Rodney The Partisan

"Did he tell the Governor in his second dispatch that I was getting ready to leave the State, and that he had better be on the lookout to stop me?"

"Eh? No. He didn't send the second dispatch to the Governor. He sent it to his father's cotton-factor in St. Louis, who is a Yank so blue that the blue will rub off."

"The – mischief – he – did!" exclaimed Rodney, who began to feel blue himself even if he didn't look so. "And what did he have to say to that Yankee about me?"

"He told him to watch the steamboats for a Confederate bearer of dispatches – a young fellow, dark complexioned, slight mustache, dressed in citizen's clothes and a roan colt for company."

"It is his intention to have me arrested the minute I get into St. Louis, is it?" cried Rodney, getting upon his feet and moving about the room with long, angry strides.

"It looked that way to me, and that's why I am here," replied Griffin.

"I appreciate your friendship, and assure you that I shall always bear it in mind," said Rodney, stopping long enough to give the operator's hand a cordial gripe and shake.

"That's all right," said the latter. "I haven't forgotten the winter when I was down with the chills and couldn't work, and that mortgage of ours liked to have worried my mother into a sick bed – "

"That's all right too," Rodney interposed. "I was at school and had nothing whatever to do with it."

"No, but your father had something to do with it, and it's all in the family. I know it is Randolph's intention to get you into trouble with the Yankees if he can, for I heard him tell Drummond so. And he couldn't have taken a better way or a better time to do it," continued Griffin. "If all reports are true, things are in a bad way in St. Louis. You know there are a good many Dutchmen there, and they are mostly strong for the Union. During one of the riots they fired into their own ranks instead of into the mob, and that made them so wild with rage that they are ready to hang every Confederate they can get their hands on, without judge or jury."

"A bearer of dispatches," repeated Rodney, once more seating himself in his chair. "And did Drummond send off that telegram when he knew there wasn't a word of truth in it?"

"Course. Don't I tell you that he's too mean for any use? He and Randolph are and always have been cronies, and I heard them talking and laughing over the dispatches as though they thought they were going to get a big joke on you."

"What other thing has Drummond done that's mean?" inquired Rodney.

"Let's talk about something else," replied Griffin, evasively.

"Just as you please," answered the Barrington boy. "But I shouldn't think you would take the trouble to come to Baton Rouge and run the risk of losing your position in the telegraph office, unless you are willing to trust me entirely. I asked for information and not out of curiosity. If Drummond attempts any foolishness with you, my father may be able to checkmate him."

"Well, then," said the operator, with some hesitation. "You musn't betray me. Drummond has sent the names of all the Union men in and around Mooreville to the Governor."

"Why, I didn't suppose there were any Union men there," exclaimed Rodney, who was greatly surprised.

"Of course you didn't. You wouldn't expect one of them to make himself known to as hot a Confederate as you are known to be, would you? There are plenty of people at home who don't suspect such a thing, but I don't mind telling you of it, for you are not mean enough to persecute a man who differs from you in opinion."

Rodney thrust both hands deep into his pockets, slid farther down in his chair, and fastened his eyes on the carpet without saying a word. What would his visitor think of him if he knew that he had been mean enough to do just that very thing that in order to punish his cousin for his Union sentiments and drive him away from the academy, he had written a letter to Budd Goble which came within an ace of bringing Marcy Gray a terrible beating? The matter came vividly to Rodney's recollection now, and he would have given everything he ever hoped to possess if he could have blotted out that one act.

"Yes, there are Union men in Mooreville," continued Griffin, getting upon his feet and buttoning up his coat, "and Randolph and his friend Drummond are laying their plans to bring sorrow of some sort to them.

There was still another telegram which was sent to this place."

"Was there anything in it about me?" inquired Rodney.

"It was all about you. In it Drummond asked the operator here to keep an eye on you if he could conveniently, and send word to Mooreville when you went up the river and what boat you went on. Then he will send off another dispatch to that St. Louis Yankee, who will know just when to expect you."

