ENERGETIC PURSUIT
Who were pursuing the Northern adventurers, and how did they learn the
story of the stolen engine? To answer these questions let us go back to
Big Shanty at the moment when the train having the conspirators on board
reached that station from Marietta. The conductor, William Fuller, the
engineer, Jefferson Cain,--and Anthony Murphy, a railroad official from
Atlanta, were among those who went into the "Shanty" to enjoy breakfast.
They were naturally unsuspicious of any plot; the deserted engine seemed
absolutely secure as it stood within very sight of an encampment of the
Confederate army.
Suddenly Murphy heard something that sounded like escaping steam. "Why,
some one is at your engine," he cried to Fuller, as he jumped from his
seat. Quick as a flash Fuller ran to the door of the dining-room.
"Some one's stealing our train!" he shouted. "Come on, Cain!" The
passengers rushed from their half-tasted meal to the platform. The
conductor began to run up the track, followed by his two companions, as
the train moved rapidly away.
"Jerusha!" laughed one of the passengers, a gouty-looking old gentleman;
"do those fellows expect to beat an engine that way?"
The crowd joined in the fun of the thing, and wondered what the whole
scene could mean. Perhaps it was but the prank of mischievous boys who
were intent on taking an exciting ride.
"What's up, anyway?" asked Murphy, as the three went skimming along on the
railroad ties, and the train drew farther and farther away from them.
"I'll bet some conscripts have deserted from camp," cried Fuller. "They'll
run up the line a mile or two, then leave the engine and escape into the
woods." He did not imagine, as yet, that his train was in the hands of
Northern soldiers.
On, on, went the trio until they reached the point where George had cut
the wire.
"Look here," said Cain; "they've cut the wire! And look at the broken
rail!"
One glance was sufficient to show that the engine thieves, whoever they
might be, knew their business pretty well. There was something more in
this affair than a mere escape of conscripts.
"Look up the road," said Murphy. He pointed to some workmen who had a
hand-car near the track, not far above him. Hurrying on, the trio soon
reached these men, explained to them what had happened, and impressed them
into the service of pursuit. In two or three minutes the whole party were
flying up the line on the hand-car.
"Kingston is nearly thirty miles away," explained Fuller, as they bowled
along. "I don't know who the fellows are, but they'll be blocked by
freight when they get there, and we may manage to reach them somehow."
Even if the unknown enemy got beyond Kingston, he thought he might yet
reach them if he could only find an engine. The whole escapade was a
puzzle, but the three men were determined to bring back "The General."
Thus they swept anxiously but smoothly on until--presto! The whole party
suddenly leaped into the air, and then descended into a ditch, with the
hand-car falling after them. They had reached the place where the
telegraph pole obstructed the track. They had turned a sharp curve, and
were on it, before they realized the danger.
"No one hurt, boys?" asked Murphy.
No one was hurt, strange to say.
"Up with the car," cried Fuller. The hand-car was lifted to the track,
beyond the telegraph pole, and the journey was resumed.
"Shall we find an engine here?" thought Fuller, as the car approached
Etowah station.
"There are iron furnaces near here," said Murphy, "and I know that an
engine named 'The Yonah' has been built to drag material from the station
to the furnaces. It's one of the finest locomotives in the South."
"I hope that hasn't been stolen too," said Cain.
Now they were at the station. They knew that it would be impossible to
make the necessary speed with a hand-car. If they were to reach the
runaways they _must_ obtain an engine, and quickly at that.
"By all that's lucky," shouted Murphy; "there's 'The Yonah'!"
There, right alongside the platform, was the welcome engine. It was about
to start on a trip to the iron furnaces. The steam was up; the fire was
burning brightly.
Etowah was ablaze with excitement as soon as the pursuers explained what
had happened.
"I must have 'The Yonah,'" cried Fuller, "and I want some armed men to go
along with me!" No question now about seizing the engine; no question as
to the armed men. With hardly any delay Fuller was steaming to the
northward with "The Yonah," and the tender was crowded with plucky
Southerners carrying loaded rifles. The speed of the engine was at the
rate of a mile a minute, and how it did fly, to be sure. Yet it seemed as
if Kingston would never be reached.
