COLONEL CARTER COMMITS HIS FIRST UNGENTLEMANLY ACTION.
We come now to the times of the famous and unfortunate Red River
expedition. During the winter of 1863-4 New Orleans society, civil as
well as military, was wild with excitement over the great enterprise
which was not only to crush the rebel power in the southwest, but to
open to commerce the immense stores of cotton belonging to the princely
planters of the Red River bottoms. Cotton was gold, foreign exchange,
individual wealth, national solvency. Thousands of men went half mad in
their desire for cotton. Cotton was a contagion, an influenza, a
delirium.
In the height of this excitement a corpulent, baldish, smiling gentleman
of fifty was closeted, not for the first time, with the chief
quartermaster. His thick feet were planted wide apart, his chubby hands
rested on his chubby knees, his broad base completely filled the large
office chair in which he sat, his paunchy torso and fat head leaned
forward in an attitude of eagerness, and his twinkling grey eyes,
encircled by yellowish folds, were fixed earnestly upon the face of
Carter.
"Colonel, you make a great mistake in letting this chance slip," he
said, and then paused to wheeze.
The Colonel said nothing, smoked his twenty cent Havana slowly, and
gazed thoughtfully at the toes of his twenty dollar boots. With his
aristocratic face, his lazy pride of expression, his bran-new citizen's
suit, his boots and his Havana, he looked immensely rich and superbly
indifferent to all pecuniary chances.
"You see, here is a sure thing," continued the oleaginous personage.
"Banks' column will be twenty thousand strong. Steele's will be ten
thousand. There are thirty thousand, without counting Porter's fleet.
The Confederates can't raise twenty thousand to cover the Red River
country, if they go to hell. Besides, there is an understanding. Tit for
tat, you know. Cotton for cash. You see I am as well posted on the
matter as you are, Colonel."
Here he paused, wheezed, nodded, smiled and bored his corkscrew eyes
into Carter. The latter uttered not a word and gave no sign of either
acquiescence or denial.
"You see the cotton is sure to come," continued the stout man,
withdrawing his ocular corkscrew for a moment. "Now what I propose is,
that you put in the capital, or the greater part of it, and that I do
the work and give you the lion's share of the profits. I can't furnish
the capital, and you can. You can't do the work, and I can. Or suppose I
guarantee you a certain sum on each bale, Colonel, for a hundred
thousand dollars, I promise you a square profit of two hundred
thousand."
"Mr. Walker, if it is sure to pay so well, why don't you go in alone?"
asked Carter.
Mr. Walker pointed at his coarse grey trousers and then took hold of the
frayed edge of his coarse grey coat.
"See here, Colonel," said he. "The man who wears this cloth hasn't a
hundred thousand dollars handy. When I knew you in old times I used to
go in my broadcloth. I hope to do it again--not that I care for it.
That's one reason I don't go in alone--a short bank balance. Another is
that I haven't the influence at headquarters that you have. I need your
name as well as your money to put the business through quick and sure.
That's why I offer you four fifths of the profits. Colonel, it's a
certain thing and a good thing. I am positively astonished at finding
any hesitation in a man in your pecuniary condition."
"What do you know about my condition?" demanded Carter imperiously.
"Well, it's my interest to know," replied Walker, whose cunning fat
smile did not quail before the Colonel's leonine roar and toss of mane.
"I have bought up a lot of your debts and notes. I got them for an
average of sixty, Colonel."
"You paid devilish dear, and made a bad investment," said Carter, "I
wouldn't have given thirty."
A bitter smile twisted his lips as he thought how poor he was, how bad
his credit was, and how mean it was to be poor and discredited.
"Perhaps I have. I believe I have, unless you go into this cotton. I
bought them to induce you to go into it. I thought you would oblige a
man who relieved you from forty or fifty duns. I took a four thousand
dollar risk on you, Colonel."