"He means to be revenged on me for voting as I did, doesn't he?" mused Rodney. "I shall not have any dispatches about me, but I don't want to be arrested. It would delay me just that much, and might make it impossible for me to get out of the city."

"Really I must be going," exclaimed Griffin, "or my cousin, who thinks I came here on purpose to see him, will have his suspicions aroused. Can you show me the way out? Remember I musn't be seen by anybody."

The Barrington boy, who was as well acquainted in that house as he was in his father's, led the way to the front door, and after again thanking his visitor for the trouble he had taken and the friendship he had shown in warning him of his danger, he ran down the steps to the sidewalk and looked in both directions. There was no one in sight; and having made sure of it Rodney motioned to Griffin, who quickly disappeared in the darkness. Then Rodney went slowly back into the house and entered the room in which he had left his father. He told him and their host everything, even at the risk of hearing Mr. Gray declare that he should not stir one step toward St. Louis. That was just what the boy thought his father would say, and he was ready for it, having hit upon a plan which he was sure would throw his enemies off the scent.

Rodney's father was as angry at Randolph and Drummond as he was grateful to young Griffin for the service he had rendered his son, but all he had to say about it was that he would remember them all. And we may anticipate events a little by saying that he kept his word so far as Griffin was concerned. When the Confederate Congress passed that famous conscription law "robbing the cradle and the grave," that is to say, making every able-bodied man in the South between the ages of seventeen and fifty subject to military duty, it did not neglect to provide for the exemption of those who were able to pay for it, thus proving the truth of the assertion that the war of the rebellion was a rich man's war and a poor man's fight. The fact that young Griffin was the sole support of a widowed mother made not the slightest difference to the Confederate enrolling officers, who would have forced him into the army if Rodney's father had not come to his relief. According to the terms of the law there was one exempt on every plantation employing more than fifteen slaves. Mr. Gray owned four such plantations and he gave young Griffin charge of one of them, at the same time handing over the hundred pounds of bacon and beef that Griffin would have been obliged to pay as the price of his exemption. Of course this made Randolph angry, and the burden of his complaint was:

"Griffin is Union and I know it; and old Gray has no business to shield him from the conscription in that fashion. My friend Drummond had to run when the Yankees came here, and now he is starving in the Confederate army; and is this Griffin any better than Drummond? My exemption is all right. My father is free by reason of his age, and I must look out for the plantation; but Griffin ought to be made to light. I'd give something handsome to know what made those Grays take such a shine to him all of a sudden."

The knowledge that he was watched, and that the telegraph was to be brought into operation against him, did not keep Rodney Gray awake five minutes after his head touched the pillow. He slept soundly, ate a hearty breakfast, and in company with his father took his way to the telegraph office and wrote a dispatch, addressing it to Dick Graham's father at St. Louis. Mr. Graham did not live in the city. His home was near Springfield; but Rodney knew from something Dick said in his letter that his father was sojourning in St. Louis watching the progress of events. His first telegram had reached Mr. Graham all right, and it was likely this one would also. He made a great show of writing it, and even read it to his father in a tone loud enough for the operator to hear it.

"'Will start for St. Louis by first steamer, and shall be glad to have you meet me at the wharf-boat,'" was what he wrote in the dispatch. "Of course Mr. Graham can easily find out what boats are due in the city, and will know about what time to expect me. How much?"

The operator, who seemed to take a deeper interest in this dispatch and the sender than operators usually take in such things, named the price and gazed curiously at Rodney as the latter brought out his purse and looked for the money.

"That's the fellow Drummond wants us to watch," said he to his assistant, when Rodney and his father were out of hearing. "I wonder what's up? Do you suppose he has been stealing anything? He's got a handful of gold – big pieces, too."

"So far so good," said Rodney, as he and his father went out upon the street. "Now let that Yankee cotton-factor watch the St. Louis wharf-boats if he wants to, and see how much he will make by it. I knew I could throw them off the scent."