When, at last, they did glide up to the station, Fuller learned that the
alleged Confederate train bearing powder to General Beauregard had left
but a few minutes before. Great was the amazement when he announced that
the story of the leader was all a blind, invented to cover up one of the
boldest escapades of the war.
[Illustration: Fuller was Steaming to the Northward with "The Yonah"]
But now Fuller was obliged to leave the faithful "Yonah." The blockade of
trains at Kingston was such that it would have required some time before
the engine could get through any farther on the main track. He seized
another engine, which could quickly be given the right of way, and rushed
forward. Two cars were attached to the tender; in it were more armed men,
hastily recruited at Kingston. They were ready for desperate work.
"'The Yonah' was a better engine than this one," said Murphy, regretfully,
before they had run more than two or three miles. He spoke the truth; the
new engine had not the speed of "The Yonah." The difference was quite
apparent.
"We must do the best we can with her," said Fuller. "Put a little engine
oil into the furnace. We'll give her a gentle stimulant."
His order was promptly obeyed, but the locomotive could not be made to go
faster than at the rate of forty miles an hour. Murphy and Cain were both
at the lever, keeping their eyes fixed as far up the line as possible, so
that they might stop the train in good time should they see any
obstruction on the track. Thus they jogged along for some miles until the
two men made a simultaneous exclamation, and reversed the engine. In front
of them, not more than a hundred yards away, was a large gap in the track.
It marked the place where the Northerners had taken up the rails south of
Adairsville.
"Jupiter! That was a close shave!" cried Murphy. For the train had been
halted within less than five feet of the break. Out jumped the whole
party, Fuller, Cain and Murphy from the cab, and the armed men from the
cars. The delay, it was supposed, would be only temporary; there were
track-laying instruments in the car; the rails could soon be reset. But
when it was seen that each of the rails had disappeared (for our
adventurers had carried them off with them) there was a murmur of disgust
and disappointment.
"Why not tear up some rails in the rear of the train, and lay them in the
break," suggested one of the Southerners.
"That will take too long," cried Fuller, and to this statement Murphy
readily assented. As it was, the stolen "General" was far enough ahead of
them; too far ahead, indeed. If the pursuers waited here for such a
complicated piece of work as this tearing up and re-laying of the track,
they might lose the race altogether. The conductor and Murphy started once
more to run up the road-bed (just as they had footed it earlier in the
morning at Big Shanty), and left the rest of the party to mend the track.
Were they merely running on in an aimless way? Not by any means. They had
not gone very far before the freight train which Andrews had encountered
at Adairsville came groaning down the track. The two men made violent
gesticulations as signals to the engineer, and the train was slowly
stopped.
"Did you meet 'The General'?" cried Fuller.
The freight engineer told the story of the impressed powder-train that was
hurrying on to Beauregard, and of the fine-looking, imperious Confederate
who was in command.
"Well, that Confederate is a _Yankee_," came the explanation.
The freight engineer made use of some expressions which were rather
uncomplimentary to Andrews. To think that the supposed Confederate, who
had acted as if he owned the whole State of Georgia, was an enemy--a spy!
Why, the thought was provoking enough to ruffle the most placid temper.
And the engineer's natural temper was by no means placid.
"I must have your engine to catch these fellows!" said Fuller. Naturally
there was no dissent to this command. He quickly backed the train to
Adairsville, where the freight cars were dropped. Then Fuller, with engine
and tender still reversed (for there was no turn-table available), hurried
northward on the way to Calhoun station.
"This engine is a great sight better than the last one I had," said the
conductor, in a tone of exultation, to Bracken, his new engineer.
"Ah, 'The Texas' is the finest engine in the whole state," answered
Bracken, with the air of a proud father speaking of a child.
