DRILL AND PARADES.
When the Rangers had broken ranks, which they did without orders as soon
as the fourth corporal had been elected, the captain and his lieutenants
suddenly thought of something and posted off to find Rodney Gray.
"Look here," said the former, somewhat nervously. "What's the next thing
on the programme?"
"Drill, guard-mount and all that sort of thing; but principally drill,"
answered Rodney. "If I were in your place I would send for a copy of the
army regulations without loss of time."
"Where'll I get them?"
"Write to the commanding officer at New Orleans, and the minute they get
here, turn this camp into a camp of instruction with written
regulations, so that every member of the company may know what is
required of him--_reveille_ at five A.M., breakfast at six, sick-call at
seven, inspection of company parade grounds at eight, squad drill at
half past, and--"
"Hold on," exclaimed Lieutenant Percy. "You will have to put that in
writing. I never could remember it in the world."
"You'll have to, and a good deal more like it," replied the Barrington
boy. "It's nothing to what I had to keep constantly in mind while I was
at school. I had to walk a chalk-mark, I tell you, or I'd have lost my
_chevrons._"
"I suppose the hardest part of the work will be training our horses,"
observed Lieutenant Odell. "Mine is pretty wild."
"No matter for that if he is only intelligent. He'll learn the drill in
less time than you will, I'll bet you. But we'll not need our horses for
a month to come."
"What's the reason we won't? We're cavalry."
"I know it; but how are you going to teach your horses the movements
unless you know them yourselves? Suppose we were in line in two ranks
and the command was given "Without doubling, right face." The horses
don't know where to go but their riders must, in order to rein the
animals in their places. See? Oh, there's more work than fun in
soldiering."
"Well now, look here," said the captain again. "I don't want to take the
boys away from home and shut them up here for nothing, and yet I don't
want to waste any valuable time, for we may be called upon before we
know it. Will you drill a volunteer squad here every forenoon?"
"I will, and be glad to do it. I hope they will turn out strong, for you
will find that the workers are the men that make the soldiers. I am glad
we've got a drum and fife. You don't know how hard it would be for me to
drill a large squad without some kind of music to help them keep step."
And so it was settled that Camp Randolph (it had been named after Tom's
father when the Confederate flag was first run up to the masthead, and
sorry enough the Rangers were for it now), was to become a camp of
instruction, and that Sergeant Gray was to drill a volunteer squad every
pleasant forenoon, and spend two hours every afternoon in teaching the
company officers their duties.
The young soldier had undertaken a big contract, but he went about it as
though he meant business, and in less than a week succeeded in
convincing some of the members of his company that he was just a trifle
too particular to be of any use. The strict discipline in vogue at
Barrington was promptly introduced at Camp Randolph, and not the
slightest departure from the tactics was tolerated for an instant. It
made the spectators smile to see full-grown men ordered about by this
imperious youngster who was not yet seventeen years of age, and the
sight aroused the ire of Tom Randolph, who now and then rode out to the
camp to watch the drill and criticise the drill-master. He wanted to
learn something too, for Tom had an idea that he might one day have a
company of his own. His father suggested it to him, and Tom lost no time
in talking it up among his friends. To his great disgust Tom had learned
that some of these friends were getting "shaky." As time wore on and the
Rangers began to show proficiency under the severe drilling to which
they were daily subjected, these friends began to think and say that
they were afraid they had been a little too hasty in withdrawing from
the company just because Tom Randolph could not get the office he
wanted, and the first mounted drill that was held confirmed them in the
opinion. Due notice had been given of the drill, and the whole town and
all the planters for miles around, turned out to see it. Of course the
horses were green but their riders understood their business as well as
could be expected, and the spectators, one and all, declared that it was
a very creditable showing.
We do not, of course, mean to say that Randolph and his father and
mother and a few other dissatisfied ones were pleased with the drill.
They were rather disappointed to find that the Rangers could do so well
without the aid of the twelve deserters. They came to witness it because
their neighbors came, one of them, at least, being animated by the hope
that the spirited horses would become so restive when they heard the
rattle of the drum and the shrill scream of the fife, that their riders
could not keep them in line. It was a matter of difficulty, that's a
fact; but the Rangers were all good riders, and if Randolph hoped to see
any of them thrown from his saddle, his amiable wish was not gratified.
