THE CONSCRIPT'S FRIEND.
Tom Randolph would have been very angry indeed if anyone had told
him that the noise that thirty-two pound shell made when it exploded
in the woods, and led him and his men to believe that there was a
Union battery concealed there, had frightened all the war spirit out
of him, but it is a fact that after his experience with the gunboat
he did not show the least desire to take the field again at the head
of his company. Everybody knew that there were no Federal troops in
Baton Rouge, but there were war vessels in the Mississippi holding
the city under their guns, and their presence had a depressing effect
upon a good many red-hot rebels besides Tom Randolph. More than that,
General Butler had assumed command at New Orleans; and the energetic
and effective way in which he dealt with treason there opened the
eyes of the Mooreville people to the fact that there might be a day
of settlement coming for them also, and that it would be well if they
could have a tolerably clean record to show when the invading army
moved up to take possession of Baton Rouge.
This was the way Mr. Randolph and some of his neighbors looked at the
situation; and acting upon the hints they dropped in his presence, Tom
concealed his uniform and sword in the garret, where he thought no one
would be likely to look for them. He was getting tired of war anyway,
he said, and wished the past could be blotted out and things be as they
were before South Carolina, by her senseless act of secession, brought
so much trouble upon him and his friends. He was not as disgusted and
angry as a good Confederate ought to have been when he heard a man from
Baton Rouge affirm that after all the Yankees were not such a bad sort
when one became acquainted with them, and that some of the towns-people
were not ashamed to confess to a friendly feeling for the crews of the
gunboats that were anchored in front of the city. The blue-jackets
always acted like gentlemen when they came ashore, and, true to their
instincts of traffic, had established a lively little trade with the
citizens. They purchased everything the latter had to sell in the way
of garden-truck, milk, butter, and eggs, and paid for all they got in
good money; or, what was better, in coffee, tea (store tea too, and not
sassafras), wheat flour, and salt. It is true that the salt was not as
fine nor as clean as some they had seen, for it had been taken from the
brine of the beef and pork barrels with which the store-rooms of the
gunboats were abundantly supplied; but it was acceptable to people who
had boiled down the dirt floors of their smoke-houses in order to get
the salt that had trickled off the hams and sides of bacon which had
been cured there in better times. The gunboat officers also sent their
soiled linen ashore to be washed, so that not a day passed during which
there was not more or less communication with the fleet.
This was a pleasant state of affairs all around, especially to the
victorious blue-jackets, who had grown tired of fighting and wanted all
the shore liberty they could get, and it might have continued until
the Confederate General Breckenridge made his unsuccessful attempt to
regain control of the Mississippi above New Orleans had it not been for
two things: the Confederate Conscription Act, and the determination on
the part of the Home Guards to evade it. The passage of that act was
like a destructive thunder-bolt from a clear sky, and there were those
in Mooreville who refused to believe that their chosen rulers would be
guilty of such perfidy; but the news had hardly been received before
the enrolling officer put in his appearance, thus proving the truth of
what we have already said—that the Richmond Government developed into
a despotism so suddenly that it was plain the machinery for it had been
prepared long before.
The enrolling officer, Captain Roach, was a dapper little fellow who
did not look as though he had seen much service, and, indeed, he hadn't
seen a day of it; for when he received his commission and orders from
the Governor he was a practising lawyer in a small inland town. Beyond
the very slight knowledge which he had been able to gain from his
printed instructions, he knew nothing of his duties or of soldiering;
but his common-sense taught him that as Tom Randolph's commission was
older than his own, military etiquette required that he should call
upon Tom without any unnecessary delay—not to report to him, for
Tom was not in the Confederate service or in any way connected with
the conscription business, but merely to show him proper respect. He
reached Mooreville in the morning, spent the rest of the day in opening
an office and spreading abroad the news of his arrival, so that those
whose duty it was to be conscripted would have no trouble in finding
him, and the next morning mounted his horse and set out to find Captain
Randolph. The first man he met on the road was Tom's first lieutenant.
Captain Roach did not know him, but he saw that Lambert was anxious to
ride on without speaking, and perhaps that was the reason he drew rein
and accosted him.
"Good-morning," said the captain pleasantly. "You know I have opened an
office in Kimberly's store, I suppose?"
"Say! What made you ask me that question for?" demanded Lambert, who
was instantly on his guard.
"Because I take you to be over eighteen and under thirty-five, and
would like to have you drop around and see me," was the reply.
"Well, I aint a-going to do it; and that settles it. See?"
"Really I _don't_ see how you can get out of it."
"Don't, hey? Well, I do. I aint Confedrit. I'm State Rights."
