_"Stuttering Dave."--His Tramp Through the Rebel Lines.--An Ammunition
Train.--"Dave's" Plan Succeeds in its Destruction.--A Man Who Stuttered
and "Had Fits."_
One morning, while the army was on the advance up the Peninsula, I was
strolling about the camp, when I encountered a group of soldiers
gathered around one of their number, who appeared to be entertaining
them immensely with his droll anecdotes and dry witticisms. Approaching
closer, I became one of the crowd that surrounded the narrator, and
listened to an amusing incident admirably told, which had happened to
him a day or two before while out with a scouting party.
He was a man about thirty years of age, of medium height, strongly and
compactly built, and with a good, firm, intelligent face, over which he
had the most perfect control. So perfect was his command over his facial
expression that he could make his hearers roar with laughter, while he,
to use a homely phrase, would "never crack a smile." I noticed on
joining the little crowd that had gathered around him, that the fellow
stuttered amazingly, which fact, together with his imperturbable
gravity, seemed to be the secret of his always having a good audience
about him to listen to his stories and to enjoy his droll humor. I was
struck with the man's appearance at first sight and at once concluded
that, unless I was much deceived in him, he was a man whom I could use
to good advantage, and I determined to ascertain who he was and where he
belonged.
Turning to a soldier at my side, I inquired the man's name. Looking at
me as though surprised at my ignorance, he answered:
"Why, that's 'Stuttering Dave,' the drollest, smartest man in this
regiment, and one of the best fellows you ever met."
"What regiment does he belong to?" I asked.
"To the Twenty-first New York," said the soldier, "but ever since I have
known him, he has been with a scouting party. He used to live in
Virginia before the war, and is well acquainted about here."
That day I called upon the Colonel of the regiment to which the man
belonged, and informed him of my wishes, which, if agreeable to him, I
would ask him to send "Stuttering Dave" to my quarters.
Shortly after sundown he came, and to my astonishment, I found that his
stuttering propensity had entirely disappeared, and that he conversed
with me with surprising ease and intelligence, and a quiet earnestness
that betokened a solid and well-informed man. The fact was that
stuttering with him was only a favorite amusement, and so naturally was
it simulated, that no one would suspect he was shamming or that he was
anything else but a confirmed stutterer of the most incorrigible type.
In the interview which followed he signified his willingness to enter
the secret service, and a day or two later he was detailed to my force.
Here he served with such ability and credit that he was shortly
discharged from his regiment altogether, and for the rest of the war was
one of my most faithful and valued operatives.
A few days after this interview, David Graham, for that was his real
name, otherwise known as "Stuttering Dave," set out under my
instructions, on a trip within the rebel lines. As he was about leaving
my tent, he shook hands with me, and said in his dry manner:
"G-g-go-good-by, M-m-m-major, I'm g-g-g-oin to have s-s-some fun before
I g-g-get home, if I d-d-don't I'm a g-g-goat, that's all."
Cautioning him against allowing his propensity for "fun" to get him into
trouble, I accompanied him to the edge of the camp, and saw him set out
in the direction of the Confederate forces.
Graham had adopted the disguise of a peddler of notions, and carried in
his pack a goodly supply of buttons, needles, thread, pins and such a
trifling articles as he knew would be in great demand by the soldiers.
Discarding his uniform, and dressed in a suit of butternut jean, with a
broad-brimmed hat, a stout stick, and a pack across his shoulder, he
appeared a veritable tramping peddler. No one, to have seen him, would
have imagined that he was an emissary of the secret service, and they
would little have suspected that the stuttering, harmless-looking fellow
who was hawking his wares, knew aught about military affairs, or the
plans and movements of an army.
It was in the fast deepening twilight of a beautiful evening, and but a
few days after he had left the Union lines, that a party of rebel
soldiers, weary and hungry with the toilsome march of the day, were
resting around a camp-fire, engaged in the preparations of their evening
meal.
While thus employed, they were approached by a strange-looking
individual, who walked right into their midst, and without ceremony,
flung down his pack and seated himself among them.
"B-b-boys," said he, "I'm most d-d-darned hungry, w-w-w-what do you
s-s-say to givin' me a b-b-b-bite to eat; d-d-dang my buttons, I'm
willin' to p-p-pay for it in t-t-trade or cash."
"How did you manage to get inside the camp?" inquired one, who seemed to
be the leader of the mess.
"F-f-f-followed my legs, and they b-b-b-brought me right in," replied
Stuttering Dave, as he coolly produced a short-stemmed, dirty-looking
pipe, which he deliberately filled, and then lighted with a coal from
the glowing embers at his feet.
"What have you got to sell?" asked a soldier at his side.
"O, n-n-needles, p-p-pins, thread, b-b-buttons and n-n-notions."
"Did you come from the Yanks?" now asked the man who had first addressed
him.
"D-d-d-am the Yanks!" ejaculated Dave, "I d-d-don't know anything about
'em. Ain't them your s-s-sentiments?" he added, nudging the fellow who
sat nearest to him.
His companion evidently did not relish this sly poke, for he growled:
"I, for one, am gettin' most thunderin' tired of runnin' around the
country, and nothin' would suit me better than for us to stop long
enough to giv' 'em a good lickin'."
"You l-licked 'em like the d-d-devil at Williamsburgh, d-d-d-didn't
you?" said Dave.
