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[Illustration: BULL RUN.]
THE SOCK STORIES,
BY "AUNT FANNY'S" DAUGHTER.
RED, WHITE, AND BLUE SOCKS.
Part Second.
BEING
THE SECOND BOOK OF THE SERIES.
BY
"AUNT FANNY'S" DAUGHTER,
THE AUTHOR OF "THE LITTLE WHITE ANGEL."
NEW YORK:
LEAVITT & ALLEN, 21 & 23 MERCER ST.
1863.
ENTERED, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1862, by
S. L. BARROW,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States
for the
Southern District of New York.
JOHN F. TROW,
PRINTER, STEREOTYPER, AND ELECTROTYPER,
50 Greene Street, New York.
CONTENTS OF VOL. II.
PAGE
COLONEL FREDDY; OR, THE MARCH AND ENCAMPMENT
OF THE DASHAHED ZOUAVES,
CHAP. I.--BELLIGERENT POWERS, 5
II.--BULL RUN, 30
III.--BEFORE MONTEREY, 50
IV.--A GRAND REVIEW, 87
V.--"HOME! SWEET HOME!" 111
CONCLUSION, 125
COLONEL FREDDY;
OR,
THE MARCH AND ENCAMPMENT OF THE DASHAHED ZOUAVES.
PART II.
CHAPTER I.
BELLIGERENT POWERS.
TUESDAY morning dawned "as clear as a bell," as an old lady once said,
and the Dashahed Zouaves, if not exactly up with the sun, were awake and
stirring at a much earlier hour than usual; and after a rather more
careful washing and brushing than soldiers usually indulge in,
assembled on the lawn, looking as bright as their own buttons.
"What fun it is to be soldiers!" cried a little lisping fellow, one of
the privates. "I only wish thome Southerners would come along now, and
you'd thee how I'd _thmash_ 'em."
"Bravo, Louie!" said Harry, laughing; "I dare say, if we were to go to
the wars, you'd keep on fighting the battles of your country till you
were chopped into inch bits!"
"And pickled! I expect to be made Lieutenant-general,
Commander-in-chief, Colonel, Major, Captain, Lieutenant, Sergeant
Hamilton at the very least!"
"Pooh! that's nothing to the feats of bravery I intend to perform!"
cried Peter. "In my first battle I shall capture a 2,000-pound
columbiad with one hand tied behind me, and carry it home for a paper
weight!"
"While I'm charging a regiment of mounted infantry single handed, and
making them throw away their swords, and pistols, and things, and run
for that 'last ditch' of theirs double quick!" said Will Costar,
laughing; "but here comes breakfast, I'm happy to say. It strikes me
camping out makes a fellow awful hungry, as well as no end of brave."
A servant who had been sent from the house with breakfast materials, now
approached, and the table being laid, the soldiers drew their camp
stools around it; Colonel Freddy sitting at the head and pouring out
coffee with great gravity. Everything was going on smoothly enough, when
Harry tilted the tray on one side, and Charley knocked his elbow on the
other, and away went the coffee to the very end of the table!
"Charley," exclaimed the Colonel, severely, "what do you mean, sir? I'll
have you put in arrest if you don't look out!"
"Who'll put me there?"
"Me!" shouted Peter. "I'm the boy to manage refractories. You'll see how
I will come after you with a sharp stick--bayonet, I mean--and put you
in arrest like that!" snapping his fingers.
"By the way, when we've caught our rebels, where is the prison to be?"
asked Jimmy.
"Why, in the smoke house. There's a patent spring bolt on the
door--father had it fixed the last time we had hams made; and if anybody
was once in there, they'd never get out in the world, unless they could
draw themselves fine like a wire and squeeze through the chimney."
"We'll take care to keep out of it, then!" said Charley; "so, Colonel, I
beg pardon for tilting the biggin--I didn't mean to do it so
much--really!"
"I, too!" cried Harry; "shake hands, old chap!"
Good-tempered Freddy, always ready to "make up," caught a hand of each
of his comrades, and breakfast went on amicably.