Carter scowled and stopped smoking. He did not know what Walker could do
with him; he did not much believe that he legally could do anything; his
creditors never had done more than dun him. But High Authority might
perhaps be led to do unpleasant things: for instance, in the way of
relieving him from his position, if the fact should be forced upon its
notice, that so responsible an officer as the chief quartermaster of the
Gulf Department was burdened by private indebtedness. At all events it
was unpleasant to have a grasping, intriguing, audacious fellow like
Walker for a creditor to so large an amount. It would be a fine thing to
get out of debt once for all; to astonish his duns (impertinent fellows,
some of them) by settling every solitary bill with interest; to be rich
once for all, without danger of recurring poverty; to be rich enough to
force promotion. Other officials--quartermasters, paymasters, etc.--were
going in for cotton on the strength of Government deposits. The
influenza had caught the Colonel; indeed it was enough to corrupt any
man's honesty to breathe the moral atmosphere of New Orleans at that
time; it could taint the honor derived from blue ancestral blood and
West Point professional pride.
Carter did not, however, give way to his oily Mephistopheles during this
interview. Walker's victory was not so sudden as Mrs. Larue's; his
temptation was not so well suited as hers to the character of the
victim; the love of lucre could not compare as a force with _le divin
sens du génésiaque_. It was not until Walker had boldly threatened to
bring his claims before the General Commanding, not until the army had
well nigh reached the Red River, not until the chance of investment had
almost passed, that the Colonel became a speculator. Once resolved, he
acted with audacity, according to his temperament. But here,
unfortunately for the curious reader, we enter upon cavernous darkness,
where it is impossible to trace out a story except by hazardous
inference, our only guides being common rumor, a fragment of a letter, a
conversation half-overheard, and other circumstances of a like
unsatisfactory nature. Before giving my narrative publicity I feel bound
to state that the entire series of alleged events may be a fiction of
the excited popular imagination, founded on facts which might be
explained in accordance with an assumption of Carter's innocence, and
official honor.
I am inclined to believe, or at least to admit, that he drew a large sum
(not less than one hundred thousand dollars) of the Government money in
his charge, and placed it in the hands of his agent for the purchase of
cotton from the planters of the Red River. It is probable that Walker
expected to complete the transaction within a month, and to place the
cotton, or the proceeds of it, in the hands of his principal early
enough to enable the latter to show a square balance on his official
return at the close of the current quarter. Such claims as might come in
during this period could be put off by the plea of "no funds," or the
safer devices of, "disallowed,"--"papers returned for correction," etc.,
etc. That the cotton could be sold at a monstrous profit was
unquestionable. At New Orleans there were greedy capitalists, who had
not been lucky enough to get into the Ring, and so accompany the
expedition, who were anxious to pay cash down for the precious commodity
immediately on its arrival at the levee, or even before it quitted the
Red River. No body entertained a doubt of the military and commercial
success of the great expedition, with its fleet, its veteran infantry,
its abundant cavalry, all splendidly equipped, and its strategic
combination of concentric columns. Even rabid secessionists were
infected by the mania, and sought to invest their gold in cotton. It is
probable that Carter's hopes at this time were far higher than his
fears, and that he pretty confidently expected to see himself a rich man
inside of sixty days. I am telling my story, the reader perceives, on
the presumption that rumor has correctly stated these mysterious events.
If the materials for the tale were only attainable it would be a
delightful thing to follow the corpulent Walker through the peaceful
advance and sanguinary retreat of the great expedition. It is certain
that from some quarter he obtained command of a vast capital, and that,
in spite of his avoirdupois, he was alert and indefatigable in seeking
opportunities for investment. Had Mars been half as adroit and watchful
in his strategy as this fat old Mercury was in his speculations,
Shreveport would have been taken, and Carter would have made a quarter
of a million. But the God of Lucre had great reason to grumble at the
God of War. It was in vain that Mercury lost fifty pounds of flesh in
sleepless lookout for chances, in audacious rides to plantations haunted
by guerrillas, shot at from swamps, and thickets, half starved or
living on raw pork and hardtack, bargaining nearly all night after
riding all day, untiring as a savage, zealous as an abolitionist,
sublime in his passion for gain. Mars incautiously stretched his
splendid army over thirty miles of road, and saw it beaten in
detachments by a force one quarter smaller, and vastly inferior in
discipline and equipment. There was such a panic at Sabine Cross Roads
as had not been seen since Bull Run. Cavalry, artillery, and infantry,
mingled together in hopeless confusion, rushed in wild flight across the
open fields, or forced their way down a narrow road encumbered with
miles of abandoned baggage wagons. Through this chaos of terror advanced
the saviours of the day, the heroic First Division of the Nineteenth
Corps, marching calmly by the flank, hooting and jeering the runaways,
filing into line within grape range of the enemy, and opening a
withering fire of musketry which checked until nightfall the victorious,
elated, impetuous Rebel masses. Then came an extraordinary midnight
retreat of twenty miles, and in the afternoon of the next day a
hardly-won, unimproved victory. The First Division of the Nineteenth
Corps, and seven thousand men of the Sixteenth Corps, the one forming
the right and the other the left, resisted for hours the violent charges
of the rebels, and then advanced two miles, occupying the field of
battle. The soldiers were victorious, but the General was beaten. A new
retreat was ordered, and Mercury went totally to grief.
