The Second G.A. Henty

by G. A. Henty

  “It would be a good thing,” he said to Dan, “if the generals on both sides in this district would agree to a month’s truce, and join each other in hunting down and hanging these marauding scoundrels. On our side Mosby and a few other leaders of bands composed almost entirely of gentlemen, have never been accused of practices of this kind; but, with these exceptions, there is little to choose between them.”

  After walking for four or five miles they again sat down till evening, and then going down to the river endeavored to find a boat by which they could cross, but to their disappointment no craft of any kind was visible, although in many places there were stages by the riverside, evidently used by farmers for unloading their produce into boats. Vincent concluded at last that at some period of the struggle all the boats must have been collected and either sunk or carried away by one of the parties to prevent the other crossing the river.

  Hitherto they had carefully avoided all the farmhouses that appeared to be inhabited; but Vincent now determined to approach one of them and endeavor to gain some information as to the distance from the next bridge, and whether it was guarded by troops, and to find out if possible the position in which the Northern forces in Tennessee were at present posted—all of which points he was at present ignorant of. He passed two or three large farmhouses without entering, for although the greater part of the male population were away with one or other of the armies, he might still find two or three hands in such buildings. Besides, it was now late, and whatever the politics of the inmates they would be suspicious of such late arrivals, and would probably altogether refuse them admittance. Accordingly another night was spent in the wood.

  The next morning, after walking a mile or two, they saw a house at which Vincent determined to try their fortune. It was small, but seemed to have belonged to people above the class of farmer. It stood in a little plantation, and was surrounded by a veranda. Most of the blinds were down, and Vincent judged that the inmates could not be numerous.

  “You remain here, Dan, and I will go and knock at the door. It is better that we should not be seen together.” Vincent accordingly went forward and knocked at the door. An old negress opened it.

  “We have nothing for tramps,” she said. “De house am pretty well cleared out ob eberyting.” She was about to shut the door when Vincent put his foot forward and prevented it closing. “Massa Charles,” the negress called out, “bring yo’ shot-gun quick; here am tief want to break into the house.”

  “I am neither a thief nor a tramp,” Vincent said; “and I do not want anything, except that I should be glad to buy a loaf of bread if you have one that you could spare. I have lost my way, and I want to ask directions.”

  “Dat am pretty likely story,” the old woman said. “Bring up dat shot-gun quick, Massa Charles.”

  “What is it, Chloe?” another female voice asked.

  “Here am a man pretend he hab lost his way and wants to buy a loaf. You stand back, Miss Lucy, and let your broder shoot de villain dead.”

  “I can assure you that I am not a robber, madam,” Vincent said through the partly opened door. “I am alone, and only beg some information, which I doubt not you can give me.”

  “Open the door, Chloe,” the second voice said inside; “that is not the voice of a robber.”

  The old woman reluctantly obeyed the order and opened the door, and Vincent saw in the passage a young girl of some sixteen years old. He took off his hat.

  “I am very sorry to disturb you,” he said; “but I am an entire stranger here, and am most desirous of crossing the river, but can find no boat with which to do so.”

  “Why did you not cross by the bridge?” the girl asked. “How did you miss the straight road?”

  “Frankly, because there were Northern troops there,” Vincent said, “and I wish to avoid them if possible.”

  “You are a Confederate?” the girl asked, when the old negress interrupted her:

  “Hush! Miss Lucy, don’t you talk about dem tings; der plenty of mischief done already. What hab you to do wid one side or do oder?”

  The girl paid no attention to her words, but stood awaiting Vincent’s answer. He did not hesitate. There was something in her face that told him that, friend or foe, she was not likely to betray a fugitive, and he answered:

  “I am a Confederate officer, madam. I have made my escape from Elmira prison, and am trying to find my way back into our lines.”

