Raiding with Morgan

“Where shall I find my credentials?” asked Calhoun.

“At Mount Vernon, Illinois, which is the terminus of my railroad at present. Inquire for Judge Worley. Once in his hands, you will be all right. If all the Knights were like him there would be something doing; but he is a Kentuckian, no whining Yankee.”

Calhoun had heard much of General Forrest, and during his interview with him studied him carefully. He put him down as a man of indomitable energy, of great courage, and possessing military genius of a high order. On the other hand, he was illiterate, rough in his language, and lacked the polish of a cultured gentleman, which Morgan possessed. But there was a magnetism about him which drew men to him.

“If I were not riding with Morgan, I should surely want to be with Forrest,” thought Calhoun.

Night came, and Calhoun was introduced to the mail-carrier who was to be his guide. He was a thin, wiry man, named Givens. In age, Calhoun put him down at about forty. The few days during which Calhoun was with Givens gave him a very high opinion of the guide’s bravery and sagacity. Givens related many of his hairbreadth escapes during their journey, and seemed to treat them as great jokes. During the entire journey through Tennessee and Kentucky, Givens kept to unfrequented roads, and in the darkest night rode as one entirely familiar with the way.

At every place they stopped, they seemed to be expected. A man would take their horses, and in the evening when they started, they would find fresh horses provided. Givens informed Calhoun that these stations were a night ride apart, and that at each a relay of horses was kept concealed in the woods.

“I now understand,” said Calhoun, “what an underground railroad means. If the Abolitionists had as complete a one as you, no wonder they were so successful in getting away with our slaves.”

Givens chuckled as he answered: “They did, I know all about it; was in the business myself.”

“You?” asked Calhoun, in surprise, and he instinctively recoiled from the man.

“A man has to do something for a living,” growled Givens; “I got so much for each nigger I ran off.” He then refused to discuss the subject further.

One night as they were travelling at a rapid gait, a low, tremulous whistle came from the side of the road. Givens reined in his horse so quickly that he fell back on his haunches. He answered the whistle in the same low, tremulous note. A man stepped from the bushes into the road, and spoke a few words to Givens in a low tone.

Givens turned to Calhoun and said: “Yanks ahead. We will have to go round them.”

Under the guidance of the man they turned into a path through the woods. The way was rough, and Givens swore roundly because they were losing time. A good-sized stream was reached, which they had to swim. They emerged from it wet and out of humor, Givens cursing the Yankees to his heart’s content. He explained that it eased his mind. When the road was reached their guide bade them good-bye, and disappeared as suddenly as he had appeared.

Givens and Calhoun now urged their horses to their utmost speed, in order to reach their next stopping-place by daylight. But do the best they could, the sun was an hour high before they reached their haven of rest. Luckily they met with no one, and they felt safe.

“One more night and we shall reach the Ohio,” said Givens, when they dismounted after a long, wearisome night ride. But it was destined that they should not reach the Ohio the next night, for they had not ridden more than five miles after they had started before they were brought up with the sharp command: “Halt! Who comes there?”

“Citizens without the countersign,” answered Givens without a moment’s hesitation, and then to Calhoun, “Wheel and run for your life.”

They both turned and clapped spurs to their horses, but not before the sentinel had fired. Calhoun heard a sharp exclamation of pain, and turning his head saw Givens tumble from his horse. He had carried his last mail. There was no time to halt, for Calhoun heard the rapid hoof-beats of horses in pursuit. Coming to a cross-road, he sprang from his horse and struck him a vicious blow which sent him galloping wildly down the road. In a moment a squad of Federal cavalry passed in swift pursuit. Calhoun breathed freer after the trampling of their horses died away in the distance. But he was alone, without a horse, and in a strange country. He was now thankful that Forrest had not sent his credentials with Givens.

Calhoun made his way slowly on foot, turning into a road which led in the direction which he wished to go. All through the night he plodded, and when morning came he found he was close to a large plantation. He determined to make himself known. Placing his revolver in his bosom, where he could get it in a moment, he boldly went up to the house. Fortunately he met the owner of the plantation, who saluted him with, “Heah, git off of my place, or I will set the dogs on you. I want no tramps around heah.”

