Frank Before Vicksburg. The Gun-Boat Series

"'There's an end of poor Thunderbolt – the best horse in the regiment. It has no doubt saved him many a long scout, but I never felt so sorry for any thing in my life.'

"It was hard work, walking along that dusty road, carrying our heavy saddles, and we anxiously scanned every field which we passed, in hopes that we should find some stray horse; but without success. About three o'clock in the afternoon we reached a cross-road, and then we knew where we were. We had frequently been there on short scouts; so, without stopping to keep any further look-out for horses, we quickened our pace, and about two miles further on, arrived at the house of a lady with whom we were well acquainted, and who, as we had always considered her loyal, had been allowed to remain in undisturbed possession of her property, which our regiment had once defended against Mosby's men. Here we halted, and asked the lady if she could furnish us with some dinner. She replied in the affirmative, and we deposited our saddles in one corner of the room, while the woman began to bustle about. In half an hour as good a dinner as I ever tasted in that part of the country was served up, and Ben and I sat down to it with most ravenous appetites. Before sitting down, I should mention, we took off our belts, to which were fastened our sabers and revolvers, and laid them in the corner with our saddles; a very foolish trick, as it afterward proved; but, as we were within fifteen miles of camp, we did not apprehend any danger.

"After our hostess had seen us fairly started, she said:

"'You will excuse me for a few moments, gentlemen, as I would like to run over to see my sister, who is very sick. Will you keep an eye on the baby?' she continued, pointing to the small specimen of humanity in question, which lay fast asleep in the cradle.

"'Yes,' answered Ben, 'I'll see to him;' and the woman started off, leaving us to finish our dinner and attend to the child.

"She hadn't been gone two minutes before the young one awoke, and, of course, began to yell. We didn't know what to do, for it was new business to us. After trying in vain to make it hush, Ben took it out of the cradle, and began to trot it up and down on his knee. But it was no use, and he finally put it back, determined to let it cry until it got ready to stop, when I happened to think of the sugar-bowl. That was just the thing. Ben took good care to keep its mouth so full of sugar that it couldn't yell, and we succeeded in keeping it pretty still.

"In about half an hour the woman returned, and, in reply to our inquiries, informed us that her sister was considerably better, and she hoped would be well in a few days. She then commenced talking on indifferent subjects; and we finally finished every thing on the table, and were thinking about starting for camp, when some one suddenly called out:

"'Here! here! Get up, you Yanks. Get up from that table.'

"We looked up, and there, standing in the door-way, with their revolvers leveled at our heads, were two rebels – Colonel Mosby and a corporal.

"'I've fixed you!' exclaimed the woman, triumphantly. 'You didn't think that while you were stealing my chickens, and abusing me, that I would ever have the power on my side.'

"The old hag had betrayed us. She had invented the story of her sick sister, in order that her absence might not cause us any suspicions, and had left the child for us to take care of, so that we should be obliged to remain until she returned. The story of stealing her chickens, and abusing her, was a mere pretext; for our orders to respect her property were strict, and we had not dared to disobey them.

"'There's only one thing that I am sorry for, madam,' said Ben, coolly, 'and that is, that I didn't choke that young one of yours.'

"'Come, come, there!' interrupted the colonel. 'Get up from behind that table at once, or you are dead men!'

"'We're gobbled easy enough, Harry,' said Ben, in his usual careless manner, as we arose from our chairs. 'Well, I suppose there's no help for it, seeing that we have no weapons. What do you intend to do with a fellow, Johnny?'

"'Take you direct to Richmond,' was the encouraging answer, made by the corporal, as he walked across the room and took possession of our arms. 'Come out here!'

"We had no other alternative; so we marched out in front of the house, our captors mounted their horses, and we trudged along before them on foot toward Centerville.

"You have been a prisoner, and can easily imagine the thoughts that passed through our minds. We saw before us a long, fatiguing march, with hard fare, and harder treatment, and the dreaded Libby looming up in the background. But we were not allowed much time to commune with our own thoughts, for Mosby immediately began to question us in relation to the forces we had in different parts of the country. Of course we told him some of the most outrageous stories, but he seemed to put some faith in them; and when we reached the cross-road he left us, after ordering the corporal to take us to Culpepper.