The obese Walker was last seen by loyal eyes on the night which followed
the barren triumph of Pleasant Hill. He had had his horse shot under him
in the beginning of the fighting at Sabine Cross Roads, while in advance
of the column; had effected a masterly retreat, partly on foot and
partly on a Government mule which he took from a negro driver, who had
cut it loose from an entangled wagon; had fed himself abundantly from
the havresacks of defunct rebels on the field of victory; and then had
heroically set to work to make the best of circumstances. Believing
with the confidence of his sanguine nature that the army would advance
in the morning, he started on his mule, accompanied by two comrades of
the Ring, for the house of a neighboring planter, to whom it is supposed
that he had advanced cash for cotton. No one knows to this day what
became of him, or of his funds, or investments, or fellow adventurers.
All alike disappeared utterly and forever from the knowledge of the
Union army when the three rode into that night of blood and groans
beyond the flickering circle of light, thrown out by the camp fires.
The news of the calamity, we may suppose, nearly paralyzed Carter.
Defalcation, trial by court-martial, disgraceful dismissal from the
service, hard labor at Tortugas, ball and chain, a beggared family, a
crazed wife, must have made up a terrific spectre, advancing, close at
hand, unavoidable, pitiless. It would be a laborious task to analyze and
fully conceive the feelings of such a man in such a position. Naturally
and with inexorable logic followed the second act of the moral tragedy.
A deed which some men would call merely a blunder led straight to
another deed which all men would call a crime. He could not, as men have
sometimes done, hope to annul his indebtedness by the simple commission
of murder. Irresistible necessity drove him (if our hypothetical tale is
correct) into a species of wickedness which was probably more repugnant
to his peculiarly educated conscience than the taking of human life.
Carter wanted, we will say, one hundred and ten thousand dollars to make
himself square with the United States and his private creditors. Looking
over the Government property for which he had receipted and was
responsible, he found fifteen steamboats, formerly freight or passenger
boats on the Mississippi and its branches, but now regular transports,
part of them lying idly at the levee, the others engaged in carrying
reinforcements to the army at Grande Ecore or in bringing back the sick
and wounded. If ten of these boats were sold at an average of ten
thousand dollars apiece and re-bought at an average of twenty-five
thousand dollars apiece, the transaction would furnish a profit of one
hundred and fifty thousand dollars, which would settle all his debts,
besides furnishing collusion-money. First, he wanted a nominal
purchaser, who had that sort of honor which is necessary among thieves,
fortune enough to render the story of the purchase plausible, and
character enough to impose on the public. Carter went straight to a man
of known fortune, born in New Orleans, high in social position, a
secessionist who had taken the oath of allegiance. Mr. Hollister was a
small and thin gentleman, with sallow and hollow cheeks, black eyes,
iron gray hair, mellow voice, composed and elegant manners. His air,
notwithstanding his small size, was remarkably dignified, and his
expression was so calm that it would have seemed benignant but for a
most unhappy eye. It was startlingly black, with an agitated flicker in
it, like the flame of a candle blowing in the wind; it did not seem to
be pursuing any object without, but rather flying from some horrible
thought within. What intrigue or crime or suffering it was the record of
it is not worth while to inquire. There had been many dark things done
or planned in Louisiana during the lifetime of Mr. Hollister. His age
must have been sixty-five, although the freshness of his brown morning
suit, the fineness and fit of his linen, the neat brush to his hair, the
clean shave on his face, took ten years off his shoulders. As he dabbled
in stocks and speculations, he had his office. He advanced to meet the
chief quartermaster, shook hands with respectful cordiality, and
conducted him to a chair with as much politeness as if he were a lady.