"You may not have done it as completely as you think," replied Mr. Gray, "I shall not draw an easy breath until I hear that you are safe under Mr. Graham's roof. When you get aboard the steamer be careful what acquaintances you make. Take warning by what Griffin told you last night and take nobody into your confidence."

That afternoon their host learned, through business channels, that the steamer Mollie Able was in New Orleans loading for St. Louis, and might be expected to arrive at Baton Rouge bright and early on the following morning, provided she was not impressed by the Confederate quarter-master. She came on time, and Rodney afterward learned that he was fortunate in securing passage on her, far she was one of the last boats that went up the river. Navigation was closed soon after she reached St. Louis, and all communication between the North and South was cut off by the Confederate batteries that were erected along the Mississippi. The telegraph lines, which up to this time had been used by both Union men and rebels alike, were seized by the Government; and if Rodney had been a week later, he would not have been able to get that dispatch through to St. Louis. But that would not have interfered with his arrangements, for he did not now expect to meet Dick's father in St. Louis. He had used the telegram simply to deceive Tom Randolph and the Baton Rouge operators.

Rodney Gray and his father, as well as the roan colt and a goodly supply of hay and grain that had been provided for him, were on the levee waiting for the Mollie Able when she turned in for the landing, and Rodney did not fail to notice that in the crowd of lookers-on there was one young fellow who made it a point to keep pretty close to him, although he did not appear to do so intentionally.

"It's one of the operators Randolph set to watch me," he whispered to his father. "I hope he will follow us up to the clerk's office and stand around within earshot while I buy my ticket."

His wish was gratified, for that was just what the young operator had been sent there for – to find out whether or not Rodney secured passage to St. Louis. When the latter had seen his horse and forage disposed of on the main deck he ascended to the office, and there was the spy, standing with his hands behind his back and his gaze directed across the river. He stood close to the rail, but still he could hear every word that passed between Rodney and the clerk; and when the latter turned away with his ticket in his hand, the spy ran down the stairs and started for his office to tell Drummond the Moorville operator that he had seen Rodney Gray pay his passage to St. Louis.

"Good-by, my boy," said Mr. Gray, when the steamer's bell rang out the warning that the gang-plank was about to be hauled in.

"Write to us as often as you can, and remember your mother's parting words. As often as I hear from you I shall expect to hear that you did your duty. Remember too, that you are fighting in a just cause. The North has forced this thing upon us, and we would be the veriest cowards in the world if we did not defend ourselves. Good-by."

A moment later Rodney Gray was standing alone on the boiler deck, waving his handkerchief to his father, and the Mollie Able's bow was swinging rapidly away from the landing. Young as he was the boy had traveled a good deal and was accustomed to being among strangers; but now he was homesick, and when it was too late he began to wonder at the step he had so hastily taken, and ask himself how he could possibly endure a whole year's separation from his father and mother.

"I've played a fool's part," thought he, bitterly, "and now I am going to reap a fool's reward. Why didn't I stay with the company and share its fortunes, as I said I was going to do, or why didn't father put his foot down and tell me I couldn't go to Missouri? Heigh-ho! This is what comes of being patriotic."

Then Rodney tilted his chair back on its hind legs, placed his feet on the top of the railing and fell to wondering what had become of the rest of the boys in his class, and whether or not all the Union fellows had been as true to their colors as his cousin Marcy Gray had tried to be. Some of the Barrington students who were strong for the Union were from Missouri, and they did not believe in neutrality as Dick Graham did. They believed in keeping the rebellious States in the Union by force of arms if they would not stay in peaceably. Had they joined Lyon's army, and would he and Dick have to meet them on the field of battle? He hoped not, but if he did, he would be careful to follow the advice Ed Billings gave his cousin Marcy and shoot high.