Calhoun glanced at himself, and did not wonder he had been mistaken for a disreputable character. His night’s walk had made sad havoc with the looks of his clothes. The road was muddy, and he had fallen down several times. Rather in desperation than thinking it would do any good, he made the sign of recognition of the Knights of the Golden Circle. To his surprise it was answered.

“Who are you? and why do you come in such a plight?” asked the gentleman.

Calhoun’s story was soon told. “And you are one of Morgan’s men,” said the gentleman, whose name was Cressey. “I have a son with Morgan,” and he gave his name.

“One of my scouts,” replied Calhoun, delighted. Calhoun had indeed found a friend, and a place of refuge. The next night, with a good horse and guide, Calhoun was taken to a house but a short distance from the river. The farmer who owned the house was to take a load of produce into Mount Vernon that day. Calhoun could easily go with him without exciting suspicion. This was done, and before noon Calhoun, free and unsuspected, was walking the streets of Mount Vernon.

Shortly after dinner he inquired for the office of Judge Worley, and was shown the most pretentious law office in the little city. Entering, he inquired for the Judge, and was told that he was in his private office.

“Tell him that a gentleman wishes to see him on very important business,” said Calhoun.

A clerk bade him be seated, and disappeared. He returned in a moment and said the Judge would see him at once.

When Calhoun entered the private office he saw seated at a desk a dignified-looking gentleman about sixty years of age, who eyed him sharply, and Calhoun was sure a look of disappointment came over his face. This, then, was the gentleman who wished to see him on very important business – hardly more than a boy.

He did not even ask Calhoun to be seated, but said, in a cold voice: “Well, what do you want? Be in a hurry, for I am very busy.”

This was not the kind of reception Calhoun was looking for. Gulping down his indignation, he said: “I am just from the South, I was directed to come to you, who would prove a friend.”

“Ah! some one must have taken an unwarranted liberty with my name.”

While he was saying this, Calhoun was aware a pair of steel-gray eyes were trying to read his very soul.

“Is that all?” at length continued the Judge. “I have no time to give you; as I told you, I am very busy,” and he dismissed his visitor with a wave of the hand.

As a last resort Calhoun gave the sign of recognition of the Knights of the Golden Circle. There was no recognition; instead a testy, “Why don’t you go?”

Calhoun’s face flamed with anger, but controlling himself, he replied: “When you receive some mail from the South, you may find some dispatches from General Forrest which will cause you to treat me differently. If such dispatches come, be here in your office at nine o’clock to-night.”

When Calhoun mentioned “mail from the South,” and “General Forrest,” the Judge turned pale, and Calhoun fancied he made a motion as if to stop him; but the young man paid no attention to the signal, and strode indignantly from the office.

No sooner was he gone than the Judge turned eagerly to a pile of mail which he had just received, and which the coming of Calhoun had interrupted him in reading. Hurriedly running over the letters, he picked out one, and opened it with nervous fingers. It was written in cipher. Opening a secret drawer in his desk, he took out the key to the cipher, and began the translation of the dispatch. As he did so, he gave vent to his surprise in various exclamations.

“Lieutenant Calhoun Pennington of Morgan’s staff … will go by name of W. B. Harrison … comes North to fully investigate conditions… If favorable will invade North… Pennington is member of K. G. C.”

The Judge laid down the letter and seemed to be gazing into vacancy. He was thinking – thinking hard. At last he picked up the letter and read it through to the end. Then he made preparations to go out.

“I shall not be back again this afternoon,” he said to his clerk, as he passed out. “You can lock up the office when you leave. I shall not need you this evening.”

When Calhoun called that evening, he was met at the door by the Judge, and given a reception much different from that he received in the afternoon.

“I am glad to see you, Lieutenant,” said the Judge, and he raised his hand as if in military salute, but was careful not to touch his forehead.

“And I am rejoiced to make the acquaintance of Judge Worley,” replied Calhoun, raising his hand as if to shade his eyes from the light.

They then advanced and grasped each other by the hand, the fore-finger of each resting on the pulse of the other.

“Nu,” said Calhoun.

“Oh,” responded the Judge.

“Lac,” answered Calhoun.

“Nu-oh-lac,” they then both said together.