Now, there lived in the house an old English man servant named Jerry
Pike. He had formerly been a groom and attendant on Peter's uncle, Major
Schermerhorn, and volunteered in the army at the time of the war with
Mexico, that he might follow his dear master, whom he had served and
loved ever since the Major was a mere boy. He had fought bravely beside
him in many a hard battle, and, for his gallant conduct, been promoted
to the rank of sergeant. When the hand of death removed that kind
master, Mr. Schermerhorn had gladly taken Jerry to his own house, and
promised him that should be his home as long as he lived. So now, like
a gallant old war horse, who has a fresh green paddock, and lives in
clover in his infirm age, Jerry not only stood at ease, but lived at
ease; and worked or not as he felt disposed.
When breakfast was over, Peter suddenly cried out, "I say, fellows,
suppose we employ ourselves by having a drill! You know old Jerry that I
told you about? I'll ask him to give us a lesson!"
"Yes! that will be grand fun!" said Freddy. "Do go and find him, Peter;
I should really like to learn how to drill as the soldiers do; so when
General McClellan comes along, he'll admire us as much as the English
General, old Sir Goutby Slogo, did the Seventh Regiment when they
paraded before the Prince. 'Really, most extraordinary style of marching
these American troops have,' said he, 'most hequal to the 'Orse Guards
and the Hoxford Blues coming down Regent street!'"
Meanwhile, Peter had scampered off to the house, and in a short time
returned with a comical-looking little old man, dressed in faded
regimentals.
He touched his cap to the boys as he approached, in military style, and
then drew himself up so very stiff and straight, awaiting their orders,
that, as Freddy whispered to Tom, it was a perfect wonder he didn't snap
short off at the waist.
"Now, Jerry," began the Colonel, "we want you to give us a _real_
drill, you know, just as you used to learn."
"Yes, a regular one!" chimed in the rest; "we'll run for our guns."
"Not fur your fust drill, I reckon, genl'men. You'll do bad enough
without 'em, hech, hech!" cackled Jerry.
"Very well--come begin then, Jerry!" cried impatient Will.
"Are ye all ready?"
"Yes, and waiting."
"Then, genl'men, FALL IN!" exclaimed the sergeant, the first two words
being uttered in his natural voice, but the last in an awful sepulchral
tone, like two raps on the base kettle drum. Off duty, Jerry rather
resembled a toy soldier, but when in giving his orders he stiffened his
body, threw up his head, and stuck out his hands, he looked so like the
wooden figures out of Noah's ark, that the boys burst into a shout of
laughter.
"Now, genl'men," exclaimed Jerry in a severe tone, "this won't do.
Silence in the ranks. Squad! 'Shun. The fust manoover I shel teach you,
genl'men, is the manoover of 'parade rest.' Now look at me, and do as I
do."
Anybody would have supposed, naturally enough, that to stand at rest
meant to put your hands in your pockets and lean against a tree; but
what Jerry did, was to slap his right hand against his left, like a
torpedo going off, and fold them together; stick out his left foot, lean
heavily upon his right, and look more like a Dutch doll than ever.
The boys accordingly endeavored to imitate this performance; but when
they came to try it, a difficulty arose. Whatever might be their usual
ideas on the subject, there was a diversity of opinion now as to the
proper foot to be advanced, and a wild uncertainty which was the left
foot. The new soldiers shuffled backward and forward as if they were
dancing hornpipes; while Jerry shouted, "Now, then, genl'men, I can't
hear them hands come together smartly as I'd wished, not like a row of
Jarsey cider bottles a poppin' one arter the other, but all at once.
Now, then, SQUAD! 'SHUN!" in a voice of thunder, "Stan' at parade rest!