The journey up the river was an uneventful one. The tables were pretty well filled at meal time, but Rodney could not have been more alone if he had been stranded on some sandbar in the middle of the stream. His horse was the only companion he had, and the animal seemed to be as lonely and homesick as his master was. Rodney visited him a dozen times a day to make sure that he did not want for anything, and the colt always rubbed his head against the boy's shoulder and told him by other signs, as plainly as a horse could tell it, that he was glad to see him. There was an utter lack of that sociability and unrestrained intercourse among the passengers that Rodney had always noticed during his trips up and down the river. Some of them were solitary and alone like himself, while others, having formed themselves into little groups, had nothing to do with the rest of the passengers, but kept entirely on their own side of the boiler deck. Rodney thought they acted as though they were afraid of one another. This state of affairs continued until the Mollie Able reached Memphis, where the Confederates were building a fleet of gunboats, and then a remark made by one of the passengers broke down all reserve, and showed some of them, Rodney Gray among the rest, that they had been keeping aloof from their friends.

"When these boats are completed," Rodney heard the passenger say to one of his companions, "you will see fun on this river. The first point of assault will be Cairo, and then we'll go on up and take St. Louis away from Lyon's Dutchmen. Those Missourians are a pretty set of cowards to let a lot of ignorant foreigners take their city out of their hands."

Well, they couldn't help it, and besides, the loyal Germans were by no means as ignorant as some of the men who fought against them. They were good soldiers and hard to whip; and it was owing to their patriotism and courage that such fellows as Rodney Gray and Dick Graham did not succeed in their efforts to "run the Yankees out of Missouri." And as for the Confederate gunboats of which such great things were expected, they were, with a single exception, destroyed in a fight of less than an hour's duration by the Union fleet under the command of Flag Officer Davis. The Van Dorn alone escaped, and she was never heard of afterward.

When the Mollie Able resumed her journey Rodney waited and watched for an opportunity to question the outspoken Confederate, for he believed he could trust him. As he had often told himself, he was "going it blind," and a little information from some one who knew how things were going on up the river, might be of the greatest use to him. The opportunity he sought was presented the very next day. While he was feeding his horse the Confederate sauntered along and stopped and looked at the colt with the air of a man who knew a good thing when he saw it.

"There ought to be some 'go' in that fellow," said he.

"I think there is," replied Rodney. "But I have never tried him at his best, and don't expect to unless the Yankees get after me."

"Well, if you keep on up the river you will go right where the Yankees are," said the gentleman, who looked a little surprised. "If you are on our side what are you doing here?"

"Pardon me, but I might ask you the same question," answered the boy cautiously.

"My business is no secret," was the smiling reply. "I am going up into Ohio after my family. I want to get them home while I can. All our highways will be shut up after a while."

"Do you think there will be any fighting?"

"Lots of it, and I have promised to help"; and as the man said this he put his hand into his pocket and drew out an official envelope. He looked around the deck to make sure that there was no one within earshot, and then produced a printed document which he unfolded and handed over for Rodney's inspection. "I knew you were a Southerner the minute I saw you, and have several times been on the point of speaking to you, for you seemed lonesome and downhearted," he continued "But when one is about to beard the lion in his den as I am, it behooves him to be careful whom he addresses."

"That was the reason I kept to myself," answered Rodney, handing back the paper which proved that his new acquaintance was a captain in the Confederate army. "I should think you would be afraid to have that commission about you. I left all my soldier things at home."

"I reckon I am safe now, but I might not be a week hence," said the captain. "Who are you any way, if it is a fair question, and where are you going?"

Rodney explained in a few hasty words, and was sorry to hear the captain declare, as he shook his finger at him:

"You are making a great mistake. The place for a young man with a military education is in the regular army; not the volunteers, understand, but the regulars, who will be continued in the service after our independence has been acknowledged. I am surprised that your friends didn't point that out to you."

"I have gone too far along this road to back out now," replied Rodney.

"We'll get by Cairo all right, won't we?"

"I think so. There have been no restrictions placed upon travel yet that I have heard of."

"How about Cape Girardeau?"

"That place is garrisoned. You mustn't think of getting off there. How would you get through the lines without a pass?"

"Well, I must get off somewhere along the Missouri shore, for it wouldn't be safe for me to go on to St. Louis."