Thus were they introduced to each other as members of the Knights of the Golden Circle.

The Judge was now profuse in his apologies for his treatment of Calhoun at their first meeting.

“The fact is,” said the Judge, “we are surrounded by Lincoln spies on every hand. Some of them have gained admittance into the order. One cannot be too careful. Then your youth misled me. I am now surprised that one so young should be selected for so important a commission.”

“No apology is needed,” said Calhoun. “I confess I was indignant at first, but I now see you were right in receiving me as you did. Have you received General Forrest’s letter yet?”

“Yes, and it makes all plain. By the way, I see that your name is Calhoun. Have you ever noticed our password particularly?”

“No; you must bear in mind I am a new member.”

“Read your name backwards,” said the Judge, with a smile.

Calhoun did so, and exclaimed, in surprise: “Nuohlac! Why, it’s my name spelled backwards.”

“Aye! and it is the name of the greatest American who ever lived,” exclaimed the Judge, with enthusiasm. “I trust that you honor the name. Would that John C. Calhoun were alive now. What a glorious day it would be for him. But his spirit lives – lives, and thank God there is no Andrew Jackson in the presidential chair!”

“Lincoln seems to have more nerve than I wish he had,” answered Calhoun.

“Lincoln is an ignoramus, a filthy story-teller, a monster. Seward is the brains of the administration. Without Seward, Lincoln would be nothing.”

Calhoun thought it wise not to dispute with the Judge, so he changed the subject by asking the number of Knights of the Golden Circle in the state.

“That, under my oath, I cannot give,” answered the Judge. “I see by General Forrest’s letter that you have taken only the first degree of the order. That entitles you to very little information. It is the duty of those who take only this degree to obey, not to question. General Forrest advises that the other degrees be given you as soon as possible. I have already made arrangements to have you initiated into the second and third degrees this evening. That is as high as we can go here.”

The Judge here looked at his watch, and said it was time to go.

Calhoun accompanied him to a room over a saloon, the Judge explaining that they had selected the place so as not to excite suspicion by so many men passing in and out. Calhoun found at least fifty men assembled, and when he was introduced as one of Morgan’s men, he received a perfect ovation.

“Hurrah for John Morgan!” shouted one enthusiastic member, and the cheers were given with a will.

Three cheers were then given for Jeff Davis, followed by three groans for Abe Lincoln.

Calhoun could scarcely believe his ears. Was this the North? He could well believe he was in the heart of the South.

The object of the meeting was stated, and Calhoun was duly initiated into the second and third degrees. There was no mistaking the nature of the society; its object was the overthrow of the Lincoln government. But resistance to the draft was the main thing discussed. Their hatred of even the name of Lincoln was shown in every word.

Calhoun, now armed with the proper credentials, was told that to obtain the information which he sought, he would have to visit the Grand Commander of the state, who was a Dr. Warrenton, of Springfield. Calhoun marvelled that the head officer of such an order should reside under the very shadow of the state capitol.

The next day found Calhoun in Springfield. It was full of Federal soldiers, and from almost every house a United States flag was flying. It did not look like a very promising place for opposition to the Federal government, but Calhoun afterwards learned that the place was honeycombed with members of the Knights of the Golden Circle.

Calhoun was received by Dr. Warrenton with the greatest caution, and it was only after he was fully satisfied that his visitor was what he represented himself to be that the Doctor consented to talk.

“Be frank with me,” said Calhoun; “John Morgan is contemplating a raid in the North, and he wishes to know whether in that case he can expect any aid from this order, and if so to what number.”

The Doctor seemed to be fired with the idea of Morgan making a raid, but said: “If you are to be given the full information you ask for, you must be initiated into the fourth degree of the order. That is a degree which but very few take, and can be given only with the consent of the Supreme Commander. The Grand Commanders of the different states meet the Supreme Commander in Canada next Tuesday. This is Friday. You had better attend that meeting, as your mission is very important.”

“Why meet in Canada?” asked Calhoun.

“Because it is safer, and – and we want to meet the Supreme Commander of the order.”

“Ah! I understand,” said Calhoun. “Mr. – ”

“Stop; on your life mention no names! Our oaths forbid it.”