The fellow looked at him in surprise, but failed to detect any evidence
of an intended sarcasm in the immovable gravity of his face, so mentally
concluding that the peddler was a fool and one of nature's own at that,
he dropped the conversation.
By this time the meal was ready, and Dave, being invited to join them,
gladly assented, and fell to with an appetite that showed how thoroughly
he enjoyed the repast. Supper over, the party spent the evening in
chatting and telling yarns. The detective opened his pack, and
displaying his goods, soon disposed of quite a large quantity, in return
for which he demanded, and would take, nothing but silver or gold. When
"taps" were called, he turned in with the party, and placing his pack
under his head for a pillow, he soon slept soundly, until reveille in
the early morning aroused him from his slumbers.
Having eaten his breakfast, he sauntered through the camp, taking keen
notice of the number of troops, and finding out all he could concerning
their intended plans and movements. During the day, he did a thriving
business with his small stock of notions, and was everywhere followed by
a crowd, who were attracted by his droll humor and witty sayings.
On one of these occasions, and while he was driving some lively bargains
with the soldiers that were gathered around him, he was approached by an
officer, who slapped him familiarly on the shoulder and exclaimed:
"Here, my good fellow, we can use men like you; hadn't you better enlist
with us? You can do your country a great deal more good than you are
doing, tramping around the country selling needles and pins."
The detective turned around, and seeing who it was addressing him,
replied:
"C-Captain, I d-d-don't think you would want me; I t-t-tried t-to enlist
s-s-s-sometime ago, b-b-b-but the d-d-doctor said, m-my f-f-fits and
stuttering b-b-being so b-b-bad, he c-c-couldn't p-p-pass me."
"Are you subject to fits?" the officer now asked, as a sympathetic look
came over his face.
"Had 'em ever s-s-since I was t-t-ten years old," replied Dave, "have
'em every f-f-full of the m-m-moon."
"Where do you live?" interrupted the officer.
"On t-t-the other s-s-side of the river," he answered.
"What is your name?"
"They c-c-call me St-st-stuttering Dave," replied the detective, with an
idiotic grin.
The officer now turned and walked away, feeling no longer any interest
in the fellow, except to pity his condition; and thoroughly satisfied
that there was no harm in him, and that he was utterly unfit for a
soldier.
Well pleased to have shaken off the curious officer as easily as he had,
Dave now turned again to the soldiers and resumed his occupation of
dickering with the crowd about him; having concluded his business here,
he ambled off to another part of the grounds where a large quantity of
ammunition was stored in the wagons.
Instantly, an idea occurred to him which he resolved to carry out if
possible. It was to undertake the dangerous feat of firing the
ammunition, and depriving his enemies of that much destructive material
at all events. He lost all interest in disposing of his goods for a
time, and proceeded to make a careful examination of the grounds about
the wagons, and formed his plans for carrying out his project that very
night.
He soon decided that by laying a train of powder from the wagons and
running it to a safe distance, he could readily set fire to it, and make
his escape in the confusion that would follow. At midnight, therefore,
he stole around to the wagons and quietly commenced his work. He had
taken the precaution that afternoon, to supply himself with a quantity
of powder fuses, by rolling the powder up loosely in long strips of
rags.
Placing these in position to connect with the ammunition in the wagons,
and laying his train from one to another, the next thing was to lay a
long train, that would enable him after firing it to get out of harm's
way before the explosion occurred. Having completed his arrangements, he
now took himself off, to wait until the whole camp should be quietly
wrapped in slumber, before he started his "fireworks," as he called
them.
About midnight, had the sentinel on guard at the wagons containing the
ammunition been awake, and looking sharply about him, instead of dozing
at his post, he might have observed a man stealthily steal up to the
stores, and silently and quickly disappear into the woods beyond.
Fortunately, however, for our friend, and the enterprise he had on hand,
he only snored quietly and peacefully against a neighboring tree, little
dreaming of the surprise that was in store for him.
A few minutes later, a long, quick flash of light darted along the
ground, which was immediately followed by a loud, stunning report, and
the murky darkness was illumined with a brilliant, flaming light, and
great volumes of smoke.
Instantly the entire camp was aroused, and the half-dressed and
fully-frightened soldiers came rushing to the scene, which was now only
a scattered pile of burning ruins. How it occurred, no one knew, or
could tell aught about it, and wild conjectures were freely indulged in
as to the probable cause of the disaster. In the meantime, the only man
in the world who could tell anything about the affair, was traveling as
fast as his legs could carry him in the direction of the Union camp.
In a few days he made his appearance at my headquarters, and related the
success of his journey. I could not refrain from laughing heartily at
his peculiar and independent system of warfare, but advised him to be
more careful in the future as to how he tampered with the stores of the
enemy.
I was not disappointed as to the ability of the man, however, and for
months he served me faithfully and well, needing but little instruction,
and always performing his work to the entire satisfaction of every one.
He at times adopted various disguises, but generally depended upon his
own natural shrewdness, and his natural adaptiveness for the role of an
itinerant peddler to carry him through successfully.
He was always fortunate in his trips, and, so far as I knew, his
identity was never discovered, and in the peddler who stuttered and
"sometimes had fits," the rebels never recognized an emissary of the
Secret Service.
[Illustration: SHOT BY A CANNON-BALL.]