The Prisoner of the Mill; or, Captain Hayward's Body Guard

by Harry Hazelton

  CHAPTER VII.

  _A Live Hero—The Retrograde Army Movement._

  THE villain Walker was returned to his lonely cell. Lieutenant Wells wasreleased from all restraint. The soldiers dispersed to talk about thestrange turn events had taken, but the center of attraction wasNettleton. He was seated in front of the Hinton tent. Close beside himwas Miss Hayward, kneeling, and gazing mournfully into his face, whileAlibamo, Wells, the General, Nettie Morton, Sally Long, the officers whohad composed the court-martial, the especial friends of the parties, andas many of the soldiers as could get within hearing distance, wereearnestly listening to the narrative of the “body-guard.”

  Nettleton went on to relate his meeting the rebel scouts, and the factof their having informed him that Hayward had only been wounded andconveyed toward Wilson’s Creek, by a party attached to the command ofLieutenant-Colonel Price.

  [The reader will mark the distinction between Lieutenant-Colonel Price,who was a ruffian guerrilla, and had broken his parole three times—anact repudiated by all honest soldiers of either army—and GeneralSterling Price, who, although a rebel, always had acted in a gentlemanlyand humane manner to all prisoners of war.]

  After listening to the story of William, the General drew from hispocket the note which had been found at the Ozark bridge, signed“Charles Campbell.” This note must have been written but a few momentsbefore the fight took place. The date would be just two days afterHayward had received the assassin’s stroke, giving about the proper timefor the wounded man to be carried from Grand Prairie to Ozark, at whichlatter place Lieutenant-Colonel Price had formed a temporary camp. Thewriter spoke of a wounded man in a boat, and against whom Price had anespecial spite. This confirmed the conviction that Hayward had beentaken thither for the especial gratification of Price’s fiendishpropensities. The note also said that he bore the marks of a captain’srank, and, in his delirium, spoke of “Net—” which might have referred tothe young lady, Nettie Morton, whom he possibly might have seen in thedistance, upon the bank, as the boat neared the spot where she wasstanding, or, as seemed more probable, that the wounded captain wascalling upon Nettleton. At all events, it was decided that the person ofwhom Charles Campbell had written, was no other than Captain Hayward. Itis true, he was still almost insensible from his wounds, and was nearthe camp of his most unforgiving enemy, but, there was a friend athand—an enemy in arms—but a friend to the wounded and helpless soldier,as are all true men—and he had written that “he _would_ save him!”

  “Why should we not hope?” asked Alibamo, as she clasped her friend Mamiein her arms.

  “And why should we not _act_?” cried Wells, as he clutched the hilt ofhis sword.

  “Yes, we _will_ act,” yelled Nettleton, as he sprung up, and appearedready for instant departure.

  “Go, William; follow the stream from Ozark, until you find some trace,and then return to us,” said Miss Hayward, eagerly.

  Nettleton turned his gaze upon Miss Sally, for a moment, and then, as ifashamed of his hesitation, or of his weakness, in exhibiting _any_symptoms of love, he started with a bound, exclaiming:

  “I’m off. Good-by, all!”

  He had proceeded, however, but a few steps when he halted, and,scratching his head, his countenance assumed a most woful expression,and his eyes rolled wildly about.

  “What is the matter, William?” asked Wells.

  “_Got to go t’other way!_” was the melancholy reply.

  “Why so?”

  “O, just a bit of—fun—that’s all!”

  “Well, tell us what it is, Nettleton?”

  “I can’t! It will break _her_ heart!” he replied, pointing to Sally.

  “So it would, William, if any thing dreadful should happen to you!”replied Miss Long, as she dropped her eyes to the ground.

  “There, didn’t I tell you so?” replied the faithful servant, his mouthgaping and his eyes expanding.

  “William,” asked Wells, “do you really _love_ Miss Long?”

  “Love her, lieutenant? That ain’t no name for it. Why, can’t you seeyourself that she’s the sweetest darn sk— no, I mean the nicest critterin the world—exceptin’ Miss Mamie!”

  “And does she love you, William?” asked Alibamo, smiling in spite ofherself at the tableau enacting before her.

  “_Of course I do!_” replied Sally, proudly and triumphantly, as if avictory had been won.

  “There—there! Do you hear that? Now, don’t you pity me? I believe I amthe most ugly cuss in the world. I never thought anybody would ever love_me_, and now I find out the gal as I wants most is just the one as doeslove me! Oh Lordy, I’m sick, I do believe!”

  “All right!” Wells responded, with a smile.

  “All right! Not by a blasted sight, sir! Did _you_ think it all rightwhen you loved Miss Mamie, and thought you had to swing?”

  “What! You talk in riddles. Explain.”

  “_I’ve got to be hung!_” he roared, but, whether with pain or delight,none could tell.

  “Why, _you_ didn’t have any thing to do with hurting the captain?” criedSally, as she advanced toward her beloved.

  Nettleton gazed at her an instant with a most singular expression, andthen replied:

  “Miss Long, never let suspicion cross that delicate bo— mind of yours,but like the true turtle-dove, put your trust in the uprighteousness ofyour future lord and master, what is to be hanged all on account of thefirst time you wrapped them delicate arms of yourn around my long neck.”