Another thing that disgusted Tom was the fact that Sergeant Gray
commanded the drill, the commissioned officers riding in the ranks like
so many privates. The file-closers, of course, occupied their proper
places.
"If I could afford to buy a horse I would join the company within an
hour, if they would take me," said one of the eleven who had seen fit to
withdraw from the Rangers when Tom did. "I cut off my nose to spite my
face, and so did all of us who got our backs up because we couldn't have
things our own way. But I don't suppose they would take us back now."
"Would you be willing to have such a fellow as Rodney Gray order you
around as he does the rest of them!" demanded Tom.
"Why, I don't see what's the matter with Rodney Gray. I never heard the
first word said against him until you took it into your head that he was
going to run against you for second lieutenant. Yes; I'd let him or
anybody else boss me around if he would only teach me how to drill. He's
a nobby soldier, aint he?"
"Nobby nothing," snarled Randolph. "I'll bet you our company will drill
just as well as they do."
"Our company?"
"Yes. You don't imagine that the Rangers are the only ones who will go
into the service from this place, do you? It would not be policy for the
State to send all her best men into the Confederate army," said Tom,
quoting from his father; for although he had been a voter for more than
three years he seldom read the papers, and depended upon others to keep
him posted in the events of the day. "Some of us can't go. Father says
the Yankees will fight if they are crowded too hard, and if they should
happen to come down the river from Cairo, or up the river from New
Orleans, wouldn't the capital of our State be in a pretty fix if there
were no troops here to defend it?"
"Aw! they aint a-going to come up or down," exclaimed the other, who was
too good a rebel to believe that Union troops could by any possibility
gain a foothold in the seceded States. 'The fighting must all be done on
Northern soil.' That's what our President said, and I reckon he knows
what he was talking about."
"Perhaps he don't. Fortune of war, you know," said Randolph, who, ever
since his father suggested the idea, had kept telling himself that
nothing would suit him better than to be captain of a company of finely
uniformed and mounted State Guards. "At any rate we are going to prepare
for what may happen. We are going to get up a company, and my father
will equip every one who joins it. If he has a family, my father will
support them if we have to leave the neighborhood and go to some other
part of the State. What do you say? Shall I put your name down?"
Tom's friend did not give a direct reply to this question. He evaded it;
but when he had drawn away from Tom's side and reached another part of
the grounds (the mounted drill was still going on), he said to himself:
"No, you need not put my name down. I'm going to be a regular soldier
and not a Home Guard. There must be some patriotic rich man in this
country who will do for me what Mr. Randolph promised to do, and I'm
going to see if I can find him. By gracious? I believe I'll try Mr.
Gray. They say he hasn't done much of anything for the company, but
perhaps he will if he's asked."
No; Mr. Gray had not been buying votes for his son, for he did not
believe in doing business that way. According to his ideas of right and
wrong the company officers ought to go to those who were best qualified
to fill them; and he didn't want Rodney to have any position unless the
Rangers thought him worthy of it. But he was prompt to respond to all
appeals for aid, and so it came about that in less than a week Tom
Randolph's friends had all been received back into the company, and it
was reported that six of them were to be mounted and armed at Mr. Gray's
expense.
"That's to pay 'em for voting Rodney in for first duty sergeant,"
snapped Tom, when he heard the news. "I'd go without office before I
would have my father do things in that barefaced way. And as for those
who are willing to accept pay for their votes, they ought to be heartily
ashamed of themselves."
"Never mind," said Mr. Randolph, soothingly. "There is no need that a
young man in your circumstances should go into the army as private, and
I don't mean that you shall do it. I'll make it my business to call on
the governor and see if he can't find a berth for you."
"But remember that it must be a military appointment," said Tom. "No
clerkship or anything of that sort for me."
While the Rangers were working hard to get themselves in shape for the
field, Captain Hubbard and his lieutenants had received their
commissions and been duly sworn into the State militia. Nothing was
said, however, about swearing in the company, and when Captain Hubbard
called the governor's attention to the omission the latter replied:
"General Lacey is the man to look after such matters as that. He's in
New Orleans and you may be ordered to report to him there."