"You look pale, Colonel," he said. "Allow me to offer you a glass of
brandy. Trying season, this last summer. There was a time when I never
thought of facing our climate all the year round."
Taking out of a cupboard one of the many bottles of choice old cognac
with which he had enriched his wine-cellar, before the million of former
days had dwindled to the hundred thousand of to-day, he set it beside a
pitcher of ice-water and some glasses which stood on a table. The
Colonel swallowed half a tumbler of pure brandy, and dashed some water
after it. The broker mixed a weak sling, and sipped it to keep his
visitor in countenance.
"Mr. Hollister," said Carter, "I hope I shall not offend you if I say
that I know you have suffered heavily by the war."
"I shall certainly not be offended. I am obliged to you for showing the
slightest interest in my affairs."
"You have taken the oath of allegiance--haven't you?"
Mr. Hollister said "Yes," and bowed respectfully, as if saluting the
United States Government.
"It is only fair that you should obtain remuneration for your losses."
The black eyes flashed a little under the iron-gray, bushy eyebrows, but
the sallow face showed no other sign of interest and none of impatience.
"I know of a transaction--an investment--" pursued Carter, "which will
probably enable you to pocket--to realize--perhaps twenty thousand
dollars."
"I should be indebted to you for life. Whatever service I can render in
return will be given with all my heart."
"It requires secrecy. May I ask you to pledge your word?"
"I pledge it, Colonel--my word of honor--as a Louisiana gentleman."
Carter drew a long breath, poured out another dose of brandy, partially
raised it and then set it, down without drinking.
"There are ten river steamboats here," he went on--"ten transports which
are not wanted. I have received a message from headquarters to the
effect that we no longer need our present large force of transports. The
army will not retreat from Grande Ecore. It is sufficiently reinforced
to go to Shreveport. I am empowered to select eight of these transports
for sale--you understand."
"Precisely," bowed Hollister. "If the army advances, of course it does
not need transports."
As to the military information he neither believed nor disbelieved,
knowing well that the Colonel would not honestly tell him anything of
consequence on that score.
"Well, they will be sold," added Carter, after a pause, during which he
vainly tried to imagine some other method of covering his enormous
defalcation. "They will be sold at auction. They will probably bring
next to nothing. I propose that you be present to buy them."
The broker closed his eyes for a moment or two, and when he had opened
them he had made his calculations. He inferred that the United States
Government was not to profit much by the transaction; that, in plain
words, it was to be cheated out of an amount of property more or less
considerable; and, being a Confederate at heart, he had no objection.
"Why not have a private sale?" he asked.
"It is contrary to the Regulations."
"Ah! Then it might be well not to have the auction made too public."
"I suppose so. Perhaps that can be arranged."
"I can arrange it, Colonel. If I may select the parties to be present,
men of straw, you understand--the auction will wear a sufficient air of
publicity, and will yet be substantially a private sale. All that is
easily enough managed, provided we first understand each other
thoroughly. Listen, if you please. The ten steamboats are worth, we will
say, an average of twenty-five thousand dollars, or two hundred and
fifty thousand for the lot. If I buy them for an average of ten
thousand, which is respectable----"
Here he looked gravely at Carter, and, seeing assent in his eyes,
continued.
"If I buy them at an average of ten thousand, there will remain a
profit--in case of sale--of one hundred and fifty thousand. That is very
well--exceedingly well. Of course I should only demand a moderate
proportion of so large a sum. But there are several other things to be
considered. If I am to pay cash down, it will oblige me to borrow
immensely, and perhaps to realize at a loss by forcing sales of my
stocks. In that case I should want--say a third--of the profit in order
to cover my risk and my losses, as well as my expenses in the way of--to
be plain--hush-money. If I can pay by giving my notes, and moreover can
be made sure of a purchaser before the notes mature, I can afford to
undertake the job for one sixth of the profits, which I estimate to be
twenty-five thousand dollars."