"Are you not aware that there are no State Rights people any more?"
asked the captain. "The conscription act that has just been passed
withdraws all non-exempt citizens between the ages of eighteen and
thirty-five from State control, and places them absolutely at the
disposal of the President during the war."
"But I aint agreeing to no such 'rangement, don't you know?" exclaimed
Lambert, who did not like to see the enrolling officer so quiet and
confident, for it looked as though he knew what he was talking about.
"That was just what Lincoln wanted to do when he called on our Gov'nor
for soldiers to whop South Car'liny; but our Gov'nor he said he wasn't
that kind of a feller, and his men shouldn't go out of the State. Why
don't he stick to his word and say the same to Jeff Davis?"
"My friend, you don't understand the situation at all——" began the
captain.
"Better'n you do, by a long sight," interrupted Lambert. "I aint
agreeing to no such bargain, I tell you. Them as wants to go to Virginy
to light for the 'Federacy can go for all me; but I don't want to go,
and, by gum! I won't. And furder, I'm a Home Guard."
"In your case that doesn't matter. The government would be quite
willing to stretch a point in favor of home organizations that have
proved themselves to be worth something, but you Mooreville fellows
haven't done the first thing for the cause. You have turned some of our
friends against us, but where are the Yankees you have shot, and how
many prisoners have you taken?"
"Look here, by gum!" exclaimed the lieutenant.
"I have heard all about you, and the Governor says in the letter he
sent with my commission that the best thing I can do is to send you to
a camp of instruction," continued the captain. "You are no good here,
for you don't do anything."
"Dog-gone my pictur'! What's the reason we aint been doing something
for the cause right along?" shouted Lambert, his red face showing that
he was getting angry. "We've been the means of keeping the Union men
in these parts from rising up and taking the country for the Yankees,
and more'n that—we licked a gunboat in the river. Who told you we aint
done nothing? It must be some enemy of ourn who aint got the spirit to
jine in with us, and if I can find out who he is I'll make him sorry
for it, I bet you. But you can't conscript me, I tell you. I'm an
officer appointed by the Gov'nor."
"Ah! That does make a difference, perhaps."
"Well, I reckon it does," said Lambert, with a satisfied smile.
"Do you happen to have your commission with you? Or will you tell me
when I can see it?"
This was what Lambert himself would have called a "side-winder," and
his first thought was to hunt up Tom Randolph, and stand over him with
his riding-whip until he had seen him write to the Governor asking for
that long delayed commission. Tom had often promised to do it, but he
never had, and now Lambert was likely to see trouble on account of his
negligence.
"I am first leftenant of our company; my commission is all right, and
that settles that point," said he at length. "If the Yankee General
Butler brings his army from New Orleans to capture Mooreville he will
run against a snag, for he will find me and my men here to stop him. We
jined to guard our homes. That's why they call us Home Guards, and that
settles the other point you was speaking of. We aint got no pris'ners
to show, kase there aint no Yankees come nigh us; but we are just as
much use here as we would be up there in Virginy."
"We need every man we can get," replied Captain Roach. "Those who do
not come of their own free will must expect to be taken by force,
unless they can show that they are of use at home. You Mooreville Home
Guards have had the finest chance in the world to make a name for
yourselves. Why didn't you drive those gunboats away from Baton Rouge
long ago?"
"Shucks!" exclaimed Lambert. "Why, man alive, they've got cannons on
'em."
"What of it? Couldn't you hide behind the levee, where you would be
safe, and pick off every sailor who showed his head above decks?
Couldn't you keep those small boats from coming ashore and going back
loaded down with provisions? You have been giving aid and comfort to
the enemy by permitting such things, and that's contrary to law. But I
must ride along, for I am on my way to visit Captain Randolph. I am not
sure that you are exempt simply because you are an officer in the State
militia, but will tell you the next time we meet."
"You needn't mind looking it up, for I aint going, I tell you. But I'll
tell you one thing, and that aint two: if you take me you will have to
take Tom Randolph likewise. I'll raise a fuss if you don't."
The two separated, and the enrolling officer kept on his way to the
home of Captain Randolph, who had somehow heard that he might look for
a distinguished visitor on this particular morning, and was thrown into
a state of great excitement by the unwelcome news. The presence of the
enrolling officer in town was all the evidence Tom needed to prove
that there was no immediate danger of an invasion by the Federals, so
he brought his uniform from its hiding place in the garret; and when
he had arrayed himself in it, and leaned his sword in one corner of
the gallery to show that he was prepared to answer when duty called,
he was ready for the visit—that is, as ready as he ever would be, for
he would not have seen Captain Roach at all if he could have thought
of any way to avoid it. Rumor said that the captain looked as though
he might have come out of some lady's bandbox, but all the same Tom
supposed him to be a Confederate veteran who had seen service on many
a hardly contested field, and who would overawe him with his profound
knowledge of military matters. Tom wished now that he had made a little
better fight with that gunboat, or that he had slipped into Baton Rouge
some dark night with a few picked men and pulled down the flag that the
Yankee sailors had hoisted over the arsenal.
