affectionate letter which was forwarded. For many days after he
remained in a long suspense for the expected answer, as he never
believed for a moment that she would delay answering him, but as days
rolled into weeks, and no letter came, while the other prisoners from
New Orleans received letters regularly, he became alarmed, and spoke
his fears to Shackleford.
"Do not be afraid of any harm having occurred to her, Alf," said the
lieutenant, after listening attentively to his friend's words. "You
may depend that your letter never reached her, and she, in ignorance
whether you escaped unhurt from the engagement, cannot write, not
knowing where you are."
"It is not her silence which troubles me as much as the knowledge that
she possess no other money than Confederate notes," replied Alfred.
"How she will manage to support herself and the children God only
knows."
"Have you not friends there?" enquired Harry.
"Yes, but I cannot depend on them for assistance, for two reasons:
first, because from the disordered state of the money market in New
Orleans, they are almost as badly off as she is; and second, I am
quite certain that Eva would rather starve than ask for charity."
"Charity!", echoed his companion. "Do you call it charity to assist
another situated as your wife is, particularly where her husband is
far from her fighting for his country?"
"You do not know the people of New Orleans," replied Alfred. "No
matter how kindly a favor may be bestowed on them, it is still
considered charity, and though dire necessity may induce them to
accept aid if proffered, the knowledge that they were eating the bread
of charity, would embitter each mouthful."
"Pooh, pooh," said his friend, "all these fine notions would do very
well before the war, but at the present time the least we think of
them the better."
"It is all very well for you to speak that way," answered Alfred, "for
you have no wife and children to cause uneasiness, but I cannot be
otherwise than anxious to know what has become of her, that I receive
no letters, while other prisoners have had theirs regularly by mail."
"An unfortunate fact, which you may depend has been caused by no other
reason than the neglect of the Yankee officers to forward your
letters," said Harry, then continuing: "Come, cheer up, and throw
aside your dullness. Another battle like that of Shiloh, will give the
South as many Yankee prisoners as they have of us, and then ho! for
home and the "Sunny South!" As soon as we return, I will take you to
Jackson, and then you can write your wife to come out, and she can
live with my mother, if you are not too proud to accept my
hospitality."
"Thank you," he replied, "but I must first wait until we are
exchanged, and God knows when that will be."
"Why, man, I tell you there is no doubt of our whipping the Yanks and
capturing a lot of them in the next battle; then adieu to Camp
Douglas, and hurrah for the Confederacy once more!" replied Harry,
taking his companion by the arm, and dragging him to their tent where
dinner had been placed in readiness for them.
CHAPTER NINTH.
ROOM TO RENT.
We must now return to my heroine, who, with her two children, we left
slowly travelling toward Jackson, Mississippi. On arriving at
Ponchatula, she took the cars on the New Orleans, Jackson and Great
Northern Railroad, and in a few hours was in Jackson. On arriving
there she proceeded to the Bowman House, and purchasing a newspaper
eagerly scanned the columns to find an advertisement of rooms to rent,
knowing full well that, with her limited means, she would never be
able to remain at the hotel, or live at a boarding house.
After looking for some time, without finding the desired
advertisement, her eye at last lit upon the following notice under the
heading of "To rent:"
"TO RENT,
"Unfurnished rooms in the one-story tenement buildings on
---- street. For particulars, apply to the undersigned at
his office on Main street, near the State House.
JAMIE ELDER."
After reading it she folded the paper, and remained musing for several
minutes, when rising up she went to her children, and, kissing them,
told them she was going out for a few minutes, and to play like good
children until her return. She then left the hotel, and, after some
little trouble, at last found out the office of Mr. Elder, which she
entered.
"Is Mr. Elder in?" she inquired of a clerk.
"Yes, madam," he replied.
"Can I see him?" she asked.
He gave her no answer, but going to an adjoining door, half opened it,
and announced, in a loud voice, that a lady desired to see Mr. Elder.
"Admit her," was the reply of that gentleman.
Mrs. Wentworth passed the desk, and, entering the room from whence the
voice proceeded, found herself in the presence of Mr. Elder, who was
seated in an arm chair reading a newspaper.
"Be seated, madam," he said, rising and handing her a chair. "What can
I have the honor of doing for you this morning?"