“I stand corrected,” answered Calhoun, humbly.

It was arranged that Calhoun was to accompany Dr. Warrenton to Canada; but the Doctor warned him that on the cars they must be to each other as strangers.

“When we reach Detroit,” said the Doctor, “go to the Russell House, and register as from Chicago. Write Chicago ‘Chic.’ ”

“I think I will go through to Chicago this evening,” said Calhoun; “I should like to make some investigations there; you can meet me there Monday.”

So it was arranged, the Doctor giving him the names of half a dozen men in that city whom it might be well for him to see. “But mind,” said Warrenton, “do not tell any one of Morgan’s contemplated raid. That must be a secret.”

Calhoun spent two days in Chicago, and what he saw and learned there surprised him more than ever. Opposition to the Lincoln government was everywhere. The leading newspaper boldly demanded that the war be stopped, boastingly proclaimed that there would soon be “a fire in the rear” that would bring Lincoln to his senses. Resistance to the draft was openly talked on the streets. It was even hinted that there was a secret move on foot to liberate the prisoners at Camp Douglas and burn the city.

“This is proving interesting,” thought Calhoun; “the whole North seems to be a seething volcano, ready to burst forth into flames, yet something seems to smother the flames.”

Calhoun had an inkling of what smothered the flames when, representing himself as a young Englishman, he asked a Federal officer why the government permitted such open talk of treason.

The officer smiled as he answered: “It is better for them to talk than act. The government has its eye on them. As long as they only talk it lets them alone. The first overt act will be crushed with a heavy hand.”

Then Calhoun remembered what both Worley and Warrenton had told him; that government spies were in the order, and that they knew not whom to trust. Would the spies of the government find out who he was, and his mission? It was not a very comforting thought.

CHAPTER XV.

OHO NE! OHO NE! OHO NE!

Monday Calhoun left for Detroit. Dr. Warrenton was on the train, but they met as strangers. When he reached the city and went to register at the Russell House, a gentleman was carelessly leaning against the desk talking with the clerk. He did not appear to notice Calhoun, but he had caught the word “Chic.” after his name.

After a few moments the gentleman approached Calhoun and said: “Pardon me, but is not this Mr. Harrison of Kentucky?”

“My name is Harrison,” answered Calhoun, “but if you would examine the register you would see I am from Chicago.”

“Ah, yes, I understand,” and he gave the secret sign of the order. “Come,” he continued, “and let me introduce you to some friends.”

He led the way to a room where there were several gentlemen seated smoking and talking, among them Dr. Warrenton, who gave him a warm greeting.

“I have been telling them about you,” said Warrenton, “and they are all anxious to meet you.”

The Doctor then introduced Calhoun to each member of the party. There was Wrightman of New York, Bowman of Indiana, Hartman of Missouri, Bullock of Kentucky, and others.

“You don’t tell me you are the son of my old friend, Judge Pennington, of Danville,” asked Mr. Bullock, as he shook Calhoun warmly by the hand.

“The very same,” answered Calhoun.

“Gentlemen, we need have no fears of Lieutenant Pennington,” exclaimed Mr. Bullock, addressing those present. “I will vouch for him with my life. Let’s see, your name is now – ”

“Harrison for the present,” answered Calhoun, with a smile.

The party had no trouble in getting across the river, and that night there was a meeting in Windsor which boded ill for the Federal government.

The Supreme Commander of the order was a gentleman in the full vigor of manhood. He was polished in his manner, rather reserved, but every action showed that he was accustomed to command. Behind it all Calhoun thought that he detected the signs of an inordinate ambition – an ambition which would stop for nothing.

“Isn’t he grand,” whispered Dr. Warrenton to Calhoun. “A fit representative to wear the mantle of your great namesake.”

“Better say the mantle of Aaron Burr,” thought Calhoun, but he wisely did not give expression to his thought. The object of Calhoun’s coming was fully explained, and it was decided by a unanimous vote, that he should receive the fourth degree, and thus be entitled to all the information which he wished.

The degree was duly conferred on him. Calhoun was now certain he was among a band of conspirators who would stop at nothing to achieve their ends.

“Is this the highest of the degrees?” asked Calhoun, when he was through.