"How about our uniforms?" asked the captain.
"Do as you please about uniforms so long as you conform to the army
regulations. Of course your arms and equipments will be furnished you,
and the government will allow you sixty cents a day for the use of your
horses."
The most of the Rangers thought this was all right, and Captain Hubbard
at once called a business meeting of the company to decide upon the
uniform they would wear when they went to New Orleans to be sworn in;
but there was one among them who did not take much interest in the
proceedings. He did not say a great deal during the meeting, but when he
went home that night he remarked to his father:
"This partisan business is a humbug so far as this State is concerned."
"What makes you say that?" inquired Mr. Gray.
"Just this," answered Rodney. "Why didn't the governor swear us in
himself instead of telling us that we must wait for General Lacey to do
it? The General is a Confederate, not a State officer, and when he
musters us in it will be into the Confederate service."
This was not a pleasing prospect for the restless, ambitious young
fellow, who had confidently looked for something better, but he had gone
too far to back out. He had told his comrades that he intended to share
then fortunes, whatever they might be, and this was the time to make
good his words. If he had worked his men hard before, he worked them
harder now, devoting extra time and attention to the officers in order
to get them in shape to command the grand drill and dress parade that
was to come off as soon as their uniforms arrived.
In the meantime outside events were not overlooked. Everything pointed
to war, and news from all parts of the Confederacy bore evidence to the
fact that the seceded States were preparing for it, while the people of
the North stood with their hands in their pockets and looked on. Finally
the long-delayed explosion came, and the country was in an uproar from
one end to the other. Fort Sumter was fired upon and compelled to
surrender--fifty-one men against five thousand--and the Rangers shook
hands and patted one another on the back and declared that that was the
way they would serve the Yankees every time they met them. Then came
President Lincoln's War Proclamation, followed by the accession of four
States to the Confederacy, the blockade of the Southern sea-ports and
President Davis's offer to issue letters of marque and reprisal. All
this while the mails were regularly received, and Rodney Gray heard from
every one of the Barrington boys who had promised to enlist within
twenty-four hours after they reached home. They had all kept that
promise except Dixon, the tall Kentuckian, and he was getting ready as
fast as he could.
"I have been between a hoot and a whistle ever since I have been home,"
was what he wrote to Rodney Gray. "The State was divided against itself,
and I couldn't tell until the 15th, (April) which way she was going; but
now I know. When the Yankee President called for those seventy-five
thousand volunteers our Governor replied: 'I say emphatically that
Kentucky will furnish no troops for the wicked purpose of subjugating
her sister Southern States. As Dick Graham used to say, 'That's me.' I
go with the government of my State. Now, then, what have you done? I
shall write the rest of the fellows to-day."
Billings, the South Carolina boy, reached home too late to take part in
the bombardment of Fort Sumter. and he told Rodney that he was very
sorry for it. Every one of the gallant five thousand who had fought for
thirty-four hours to compel a handful of tired and hungry men to haul
down their flag was looked upon as a hero, and Billings said he might
have been a hero too, if he had only had sense enough to leave school a
month earlier. But he was all right now. He was a Confederate soldier
and ready to do and dare with the best of them.
Dick Graham, whose home you will remember was in Missouri, wrote in much
the same strain that Dixon did. His State was in such a turmoil and
seemed to be so evenly divided between Union and disunion, that Dick
could not tell which way she was going until he saw Governor Jackson's
answer to Lincoln's call for volunteers. "There can be, I apprehend, no
doubt that these men are intended to make war upon the seceded States,"
said the Governor. "Your requisition, in my judgment, is illegal,
unconstitutional and revolutionary in its objects, inhuman and
diabolical and cannot be complied with. Not one man will the State of
Missouri furnish to carry on such an unholy crusade."
"When I read those burning words," Dick wrote, with enthusiasm, "my mind
was made up and I knew where I stood. I expected some such move on the
Governors part, for when he came into office in January, he declared
that Missouri must stand by the other slave States whatever course they
might pursue. I kept my promise and enlisted in a company of partisans
raised under the terms of the Military Bill, which makes every
able-bodied man in the State subject to military duty. Price is our
immediate commander, but we were required to take the oath to obey the
Governor alone."