"This is your advertisement, I believe," she replied, handing him the
newspaper.
"Yes, madam," he answered, looking at her through his spectacles.
"Well, sir, it is my desire to rent one of the rooms."
"You, madam!" he replied, evidently surprised at her question.
"Yes, sir," she replied; "I am a refugee from New Orleans, having been
driven from there by General Butler. My husband is now a prisoner of
war in the hands of the enemy, and my means being limited, I am
compelled to live economically."
"Ahem, ahem," said Mr. Elder, clearing his throat; "indeed, madam, I
sympathise with you. This war has cast many people homeless and in
need throughout the country. I sympathize with you, _indeed_ I do,"
and he looked on her in the most benevolent manner possible.
"Well, sir, what is the price charged for the rent of one of your
rooms?" asked Mrs. Wentworth after a few moments' silence.
"Well, ah--well, ah--you see, my dear madam, the price of everything
has gone up immensely," he replied.
"And what do you charge for the room?" she asked.
"Well, ah, I think sixteen dollars per month as cheap as I could
possible rent it," he answered finally.
"I will take it, then, by the month," she answered, rising, "and will
go into possession to-day."
"Well, ah, my dear madam, it is a rule I have always made, only to
rent my houses for the money, paid in advance--not that I have the
_least_ apprehension of your inability to pay me, but you see it never
does any good to deviate from fixed rules."
"I am perfectly filling to pay you in advance," she replied, taking
her port-moniæ from her pocket and handing him the advance pay for one
month's rent.
Calling a clerk, Mr. Elder handed him the money, and ordered a receipt
to be made out; then turning to Mrs. Wentworth, he said:
"There is another thing, I desire to have you understand, madam, and
agree to. The fall of New Orleans has occasioned the inflation of all
kinds of real estate in price, and this, added to the rapid manner in
which Confederate notes are depreciating in value, may compel me to
raise the price of rent. I would, therefore, like you to agree, that
in no way am I bound for any time longer than the month you have paid
for, to take the present price; and another thing I desire is, that
you agree not to take advantage of the stay law, in the event of
non-payment, or refusal to pay any additional price I may charge. In
making these conditions, madam," he continued, "I must not be
understood to say that the contingencies mentioned are at all likely
to occur, as I trust and hope they will not; but at the same time, I
only desire to avoid all deviation from my usual course of doing
business."
"Any terms you may desire I will agree to," she replied in an absent
manner, "as I wish to remove from the hotel, the charges there being
above my means."
"Very well, madam, very well," he responded.
After the clerk had brought the receipt for the months rent, Mr. Elder
rose from his chair, and, requesting Mrs. Wentworth to remain seated
for a few minutes, left the apartment. He shortly after returned with
a printed document in his hand, which he requested her to sign.
Without reading the paper, she obeyed his request, and, receiving the
key of the room she had just rented, requested that Mr. Elder would
have her shown where it was situated. Calling a negro boy, who was
lounging at the door, he directed him to accompany Mrs. Wentworth to
---- street and show her the rooms. With that he made a low bow, and
she left following the boy.
"Humph!" said Mr. Elder, half aloud, as soon as she had left. "I do
not care much about hiring my rooms to such tenants. Refugees are
certainly becoming as thick as locusts in the State, and are nearly
all as poor as Job. However, I have made myself secure against any
excuse for pay on the ground of poverty, by the paper she signed," and
with these reflections, that worthy gentleman re-entered his room, and
was soon deeply interested in his newspaper.
CHAPTER TENTH.
THE NEW HOME.
Mrs. Wentworth followed the boy till he arrived in front of series of
wretched looking rooms, situated on one of the miserable lanes with
which Jackson abounds. Stopping in front of one of them, he pointed to
it, and with no other words than "Dem is de room, ma'm," walked off.
Taking the key, which Mr. Elder had previously given her, she opened
the door and entered.
Mrs. Wentworth's heart sank within her as she viewed the wretched
looking apartment. The interior of the room was exceedingly dirty,
while the faded paper, which once gaudily adorned it, now hung in
shreds from the walls. The fireplace was broken up, and disgusting
words were written in every part of the room. It had been, in fact,
the lodging of a woman of dissolute character, who had been accustomed
to gather a crowd of debauched characters in her apartment nightly,
but who, from a failure to pay her rent, had been turned out by Mr.