They were tearing along at a terrific speed when Bracken suddenly reversed
"The Texas" and brought her to a halt with a shock that would have thrown
less experienced men out of the cab. On the track in front of them were
some of the cross-ties which the fugitives had thrown out of their car.
Fortunately Fuller had just taken his position on the tender in front and
gave the signal the instant he saw the ties. As "The Texas" stood there,
all quivering and panting, the conductor jumped to the ground and threw
the ties from the track; then he mounted the tender again, and the engine
kept on to the northward with its smoke-stack and headlight pointed in the
opposite direction. The same program was repeated later on, where more
ties were encountered.
When "The Texas" dashed into Calhoun it had run a distance of ten miles,
including the time spent in removing cross-ties, in exactly twelve
minutes.
"I'm after the Yankees who're in my stolen engine," cried Fuller to the
idlers on the platform. "I want armed volunteers!" He wasted no words; the
story was complete as he thus told it; the effect was magical. Men with
rifles were soon clambering into the tender. As "The Texas" glided away
from the platform Fuller stretched out his sturdy right arm to a boy
standing thereon and pulled him, with a vigorous jerk, into the cab. The
next minute the engine was gone. The lad was a young telegraph operator
whom the conductor had recognized. There was no employment for him as yet,
because the wires were cut along the line, but there might be need for him
later.
Fuller was now aglow with hope. He was brave, energetic and full of
expedients, as we have seen, and he was warming up more and more as the
possibility of overtaking "The General" became the greater. From what he
had learned at Calhoun he knew that the Northerners were only a short
distance ahead. His promptness seemed about to be crowned with a glorious
reward. He might even make prisoners of the reckless train-robbers.
And there, not more than a mile in front of him, was "The General"! He saw
the engine and the three baggage cars, and his heart bounded at the
welcome sight. Then he espied the men working on the track, and saw them,
later, as they rapidly boarded their train. The Southerners in the tender
of "The Texas" cheered, and held firmly to their rifles. At any second now
might their weapons be needed in a fight at close quarters.
Of the chase from this point to Dalton we already know. Before Fuller
reached that station he knew that it would be possible to send a telegram
to Chattanooga, by way of Cleveland, even if the Northerners should cut
the wires on the main line.
"Here," he said to the young telegraph operator, "I want you to send a
telegram to General Leadbetter, commanding general at Chattanooga, as soon
as we get to Dalton. Put it through both ways if you can, but by the
Cleveland line at any rate." The conductor took a paper from his wallet
and wrote a few words of warning to General Leadbetter, telling him not to
let "The General" and its crew get past Chattanooga. "My train was
captured this morning at Big Shanty, evidently by Federal soldiers in
disguise," he penciled.
On the arrival at Dalton this telegram was sent, exactly as the shrewd
Andrews had prophesied. Then "The Texas" fled away from Dalton and the
chase continued, as we have seen in the previous chapter, until a point of
the railroad about thirteen miles from Chattanooga was reached.
In the cab of "The General" Andrews was standing with his head bowed down;
his stock of hopefulness had suddenly vanished. At last he saw that the
expedition, of which he had cherished such high expectations, was a
complete failure. A few miles in front was Chattanooga, where capture
awaited them, while a mile in the rear were well-armed men.
"There's only one thing left to do," he said mournfully to George, who was
regarding his chief with anxious interest. "We must abandon the engine,
scatter, and get back to General Mitchell's lines as best we can, each in
his own way!"
Then the leader put his hand on the engineer's shoulder. "Stop the
engine," he said; "the game is up; the dance is over!"
The engineer knew only too well what Andrews meant. He obeyed the order,
and the tired "General," which had faithfully carried the party for about
a hundred miles, panted and palpitated like a dying horse. The great
locomotive was, indeed, in a pitiable condition. The brass of the journals
and boxes was melted by the heat; the steel tires were actually red-hot,
and the steam issued from all the loosened joints.
Andrews turned to the men who were huddled together in the tender.
"Every man for himself, boys," he cried. "You must scatter and do the best
you can to steal into the Federal lines. I've led you as well as I
could--but the fates were against us. God bless you, boys, and may we all
meet again!"
