IN THE TOILS.
On reaching Arkadelphia we were taken to the provost marshal's office,
which was located in a two-room house in the centre of the town, and
there we found a lieutenant at the desk in one of the rooms, while
fourteen or fifteen men were gathered around an old-fashioned fireplace,
telling stories and spending a pleasant evening. Some of these men were
soldiers and some were not.
I shall never forget that little room in that old house. It was about
twelve feet by sixteen, the walls were bare, the ceiling was low and
smoke-stained, the floor was without covering, and the only furniture
was the old table which served as a desk for the lieutenant, a number of
more or less rickety chairs and the two huge old-fashioned andirons
which supported the blazing logs in the enormous, ancient fireplace.
Rocket took the lieutenant aside and told him our story, the evident
impression being that it was all right. He then left us.
They had a lot of cooking utensils, bedding, etc., in the second room,
and soldiers were passing in and out of the rooms at intervals.
As we stood awaiting the termination of the interview between Rocket and
the lieutenant, I thought I recognized several of the men in the room,
and I was certain as to two of them. It is needless to say that I
avoided observation as much as possible, without seeming to do so, and I
was not recognized.
As Rocket left, the lieutenant came up to us, and, evidently thinking it
necessary, as a matter of form, began asking questions.
I told the same story that I had told to Rocket, while Miller and Rummel
got into the crowd before the fireplace, adding that we were from
Northern Missouri in the first place, that my wife was the sister of my
two companions, that their name was Miller and mine Swiggett, and that
we had had to leave Missouri when it had gotten hot up there, coming to
"Arkansaw" and joining the 15th "Arkansaw."
While telling this story, which I did in response to questions asked, I
could hear comments on the side between the men sitting around, and
heard one say that Rockport was not in Hot Springs county, and then
another say that it was and that I was right.
These comments disturbed Miller so much that he could not keep quiet to
save his soul, and I nearly laughed out aloud as I got a side look at
him and saw him shifting nervously from one foot to the other, now
rubbing his hands together spasmodically, and then recollecting himself
enough to hold them out to the fire as an excuse for the rubbing, every
second or two casting a "sheep's glance" over his shoulder at the
lieutenant and myself.
His actions evidently excited suspicions, for, just as I was certain
that the lieutenant was satisfied, and felt confident that all was well,
he asked me whom I knew up around Rockport, and then commenced going
back over the same ground again in a cross-questioning sort of way.
I told him that I knew no one up that way except our own folks, and, as
I heard a side comment of "Damned strange," I turned on the speaker and
said emphatically:
"No, it isn't 'damned strange,' if you will let me tell my own story,
and not try to put words in my mouth."
"Well, go on," said one fellow, and I continued:
"When we left Missouri and joined the regiment we left our families
behind in Northern Missouri. They were ostracized and misused because we
had gone off and joined the rebels, and life became a burden to them.
So, when Price made his last raid into Missouri, they were only too glad
to come with him and take chances of starving among friends in
preference to accepting the grudging charity of the Yankees. They were
compelled to stop in Hot Springs county, five miles southeast of
Rockport. We have never been in Hot Springs county ourselves, and have
not seen our families since we left them in Northern Missouri."
The lieutenant now asked me if I had no papers at all.
Quick as a flash I said "Yes," and produced from my pocket a newspaper
published in Washington the day before, which I had picked up on the
road as we came in.
He looked at it, laughed, and said that he did not mean that sort of
paper, but a pass or something to prove our identity.
I said that we would not be there if we had any pass, and that I did not
see why he doubted a straight statement in accordance with facts.
He now led me into the next room and tried to coax me into confidence
with him, but I stuck to my text, and could see that I had him on the
run, so to speak, although he had apparently suspected us of being
Arkansas Federals.
As we walked back to the office room I saw that poor Miller was as
fidgety as a nervous man could possibly be, and his actions, as he
quickly held out his hands to the fire and as quickly withdrew them to
rub them together in an absent-minded way, caused the lieutenant to look
at me sharply and again ask to what regiment we belonged.
This made me mad, and I answered shortly:
"The 15th Arkansaw, as I have told you three times before."
"What brigade?" now followed quickly.
"Thompson's," was the prompt reply.
"What division?"
"Molyneux's."
At this time we had been under fire for nearly an hour and a half
without giving anything tangible on which the lieutenant could hang
suspicion, but here he thought he had me, and he quickly responded:
"There are no Arkansaw troops in Molyneux's division."
Without an instant's hesitation, I came back at him with:
"If you know more about this thing than I do, perhaps you had better
tell the story. I'm in the 15th Arkansaw, and Molyneux is our division
commander."