No--no--them _lef futs_ adwanced! Well if ever!" And Jerry in his
indignation gave himself such a thump on his chest that he knocked all
the breath out of his body, and had to wait some moments before he could
go on; while the boys, bubbling over with fun, took his scoldings in
high good humor, and shrieked with laughter at their own ridiculous
blunders, to the high wrath of their ancient instructor; who was so
deeply interested and in earnest about his pursuit, that he didn't fail
to lecture them well for their "insubornation;" which, indeed, nobody
minded, except Tom Pringle, who, by the by, was from Maryland, and many
of whose relations were down South. He had been looking rather sulky
from the beginning of the drill, and now suddenly stepped from his place
in the ranks, exclaiming, "I won't play! now I vow I won't!"
"Why, Tom, what is the matter? Are you mad at us?" cried half a dozen
voices at once.
"Humm--" grumbled sulky Tom.
"What say? I can't hear you," said Freddy. "Nonsense, Tom, don't be
poky, come back and drill."
"I won't! Let us alone, will you?"
"All we want is, let us alone!" chanted Peter. "There, Fred, let him be
cross if he wants to, we can play without him;" and the boys ran back to
their places in the ranks, Freddy calling out, "Come fellows, let's try
that old parade rest once more;" and on Jerry's giving the command, they
really _did_ do it this time, and were pronounced capable of passing to
grander evolutions.
The first of these was the turn about so as to fall in ranks; something
the Dashahed Zouaves hadn't dreamt of before. Get into ranks? Nothing
could be easier than to stand four in a row, as they had done before;
but when it came to "right face," most of the soldiers were found to
have opposite views on the subject, and faced each other, to their
mutual astonishment. The natural consequence was, that in three seconds
the regiment was in such a snarl and huddle, that no one could tell
which rank he belonged to or anything else; so Jerry, perfectly purple
in the face with shouting, by way of helping them out of the scrape,
gave them the following remarkable advice: "Squad, 'shun! At th' wud
'Foz' the rer-rank will stepsmartly off wi' th' leffut, tekkinapesstoth'
rare--Fo-o-o-res!"
"W-h-a-t!" was the unanimous exclamation.
Jerry repeated his mandate, which, after infinite puzzling (the honest
sergeant being no assistance whatever), was discovered to mean, "At the
word 'Fours,' the rear rank will step smartly off with the left foot,
taking a pace to the rear. Fours!"
This difficulty solved, the next "article on the programme," as Peter
said, was the command March! or "harch!" according to Jerry.
Out stepped Freddy, confident that he knew this much at any rate,
followed by the others; but here again that celebrated left foot got
them into trouble. The right foot _would_ pop out here and there, and as
sure as it did, at the third step the unlucky Zouave found his leg
firmly stuck between the ankles of the boy in front; and the "man"
behind him treading on his heels in a way calculated to aggravate a
saint; while meantime, the fellows in the rear rank, who were forever
falling behind while they were staring at their feet to make sure which
was the left one, _would_ endeavor to make up for it by taking a wide
straddling step all of a sudden, and encircled the legs of people in
front; a proceeding which, not being in accordance with "Hardee's
Tactics," was not received with approbation by Jerry; who, looking at
them with a sort of deprecating pity, hoarsely said, "Now, Company D!
wot--wrong agin? fowod squad! wun, too, three, foore; hup! hup! hup!
hold your head up, Mr. Fred; turn out your toes, Master William, and
keep STEADY!"
"Goody!" exclaimed Freddy at last, stopping short in the middle of his
marching, "I can't stand this any longer! There, Jerry, we've had drill
enough, thank you; I am knocked into a cocked hat, for my part!"
"Very well, sir; it _is_ powerful hot; an' I must say you young genl'men
have kep' at it steadier nor I expected, a gred deal."
"Thank you, Jerry," said George, laughing, "we shall not forget our
first drill in a hurry. I can't tell, for my part, which has been most
bothered, you or we."
"Allers glad to give you a little practice," grinned Jerry, "though
you'd rive the gizzard out of an army drill sergeant, I'd wenture to
say, if he hed the teachin' of you. Hech! hech! hech! Mornin', genl'men,
your sarvent," and Jerry touched his cap to Colonel Freddy and marched
off chuckling.