  “Come in, sir,” the girl said, holding out her hand. “We are Secessionists, heart and soul. My father and my brother are with our troops—that is, if they are both alive. I have little to offer you, for the Yankee bands have been here several times, have driven off our cattle, emptied our barns, and even robbed our hen-nests, and taken everything in the house they thought worth carrying away. But whatever there is, sir, you are heartily welcome to. I had a paper yesterday—it is not often I get one—and I saw there that three of our officers had escaped from Elmira. Are you one of them?”

  “Yes, madam. I am Lieutenant Wingfield.”

  “Ah! then you are in the cavalry. You have fought under Stuart,” the girl said. “The paper said so. Oh, how I wish we had Stuart and Stonewall Jackson on this side! we should soon drive the Yankees out of Tennessee.”

  “They would try to, anyhow,” Vincent said, smiling, “and if it were possible they would assuredly do it. I was in Ashley’s horse with the Stonewall division through the first campaign in the Shenandoah Valley and up to Bull Run, and after that under Stuart. But is not your brother here? Your servant called to him.”

  “There is no one here but ourselves,” the girl replied. “That was a fiction of Chloe’s, and it has succeeded sometimes when we have had rough visitors. And now what can I do for you, sir? You said you wanted to buy a loaf of bread, and therefore, I suppose, you are hungry. Chloe, put the bacon and bread on the table, and make some coffee. I am afraid that is all we can do, sir, but such as it is you are heartily welcome to it.”

  “I thank you greatly,” Vincent replied, “and will, if you will allow me, take half my breakfast out to my boy who is waiting over there.”

  “Why did you not bring him in?” the girl asked. “Of course he will be welcome too.”

  “I did not bring him in before because two men in these days are likely to alarm a lonely household; and I would rather not bring him in now, because, if by any possibility the searchers, who are no doubt after me, should call and ask you whether two men, one a white and the other a negro, had been here, you could answer no.”

  “But they cannot be troubling much about prisoners,” the girl said. “Why, in the fighting here and in Missouri they have taken many thousands of prisoners, and you have taken still more of them in Virginia; surely they cannot trouble themselves much about one getting away.”

  “I am not afraid of a search of that kind,” Vincent said; “but, unfortunately, on my way down I had a row in the train with a ruffian named Mullens, who is, I understand, connected with one of these bands of brigands, and I feel sure that he will hunt me down if he can.”

  The girl turned pale.

  “Oh!” she said, “I saw that in the paper too, but it said that it was a minister. And it was you who beat that man and threw his revolver out of the window? Oh, then, you are in danger indeed, sir. He is one of the worst ruffians in the State, and is the leader of the party who stripped this house and threatened to burn it to the ground. Luckily I was not at home, having gone away to spend the night with a neighbor. His band have committed murders all over the country, hanging up defenseless people on pretense that they were Secessionists. They will show you no mercy if they catch you.”

  “No. I should not expect any great mercy if I fell into their hands, Miss Lucy. I don’t know your other name.”

  “My name is Kingston. I ought to have introduced myself to you at once.”

  “Now you understand, Miss Kingston, how anxious I am to get across the river, and that brings me to the question of the information I wan
t you to give me. How far is it from the next bridge on the south, and are there any Federal troops there?”

  “It is about seven miles to the bridge at Williamsport, we are just halfway between that and the railway bridge at Columbus. Yes, there are certainly troops there—”

  “Then I see no way for it but to make a small raft to carry us across, Miss Kingston. I am a good swimmer, but the river is full and of considerable width; still, I think I can get across. But my boy cannot swim a stroke.”

  “I know where there is a boat hid in the wood near the river,” the girl said. “It belongs to a neighbor of ours, and when the Yankees seized the boats he had his hauled up and hidden in the woods. He was a Southerner, heart and soul, and thought that he might be able sometimes to take useful information across the river to our people; but a few weeks afterward his house was attacked by one of these bands—it was always said it was that of Mullens—and he was killed defending it to the last. He killed several of the band before he fell, and they were so enraged that after plundering it they set it on fire and fastened the door, and his wife and two maid-servants were burned to death.”

