COLONEL ROSENTHAL.
His eyebrow dark and eye of fire
Showed spirit proud and prompt to ire;
Yet lines of thought upon his cheek,
Did deep design and counsel speak;
His forehead by his casque worn bare,
His thick moustache and curling hair,
Dark brown and grizzled here and there,
But more through toil than age.
His square turned joints and strength of limb
Showed him no carpet knight so trim,
But in close fight a champion grim,
In camps a leader sage.—SCOTT.
Elfie in the hands of the guerrillas, we must go and look after Justin,
from whom we have been separated too long.
It is true that we have heard of him from time to time, and by little
fragments of news picked up here and there, we have been able to keep
track of his movements since he left us.
We know, for instance, that his regiment has been engaged in several
sharp skirmishes, such as would be set down as great battles in any
other country than this, the theatre of our colossal war, and that in
every one of these fights he distinguished himself alike by his personal
courage and his military skill.
We have heard that, for gallant and meritorious conduct, he was promoted
to the rank of major, and that, by the death or disabling of his
superior officers, the temporary command of his regiment, then on duty
at H., devolved upon him.
Now it happened that upon the very morning of Elfie’s fatal picnic
excursion, the colonel of Justin’s regiment, being convalescent,
returned to his post of duty. Major Rosenthal was relieved, and for
faithful and efficient services, was promoted to the rank of colonel,
and ordered to assume the command of the —— Cavalry, then stationed at
W., in the valley.
The next morning Colonel Rosenthal, mounted on a noble war-horse, set
forth to cross the Blue Ridge, _en route_ for his distant destination.
He was attended by a single orderly, Sergeant Hay, the friendless youth
whom Britomarte had kissed and blessed on the moving of the brigade, and
who was thenceforth the object of Justin’s especial care.
The valley was free, or supposed to be free, from guerrillas, and
therefore a body guard was deemed unnecessary.
It was a glorious autumn morning after the storm, and the passage of the
mountains on this route was neither difficult nor dangerous. And it was
yet early in the forenoon when Colonel Rosenthal, having crossed the
ridge in safety, descended into the old turnpike stage road, leading
though a dense forest towards W., which was still far distant.
But the glory of the morning had no power to lighten the gloom that
overshadowed the young officer’s spirit.
In truth, he had both public and private matter for depression.
The former was of course grief for the wide-spread ruin wrought by the
war, and sickness of soul with “hope deferred” by its long continuance
and indefinitely postponed end, and was shared by every patriot in the
land, and every philanthropist in the world.
The latter was in distress about his sister Erminie and his beloved
Britomarte, and his intense anxiety concerning the fate of a young
orderly sergeant, whom, while in temporary command of the regiment, he
had detailed on special duty, and who had left him about seven days
previous to this, and had not yet been heard from.
This boy was an especial favorite with his superior officer. Soon after
the regiment had left Washington, and while it was lying at City Point,
he had enlisted. Since that, for cleanliness, sobriety, diligence,
fidelity, and, in short, all soldierly good qualities, he had been
steadily promoted until he had reached the rank of sergeant.
As by instinct Justin Rosenthal soon singled the boy out from his
comrades, and selected him as one of his own orderlies, Hay being the
other.
Now it occurred that while Major Rosenthal was in command of the
regiment at H., there came rumors of the reappearance of the terrible
Free Sword on the east side of the Blue Ridge. He was reported to be in
the neighborhood of L., re-organizing his band of desperadoes, who were
flocking to his standard by scores, by fifties and by hundreds.
It was whispered that there was a plan on foot to mass the three great
bands respectively commanded by Monck, Corsoni and Goldsborough; then to
cross the river above the Point of Rocks, slip down behind the line of
forts, and make a sudden dash into Washington.
Such were the rumors among the country people; but whether they were
true or false, or by whom, or upon what ground they had been started, no
one could tell.
Reconnoitering parties had been sent to beat up the country in the
neighborhood of L.; but they had returned without having seen or heard
anything about the dreaded Free Sword or any of his followers.
Either he was not there, or his encampment was well concealed, and the
people of the country were keeping his secret.
And as for Monck’s and Goldsborough’s bands, there was not even a rumor
suggestive of their whereabouts.
It became now advisable to send some person of equal tact and courage,
who should go among the country people in the vicinity of L., pass for a
secessionist, discover the retreat of the Free Sword, penetrate to his
camp, and find out what foundation there might be for all the rumors
that were afloat.
The duty must be undertaken voluntarily of course; but no one in the
regiment was found willing to go upon this dangerous expedition, until
Will. Wing, the major’s second orderly, proffered his services for the
forlorn hope.