"There, now," exclaimed Rodney, when he read this. "What's the reason
our Governor can't swear the Rangers in as well as the Governor of
Missouri can swear his troops in? I believe he could if there wasn't
something back of it."
"What do you think there is back of it?" inquired his father.
"I can't imagine, unless there is some sort of an arrangement existing
between him and the Confederate authorities at New Orleans," replied
Rodney. "The Governor lets on that he is strongly in favor of
independent organizations, but he don't act as if he was."
Rodney showed Dick's letter to Captain Hubbard, who posted off to Baton
Rouge with, it; but he got no satisfaction there. There had been no such
Military Bill passed in Louisiana, the Governor said, and there was no
need of it, the situation there and in Missouri was so different. The
latter State was exposed to "invasion" (by which he meant that Captain
Lyon's small company of regulars was likely to be reinforced), but
Louisiana was so protected on all sides that Lincoln's hirelings could
not get at her if they tried.
"Then he wouldn't assume control of the company?" said Rodney.
"No, he wouldn't. I had a personal interview with him at his own house
and did some of my best talking; but it was no use. He was
non-committal--that was the worst of it, and I--Say," added the captain,
in an undertone, "I have sorter suspected that he meant to turn us over
to the Confederacy."
"That's what I have thought for a good while," said Rodney.
"Yes," continued the captain. "So I thought I might as well give him to
understand that we were not going to allow ourselves to be turned over
as long as we remained free men. I showed him your friend's letter, and
hinted pretty strongly that if we could not swear obedience to the
Governor of our own State, the Governor of another State might be
willing to accept us, and you ought to have seen him open his eyes."
"What did he say?"
"He said he hoped that I wouldn't think of doing such a thing as that,
but if I did, he would have to revoke my commission."
"Who cares if he does?" exclaimed Rodney. "Let him revoke it if he wants
to, and you can get another from Governor Jackson."
"That's what I thought. Now, I'll tell you what we'll do--at least we'll
hold a secret meeting after drill and propose it to the boys. Suppose
you telegraph to your chum's father--you know where to find him and you
don't know where to find Dick Graham and ask him if General Price will
accept our services, leaving us our independent organization, provided
we will take the oath to obey the Governor of Missouri."
"I'll do it," answered Rodney. "And if you will postpone the drill for
half an hour I will ride into town and attend to it at once. It's the
only thing we can do and keep out of the Confederate army. Dog-gone the
Confederacy. The State is the one I want to serve."
Rodney rode into Mooreville at a gallop, wrote out the dispatch and
stood at the desk while Drummond, the operator, sent it off. Although
the latter looked surprised he did not say anything; but while Rodney
was on his way back to camp, a copy of his dispatch was on its way to
Baton Rouge.
In accordance with Captain Hubbard's programme a secret meeting of the
company was held after the drill was over, but it turned out that the
members were not so strongly in favor of the captain's plan as he and
Rodney thought they were going to be. While the Rangers fully determined
to preserve their independent organization, they were not willing to
give their services to the governor of another State. There was a
dead-lock developed at once; and it was finally decided that the best
thing they could do would be to adjourn until Rodney had received a
reply to his dispatch. Perhaps General Price would not take them, and
that would end the matter. If he would, why then, they could call
another meeting and decide what they would do about it.
The next day their uniforms came up from New Orleans, and on the
afternoon of the day following there was a grand drill and dress parade
commanded by Captain Hubbard in person. The spectators, if we except the
Randolph family, were delighted with it, and Rodney told his father
privately that he had seen many a worse one at the Barrington Academy.
Rodney didn't want to say so out loud, of course, for he was the
drill-master; but it was not long before he discovered that the Rangers
knew whom to thank for their proficiency, and that they fully
appreciated the patient and untiring efforts he had made to bring them
into military form. When the ranks had been broken after dress parade,
and the Rangers and their invited guests thronged into the grove behind
the tents to make an assault upon the well-loaded tables they found
there, the deputy sheriff, the man with the stentorian voice, who was a
private in the company, sprang upon the band-stand, commanded attention,
and afterward shouted for Sergeant Rodney Gray to come forward. As the
boy wonderingly obeyed, the Rangers and their guests closed about the
stand and hemmed it in on all sides. Captain Hubbard had taken up a
position there, and when Rodney halted in front of him and took off his
cap, the latter began a speech, thanking the young sergeant for what he
had done for the company, and begging him to accept a small token of
their respect and esteem.