"As soon as the colonel had got out of sight, the corporal began to abuse us in the worst kind of a manner, swearing at us, and calling us Abolitionists and the like; and said that if he could have his own way he would hang us on the nearest tree. We told him that it was a mean trick to treat prisoners in that way, and advised him to keep a civil tongue in his head, as the tables might be turned on him some day; but he paid no attention to us, and kept on jawing, until finally, just before night, we reached Centerville.

"We stopped at a house near the middle of the town, where we were treated very kindly by the people, who gave us plenty to eat, but told us that we were fighting on the wrong side. After supper, the corporal took us out to the barn, where he proceeded to 'go through' us pretty thoroughly. He robbed me of twenty dollars in greenbacks, a watch, comb, several letters – in short, he did not leave me any thing. After overhauling Ben's pockets, he ordered him to 'come out of his coat,' which he did without a grumble; and after cutting off the shoulder-straps – because Ben 'wouldn't need 'em any more,' he said – he put the coat on his own back, locked the barn, and left us to our meditations. As soon as the sound of his footsteps had died away, I said:

"'Ben, I'm going to get out of here, if I can.'

"'All right,' said he; 'feel around on the floor and see if you can't find something to force that door open with. How I wish I had that young one here! I wouldn't feed it with sugar, I tell you.'

"We commenced groping about in the darkness, but not a thing in the shape of a club could be found. Then we placed our shoulders against the door, and pressed with all our strength; but it was too strong to be forced from its hinges, and the floor was so securely fastened down, that it could not be pulled up; so, after working until we were completely exhausted, we sat down on the floor to rest.

"'We're in for it,' said Ben.

"'But I'm not going to Libby, now I tell you,' I answered. 'To-morrow we shall probably start for Culpepper, under guard of that corporal; and the very first chance, I'm going to mizzle.'

"Ben made no reply, but I well knew what he was thinking about. After a few more ineffectual attempts, we then lay down on the hard boards, and tried to go to sleep; but that was, for a long time, out of the question.

"Our situation was not one calculated to quiet our feelings much, and as we rolled about the floor, trying to find a comfortable position, I could hear Ben venting his spite against 'that brat.' He did not seem to think of the woman who had betrayed us.

"We passed a most miserable night, and at daylight were awakened with:

"'Come out here, you Yanks. It's high time you were moving toward Libby.'

"That rascally corporal seemed to delight in tormenting us; but there was only one thing we could do, and that was to 'grin and bear it.' After a hasty breakfast, we again set out, the corporal following close behind us on his horse, with a revolver in his hand, ready to shoot the first one that made an attempt at escape. We kept on, stopping only once or twice for water, until we reached the Bull Run bridge. Here the corporal stopped, and called out:

"'Come here, one of you fellers, and hold my horse.'

"I did as he ordered, and the rebel dismounted, bent down on one knee, and commenced fixing his spur. My mind was made up in an instant. It was now or never. Giving a yell to attract Ben's attention, I sprang at the rebel, caught him around the neck, and rolled him over on his back. He kicked and swore furiously, and if I had been alone, he would most likely have got the better of me; but Ben, being close at hand, caught up the revolver, which the rebel had laid on the ground beside him, and in a moment more I had secured his saber. He saw that further resistance was useless, and bawled out:

"'Don't shoot, Yank. Don't shoot me, for mercy's sake!'

"'Nobody's going to hurt you if you behave yourself,' said Ben. 'Get up.'

"The rebel raised himself to his feet, and I at once began to 'sound' him, as we call it. I got back my watch, money, and every thing else he had taken from us the night before. We then ordered him to travel on ahead of us, and, as Ben's feet were so badly swollen that he could scarcely move, I told him to get on the horse, while I walked along by his side. We passed back through Centerville, keeping a good look-out for rebel scouts, which we knew were in the vicinity, but we did not meet with any of them until along toward night, when we heard a yell, and, looking up, saw half a dozen cavalry charging across the field toward us.

"'I guess we're gobbled again, captain,' said Ben.

"'Not if our legs hold out,' I answered. 'Get down off that horse, quick. We must foot it, now.'