There was a flash of pleasure in Carter's eyes at discovering that the
broker was so moderate in his expectations. There was a similar glitter
in the dark orbs of Hollister at seeing that the Colonel tacitly
accepted his offer, from which he would have been willing to abate a few
thousands rather than lose the job.
"The boats will have to go before an Inspector before they can be sold,"
said the Colonel, after a few moments of reverie, during which he drank
off his brandy.
"I hope he will be amenable to reason," said Hollister. "Perhaps he will
need a couple of thousands or so before he will be able to discover his
line of duty. It may answer if he is merely ignorant of steamboats."
"Of course he is. What can an army officer know about steam engines or
hulls?"
"I will see that he is posted. I will see that he has entirely
satisfactory evidence concerning the worthless nature of the property
from the captains, and engineers, and carpenters. That will require--say
three thousand--possibly twice that. I will advance the money for these
incidental expenses, and you will reimburse me one half when the
transaction is complete."
The Colonel looked up uneasily, and made no reply. He did not want to
make money out of the swindle: curiously enough he still had too much
conscience, too much honor, for that; but he must be sure of enough to
clear off his defalcation.
"Well, we will see about that afterward," compromised Hollister. "I will
pay these expenses and leave the question of reimbursement to you. By
the way, what are the names of the boats? I know some of them."
"Queen of the South, Queen of the West, Pelican, Crescent City,
Palmetto, Union, Father of Waters, Red River, Gulf State, and
Massachusetts," repeated Carter, with a pause of recollection before
each title.
The broker laughed.
"I used to own three of them. I know them all, except the Massachusetts,
which is a northern boat. All in running order?"
"Yes. Dirty, of course."
"Very well. Now permit me to make out a complete programme of the
transaction. The boats are recommended for the action of an Inspector. I
see to it that he receives sufficient evidence to prove their
unserviceable condition. It is ordered that they be sold at public
auction. I provide the persons who are to be present at the auction.
These men--my agents--will purchase the boats at a net cost of one
hundred thousand dollars, for which they will give my notes payable a
month from date. Within the month I am supposed to refit the boats and
make them serviceable, while the Government is certain to need them back
again. I then sell them to you--the purchasing agent of the
Government--for a net sum of at least two hundred and fifty thousand
dollars. I receive my notes back, and also a cash balance of one hundred
and thirty thousand dollars, of which I only take thirty thousand,
leaving the rest in your hands under a mutual pledge of confidence. I
desire to make one final suggestion, which I consider of great
importance. It would be well if the boats, when re-bought, should
accidentally take fire and be destroyed, as it would prevent inspection
as to the amount which I might have expended in repairs. Colonel, is
that perfectly to your satisfaction?"
The unfortunate, unhappy, degraded officer and gentleman could only
reply, "Yes."
Such is the supposed secret history of this scandalous stroke of
business. It is only certain that the boats were inspected and
condemned; that at an auction, attended by a limited number of
respectably dressed persons, they were sold for sums varying from seven
to fifteen thousand dollars; that the amounts were all paid in the notes
of L. M. Hollister, a well-known broker, and capitalist of supposed
secession proclivities; that within a month the transports were
repurchased by the Government at sums varying from fifteen to thirty
thousand dollars; that thus a net profit of one hundred and fifty
thousand dollars accrued to the said Hollister; and that three days
after the sale the boats caught fire and burned to the water's edge. Of
course there was talk, perhaps unjustifiable; suspicions, which perhaps
had no foundation in fact. But there was no investigation, possibly no
serious cause for it, probably no chance for it.
Colonel Carter sent a square balance-sheet to the Quartermaster's
Department at Washington, and paid all his private debts in New Orleans.
But he grew thin, looked anxious, or ostentatiously gay, and resumed to
some extent his habits of drinking. Once he terrified his wife by
remaining out all night, explaining when he came home in the morning
that he had been up the river on pressing business. The truth is that
the Colonel had got himself stone-blind drunk, and had slept himself
sober in a hotel.