The principle upon which I went in this examination was that these men
were most likely as ignorant as myself about matters not of general
importance, and I knew that they could only go on hearsay as to minor
matters, such as what troops made up a division at a certain time when
that division was widely scattered, and I therefore stood on my dignity
and was positive.
My reply plainly staggered the lieutenant, and he fell back on what was
apparently his last ground of argument, as he looked at our dress and
asked how we came by our blue blouses and breeches.
I laughed carelessly, and looked over the crowd in a quizzical way as I
answered:
"If you fellows had been chasing Steele's army all summer as we have
you would be wearing them too."
Then, turning to the lieutenant again, I said:
"Now, see here, Lieutenant, you know that there is no such thing as a
leave of absence to be had in our army nowadays; we wouldn't have any
army if there was; and when men have been in hard service for over two
years without a chance to see their folks, it's blamed tough to keep
them standing around answering fool questions when they have only ten
days in which to go home and get back."
I saw in the lieutenant's face that our case was won, but, as he opened
his mouth to say the words which would set us free, I heard the question
from behind:
"Where was your regiment raised?"
Turning, I saw that it had proceeded from a bright-looking young fellow
of about sixteen or seventeen, who sat near Miller and was looking up at
him with a quizzled glance. My heart sank within me, but I answered
promptly:
"In Clar--"
"Hold on, there! I didn't ask you," interrupted the young fellow; "I
haven't a bit of doubt but that you can tell every township that
furnished a man, and probably name every man in the regiment if
necessary; but you have had to do a lot of talking for your crowd, and I
would like to hear this man answer the question."
I now knew that we were caught, and I almost laughed, even in my
misery, at the picture before me.
Miller was almost paralyzed. He hemmed and hawed an instant and looked
inquiringly at the lieutenant and myself.
"Answer the question," sharply said that worthy, as he at once caught
the drift of the young fellow's remarks and had all his old suspicions
awakened again by the pitiful uncertainty of Miller's actions.
"In--In--In Clar--Hem! In Clar--Hem! Hem!--H-e-m! Really, gentlemen--"
he said, as he rubbed his hands and made all sorts of faces and turned
all colors, while vainly trying to recall some names that he might
safely use.
He finally stammered out:
"The adjoining counties to--to--in the northern part of the State."
His questioner then remarked quizzically:
"Well, I'll be ----, if here ain't a fellow that has been in the army
over three years and can't name the counties in which his regiment was
raised."
"Take these men to the jail," now ordered the lieutenant, and we were
led off to that place of abode, hearing, as we left the room, various
interesting comments and much laughter.
They put us in a cabin, which was lined throughout with sheet iron, and
which had no opening in it except the door. A pine torch furnished the
light. The floor was covered with filth, and we had not been in there
five minutes before the atmosphere had become almost unbearable.
I kicked loudly against the door, and soon a sergeant came to know what
was wanted. He was told that we wanted to see the lieutenant at once,
and he went away to call him.
When the officer came he was followed by a curious crowd, and, as they
opened the door, I stepped forward and asked pleasantly if that was the
way to treat Federal prisoners.
The lieutenant said that we were held as suspicious parties who could
not account for themselves, and who were probably endeavoring to join
the Yankee regiments now being organized in Little Rock, but that if we
could satisfy him that we were Federal prisoners he would let us out and
treat us as such.
Having made up our minds that our best course now was to be frank, we
told him who we really were, and that we had escaped from the stockade
at Tyler, Texas, and made our way so far north on foot.
As I told this I heard a remark in the crowd:
"Damned if they didn't deserve to get through."
The lieutenant turned, with a frown, and asked who made the remark, but
he had a smothered grin on his face as he turned back and invited us
out.
This remark seemed to be the sentiment of the entire outfit, although
they now had to keep us, and intended to do so.
We were taken to a room in a neighboring house and a guard was placed
over us, but we held a regular levee until far into the night, the whole
town apparently coming to see and talk with us.
While we were chagrined and disappointed over our capture, we yet had
enough sense to make the best of it, and I cannot remember a night when
I had any more fun than that levee afforded.
The crowd ridiculed the lieutenant, praised the young fellow who had
shown us up, mimicked poor Miller until he was nearly frantic, laughed
and joked with us, asked us innumerable questions about ourselves, and
generally made us feel more like being out for a lark than in
confinement as prisoners.
During the evening we told them of our hard fare while en route, and
described our appropriation of the picket post's supper, at which they
all laughed. Then we suggested that we were even then quite hungry, and
asked for something to eat.
After some delay they brought us a kettle of cooked fresh pork and some
meal for a pone of bread. There was probably about four pounds of pork
in the mess, and a goodly supply of bread, but we ate it all before
bedtime, holding our informal reception meanwhile.