"Ben hastily dismounted, and, catching our prisoner by the arm, we pulled him over a fence, through the woods, and into a swamp, where we fastened him to a tree. We then tied a handkerchief over his mouth, to prevent him from making his whereabouts known to his friends, and made the best of our way to the camp, which we reached about daylight. We at once reported to the colonel, who sent us back with our company after the prisoner; but he was gone. His friends had doubtless discovered him, and released him from his unpleasant situation. The woman who betrayed us paid the penalty of her treachery. Her house was burned over her head, and her husband, whom she had reported to us as dead, but who was found concealed in the barn, was taken back to the camp a prisoner."

CHAPTER III

On Duty Again

By the time Harry had finished his story, it was almost sundown. Putting the cabin in order, and fastening the door, the boys then started for home. After a hearty supper at the cottage, different plans for their amusement were discussed and determined upon. If time would allow, we might relate many interesting incidents that transpired during the month they spent together; how, one day, the young moose ran away with Uncle Mike's wood wagon and upset the boys in the road. We might, among others, tell of the hunting and fishing expeditions that came off, and the trials of speed that took place on the river, when the Speedwell showed that she had lost none of her sailing qualities during the year and a half that she had remained idle in the shop; but one incident that happened will suffice.

y the time Harry had finished his story, it was almost sundown. Putting the cabin in order, and fastening the door, the boys then started for home. After a hearty supper at the cottage, different plans for their amusement were discussed and determined upon. If time would allow, we might relate many interesting incidents that transpired during the month they spent together; how, one day, the young moose ran away with Uncle Mike's wood wagon and upset the boys in the road. We might, among others, tell of the hunting and fishing expeditions that came off, and the trials of speed that took place on the river, when the Speedwell showed that she had lost none of her sailing qualities during the year and a half that she had remained idle in the shop; but one incident that happened will suffice.

It was on the morning of the last day that they were to pass together, as Frank's sick-leave had expired, and he must soon bid adieu to home and friends again, perhaps forever. This day had been set apart for a fishing excursion; and, bright and early, Frank was at Captain Butler's boat-house, where he found Harry waiting for him. When the bait and every thing else necessary for the trip had been stowed away in the skiff, the boys pulled into the river, and after spending an hour in rowing about the bass-ground, during which time they secured half a dozen fine fish, they started toward the perch-bed, and anchored outside the weeds.

Although they were remarkably successful, they did not seem to enjoy the sport. Frank's thoughts were constantly dwelling on the parting that must come on the morrow. It could not be avoided, for duty called him; and although the idea of disregarding the summons never once entered into his head, he could not help condemning the circumstances that rendered that call necessary. Harry, on the other hand, was impatient to recover his health, as he wished to rejoin his command. While he was free, and enjoying the delights of home, his brother was languishing in a Southern dungeon – held as a hostage for a notorious guerrilla, who had been sentenced to death – not knowing at what moment he might be led forth to execution. Often, during the time that he and Frank had been together, living over the scenes of their school-days, had Harry's thoughts wandered to that brother, and it had done much to mar the pleasure he would otherwise have enjoyed. He imagined he could see him, seated in his loathsome cell, loaded with chains, pale and weak, (in consequence of the systematic plan of starvation adopted by the brutal authorities at Richmond to render our brave fellows unfit for further service, if they should chance to live until they were exchanged,) but firm in the belief that he had done his duty, and ready at any moment – for George was far from being a coward – to be sacrificed. Harry's thoughts, we repeat, often wandered to the dreaded Libby, and especially did they on this morning. And as he pictured to himself the treatment that his brother was daily receiving at the hands of the enemies of the government, is it to be wondered if he indulged in feelings of the deepest malice toward the inhuman wretches who could be guilty of such barbarity?

"There's only this about it, Frank," he said, suddenly breaking the silence that had continued for half an hour; "there's only this about it: if one hair of George's head is injured, Company 'M' of our regiment never takes any more prisoners; and if I have no friendship for a traitor, neither have I for such men as these who are now approaching."

Frank looked up, and saw Charles Morgan and William Gage rowing toward them.