His major was surprised and softened by this devotion in one so young
and tender as this boy, and he kindly and candidly set before him the
extreme perils of the enterprise.
But Wing was firm, and respectfully represented that his very youth
would be his protection, as it would render him an object of less
suspicion to the enemy; and he begged that he might be permitted to
render the required service to his country.
So the major had consented, and the young orderly, disguised in a suit
of confederate gray, had left H. some seven days before, and since that
he had not been seen or heard from.
And now Colonel Rosenthal’s soul was pierced by remorse for having
suffered the boy to go upon such a fatal errand, and by grief for his
probable fate; for scarcely a doubt remained upon the colonel’s mind
that his spy had been discovered, and had fallen a victim to the
vengeance of the terrible Free Sword.
With a spirit burdened and darkened by these thoughts and feelings,
Colonel Rosenthal rode on his way.
So few travellers passed this old, deserted turnpike road, that the
sound of horse’s feet, galloping rapidly towards him, startled Justin
and caused him to look up; when, to his unspeakable joy, he recognized
Wing.
Smiling, the boy saluted his officer and sprang from his horse.
“Oh, Wing, my child! I am so rejoiced to see you safe back again! What
news?” eagerly exclaimed Colonel Rosenthal.
“Great news, Major,” said Wing, who knew nothing of his officer’s new
rise in rank—“great news, sir! I have met with a complete success. I
have unearthed Corsoni and delivered him and his band over to our
forces.”
“That is glorious! Wing, you shall have a lieutenant’s commission for
that!”
“Thanks, Major; if the new commission is not to remove me from your
side,” said the orderly.
“Foolish boy! Do you weigh your attachment to me against such an honor
as that?”
“No; Heaven knows I do not; for my attachment to you would so weigh down
the honor that it would send the lieutenant’s commission flying!”
“We shall not be separated, Wing. I shall take good care of that. I am
going on to W. to take command of a cavalry regiment there. After you
are promoted, if you should be found capable of fulfilling the duties of
the office, you shall be my adjutant and live at my head quarters. But
where were you flying so fast when I met you, Wing?”
“To report to you, Colonel.”
“At H.?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, you have an opportunity of reporting here. Mount your horse,
Wing, and ride on with me. I have managed to get you and Hay detached
from your late regiment, and transferred to the one of which I am about
to assume the command; so that you may both be near me, as formerly.”
“Thanks, Colonel,” answered Wing, springing lightly into his saddle.
“Now give me a full report of your expedition, Wing. Yet let it be a
brief one, since ‘brevity is the soul of wit.’”
“It shall be brief as a military order, my Colonel. When I left the
camp, seven days since, with the rebel prisoner’s clothes on my back and
the rebel soldier’s pass in my pocket, and _your_ pass rolled up into
the compass of a hazel-nut and wrapped in water-proof skin, tucked into
my cheek like a quid of tobacco, so that I could even swallow it in a
case of extreme emergency, I took the way to L., avoiding the highway
and keeping pretty much to the country roads and bridle-paths. I stopped
at the farm-houses, ostensibly to procure food or lodging, but really to
get information. I passed for a confederate soldier on leave going home
to L. to see my friends; and to prove my words true, I showed them the
pass that we took from the prisoner William Grill, whom we captured near
C.”
“But, Wing, there was danger in that.”
“Sir, there was danger in every step of the expedition. I was prepared
to meet it.”
“Brave boy! But suppose you had met with people who knew the person of
this William Gill.”
“Sir, I had to risk that, and to use some little address. On coming to a
farm-house, at the close of the day, for instance, I would be taken at
once by my uniform to be a confederate soldier, and I would be received
and treated kindly. Soon I would take an opportunity of asking my
entertainers if they knew a family of the name of Gill. Almost
invariably it happened that they knew no such family personally; though
in some instances they knew _of_ them. I would express myself sorry for
that, as I was a connection of that family myself and had been in hopes
of meeting friends on my road. When my entertainers betrayed suspicion
of me, which was very seldom, I showed Gill’s pass, which at once
dissipated all their doubts.”
“Well, and what did you hear from these people?”
“Plenty of abuse of the Yankees, Colonel, which was quite natural, and
in which I joined so boisterously and with such seeming malignity as
sometimes even to provoke an apology for these same Yankees from their
confederate foes. ‘Some of them Union fellows were not so very bad,
after all,’ the rebels admitted.”
“Well, but about the Free Sword?” inquired Colonel Rosenthal.