As he spoke the leader--now a leader no longer--threw some papers into the
furnace of the locomotive. In a twinkling they were reduced to ashes. They
were Federal documents. One of them was a letter from General Mitchell
which, had it been found upon Andrews by the Confederates, would in itself
have proved evidence enough to convict him as a spy.
The men in the tender jumped to the ground. So, likewise, did George, the
engineer and his assistant. Andrews remained standing in the cab. He
looked like some sea captain who was waiting to sink beneath the waves in
his deserted ship. He worked at the lever and touched the valve, and then
leaped from his post to the roadbed. The next moment "The General" was
moving backwards towards the oncoming "Texas."
"We'll give them a little taste of collision!" he cried. His companions
turned their eyes towards the departing "General." If the engine would
only run with sufficient force into the enemy, the latter might--well, it
was hard to predict what might not happen. Much depended on the next
minute.
There was a whistle from "The Texas." "The General" kept on to the rear,
but at a slow pace. No longer did the staunch machine respond to the
throttle. The fire in the furnace was burning low; there was little or no
steam; the iron horse was spent and lame.
The adventurers looked on, first expectantly, then gloomily. They saw that
"The General" was incapacitated; they saw, too, that the enemy reversed
their own engine, and ran backwards until the poor "General" came to a
complete standstill. Pursuit was thus delayed, but by no means checked.
"That's no good," sighed Andrews. "Come, comrades, while there is still
time, and off with us in different parties. Push to the westward, and we
may come up to Mitchell's forces on the other side of Chattanooga."
Soon the men were running to the shelter of a neighboring wood. George
seemed glued to the sight of the departing "General." He felt as if an old
friend was leaving him, and so he was one of the last to move. As he, too,
finally ran off, Waggie, who had been released from his master's pocket,
bounded by his side as if the whole proceeding were an enjoyable picnic.
When George reached the wood many of the men were already invisible. He
found Watson leaning against a tree, pale and breathless.
"What's the matter?" asked the boy anxiously.
"Nothing," said Watson. "This rough journey over this crooked railroad has
shaken me up a bit. I'll be all right in a minute. Just wait and we'll go
along together. I wouldn't like to see any harm happen to you, youngster,
while I have an arm to protect you.
"Come on," he continued, when he had regained his breath; "we can't stay
here. I wonder why Mitchell didn't push on and capture Chattanooga. Then
we would not have had to desert the old engine."
The fact was that General Mitchell, after capturing Huntsville on April
the 11th, had moved into the country to the northeastward until he came
within thirty miles of Chattanooga. At this point he waited, hoping to
hear that Andrews and his companions had destroyed the railroad
communications from Chattanooga. No such news reached him, however; he
feared that the party had failed, and he was unable to advance farther,
under the circumstances, without receiving reinforcements. But of all this
Watson was ignorant.
The man and boy stole out of the wet woods, and thence a short distance to
the westward until they reached the bottom of a steep hill which was
surmounted by some straggling oaks. They started to walk briskly up the
incline, followed by Waggie. Suddenly they heard a sound that
instinctively sent a chill running up and down George's spine.
"What's that?" he asked. "Some animal?"
Watson gave a grim, unpleasant laugh. "It's a hound," he answered. "Come
on; we don't want that sort of gentleman after us. He'd be a rougher
animal to handle than Waggie."
George redoubled his pace. But his steps began to lag; his brain was in a
whirl; he began to feel as if he was acting a part in some horrible dream.
Nothing about him seemed real; it was as if his sensations were those of
another person.
"Anything wrong?" asked Watson, as he saw that the lad was falling behind
him.
"Nothing; I'm coming," was the plucky answer. But fatigue and hunger, and
exposure to the rain, had done their work. George tottered, clutched at
the air, and then sank on the hillside, inert and unconscious. In a moment
Waggie was licking his face, with a pathetic expression of inquiry in his
little brown eyes, and Watson was bending over him. Again came the bay
from the hound and the distant cry from a human voice.