"Here is the very spot," continued Harry, "where we met Morgan when you first became acquainted with him, on the morning when he told such outrageous stories about the fishing there was in New York harbor, and about his fighting Indians in the Adirondack Mountains, in the northern part of Michigan. William Gage, you know, used to be first lieutenant of the "Midnight Rangers."

"Yes, I remember them both," answered Frank. "But it seems to me that I heard some one say that Mr. Morgan is a rebel sympathizer; and Charley, of course, not having brains enough to think for himself, is following in his father's lead."

"So I have heard; but he has never said a word against the government, and he'd better not, for I feel just like choking somebody this morning; and if I hate a rebel, I hold a domestic traitor in the most profound abhorrence."

"Hullo, boys!" exclaimed Charles, at this moment, coming alongside and stretching out a hand to each of them, "how are you? I'm glad to see you back again, Frank. But why haven't you been around to see a fellow? You've kept yourselves very close since your return."

"Yes, Harry and I have spent most of our time in the woods," answered Frank. "But we part again to-morrow."

"Going back to your ship, eh? Well, when do you suppose you will be home again for good?"

"I don't know. If I live, however, I'm going to see this war settled before I come back to civil life again."

"You've had some pretty hard times since you have been in the service, from what I hear."

"Rather tough," answered Harry.

"Well now, you see Bill and I were too sharp to go into any such business as that," said Charles, knowingly. "The old man said, from the start, that you never could whip the South."

"Well, your father was never more mistaken in his life," answered Frank. "We are going to bring back the seceded States, if it takes every man and every dollar at the North. But I don't see why you don't volunteer. How can you stay at home?"

"O, it is the easiest thing in the world," answered Charles, with a laugh. "In the first place, I think too much of my life; and then again, I don't care a snap which whips. I am not interested either way – I'm neutral."

"You're no such thing," answered Harry, angrily. "You never saw two dogs fight in the street, without wanting one or the other of them to whip, and your sympathies are either one way or the other. There's no such thing as a neutral in this war."

"Besides," said Frank, "if I were in your place, I should be ashamed to say that I was neutral. But I hope that you will be compelled to go into the army. Since you have neither the intelligence to determine which side is in the right, nor the courage to fight for that side, I hope that you will be drafted, and that you can't find a substitute."

"Thank you," replied Charles, sneeringly. "You are very kind. But I, of course, know that this is a free country, and a man has a right to talk as he pleases."

"You have no right to utter treasonable sentiments," said Harry; "and another thing, I am not going to sit here and listen to them."

"You are not, indeed! I don't see how you can hinder it," replied Charles. "I say now, and it makes no difference who hears me, that I hope the South will whip, unless the North will allow her to go out of the Union peaceably. I haven't any thing against the South."

"Well, I have," answered Harry, scarcely able to control himself. "My brother is now starving in a rebel prison."

"I can't help it. I have not the least sympathy for him. The South said, at the commencement, that they only wanted to be let alone; and if George hasn't any more sense than to meddle with them, I say, let him take the consequences;" and, as Charles ceased speaking, he dropped the oars into the water, and was about to row off, when Frank seized the gunwale of his boat.

"Avast heaving, there, for a moment," he said, quietly. "Charley, take back what you have said."

"No, sir; I sha'n't do it. I mean what I have said, and I won't take back any thing. Let go of that boat, or I'll hit you," and he raised his oar as if about to strike Frank.

But Harry was too quick for him. Springing lightly into Charles's skiff, he easily wrested the oar from him, and then, seizing him by the collar, exclaimed:

"Take back every word you have said, or I'll wash some of the vile rebel sentiment out of you. I'll dump you overboard. Come, take it all back – quick."

"Help! help! Bill," whined Charles, writhing like an eel in Harry's strong grasp, "are you going to sit there and see me abused in this manner? Help, I tell you."

William looked first at Harry, then at Frank, who had grown exceedingly tall and muscular since the last time he had measured strength with him in friendly contest, and made no reply.

"Come, take it back," urged Harry.

"No, I won't," replied Charles, who, finding that he was left to fight his own battles alone, now began to struggle desperately. "I tell you I won't take back any thing."

"Then overboard you go," said Harry. "I'll see what effect cold water will have on you;" and, easily lifting Charles from his feet, in spite of his struggles, he threw him headlong into the water.