“I heard nothing for the first two days. Near noon, on the second day of
my journey, I fell in with a party of our foragers. I was stopped
immediately as a rebel. But I took out my quid of water-proof skin, and
unrolled and exhibited your pass, and told my story. I passed the night
with them, and from them I learned that on the preceding night they had
surrounded the house of a certain notorious bushwhacker named Gill, with
orders to arrest him and his sons; that they had been fired upon from
the windows of the house, and several of their number wounded and two
killed; that they had then fired the house and burned out the
bushwhackers. The father and one son were killed in the fight that
followed, and the other son was taken prisoner. There was another son,
they said, who had been captured some six weeks before. I explained to
the men that this first captured son was the one I was personating, and
that the affair of the previous night would aid me very much in keeping
up the character. In the morning I left them and went on my journey,
striking deeper into the forest.”
“I hope you soon struck the trail of the Free Sword.”
“Sooner than I expected. Look you, sir: I did not spare my flesh and
blood. I gashed myself with several wounds, to make it appear that I had
been in a fight. Nor did I spare the Confederate uniform. I burned and
scorched it in several places, to make it seem that I had barely escaped
with my life from the burning homestead.”
“You have a great deal of craft for one so young, Wing.”
“‘Necessity is the mother of invention,’ it is said, sir. In this
‘forlorn plight’ I went on my way, until, near nightfall, I came to a
lonely farm-house, on the edge of the forest, where there were some
extremely ragged Confederate soldiers, smoking and drinking. I dragged
myself to their presence, and told them my piteous story: how I was a
Confederate soldier on leave; how I was going home to see my father and
brothers, when, on the very night of my arrival, their house was burned,
and they themselves bayonetted by the Yankee soldiers; and how I had
barely escaped with my life.”
“There again you ran a risk, Wing! Suppose these soldiers had personally
known the Gills?”
“I provided for that, Colonel. The first question I groaned forth was
whether they knew the Gills. No—none of them knew the family personally,
though one man said he had heard of them, and that they had a son in the
Confederate army. So you see, my Colonel, all the rest was easy enough.
I had only to say that I was that son, and to tell them my piteous
story.”
“But suppose some one of their number had known the son by sight, and so
had detected you?”
“Suppose the earth had opened under my feet, Colonel? I beg your pardon
for speaking so lightly, sir; but one was as likely to happen as the
other. Both were possible, but neither probable. However, I had even
provided for the remote contingency of detection before committing
myself in my story. I had ascertained by observation that no one among
them knew by sight any member of the Gill family. If they had, I should
have passed myself as a distant connection, bearing the same name.”
“Go on, my boy.”
“One of the men—Haddycraff—asked me how long I had to serve in the
regiment to which I belonged. I answered, no time at all. That my leave
in point of fact amounted to a discharge; for that before the leave
should expire, my time of service would be out.”
“And what was your motive in telling that story, Gill? Was it that you
had got your hand in, or rather your tongue in, to the invention line of
business, and couldn’t get it out again?” laughed Colonel Rosenthal.
“Not at all, sir; I had a motive in saying that. I saw that the men
among whom I found myself were members of some guerrilla gang, and that
they were after recruits. The event proved that I was quite right, for
Sergeant Haddycraff slapping me smartly upon the shoulder, exclaimed
heartily:
“Well, my brave boy, a soldier does not sit down to weep over his
wrongs, like a woman; he rises up to avenge them like a man!”
“‘And that I mean to do on every blamed Unionist I can find!’ I
answered.
“‘Quite right. Now you’re a-chatting. That’s the talk! Now to help you
to do this, how would you like to take service under one of our gallant
independent leaders?’ he asked.
“‘One of the guerrilla chiefs, do you mean?’ I inquired.
“‘That’s what the lying Yankees call us, blast them! We are no more
guerrillas than we are Cossacks!’ exclaimed Haddycraff angrily.
“‘But for my part, I thank the Yankees for bestowing it. I should glory
in the name of guerrilla,’ I said.
“‘Ha, ha, ha! we have made it a terror to the clock-peddling heroes who
have mistaken their vocation and come down here to fight us,’ chuckled
Haddycraff.
“‘To be a gallant guerrilla is the height of my ambition,’ I said.
“‘Then how would you like service under the brave Free Sword?’
“‘The Free Sword!’ I exclaimed, with enthusiasm. ‘Oh, Heaven! I should
think it almost too much glory to hope for, to live and die in the
service of the great Free Sword!’
“‘And I tell you what, my boy, your ardent admiration of Colonel Corsoni
is shared by at least one-half the youth in Virginia.’
“‘But the cursed Yankees who burned my father’s house were saying among
themselves that the force of the Free Sword was entirely broken up and
scattered to the four winds, and that it never could be re-organized,’ I
said.