"Take it, friend Rodney," said the captain, in conclusion. "Keep it to
remind you of the pure gold of our friendship which shall never know
alloy. And while we sincerely trust that it may never be drawn except
upon peaceful occasions of ceremony, we are sure you will not permit it
to remain idle in its scabbard while the flag of our Young Republic is
in danger, or your good right arm retains the power to wield it."
The captain stepped back, and the thoroughly astonished Rodney stood
holding in his hands an elegant cavalry sabre. He stared hard at it, and
then he looked at the expectant crowd around the band-stand.
"Speech, speech!" yelled the Rangers.
But the usually self-possessed Barrington boy was past speech-making
now. He managed to mumble a few words of thanks, got to the ground
somehow and mingled with the crowd as quickly as possible.
"How very surprised he is," sneered Tom Randolph, who told himself
regretfully that a sword like that might have been presented to him if
he had only remained with the company. "I will bet my horse against his
that he knew a week ago that he was going to get it."
Rodney waited four days before he received a reply to the dispatch he
sent to Dick Graham's father, and seeing that the authorities had
assumed control of the wires, and the operator at Mooreville was a
government spy, it was rather singular that he got it at all. It ran as
follows:
"Price will accept. Company officers and independent organization to
remain the same."
"I tell you Missouri is the best State yet," said Rodney, handing the
telegram over to Captain Hubbard. "This brings the matter squarely home
to the boys, and they've got to decide upon something this very night."
And they did, but it was only after a stormy and even heated discussion.
The captain and Rodney carried their point but it was by a very small
majority of votes; and the former, believing it advisable to strike
while the iron was hot, took one of his lieutenants and started for New
Orleans to engage passage for his company to Little Rock. It was at this
juncture that Rodney wrote that letter to his cousin Marcy Gray, a
portion of which we gave to the reader in the first volume of this
series. You will remember that he spoke with enthusiasm of the "high old
times" he expected to have "running the Yankees out of Missouri." Well,
he had all the opportunities he wanted, but they were not brought about
just as he thought they were going to be.
The captain and his lieutenant were gone two days, and came back to
report that the steamers were all so busy with government business that
it would be a week or more before they could get transportation; but the
captain had left instructions with his cotton-factor who would keep his
eyes open, and telegraph him when to expect a boat at Baton Rouge
landing. In the meantime the harder they worked the less they would have
to learn when they reached the Army of the West. That very afternoon
they had a great surprise. The Rangers were going through a mounted
drill, acquitting themselves very creditably they thought, when some one
in the ranks became aware that they had a distinguished visitor in the
person of the Governor of the State, who sat in a carriage looking on.
Beside him was a little, dried-up, cross-looking man in fatigue cap and
soiled linen duster, who kept making loud and unfavorable comments upon
the drill, although he did not look as though he knew anything about it.
As soon as Captain Hubbard learned that the Governor was among the
spectators, he brought the Rangers into line and rode up to the carriage
and saluted.
"Well, captain," said the Governor, nodding in response to the salute.
"I am glad to see that you are hard at work and that your men are
rapidly improving. Have you a copy of your muster-roll handy?"
The captain replied that he had and the Governor continued--
"Then be good enough to produce it and hand it to this officer who will
muster you in. I am not going to let such a body of men as you are go
out of the State if I can help it."
"Shall I dismount the men, sir?" asked the captain, addressing the
cross-looking little man, who arose to his feet and shook himself
together as if he were getting ready for business.
"No," was the surly reply. "We'll drive up in front of the company and I
can call the roll while standing in the carriage. It'll not take ten
minutes and then you can go on with your drill. I see you need it bad
enough."
Captain Hubbard, who was so angry that he forgot to salute, wheeled his
horse and rode back to the company.
"Orderly," said he, in an undertone. "Get a copy of your muster-roll and
give it to that old curmudgeon in the carriage. He's going to try to
muster us in but I doubt if he knows enough. I am glad to see him,
however, for when he gets through with us, we shall know right where we
stand."