  “I wish instead of throwing his pistol out of the window I had blown his brains out with it,” Vincent said; “and I would have done so if I had known what sort of fellow he was. However, as to the boat, can you give me instructions where to find it, and is it light enough for two men to carry?”

  “Not to carry, perhaps, but to push along. It is a light boat he had for pleasure. He had a large one, but that was carried away with the others. I cannot give you directions, but I can lead you to the place.”

  “I should not like you to do that,” Vincent said. “We might be caught, and your share in the affair might be suspected.”

  “Oh! there is no fear of that,” the girl said; “besides, I am not afraid of danger.”

  “I don’t think it is right, Miss Kingston, for a young lady like you to be living here alone with an old servant in such times as these. You ought to go into a town until it’s all over.”

  “I have no one to go to,” the girl said simply. “My father bought this place and moved here from Georgia only six years ago, and all my friends are in that State. Except our neighbors round here I do not know a soul in Tennessee. Besides, what can I do in a town? We can manage here, because we have a few fowls, and some of our neighbors last spring plowed an acre or two of ground and planted corn for us, and I have a little money left for buying other things; but it would not last us a month if we went into a town. No, I have nothing to do but to stay here until you drive the Yankees back. I will willingly take you down to the boat tonight. Chloe can come with us and keep me company on the way back. Of course it would not be safe to cross in the daytime.”

  “I thank you greatly, Miss Kingston, and shall always remember your kindness. Now, when I finish my meal I will go out and join my boy, and will come for you at eight o’clock; it will be quite dark then.”

  “Why should you not stay here till then, Mr. Wingfield? It is very unlikely that any one will come along.”

  “It is unlikely, but it is quite possible,” Vincent replied, “and were I caught here by Mullens, the consequence would be very serious to you as well as to myself. No, I could not think of doing that. I will go out, and come back at eight o’clock. I shall not be far away; but if any one should come and inquire, you can honestly say that you do not know where I am.”

  “I have two revolvers here, sir; in fact I have three. I always keep one loaded, for there is never any saying whether it may not be wanted; the other two I picked up last spring. There was a fight about a quarter of a mile from here and after it was over and they had moved away, for the Confederates won that time and chased them back toward Nashville, I went out with Chloe with some water and bandages to see if we could do anything for the wounded. We were at work there till evening, and I think we did some good. As we were coming back I saw something in a low bush, and going there found a Yankee officer and his horse both lying dead; they had been killed by a shell, I should think. Stooping over to see if he was quite dead I saw a revolver in his belt and another in the holster of his saddle, so I took them out and brought them home, thinking I might give them to some of our men, for we were then, as we have always been, very short of arms; but I never had an opportunity of giving them away, and I am very glad now that I have not. Here they are, sir, and two packets of cartridges, for they are of the same size as those of the pistol my father gave me when he went away. You are heartily welcome to them.”

  “Thank you extremely,” Vincent said, as he took the pistols and placed the packets of ammunition in his pocket. “We cut two heavy sticks the night we left Nashville so as to be able to make something of a fight; but with these weapons we shall feel a match for any small parties we may meet. Then at eight o’clock I will come back again.”

  “I shall be ready,” the girl said; “but I wish you would have stopped, there are so many things I want to ask you about, and these Yankee papers, which are all we see now, are full of lies.”

  “They exaggerate their successes and to some extent conceal their defeats,” Vincent said; “but I do not think it is the fault of the newspapers, whose correspondents do seem to me to try and tell the truth to their readers, but of the official despatches of the generals. The newspapers tone matters down, no doubt, because they consider it necessary to keep up the public spirit; but at times they speak out pretty strongly too. I am quite as sorry to leave as you can be that I should go, Miss Kingston, but I am quite sure that it is very much the wisest thing for me to do. By the way, if I should not be here by half-past eight I shall not come at all, and you will know that something has occurred to alter our plans. I trust there is no chance of anything doing so, but it is as well to arrange so that you should not sit up expecting me. Should I not come back you will know that I shall be always grateful to you for your kindness, and that when this war is over, if I am alive, I will come back and thank you personally.”