"Oh, what honors I might have gained for myself if I had only thought
of these things before," he said to his mother. He always went to her
with his troubles now, or when he stood in need of encouragement and
advice, his father having told him somewhat sharply that he had washed
his hands of the Home Guards and never wanted to hear of them again as
long as he lived. "But that is the way it is with me. My wit comes too
slow to be of any use."
"I am very glad that you did not think of them before, you reckless
boy," replied Mrs. Randolph. "Your record is better than I wish it was,
for I am afraid it will take you into the army. What would you do if
this enrolling officer should decide to take the company just as it
stands, and swear you into the Confederate service?"
"Cæsar's ghost!" cried Captain Tom, in great alarm. "If my record as a
loyal soldier leads him to do that, I shall be sorry I ever put on this
uniform. What could I do?"
"Could you not follow the same course that Rodney Gray pursued, when
General Lacey came up from New Orleans to swear the Mooreville Rangers
into the Confederate Army?" inquired Mrs. Randolph.
"Mother, if you were a man you would be a general yourself," exclaimed
Tom, his fears vanishing on the instant. "If a first duty sergeant can
back down a major-general, I reckon a captain in the State militia can
do the same for a Confederate captain."
He spoke boldly enough, but when one of the house servants came in to
tell him that there was a strange soldier riding into the yard he felt
his courage oozing out at the ends of his fingers, and he would hardly
have dared to go to the door to meet his visitor if his mother had not
assured him that she would go also, and that she would remain close at
his side to support him during the dreaded interview.
The enrolling officer did not look like a very stern soldier, she
told herself, when she saw him get off his horse and shake hands with
Tom, who had hastened down the steps to meet him; but then he was
backed up by the whole tremendous power of the Confederate Government,
and it was to her interest and Tom's to make a friend of him if she
could. Captain Roach was equally anxious to secure Tom's assistance
in the disagreeable and perhaps dangerous work he had to do, and the
consequence was it was no trouble at all for them to get acquainted,
or to come to an understanding with one another. After they had spent
a few minutes in talking over the situation, and the enrolling officer
had shown his written instructions, as well as a copy of the law by
which he was supposed to be governed, the latter said:
"What surprises me very much is that there is not the first word said
about exemptions. Whether it was an oversight or not the fact remains
that, according to this law, every man between the specified ages must
be conscripted."
"And that is perfectly right," said Captain Tom, making a hurried
mental list of certain persons in the neighborhood whom he would be
glad to see go first of all. "Everybody except our Home Guards."
"No, sir," said Captain Roach in tones so decided that Tom's under jaw
began to drop down. "The law excepts nobody; but wait a minute. After
the regiments and companies that have gone to the front from this State
are filled up, the rest of the conscripts will remain at home as a
reserve to be drawn upon at intervals of not less than three months, so
that our organizations in the field can be kept always full. Now, why
can't you help me so as to keep your company of Home Guards together as
long as possible? If we work it right perhaps you will not be called
upon at all."
"That's the idea!" exclaimed Tom, greatly relieved, while his mother
smiled her approval of the suggestion, and told Captain Roach on the
spot that she expected him to stay to dinner, and as long as he
remained in that part of the country to make himself as free in her
house as he would in his own. When she ceased speaking Tom continued:
"I am like Nathan Hale, who, when the British were about to hang him as
a spy, said he was sorry he had but one life to give to his country;
but for all that I should like to stay here until I have seen some of
our neighbors who have had so much to say against the South sent to the
front. But how shall I work it to keep my company together?"
"By doing as you have suggested," replied the captain. "By first
sending away those who ought to be made to fight for the South, since
they have had so much to say against her and her cause. Perhaps by the
time they have been killed off our independence will be acknowledged;
and then we shall not need any more soldiers."
"That's the idea!" said Tom again. "But how can the Home Guards help
you?"
"By serving in place of the troops that I am authorized to call on
for assistance," answered Captain Roach. "There will be a camp of
instruction established somewhere in the vicinity very shortly, and it
will be my duty to forward my conscripts to that camp as fast as I can
get them together. Of course they will not go willingly——"
"I understand," interrupted Captain Tom. "You want me to send some of
my men with them as guards."