  “William, what do you mean by being hanged?” asked the General.

  Nettleton then went on to relate the agreement he had made with Price,to return, and undergo the punishment which was about to be inflictedupon him when that General interfered. He declared his intention ofreturning at once, as his “furlough” had run out, and as a “man ofhonor” he must return.

  “And do you really intend to return?” asked the General.

  “_Of course I do!_” replied William, with something of scorn and much ofpride in his tones.

  “William, think for a moment. You are now safe. You are with one wholoves you, and with whom you can be happy. Why will you return?”

  “General, don’t argue this point with me. I said I would come back, anddarn me if I don’t!” Nettleton started, after having shook the hand ofhis friends.

  “Stay a moment, Nettleton,” said the General. “I have a letter fromGeneral Price with regard to you.”

  Nettleton paused and listened, as the commander, opening the envelope,read:

  “Camp near Cassville, Nov. 12th, 1861.

  “_To General ——, greeting_:

  “A prisoner of war was released from our camp, and permitted to returnto Springfield, on the 9th. It was at first thought that he was a spy,as he had been seen in and near our camp before, and he was about tosuffer death upon the scaffold, when I saw and questioned him. I becameconvinced that he was no spy, but a faithful servant and friend,searching for his captain, whom he loved. I ordered his release. I gavehim a parole of honor. He promised to return that the sentence of the‘drum-head court’ could be carried into effect upon him, after he hadgiven the evidence he possessed, which he declared was necessary to savean innocent man. I admire his truthfulness. Should he be determined toreturn, of which I have no doubt, you will read this letter, whichreleases William Nettleton from any further obligation. He will remainwith his friends, and be happy.

  “Signed by the A. A. A. G.

  “For the Commander, PRICE.”

  The effect upon the gallant fellow of the reading of this letter, wassomewhat singular. He stood for a moment gaping around upon thespectators, as if he had been caught in some mean act. Then a smile cameover his face like sunlight creeping over a rugged mountain top. Soonhis countenance looked like a newly risen sun—fairly blazing withblushes. Then, with a wild _whoop_, which rung out like a signal, hesprung into air,
rattled his feet together, and once on earth again,bounded off like a great moose, for the nearest thicket, where toindulge his “feelings” without restraint.

  The crowd dispersed in good-humor, to talk over the strange events of anhour. If one heart was happier than all, it was that of poor Mamie,whose joy at the proven innocence of her friend and lover was toointense for words. In her heart a new hope had also arisen, that herdear brother would again be restored to her arms, and thus fill up thecup of her blessings to the brim.

  It had been decided by the friends of Hayward, that a search for thecaptain would be useless, but it was hoped that Charles Campbell wouldgive some information which would lead to his discovery, or thatFall-leaf, a celebrated Indian scout, who had now been absent many dayson the very line of the enemy’s march, would return with some tidings,by which the actions of the captain’s anxious friends should begoverned.

  * * * * *

  The Army of the Mississippi, having passed from Fremont’s command tothat of General Hunter, had been ordered to fall back from Springfield,in two columns. The one by the way of the Osage and Warsaw to Tipton,Mo., on the line of the main Pacific road, and the other by way ofLebanon, on the main road between Springfield and Rolla, thesouth-western branch of the same road. Each place, in distance fromSpringfield, was about one hundred and twenty-five miles.

  The march of the division to which Captain Hayward’s friends wereattached, which was under the command of the brave Sigel, was commencedon the morning of November 20th. That division formed the rear of theentire army. It proceeded by the Rolla turnpike.

  Nothing of note transpired until the division was ascending the rollinghill about two miles before reaching Lebanon, when a horseman, his faceand head streaming with blood, rode rapidly along the lines, exclaiming:

  “Fight in front! Fight in front!”

  He halted for no one to question him, but kept on his way. No guns wereheard, and many expressed the opinion that it must be a strange fight.But, as a necessary precaution, the infantry-men were halted, theirpieces loaded, and bayonets fixed. The artillery was charged, and flagsunfurled. As the troops ascended the hill, and looked in vain for a foe,the question was asked: “Where is the fight?”

  This was soon settled, as another messenger rode up and informed theGeneral that a party or squadron of rebel cavalry, numbering about fourhundred, had attacked a little band of “home guards,” of about thirty,which had been collected in a valley some twenty miles south of Lebanon,on the main road, in a place called “Bohannan Mills valley.” Most of thethirty “home guard” had been killed, wounded or dispersed by theguerrillas. Then all families in that vicinity known to entertain Unionproclivities, were visited at the dead of night. “Murder and arson” wasthe cry. Many poor creatures soon were in the agonies of death.Husbands, who had rushed from concealment to defend their wives, hadbeen cloven to the earth; children ran shrieking to and fro, only to bedashed to pieces by the savages of the Missouri Mountain. It was acarnival of lust and blood, over which the historian ever must dwell inhorror. And yet, these fiends in human shape were protected by the ægisof the “Confederate” flag!

  Such was the scene depicted by the messenger, when the division washalted, and a consultation took place. It was decided that, while themain army went forward, two companies of infantry, a section ofartillery, and a company of cavalry, should be detached to proceed atonce to “Bohannan Mills,” to protect the helpless families, and, ifpossible, to punish the rebel horde which had committed such awfulcrimes against humanity.