The Second G.A. Henty

by G. A. Henty

  They had arrived in the middle of the second day’s fighting, and dismounting his men Vincent had aided the hard-pressed Confederates in holding their lines till Longstreet’s division arrived to their assistance. A short time before the terrible disaster that befell the Federals in the mine they exploded under the Confederate works, he was with General Wade Hampton, who had succeeded General Stuart in the command of the cavalry, when General Lee rode up.

  “They are erecting siege works in earnest,” General Lee said. “I do not think that we shall have any more attacks for the present. I wish I knew exactly where they are intending to place their heavy batteries. If I did we should know where to strengthen our defenses, and plant our counter batteries. It is very important to find this out; but now that their whole army has settled down in front of us, and Sheridan’s cavalry are scouring the woods, we shall get no news, for the farmers will no longer be able to get through to tell us what is going on.

  “I will try and ride round, if you like, general,” Vincent said. “By making a long detour one could get into the rear of their lines and pass as a farmer going into camp to sell his goods.”

  “It would be a very dangerous service, sir,” General Lee said. “You know what the consequence would be if you were caught?”

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

  “Perhaps not,” General Lee replied; “but in one case one dies fighting for one’s country by an honorable death, in the other—” and he stopped.

  “In the other one is shot in cold blood,” Vincent said quietly. “One dies 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 cold blood. As long as one is doing one’s duty, one death is surely as honorable as the other.”

  “That is true enough,” General Lee said, “although it is not the way men generally view the matter. Still, sir, if you volunteer for the work, I do not feel justified in refusing the opportunity of acquiring information that may be of vital consequence to us. When will you start?”

  “In half an hour, sir. I shall ride back to Richmond, obtain a disguise there, and then go round by train to Burksville Junction and then ride again until I get round behind their lines. Will you give me an order for my horse and myself to be taken?”

  “Very well, sir,” General Lee said. “So be it. May God be with you on your 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 three days. I have got a couple of letters to write, and shall be ready to start in half an hour. Give the horse a good feed and have him at the door 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 ever went away without telling him where he was going, and he felt sure that the service was one of unusual danger; nor was his anxiety lessened when at the appointed time Vincent came out and handed him two letters.

  “You are to keep these letters, Dan, until I return, or till you hear that something has happened to me. If you hear that, you are to take one of these letters to my mother, and take the other yourself to Miss Kingston. Tell her before you give it her what has happened as gently as you can. As for yourself, Dan, you had your letters of freedom long ago, and I have left you five hundred dollars; so that you can get a cabin and patch of your own, and settle down when these troubles are over.”

  “Let me go with you, master,” Dan said, with the tears streaming down his cheeks. “I would rather be killed with you a hundred times than get on without you.”

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

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

  It was getting late in the afternoon, but he rode on by unfrequented roads, stopping occasionally to inquire if any of the Federal cavalry had been seen in the neighborhood, and at last stopped for the night at a little village inn. As soon as it was daybreak he resumed his journey. He had purchased at Burksville some colored calico and articles of female clothing, and fastened the parcel to the back of his saddle. As he rode forward now he heard constant tales of the passing of parties of the enemy’s cavalry, but he was fortunate enough to get well round to the rear of the Federal lines before he encountered any of them. Then he came 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 been over to Sussex Courthouse to buy some things for my mother.”

  “Let me see what you have got there,” the officer said. “You are rebels to 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 kept on till he reached a small farmhouse. He knocked at the door, and a woman came out.

  “Mother,” he said, “can you put me up for a couple of days? I am a stranger 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 ain’t a time for strangers; besides a young fellow like you ought to be ashamed to show yourself when you ought to be over there with Lee. My boys are both there and my husband. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, a strong-looking young fellow like you, to be riding about instead of fighting the Yankees. Go along! you will get no shelter here. I would scorn to have such as you inside my doors.”

  “Perhaps I have been fighting there,” Vincent said significantly. “But one can’t be always fighting, and there are other things to do sometimes. For instance, to find out what the Yankees are doing and what are their plans.”

  “Is that so?” the woman asked doubtfully.

  “That is so,” he answered earnestly. “I am an officer in Wade Hampton’s cavalry, and, now Sheridan’s troopers have cut off all communication, I have come out to find for General Lee where the Yankees are building their batteries before Petersburg.”

  “In that case you are welcome,” the woman said. “Come straight in. I will lead your horse out and fasten him up in the bush, and give him a feed there. It will never do to put him in the stable; the Yankees come in and out and they’d take him off sharp enough if their eyes fell on him. I think you will be safe enough even if they do come. They will take you for a son of mine, and if they ask any questions I will answer them sharp enough.”

  “I wonder they have left you a feed of corn,” Vincent said, when the woman returned after taking away his horse.

  “It’s no thanks to them,” she answered; “they have cleared out everything that they could lay their hands on. But I have been expecting it for months, and, as I have had nothing to do since my man and boys went away, I have been digging a great pit in the wood over there, and have buried most all my corn, and have salted my pigs down and buried them in barrels; so they didn’t find much. They took the old horse and two cows; but I hope the old horse will fall down the first time they uses him, and the cow meat will choke them as eats it. Now, is there anything as I can do
to help you?”