"Exactly. It will be a feather in your cap as well as in mine if we can
attend to the business without calling upon the government for aid. I
don't want to do that if I can avoid it, for every man we can raise is
needed at the front to resist McClellan's advance upon Richmond. We
must be alive, for there's going to be hot work up there."
"I am with you; and I don't know of anything that would suit the Home
Guards better," replied Tom, glad of the opportunity to gain a little
cheap notoriety without putting himself in danger; and when Captain
Roach rode away from the house after dinner Tom accompanied him to his
office in Kimberly's store, and assisted in obtaining some poll-books
from which he could make out a list of the unhappy men who were
subject to military duty under the terms of the Conscription Act.
Of course there were a goodly number of young fellows in the settlement
between the ages of eighteen and twenty-one whose names did not appear
on the poll-books, for they were not voters; but Tom had them in his
mind, and with his mother's aid and Lambert's he succeeded during the
following week in making out a complete list of them. At the head
of the list stood the name of Edward Griffin, Drummond's assistant
operator, who had warned Rodney Gray that he was to be arrested the
moment he left the boat at St. Louis; but Drummond's name did not
appear at all.
"Griffin is a particular friend of one of my worst enemies," explained
Tom. "Not only is he strong for the Union, but he has had a good deal
to say about me and my company behind our backs, and I want you to
serve a notice on him the first thing you do. I wish they would make
haste and establish that camp of instruction, and when Griffin is sent
there I want to command the squad that goes with him. I wish, too, that
Rodney Gray was here to go with him."
In the meantime events proved that the people of the South were not
as willing to submit to the despotic acts of their government as
they ought to have been, especially in Georgia and Arkansas, "where
it seemed that a conflict might arise between State and Confederate
authorities." Officers of the militia in the former State were arrested
by the enrolling officers, but the Governor demanded their release and
threatened to arrest the Confederates if they did not let his State
officers alone. The Richmond Government yielded the point, but said
to the Governor of Georgia, through the Secretary of War: "If you
arrest any of our enrolling officers in their attempts to get men to
fill up the Georgia regiments now in the face of the enemy, you will
cause great mischief. I think we may as well drive out our common
enemy before we make war upon each other." In Arkansas Governor Rector
threatened to secede from the Confederacy, and called for 4500 men
to defend the State, adding that "the troops raised under this call
are intended exclusively for home protection, and will not, under any
circumstances, be transferred to the Confederate service without their
consent." In short, the Confederacy was in a very bad way, and their
authorities knew it; for on the 21st of April the congress "adjourned
in such haste as to show that the members were anxious to provide for
their own personal safety." That was the time when a rebel newspaper
invented the word "skedaddle," and that was the time too when McClellan
could have taken Richmond; but he "wasted three full months, every day
of which was of vital moment to the Confederacy, in doing nothing," and
when at last he was ready to advance, he found himself confronted by an
army that was larger than his own.
The murmurs of dissatisfaction that arose all over the South when that
sweeping Conscription Act was passed were not entirely lost upon the
Richmond government, and the next news that came to Mooreville was that
another act had been passed providing for exemptions. Rodney Gray's
father was one of the first to hear of it, and the next time he went to
Mooreville he stopped at the telegraph office and called Ned Griffin
to the door. The young fellow had been very much distressed ever since
he received notice from Captain Roach to hold himself in readiness to
march to the camp of instruction with the first squad of conscripts
that left town, and Tom Randolph had been mean enough to let him know
how his name happened to be first on the list. Griffin was the only
support of a widowed mother, and he knew that things would go hard
with her when the small sum he received for his work in the telegraph
office ceased to come into her hands every month. More than that, he
believed in the Union and the flag that waved over it, and did not want
to fight against his principles. When he came to the door in answer to
Mr. Gray's hail he looked as though he had lost the last friend he had
in the world.
"I came here to cheer you up a bit by telling you that you need not
go into the army if you don't want to," was the way in which Rodney's
father announced the object of his visit. "The new law provides
for the exemption of one agriculturist on each farm, where there is
no white male adult not liable to military duty, employing fifteen
able-bodied negroes, on condition that the party exempted shall give
bond to deliver to the government, in the next twelve months, 100
pounds of bacon or its equivalent in salt pork, and 100 pounds of beef
for each able-bodied slave employed on said farm."
Young Griffin gasped for breath, but did not say a word in reply. He
did not smile either, as Mr. Gray did, for he failed to see how that
new law could affect him.
"Now, I happen to have such a farm up the river road," continued the
planter. "There's no one on it but a driver to look out for things, and
if you have a mind to go up and take charge of it I shall be glad to
have you. And I think I can put you in the way of earning more money
than you do now."