As soon as he had made his exit, the boys clustered around Tom, as he
sat turning his back on as many of the company as possible, and all
began in a breath, "Now, Tom, do tell us what you're mad at; what have
we done? please speak!"
"Well, then," shouted Tom, springing up, "I'll tell you what, Frederic
Jourdain! I won't be ordered around by any old monkey like
that,"--pointing toward Jerry--"and as for _you_ and _your_ ordering
about, I won't stand that either! fine as you think yourself; the
Colonel, indeed!"
"Why, Tom, how can you talk so? can't you play like the rest of us? I'm
sure I haven't taken advantage of being Colonel to be domineering; have
I, boys?"
"No, no! not a bit, Fred--never mind what he says!"
"Oh _do_--_don't_ appeal to them! You do that because you daren't say
outright you mean to have everything your own way. That may be very well
for them--you're all a parcel of Yankee shopkeepers together--but, I can
tell you, no Southern _gentleman_ will stand it!"
"North or South, Tom," began Will Costar, pretty sharply, "every
regiment must have a head--and obey the head. We've chosen Fred our
Colonel, and you must mind him. When he tells you to drill you've _got
to do it_!"
Tom wheeled round perfectly furious. "You say that again," he shouted,
"and I'll leave the regiment! I will. I won't be told by any Northerner
that I'm his subordinate, and if my State hadn't thought so too, she'd
never have left the Union."
"What! you dare to say anything against the Union!" cried George,
turning white with rage; "do you mean to say that you _admire_ the South
for seceding?"
"Yes! I've a great mind to secede myself, what's more!"
Freddy, as I said, was as sweet-tempered a little fellow as ever lived;
but he was fairly aroused now. His blue eyes flashed fire; he crimsoned
to the temples; his fists were clenched--and shouting, "you traitor!"
like a flash, he sent Tom flying over on his back, with the camp stool
about his ears.
Up jumped Tom, kicked away the stool, and rushed toward Fred. But the
others were too quick for him; they seized his arms and dragged him
back; Peter calling out "No, don't fight him, Colonel; he's not worth
it; let's have a court martial--that's the way to serve traitors!"
Amid a perfect uproar of rage and contempt for this shameful attack on
their Colonel, the Zouaves hastily arranged some camp stools for judge
and jury; and George being chosen judge, the oldest members of the
regiment took their places around him, and Tom was hauled up before the
Court.
"Oh stop, pray stop!" cried Freddy at this stage of affairs. "Indeed, I
forgive him for what he said to me, if he will take back his language
about the Union. I can't stand _that_."
"You hear what the Colonel says," said George, sternly; "will you
retract?"
"No, never! if you think I'm going to be frightened into submission to a
Northerner you're very much mistaken! No Southerner will ever be that!
and as for your precious Union, I don't care if I say I hope there never
will be a Union any more."
"Then, by George!" shouted the judge, fairly springing from his seat,
"You're a traitor, sir! Fellows, whoever is in favor of having this
secessionist put under arrest, say Aye!"
"Aye! AYE! AYE!" in a perfect roar.
"Does any one object?" Nobody spoke.
"Then I sentence him to be confined in the guard house till he begs
pardon; Livingston, Costar, and Boorman to take him there."
His captors pounced upon their prisoner with very little ceremony when
this sentence was pronounced; when Tom, without attempting to escape,
suddenly commenced striking out at every one he could reach. A grand
hurley-burley ensued; but before long Tom was overpowered and dragged to
the smoke, _alias_ guard house; heaping insults and taunts on the Union
and the regiment all the way. Harry flung open the door of the prison,
a picturesque little hut built of rough gray stone, and covered with
Virginia creepers and wild honeysuckles. The others pushed Tom in, and
Peter, dashing forward, slammed the door on him with a bang. Snap! went
the bolt, and now nothing earthly could open it again but a Bramah key
or a gunpowder explosion. Young Secession was fast, and the North
triumphant. Hurrah!