collect on that bale of cotton.

  It had been a lot longer that a week, in fact, it has been more than a couple of months since he was last at Malinda’s farm seeking food and rations for the Confederacy, surely he had forgotten about her by now. She has three sons, William, Isaac and Stephen that he could impress into Confederate service. She could deal with LaPree but please, not the man from the telegraph office!

  William and Isaac are out on the back forty clearing a new ground for next years planting season. They are so far away LaPree

  cannot see them, and if he tries to ride out their way her boys would hear him long before he could find them and they can hide. Stephen was a target though. He is shoeing his horse Blaze in the hallway of the barn. The whole family loved Blaze, a mixture of a thoroughbred and a racking horse. Her dark chestnut color was accented by a large white blaze down the front of her head accompanied with three white socks. Her mane was jet black as was her tail. Blaze was just a beautiful horse that the Scarburgs adored.

  “Stephen! Stephen!” She yells.

  “Yeah, Ma,” Stephen answers stepping from the barn into the light, “what you want?”

  “Get the horse and go hide behind the house in one of those caves on the bluff above Hog Creek. LaPree might be coming! If he sees you, he will take both you and Blaze away.”

  Stephen slips a bridle on Blaze, grabs a handful of black mane and swings up onto his horse’s back. A quick barefoot nudge and the horse and rider skirt around the house and head toward the bluff a few hundred feet from the main house. Stephen stays low to Blaze’s neck to insure being unseen by LaPree if he is, indeed, one of the approaching riders.

  As he escapes, the horsemen turn from the main road and pass through the gate leading to the main house. It is LaPree. Malinda is nervous but somewhat relieved, it isn’t the man from the Western Union telegraph office!

  About ten men lope up to the house followed by a cloud of dust. Dusting off her face with the tail of her apron, she looks at LaPree, “What do you want? I told you to stay off my place before! You hard of hearing?”

  Leaning over on his silver saddle, he spits tobacco juice at Malinda’s feet, “Yer done forgettin’ your place Missy! Like I told you before, I’m head of the Home Guard.”

  “And, like you found out before, I don’t care! I don’t have any provisions to give you.”

  “For shore, you got it all wrong. I ain’t looking for supplies this trip I have me two other missions though. First, I got something to show you and second, I’ve come after them boys of you’rn.”

  He reaches inside his jacket pocket and withdraws a sheet of folded paper. He hands it to Malinda.

  Unfolding the paper, Malinda asks, “What is this?”

  “Taxes! You’re behind on your land taxes!”

  “Taxes? You people know I don’t have any money! My husband is in the Army, along with my two oldest sons, and they haven’t been paid any money since they left home over a year ago. Even if they had been paid it would be in that worthless Confederate money.” Looking at the paper, “I don’t have $25.00.”

  “For shore, I would tell you to use some of that money you were goin’ to get from sellin’ that bale of cotton, but do you think I’m stupid, I didn’t think you ever had no cotton to sell. But, this IS something I DO know, I am goin’ to take this farm away from you if you don’t come up with that taxman’s money. Of course now, there’s other arrangements me and you could make that might jest let you keep on livin’ on this place. You git what I mean?”

  “Yeah, I get it, but I’d just soon lose this place!”

  “I just hardly don’t understand uppity people like you, if you won’t take my invite, why you don’t sell one of them blackies to raise that money?”

  “Freed! I have already
told you, freed! Sary, Jed and Jefferson are all free. I have no legal right to sell them!”

  Returning his attention to Malinda, “I’m gonna ask you one last time, ‘Where’s yer boys?”

  “The boys aren’t here, they have gone to South Carolina to stay with their uncle. He has a mill and the boys can get work there.”

  Looking at his men he grins wide enough to see the gold tooth in front of his mouth, pulls a plug of tobacco from his pocket and bites off a chew. “What she said?” Looking at his men. Returning to Malinda, “You know Missy, I want to believe you, but it’s just not in my nature. I know you are lying.” He orders his men to search the place for Malinda’s sons.

  Uncle Jed and Jefferson had been in the barn helping Stephen shoe Blaze when the riders approached. They remain hidden in the barn and watch through the cracks between the wood sidings. Uncle Jed knows the first place they will search is the barn, he tells Jefferson to get under the pile of hay and remain still and stay put regardless of what happens. Before the riders can reach the barn Uncle Jed steps out and walks toward the group of horsemen.

  “Well now, he ain’t one of them boys, he be too old and way too dark, but I wager he knows where they is. Come here you old fool. Where are this here woman’s boys? The ‘federacy needs good men.”