  “Good-by till this evening!” the girl said. “I will not even let myself think that anything can occur to prevent your return.”

  “Golly, Massa Vincent, what a time you hab been!” Dan said when Vincent rejoined him. “Dis child began to tink dat somefing had gone wrong, and was going in anoder five minutes to knock at do door to ask what dey had done to you.”

  “It is all right, Dan, I have had breakfast, and have brought some for you; here is some bread and bacon and a bottle of coffee.”

  “Dat good, massa; my teeth go chatter chatter wid sleeping in dese damp woods; dat coffee do me good, sah. After dat I shall feel fit for anyting.”

  CHAPTER XII

  THE BUSHWHACKERS

  “By the way, Dan,” Vincent said when the negro had finished his meal, “we have not talked over that matter of my clothes. I can’t imagine how that letter saying that one of us was disguised as a minister and would have a negro servant came to be written. Did you ever tell the people you lodged with anything about the disguise?”

  “No, sah, neber said one word to dem about it; dey know nothing whatsoeber. De way me do wid your letter was dis. Me go outside town and wait for long time. At last saw black fellow coming along. Me say to him, ‘Can you read?’ and he said as he could. I said ‘I got a letter, I want to read him, I gib you a quarter to read him to me;’ so he said yes, and he read de letter. He a long time of making it out, because he read print but not read writing well. He spell it out word by word, but I don’t tink he understand dat it come from prison, only dat it come from some one who wanted some rope and a turn-screw. Me do just de same way wid de second letter. As for de clothes, me buy dem dat day, make dem up in bundle, and not go back to lodging at all. Me not know how any one could know dat I buy dat minister clothes for you, sah. Me told de storekeeper dat dey was for cousin of mine, who preach to de colored folk, and dat I send him suit as present. Onless dat man follow me and watch me all de time till we go off together, sah, me no see how de debbil he gue
ss about it.”

  “That’s quite impossible, Dan; it never could have been that way. It is very strange, for it would really seem that no one but you and I and the other two officers could possibly know about it.”

  “Perhaps one of dem want to do you bad turn, massa, and write so as to get you caught and shut up again.”

  Vincent started at the suggestion. Was it possible that Jackson could have done him this bad turn after his having aided him to make his escape It would be a villainous trick; but then he had always thought him capable of villainous tricks, and it was only the fact that they were thrown together in prison that had induced him to make up his quarrel with him; but though Jackson had accepted his advances, it was probable enough that he had retained his bad feeling against him, and had determined, if possible, to have his revenge on the first opportunity.

  “The scoundrel,” he said to himself, “after my getting him free, to inform against me! Of course I have no proof of it, but I have not the least doubt that it was him. If we ever meet again, Mr. Jackson, I will have it out with you.”

  “You got two pistols, sah,” Dan said presently. “How you get dem?”

  “The lady of that house gave them to me, Dan; they are one for you and one for me.”

  “Dis chile no want him, sah; not know what to do wid him. Go off and shoot myself, for sure.”

  “Well, I don’t suppose you would do much good with it, Dan. As I am a good shot, perhaps I had better keep them both. You might load them for me as I fire them.”

  “Berry well, sah; you show me how to load, me load.”

  Vincent showed Dan how to extricate the discharged cartridge-cases and to put in fresh ones, and after a quarter of an hour’s practice Dan was able to do this with some speed.

  “When we going on, sah?” he said as, having learned the lesson, he handed the pistol back to Vincent.

  “We are not going on until the evening, Dan. When it gets dark the lady is going to take us to a place where there is a boat hidden, and we shall then be able to cross the river.”