  “I want a basket with some eggs and chickens or vegetables to take into their camp to sell, but I am afraid I have not much chance of getting them.”

  “I can help you there too,” the woman said. “I turned all my chickens into the wood the day I heard the Yankees had landed. They have got rather wild like; but I go out and give them some corn every evening. I expect if we look about we shall find some nests; indeed I know there are one or two of them sitting. So if you will come out with me we can soon knock down five or six of the creatures, and maybe get a score or two of eggs. As for vegetables, a horde of locusts couldn’t have stripped the country cleaner than they have done.”

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

  “You had best take a bite before you go,” she said. “It’s noon now, and you said you started at daybreak. Always get a meal when you can, say I.”

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

  “I will pay you for these chickens and eggs at once,” he said. “There is no 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 my man and the boys come back; but as to lodging and food I would not touch a 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 three miles came upon the Federal camps.

  Some of the regiments were already under canvas, others were still bivouacked in the open air, as the store-ships carrying the heavy baggage had not yet arrived. The generals and their staffs had taken up their quarters in the villages. Vincent had received accurate instructions from his hostess as to the position of the various villages, and avoided them 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 in case any one insisted upon buying up all his stock he could place these in his basket and still push on.

  He avoided the camps as much as he could. He could see the smoke rising in front of him, and the roar of guns was now close at hand. He saw on his right an elevated piece of ground, from which a good view could be obtained of the fortifications upon which the Federals were working. A camp had been pitched there, and a large tent near the summit showed that some officer of superior rank had his quarters there. He made a detour so as to come up at the back of the hill and when he reached the top he stood looking down upon the line of works.

  They were nearly half a mile distant. The intervening ground had already been 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 principal batteries were in course of construction along this portion of the position. He was still gazing intently when two horsemen rode up from behind.

  “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 all the world of an ant-hill. Never did see so many chaps before. What be they 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. Do you want to buy any? Fine birds they be.”

  “Why, Sheridan,” laughed the other officer, “this is a feather out of your cap. I thought your fellows had cleared out every hen-roost within twenty 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. “I lives there with mother. Father and the other boys they have gone fighting Yanks; but they wouldn’t take me with them ’cause I ain’t sharp in my wits, though I tells them I could shoot a Yank as well as they could 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 many of them for whites; besides whites ain’t such fools to work like that. Doesn’t ye want any fowl?” and he drew back the cloth and showed the contents of the basket.

  “Take them as a matter of curiosity, general,” the other officer laughed. “It will be 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 has not seen aught 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 gave their 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 back without 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 Sheridan asked 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. I fancy he is a half-witted chap. They never would have left a fellow of his age behind.”

  “No, I think it’s safe,” Sheridan said; “but one can’t be too particular just at present. See, the trees in front hide our work altogether from the rebels, and it would be a serious thing if they were to find out what we are doing.”

  “That boy could not tell them much even if he got there,” the other said; “and from this distance it would need a sharp eye and some military knowledge to make out anything of what is going on. Where does your mother live, boy?”

  “I ain’t going to tell you,” Vincent said doggedly. “Mother said I wasn’t to tell no one where I lived, else the Yankee thieves would be a-coming down and stealing the rest of our chickens.”

  The officers laughed.

  “Well, go along, boy; and I should advise you not to say anything about Yankee thieves another time, for likely enough you will get a broken head for your pains.”

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

  “I am glad to see you back,” the woman said as he entered. “How have you got on?”

  “Capitally,” he said. “I pretended to be half an idiot, and so got safely out, though I fell into Sheridan’s hands. He suspected me at first, but at last he thought I was what I looked—a fool. He wanted to know where you lived, but I wouldn’t tell him. I told him you told me not to tell any one, ’cause if I did the Yankee thieves would be clearing out the rest of the chickens.”

  “Did you tell him that, now?” the woman said in delight; “he must have thought you was a fool. Well, it’s a good thing the Yanks should hear the truth sometimes. Well, have you done now?”

  “No, I have only seen one side of their works yet; I must try round the other flank tomorrow. I wish I could get something to sell that wouldn’t get bought up by the first people I came to, something I could peddle among the soldiers.”

  “What sort of thing?
”

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

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

  “Perhaps it was,” Vincent agreed; “though I don’t think they would let any one sell spirits in the camp.”

  “I can’t get you any lemons or oranges neither,” the woman said; “but I might make you a drink out of molasses and herbs, with some spirits in it. 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 some from a neighbor, and as for herbs they are about the only thing the Yankees haven’t stole. I think I could fix you up something that would do. As long as it has got spirits in it, it don’t much matter what you put in besides, only it wouldn’t do to take spirits up alone. You can call it plantation drink, and I don’t suppose any one would ask too closely what it’s made of.”

  “Thank you, that will do capitally.”

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

  “Look here,” he said to the woman before leaving. “I may not be as lucky today as I was yesterday. If I do not come back tonight, can you find any one you can trust to take this piece of paper round to Richmond? Of course 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 to Petersburg, 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 the bearer a hundred dollars.”