Elder. The other apartments were still occupied by abandoned women;
but of this fact Mrs. Wentworth was not aware.
As she looked at the room a feeling of indescribable sadness crept
over her, and a sigh of bitterness burst from her throbbing bosom. It
was, however, not to be helped; she had already paid the rent, and was
compelled to keep it for the month. Sadly she left the room, and
locking it after her, repaired to a store to purchase a few necessary
articles of furniture.
On entering a store, the first person she saw was Mr. Swartz, who had,
by this time, risen from the lowly position of a grocer to that of a
"General wholesale and retail merchant," as the sign over his door
very pompously announced.
Mr. Swartz remained on his seat at her entrance, barely raising his
eyes to sec who had entered. She stood for a few moments, when, seeing
that no one appeared to notice her presence, she walked up to him and
informed him that she wished to purchase a few pieces of furniture.
"Vot kind do you vant?" he inquired, without moving from his seat.
"A small bedstead, three or four chairs, a table and a washstand," she
answered.
"Look at them and see vich you like te best," he said, "and I vill
tell you te brice."
After a little search, Mrs. Wentworth selected the plainest and most
homely she could find of all the articles she desired, and, turning to
him, inquired what the price would be.
"Te pedstead is forty tollars; te chairs is three tollars apiece; te
taple is twenty tollars; and to washstand is fourteen," he replied.
"And how much will that amount to, altogether?" she asked.
"Eighty-six tollars," he responded.
"Can you take no less, sir?" she asked.
"No, ma'am," he answered. "I have put one brice, and if you don't vant
to pay it you can leave it."
Taking out the desired amount, she paid him without making any further
remark, and requested that they would be sent after her. Calling a
drayman, Mr. Swartz told him to follow her with the furniture, and he
returned to his seat, satisfied with having made sixty dollars on the
eighty-six, received from Mrs. Wentworth, the furniture having been
bought at sheriff's sale for a mere trifle.
Having purchased a few other household utensils, Mrs. Wentworth
proceeded to the Bowman House, from which, after paying her bill, she
removed her children, and, followed by the dray with her furniture,
proceeded to the wretched hovel site had rented. Her stock of money
had now been reduced to less than sixty dollars, and with this she
embarked upon the world with two tender children.
After paying the drayman, who was a kind-hearted negro, and getting
him to erect the bedstead, he departed, and a feeling of desolation
and loneliness spread its dark shadows over the heart of Mrs.
Wentworth. Seating herself on a chair, with her two children clinging
to her knees, the long pent up fountain of grief burst forth, and
tears bedewed the cheeks of the Soldier's Wife; tears, such as only
those who have felt the change of fortune, can shed; tears, which,
like the last despairing cry of the desolate, can only be answered in
heaven!
CHAPTER ELEVENTH.
THE ATTEMPTED ESCAPE.
We must now return to Alfred, whom we left in a disconsolate mood at
Camp Douglas, with his friend trying to cheer his spirits. But he
could think of nothing else but his absent wife, until at last he
determined to attempt an escape. The idea once in his mind could not
be dismissed. He, therefore, informed Harry of his intention, and
asked if he thought it feasible, or likely to result in success.
"So far as the feasibility of the attempt is concerned," observed
Harry, as soon as Alfred had concluded, "I think it could be
attempted. But about the result, you will have to trust to luck."
"I am aware of that," he replied. "But I do not know how the attempt
can possibly be made. The camp is so well guarded, that an attempt to
escape is almost hopeless of success."
"Pshaw! If you are determined to go, I see nothing to prevent your
making the attempt. If it even fails, the most that will be done to
you by the Federals is closer confinement."
"I do not care much about that risk," he replied. "My desire is to
form some plan of escape. Can you devise one by which I can get away?"
"That is a difficult task," said Harry. "But as we are of the same
desire, I suppose something must be done. What do you say about
digging a tunnel, and escaping by that route?"
"That is a very good idea; but it will take too long," replied Alfred.
"Besides which, what are we to do with the dirt that is dug up?"