“‘Ho, ho, ho! And that is all they know about it, laughed Haddycraff;
‘and if you choose to go with me, and take service under the Free Sword,
you may know for yourself how little truth there is in those reports.’
“Well, my colonel, I agreed to accompany the guerrillas to the camp of
their chief. And so, when they had feasted at the expense of the farm
people, who were mostly women and negroes, and had loaded their mules
with farm produce, for which they paid in veritable greenbacks, we all
took the road through the woods for some miles, and then turned out of
the road in the thickest depths of the pathless forest, and with no
other guide than a pocket compass, found our way to the encampment of
the Free Sword.”
“And where was that?”
“On an old deserted plantation in a clearing of that same forest. The
approaches to the encampment were very strongly picketed. There was
strict military discipline observed. We reached head quarters just as
they were beating the reveillé, and in twenty minutes afterwards I was
ushered into the presence of the Free Sword. A very handsome fellow is
this celebrated guerrilla chief, my colonel, looking every inch a
brigand leader, however, and reminding one strongly of ‘Fra Diavolo’ in
the opera.”
“Yes, yes—I know the personal appearance of Vittorio Corsoni. I knew him
well in former days. He was a young Italian adventurer, and at the first
opportunity took to the guerrilla life as naturally as a duck to water.
How were you received by him?”
“Very, very kindly. He bent those large, dark eyes so earnestly upon me
while I was telling my piteous story of coming back to find a burning
homestead and a murdered father, with his ‘hoary head all dabbled with
his blood,’ that to escape his intense gaze I had to cover my face with
my hands and take refuge behind a flood of tears. And then what do you
think happened, Colonel?”
“What?”
“I felt the hand of the Free Sword laid gently on my head—gently as a
woman’s hand—and I heard his voice, saying:
“‘You shall stay with me and be my son, and I will avenge you on your
adversaries.’ It was as if the voice of a god of Olympus had spoken.”
“Are you an enthusiast, Wing?” inquired Col. Rosenthal.
“Perhaps, sir. Then, at least, when I looked up and saw tears of
compassion standing in brave Corsoni’s eyes—compassion for me, come to
his camp to betray him, I felt for a moment as if I were the caitiff and
traitor, and he were the hero and patriot; and I assure you, my Colonel,
that I had to remember he was in arms against our government before I
could reconcile myself to the part I had to play.”
“One might think you had fallen in love with the interesting brigand!”
“That would have been quite impossible for me, sir! Yet I do not wonder
that his wife did! nor that she keeps close to his side through all the
evils and dangers of his wild life!”
“You talk like a woman, Wing,” exclaimed the colonel, laughing.
“Perhaps I do, sir; but I acted like a man! like a very man!” retorted
Wing, sarcastically; “for I betrayed the host of whom I pretended to
seek refuge, and who promised to protect me and avenge my supposed
injuries!”
“And _now_ you talk like one particular woman whom I could name! But
proceed, my boy! How did you get on in the camp of the Free Sword?”
“Very successfully! He said that I was not stout enough for their hard,
military duty, so he placed me in attendance upon his wife. But I had
ample opportunities of finding out their plans; for the Free Sword had
no secrets from the devoted companions of his dangers. I learned, little
by little, that there was certainly a plan on foot to consolidate the
three great guerrilla bands, to make a raid into Pennsylvania or
Maryland; they had not decided which was to be the theatre of the
invasion. They were waiting for the arrival of Colonel Goldsborough, who
was daily expected.
“Go on.”
“Well, sir, I remained in the camp of the Free Sword for five days; but
I learned nothing more, because there was really nothing more to learn.
But on the evening of the fifth day there was a surprise.”
“Ah!”
“Not from our forces. The surprise was the sudden arrival of Colonel
Goldsborough with a female captive. He came in the dead of night, with
his prisoner bound on the horse behind him, and attended by a single
officer, the notorious Nicholas Mutchison, whose gigantic proportions
have in no degree been exaggerated by report.”
“Umph!”
“We learned from that loud-mouthed Mutchison, who told the story with
great gusto, that their band had surprised a picnic party near the Point
of Rocks; had exchanged their own foul and ragged clothing for the
holiday dresses of the gentlemen, as far as they would go; had eaten up
the picnic dinner and finished the evening by a ball in which they
danced with the ladies of the party; and finally had broken up their
bivouac in a hurry at the arrival of their chief and the announcement of
a squadron of Yankee cavalry near, and had brought off one young lady
captive, leaving all the others to find their way home as they could.”