"Of course it wouldn't. That Union cotton-factor would have you arrested the minute you put your foot on the levee. I'll tell you what I'll do," said the captain, after thinking a moment. "The first clerk, with whom I have a slight acquaintance, is solid, and I'll make it my business to ask him if we are going to land anywhere on the Missouri side between Cape Girardeau and St. Louis. If we are, I'll tip you the wink, and you can be ready to go ashore."

"Thank you, sir," said Rodney, gratefully.

"That young chap has no idea what he is going into," said the captain, after he had told Rodney's story to some of his friends on the boiler deck. "It's neighbor against neighbor all through the southern and western parts of Missouri, and for a week or two past there has been the worst kind of a partisan warfare going on. How he is going to get through I don't know, for if he meets an armed man on the way how is he going to tell whether he is Union or Confederate?"

There was but one opinion expressed when the captain finished his story, and that was that Rodney Gray was a foolhardy young fellow.

CHAPTER VI

UNDER SUSPICION

From that time forward Rodney Gray had no reason to complain of being lonely. Captain Howard – that was the name of his new acquaintance – introduced him to more than a dozen gentleman, all of whom were enthusiastic rebels and firm in their belief that if the South did not have a "walk over" she would have the next thing to it, for there was no fight to speak of in the Northern people. They told Rodney that while they gloried in his pluck, they were afraid he had undertaken more than he could accomplish.

It may seem strange to some of our readers that these enemies of the government should have the audacity to show their faces among loyal men, and that the authorities should permit them to go and come whenever they felt like it, but stranger things than this were being done in the East, and right under the noses of the President and his cabinet. Rebel agents in Washington kept their friends in the South posted in all that was said and done at the capital, and Commander (afterward Admiral) Semmes had made a business trip through the Northern States, purchasing large quantities of percussion caps which "were sent by express without any disguise to Montgomery," making contracts for artillery, powder and other munitions of war, as well as for a complete set of machinery for rifling cannon, and had searched the harbor of New York in the hope of finding a steamer or two that might be armed and used for coast defense. None of these people were molested, and that was one thing that led the Southerners to believe that the North would not fight.

Cairo was reached in due time, but there was little in or around the place to indicate that there was a war at hand except the outlines of a small fort which was being thrown up to command the river and Bird's Point on the Missouri shore. There were a few soldiers strolling about on the levee, and at that time the garrison numbered six hundred and fifty men. A few months later there was a much larger force in Cairo, and among the blue coats there was one who was often seen walking along the levee with his hands behind him and his eyes fastened thoughtfully upon the ground. He generally wore an old linen duster, a black slouch hat, and a pair of light blue pants thrust into the tops of heavy boots which were seldom blacked, but often splashed with Cairo mud. But everybody stepped respectfully aside to let him pass, and the spruce young staff officers never failed to salute. It was General Grant.

Once more the Mollie Able swung out into the stream, and at the end of half an hour rounded the point below the fort and resumed her journey up the Mississippi. Now Rodney Gray began to show signs of excitement. Every turn of the paddle wheels brought him nearer to the place where he must leave the boat, and the new-made friends who had done so much to cheer him up since they found out who and what he was, and set out alone on a journey of nearly two hundred and fifty miles.

"Being a born Southerner you are accustomed to the saddle, and the ride itself would be nothing but a pleasure trip; but there are the people you are likely to meet on the way," said Captain Howard, seating himself by Rodney's side as the Mollie Able rounded the point. "Are you armed?"

The boy replied that he had a revolver.

"You may need it," continued the captain. "You see the pro-slavery men and abolitionists are scattered all over the State, and I don't believe you can find a town or village in it that is not divided into two hostile camps. That's where I am afraid you are going to have trouble, and you must be all things to all men until you find out who you are talking to. Now here are two letters of introduction that one of my friends gave me for you this morning, and they are addressed to parties living near Springfield, one of whom is a Union man and the other a Confederate. You must use them – "