"How is it now?" he coolly inquired, as Charles appeared at the surface, looking very forlorn, indeed. "Any more rebel sentiment in you that wants washing out? Come in here, you young traitor;" and, as he spoke, he again seized him by the collar, and drew him into the boat.

"Unhand me," shouted Charles, as soon as he could regain his feet; "I'll fix you for this."

"Are you ready to take back what you said?" demanded Harry, tightening his grasp.

"No; nor shall I ever be," was the stubborn answer.

"Well, then, down you go again."

"No, no! don't," screamed Charles, who now began to be really frightened; "I take it all back."

"What do you take back?" asked Harry.

"I don't want to see the Northern prisoners all starved."

"Well, what else?"

"I don't want to see the Union destroyed."

"Go on; what next?"

"But I do wish the South could be whipped to-morrow, and be made to stay in the Union."

"Well, now you are talking sense," said Harry, releasing his hold of Charles's collar. "Of course, I know you don't mean what you say, but I was bound to make you say a good word for the Union before I let you off. I have one more favor to ask of you, and then I am done. Will you oblige me by giving three cheers for the boys who are fighting our battles – every day risking their lives in defense of the old flag?"

Charles hesitated.

"I sha'n't ask you but once more, then," and here Harry pointed to the water, in a very significant manner.

Charles, knowing that he was in earnest, and that there was no escape, gave the required cheers with as good a grace as he could command.

"That's right," said Harry, approvingly. "Now I have done with you, and you can thank your lucky stars that you have got off so easily. If you had been in the army when you said what you did a few moments since, the boys would have hung you to the very first tree they could have found. Now, take my advice, and don't let me hear of your uttering any more such sentiments as long as I remain in the village; if you do, I'll duck you as often as I can get my hands on you."

Harry then sprang into his own skiff, and Charles sullenly picked up his oars, and pulled toward home.

"There," exclaimed Harry, "I feel better now. I worked off a little of my indignation on that fellow. The rascal! to tell us that George ought to be starved for helping to maintain the government, and that he didn't care whether the Union went to ruin or not. Now that I think of it, I'm sorry that I let him off so easily."

"He was pretty well punished, after all," said Frank. "It will have the effect of making him a little more careful."

At noon, the fish stopped biting, and the boys started for home. They parted at the boat-house, after Frank had promised to call and say "good-by" before he left in the morning.

When the latter reached home he found his trunk packed, and every thing in readiness for the start, so that he had nothing to do but roam about the premises, and take a last look at every thing, as he had done on a former occasion. His mother and sister tried to look cheerful, but it was a sorry failure, for Frank could easily read what was passing in their minds.

Morning came at length, and at eight o'clock, to Frank's great relief – for he wished the parting over as soon as possible – he saw the carriage approaching which was to take him to the steamer. A few embraces and hastily-spoken farewells, and Frank was whirling away from his home. At Captain Butler's he stopped for Harry, who met him at the gate with an open letter in his hand; and, as he sprang into the carriage, he exclaimed, joyfully:

"It's all right, Frank. Here's a letter from George. He has been exchanged, and is now in the hospital at Washington. The rebels, he says, tried to starve him to death, but couldn't make it. He is only waiting until he gets strong enough to travel, and then he's coming home. He's pretty well used up. When I get back to the army, with Company 'M' to back me up, I'll make somebody smart for it."

By the time Harry had finished venting his anger against the enemies of the government, the carriage reached the wharf, as the steamer was moving out into the river. Frank had just time to get on board, and a few moments afterward the Julia Burton carried him out of sight of the village. He stopped only a short time at Portland; and, four days after leaving that place, found Archie waiting for him as he sprang off the train at Cairo. He reported to the fleet captain, who ordered him to "take passage down the river on the United States dispatch steamer General Lyon," which was to sail at four o'clock that afternoon. The cousins passed the day together. When four o'clock came, Archie returned to his high stool with a sorrowful countenance, and Frank waived his adieu from the steamer that was to carry him back – to what? It is well that the future is hidden from us, for Frank would not have trod that deck with so light a heart had he known what was in store for him.