"I never thought of that," he answered. "But now that you have
reminded me of it, I do not believe the plan will suit. Some other
must be devised, but what it is to be, I cannot, for the life of me,
imagine."
"What do you say to scaling the walls?" asked Alfred.
"A very good idea it would be, if we had anything to scale them with,"
he replied.
"Suppose we tear up our blankets and make a rope of them."
"How will you attach the rope to the wall?" asked Harry.
"We can easily get a hook of wire and throw it over. It will be
certain to catch," he replied.
"Very likely," observed Harry, drily, "and make such confounded noise,
that the first thing we heard after, it would be a Minie ball
whistling past our ears; or should it catch without making any noise,
the chances are that, when one of us ascends, it will be to meet the
burly form of some Dutch sentinel traversing the walk. The idea is not
feasible; so we must think of something else."
"I do not know what to think," replied Alfred; "and the probability
is, that if I even did, you would find some objection to its
performance."
"That is true," answered Harry, laughing, "and I accept the reproach
in the spirit it is given. It will never do for us to be raising
objections to every plan offered, for that will not hasten our
escape."
"Then think of something else, and I will acquiesce, no matter how
extravagant it may be," said Alfred. "I am tired of this cursed
prison, and intend to get away by some means or other."
"It is all very good to talk about getting away," said Harry. "For the
matter of that, I am as anxious to leave as you are, but in the name
of wonder, how are we going to manage it?"
"That is the very thing I desire to consult you about. We certainly
will never escape, unless we make the attempt; but in what manner we
are to attempt it, is exactly what I desire to know."
"What do you say to bribing one of the sentinels?" asked Harry.
"Where will we get the means from?" inquired Alfred. "I have some
Confederate Treasury notes, but they will not be any temptation to a
Yankee."
"Leave me to find the means," replied Harry. "I have a fine gold
watch, and about seventy dollars in gold. These will be sufficient, I
think, to attempt the cupidity of any Dutchman in the Yankee army."
"And how do you propose offering the bribe?" Alfred inquired.
"I shall look out for the first chance to speak to the sentinel at the
gate, some time during the day, and will make the necessary
preparations to escape to-night, if the Yankee will accept my offer."
"That will do very well," observed Alfred, "There is one thing,
however, I must remind you of. It will not do to offer the sentinel
all your gold, for we will require money to pay our way into
Tennessee."
"Do you never fear that," replied Harry. "I will be certain to reserve
enough funds for our expenses. It does not cost much at any time to
travel through these Northern States."
"Well, I trust to you to make all the necessary arrangements," replied
Alfred. "I am determined not to remain in this place, with my mind so
disturbed about my wife and children. If I can only reach the
Confederate lines safely, I will have no difficulty in hearing from
New Orleans."
"I will make every effort to facilitate an escape," remarked Harry;
"and if my penetrating qualities do not deceive me, there is a
sentinel at the gate to-day, who would not be averse to taking a
bribe, even if it permits a "rebel" to escape. Cheer up, my friend,"
he continued. "I will guarantee that your wife and children are all
well and happy, except a natural anxiety on your account."
Alfred made no reply, and the two friends shortly after separated.
Harry kept an assiduous watch for an opportunity to speak with the
sentinel. The time for the man to remain on guard expired, however,
without any favorable chance presenting itself. He was, therefore,
compelled to wait until the evening, when the same sentinel would be
again on guard, before he could attempt to bribe him. At four o'clock
he was posted, and after some hesitation, Harry determined to address
him. Walking up as soon as he perceived no one near the man, he called
out to him.
"Vot to deuce do you vant? you rebel," asked the sentinel in a broad
Dutch accent.
"Will you let me come a little nearer?" Harry inquired, perceiving
that the distance between the guard and himself too great for a
conversation.
"Vot do you vant to come a leetle nearer for?" asked the sentinel.
"I want to talk to you," he replied, making a motion of his hand to
indicate that he wished to converse in secret.
The sentinel, looking carefully around to be certain that no one was
near at hand who could perceive him, beckoned to Harry to approach.