“Where was this picnic party from?”
“Washington.”
“And—what young lady was that who was taken captive?” inquired Colonel
Rosenthal, with a dawning of anxiety.
“Mutchison called her Miss Fielding; Colonel Goldsborough called her
Elfie.”
“Good Heaven!”
“What is the matter, sir?”
“I know the young lady. She is an old friend of my sister. Go on, Wing.”
“Well, sir, the young lady was placed under the care of Madam Corsoni,
who made her comfortable—that is, as comfortable as any creature whose
every breath was a malediction could be made.”
“The young lady did not bear her captivity very patiently, then?”
“Patiently! I tell you, my Colonel, if I had been Albert Goldsborough I
had rather carried off bodily a well grown she-tiger. She had torn his
hair and whiskers out by the roots and had nearly clawed both his ears
off. His jaws will have to be bandaged for a month; and if he doesn’t
get erysipelas from his wounds, I don’t know what will prevent him.
Afterwards, while she was in the care of Madam Corsoni, as I said
before, she did nothing but breathe maledictions against him and his
band.”
“Very natural and extremely like her. Well, my boy, you say that was on
the evening of the fifth day; you must have left soon after that.”
“Yes, sir, I did. That night the Free Sword, much to his distaste, had
to give up his half of his lady’s chamber to her new guest; for as Madam
Corsoni was the only other woman in the encampment, she insisted on
keeping the young girl under her own immediate protection.”
“And she was quite right. Proceed, Wing.”
“That night the Free Sword, being banished from his wife’s quarters,
passed the hours with his guest, Colonel Goldsborough, in consultation
upon the combination of their forces for the projected raid. I kept the
door. In that interview it was decided that the three great bands
respectively commanded by Colonel Corsoni, Goldsborough and Monck,
should rendezvous at the Black Bear’s Pass, where the greater portion of
Goldsborough’s guerrillas had already preceded them, and where Monck’s
horde was expected to join them. It was arranged that they should march
the next day, if the weather should permit.”
“Well! Go on.”
“When I had heard so much, my Colonel, I thought it was about time for
me to make my escape from the Free Sword’s camp and carry the
information to the nearest Federal Fort. Soon as I was relieved from
duty at the office door, I took measures to get off unobserved.
Fortunately for me, there was a terrible storm arose. Under its cover I
made my escape.”
“How did you pass their pickets, my boy?”
“I crawled through the dense and pathless woods between the picket
stations, until I got quite clear of the encampment. Fate still favored
me. Outside I caught a horse all saddled and bridled, that seemed to
have broken away from his fastenings somewhere. Once mounted on the
horse, I dashed on as fast as possible towards Fort R., where I arrived
just before sunrise. I was stopped and questioned by our own pickets. I
had no pass-word, of course; but I told my story and was taken under
guard up to head quarters, where again to Colonel D. I told my story.
And in fifteen minutes or less time, two companies of cavalry were
mounted and off after the Free Sword. I was detained in a sort of
honorable captivity for several hours, and finally dismissed with a pass
to return to my regiment at H.”
“Before leaving Fort R., did you hear from the companies that went out
after Corsoni?”
“Yes, sir; some of the men returned to report to Col. W. that my
information was correct; that they had found the camp of the Free Sword
just where I had reported it to be; but that the band had probably
received information of the approach of our forces, for that they had
hastily evacuated the premises.”
“Then Corsoni and his band were not captured?”
“No, sir; but the cavalry were still in search of them when I left.”
“And that is all, Wing?”
“That is all, sir.”
“Well, Wing, I hardly know for which quality you deserve the most
praise: for your shrewdness, or for your courage. If I have any
influence in the proper quarters you shall receive a lieutenant’s
commission for this service.”
“Thanks, Colonel.”
“And if the Free Sword should really be captured upon the information
given by you, you will be entitled to a considerable portion of the
large reward offered for his apprehension.”
“Your pardon, sir. What I did was done for the service of my country and
for the pleasure of my Colonel. But not to save myself from perishing
would I touch a cent of the blood money!”
“Upon the whole I think you are right, Wing. In your place, _I_ would
not touch the reward, certainly. But the lieutenant’s commission—that is
an affair of another color, eh, boy?”
“Yes, sir. I hope I have earned that, or shall earn it in some nobler
manner than spying out and giving information against outlaws.”
As they spoke, they emerged from the forest out upon the broad high road
that skirted it.
“We are now about thirty miles from W., I think, Wing?” said the
colonel.
“Thirty-eight,” answered the boy.
“So far? Well, at least we shall reach the town by nightfall,” concluded
the colonel.