"But, Mr. Gray, I am not an overseer," stammered Griffin, who wished
from the bottom of his heart that he had chosen that humble but useful
vocation instead of telegraphy. "I don't know the first thing about
farming."
"Well, you can't learn younger, can you?"
"No, sir. But I—you see—the fact of the matter is, where are the
bacon and beef to come from? If they were selling at a dollar a ton I
couldn't buy a hundred pounds."
"You have a whole year in which to pay it," replied Mr. Gray. "But I
don't believe in going in debt, and perhaps we can scare up cattle and
hogs enough on the farm to fill the bill; and I shall depend on you to
raise others to replace them. I think you had better go. You can take
your mother along to keep house for you, and I don't see why you can't
live as well there on the farm as you do here in town. Tell Drummond to
come out here a moment."
"Mr. Gray," said Griffin, with tears of gratitude in his eyes, "I wish
you would ride around to our house and let mother thank you for your
kindness. I don't know how."
"I will save her and you the trouble," said the planter, bending
down from his saddle and speaking in tones so low that none of the
passers-by could hear his words. "Who was it that kept Rodney from
falling into the clutches of that Yankee cotton factor in St. Louis?
Tell Drummond to come here."
Drummond came, and Griffin afterward said that he never saw so mad a
man as his chief was when the planter explained matters to him in a
few brief but emphatic words. The operator had nothing against Griffin
personally, but Tom Randolph had, and as Tom had been friendly enough
to keep his name off the enrolling list, Drummond felt in duty bound to
make common cause with him.
"Mr. Gray, I am afraid it won't work," said he. "Griffin was
conscripted before that exemption law was passed."
"I am prepared to take the risk," was the quiet rejoinder. "In case
objections are made we shall insist on having the first conscripts
selected from the poll-books instead of from a private list; and if any
objections are made to that we will report the matter at headquarters.
Your name comes pretty close to the top of the list, Mr. Drummond."
The operator was frightened and saw plainly that it would not be a
safe piece of business to make an enemy of Mr. Gray; he knew too much.
Besides, he was one of the richest planters in the State, and such men
always exerted a good deal of influence when they set about it.
"Of course, sir, I hope it will work," Drummond hastened to say, "for
I don't want to see anybody forced into the army. I only said I was
afraid it wouldn't."
"I understand. Ned, you might as well start now as any time. Go and say
good-by to your mother, and hurry up to my house. I will be there in
a couple of hours, and after we have had a snack we'll ride up to the
farm."
From the telegraph office Mr. Gray went to Kimberly's store, where he
created another commotion. Tom Randolph was there, and so were some of
the Home Guards, who had of late taken to spending all their waking
hours at the enrolling office. Captain Tom would have protested loudly
if his amazement and chagrin had permitted him to speak at all, but
Captain Roach had no objections to offer when Mr. Gray told him that he
would have to find someone to take Griffin's place in the first squad
of conscripts that was sent to the camp of instruction, for Griffin
himself was exempt under the law, or would be as soon as he had taken
his new position.
"I am surprised at you," exclaimed Tom when Mr. Gray had mounted his
horse and galloped away. "You mustn't let that man Griffin off; you
can't. Haven't I told you that he is Union?"
"I have my own interests to look out for," replied Captain Roach rather
sharply, "and consequently I cannot afford to get into trouble with
such a man as Mr. Gray. He didn't say much, nor did he bluster at all;
but I knew by the glint in his eye that there was a whole battery of
big guns behind the little he did say, and that he was ready to turn
them loose on me if I said an ugly word to him. We haven't been playing
square since this thing began, and he knows it; and if he should
insist on having a new deal from the poll-books, with your list of
names thrown out, where would your friend Drummond be? Where would you
be, seeing that even Home Guards are not exempt?"
"I just don't care; and that's all there is about it," whined Tom, who
was mad enough to cry if he had been alone. "They ought to be exempt,
and I don't see why those Richmond fellows left them out."
"That's neither here nor there. They left them out; but in working to
keep you with me I have practically exempted you, and that is something
I had no business to do. I can't imagine where Mr. Gray got his
information, but he understands all this, and if he should report me to
the Governor I'd have to join some regiment in the field; and that's a
place I want to keep away from as bad as you do."
"Well, I must say that things have come to a pretty pass when a man
can say who shall go into the army and who shall not, just because he
happens to have a little money," declared Tom spitefully.
"That's the way the thing stands, and if you want to stay at home you
and your men had better be doing something."
These chance words, which really did not mean anything, set some of the
Home Guards to thinking.