The party exchanged meaning glances, and then the Supreme Commander said: “There is one more degree, but it is given only to the highest officers in the order, and would not be of the least advantage to you.”

Calhoun was certain there was something which those present did not wish him to know – some object which they wished to keep secret.

The number of members in the order was now given to Calhoun. The figures astounded him. In Iowa there were twenty thousand members, in Missouri fifty thousand, in Illinois one hundred and twenty thousand, in Indiana one hundred thousand, in Ohio eighty thousand. Throughout the East the order was not so numerous. This seemed strange to Calhoun, for he thought that New York especially would be fertile ground for it.

“How many of these men are armed?” asked Calhoun.

The answer was: “In Missouri nearly all, in Illinois fifty thousand, in Indiana forty thousand, in Ohio the same, in Kentucky nearly all.”

“Gentlemen,” exclaimed Calhoun, with considerable warmth, “if these figures are correct, why have you not arisen before this, and hurled the Lincoln government from power? Pardon me, but it looks like timidity. The North is denuded of men, those loyal to Lincoln are in the army.”

“That is what I have insisted on,” cried Mr. Bowman, of Indiana, jumping to his feet in his excitement. “I say strike, strike now! We of Indiana are ready. Liberate the Confederate prisoners in Northern prison pens! We have arms for them. If necessary, give every Northern city over to the flames.”

“Brother Bowman forgets,” answered the Supreme Commander, “that our forces are scattered; that if we attempt to concentrate, the government will take alarm and crush us. At present we have to work in secret.”

“But what if Indiana and Ohio should be invaded?” asked Calhoun.

“That would be different,” was the answer.

“What if you should be successful in your plans?” asked Calhoun.

“Let the South go free. We firmly believe in the doctrine of States’ Rights,” was the answer.

“Would your states cast their lot with the South?” asked Calhoun, eagerly.

Again there were meaning glances among the leaders. “It is yet too early to answer that question,” slowly replied the Supreme Commander, “or even to discuss it. The overthrow of the present Abolition government and the independence of the South is now our object.”

But had the leaders a further object? Calhoun resolved to find out, and he did.

The conference at Windsor was over. It was resolved that the order should everywhere be strengthened, and that it should strike at the first favorable opportunity. That opportunity would come at once, should the North be invaded.

From Detroit Calhoun went to Columbus, Ohio, from there to Dayton, the home of Vallandigham. He found that that gentleman was the idol of that section. They wanted him to come home. They swore they would defend him with their lives. The whole country reeked with disloyalty to the Federal government.

Calhoun availed himself of the opportunity of talking with all classes of citizens. He especially tried to get at the feelings of the humbler members of the Knights of the Golden Circle, why they joined the order, and what they proposed doing. All the information he gleaned he treasured up.

From Dayton Calhoun proceeded to Indianapolis, where he was to meet Mr. Bowman. He found Indiana much better organized than any of the other states. Bowman was enthusiastic, and he seemed to hate the Lincoln government with his whole soul. He would stop at nothing to achieve his ends. But the especial object of his hatred was Governor Morton.

“I want to live long enough,” he said, “to see that tyrant hanged for trampling on the constitution of the state.”

Calhoun found that the Knights stood in great dread of Morton. They declared he had a way of finding out every secret of the order. If he had not been thoroughly guarded, his life would not have been worth a farthing.

Calhoun was taken into the country, where he witnessed the drilling of two or three companies of Knights. These meetings always took place at night, in some secret place, and sentinels were posted to guard against surprise. Calhoun talked with many of the members to get their ideas and to find out what they wished to accomplish.

“What do you think?” asked Bowman of Calhoun, after they had returned to Indianapolis. “I have forty thousand of those fellows.”

“Will they fight?” asked Calhoun.

“Fight? Of course they will fight,” was the answer. “Let Morgan get into the state, and you will see.”

At Indianapolis Calhoun met with a wealthy farmer named Jones, who lived near Corydon. He had no words too severe to say of Lincoln, and boasted of the number of Knights in his part of the state.

“We are going to sweep the Black Abolitionists from the earth,” he exclaimed, boastingly, “and hang Old Abe, and Morton too.”