The young man went forward cautiously, as the numerous sentinels
around the wall were likely to perceive him, and would not hesitate to
fire if they imagined he was about to attempt an escape. As soon as he
reached the sentinel, he made known his wishes, and ended by offering
the man his watch and forty dollars in gold if he would permit himself
and his friend to pass the gate at night. At the same time he promised
the man he would take all the responsibility in the event of detection
or re-capture.
The sentinel listened attentively, and at first appeared unwilling to
receive the bribe, but upon Harry representing to him that there was
no chance of his agency in the escape being discovered, he finally
consented to receive it. It was, therefore, arranged between them,
that at twelve o'clock that night the two prisoners should start. The
signal was to be a faint whistle, which would ultimate to the guard
that they were there, if it was answered they should advance, but if
not they should return, as his silence would either indicate that he
was not alone, or that he was not on his post. Everything having been
amicably arranged between them, Harry promised to pay the bribe as
soon as they had reached the gate. This the fellow demurred to at
first, but as Harry was determined, not to pay over the watch and
forty dollars, until the hour of their departure, he was compelled to
assent.
On Harry's return to his tent, he found Alfred reading a Yankee
pictorial newspaper.
"Well," he remarked, looking up from his paper as soon as Harry
entered.
"Everything progresses finely," replied Harry.
"Have you been able to speak to the sentinel?" he asked.
"I have seen him, and made all the necessary arrangements," Harry
replied.
"And when will we leave," Alfred asked.
"To-night at twelve is the time fixed between us," he replied. "The
fellow appeared unwilling at first, but a little persuasion with a
sight at the watch and money, was too much for his nature, and he
yielded to my wishes."
"Then everything goes on well, if the fellow does not play us false,"
Alfred remarked.
"That is a risk we are bound to run," replied Harry. "I think the
fellow means to be honest, if a man can be honest who agrees to allow
a prisoner to escape, who is placed under his charge."
"Did you inform him there were two of us who desired to leave," asked
Alfred.
"Yes," was the reply; "I would never have bothered to escape and run
the risk of re-capture and harsh treatment, did not you desire to
leave this place, and the trip could as well be made with you as
otherwise."
Alfred pressed his friend's hand warmly, as he replied. "Thank you,
Harry, I trust I will be able to return the kindness you have shown
me, at some future and more favorable time."
"Poh, poh!" he replied. "Don't speak of it. The kindness has been paid
for long ago," pointing to his wound as he spoke.
"I expect we may as well make preparations to leave," remarked Alfred,
after a moment's pause.
"Preparations!" echoed his friend, "What in the name of all that is
glorious, do you require any preparations for?" and then, he added
dryly, "there is one thing certain, my trunk (?) is already packed,
although I don't know if yours is."
"A truce to joking about trunks," replied Alfred, "but seriously you
must be aware that we cannot leave here without being dressed in
citizens clothes."
"The thunder!" exclaimed Harry, "are you going to raise any more
objections?"
"No," he replied, "but it is absolutely necessary that we shall be
apparelled in different clothes to those of a soldier."
"I think we can get a couple of suits to borrow from the officers, but
how I will get them, without their knowing our intention to escape, is
a matter of much difficulty. If they should once know it, the whole
crowd will desire to leave with us."
"That would be unreasonable on their part," replied Alfred. "They must
be aware that every man cannot get away at the same time, and to
desire or attempt such a thing would be to ensure the re-capture of
every man."
"Well, I will start now on the borrowing expedition, and by some
subterfuge, be saved the necessity of informing any person of our
intention."
Having moved off as he spoke, and proceeding to the tent of a brother
officer, succeeded in borrowing a citizens' coat and pants without
exciting any suspicion of his intended escape. At the next place he
went to, a few remarks were made, but upon his informing the Captain
to whom he applied, that he desired to have his uniform renovated, and
had no change of clothing while that was being done. The citizens'
clothes were cordially loaned, and he returned to Alfred with a joyous
heart.
"What luck have you had?" enquired Alfred as soon as he returned.
"See for yourself," was the reply of Harry, as he threw down the coats
and pants.
"Then everything needed is procured," he observed.
"Yes," replied Harry. "We must now mix with the other prisoners, as if
nothing was transpiring in our minds, like an attempt to escape. It
will be no use keeping away from them, as it is likely to excite
suspicion."