THE WHISPER.
He speaketh low, he speaketh calm,
“Ride fast, my master, ride,
Or e’er within the broadening dark
The narrow shadows hide,
Ere night I shall be near to thee—
Now ride, my master, ride—
Ere night, as parted spirits cleave
To mortals too beloved to leave,
I shall be by thy side!”—E. B. BROWNING.
“Yes, Colonel Rosenthal, I shall have to hang you in about an hour from
this.”
Having pronounced this dreadful sentence in the coolest manner, Monck
tossed off his tumbler of brandy, and then looked up to see what effect
the words had had upon his intended victim.
Colonel Rosenthal’s countenance was not changed in the slightest degree.
He was still sitting back in his chair, contemplating Monck with that
expression of mingled curiosity and perplexity with which he had
hitherto listened to the guerrilla chieftain’s strange discourse.
It was now Monck’s turn to stare with astonishment at his prisoner.
“Well, I’m dashed! if ever I saw a fellow receive a sentence of death so
coolly in all my life! Thunder, man, did you hear what I said to you? I
have just told you that I shall have to hang you in about an hour!”
exclaimed the chieftain.
“I heard you, Major Monck,” coldly and haughtily replied the captive.
“You did, eh? Well, upon my word, you take things coolly for a young
one. What do you think of it? What have you got to say?”
“Certainly I cannot think you speak seriously, Major Monck, and I must
say that your jest is a very coarse and brutal one, not even to be
excused upon the plea of intoxication,” said Colonel Rosenthal, in
strong disgust.
“I’m blasted if I ever was more serious or more sober in my life! It’s a
very serious and sober business, let me tell you, and a blamed
disagreeable one into the bargain especially at night, when the rites
have to be solemnized by torchlight. We _might_ wait until the moon
rises, only we shall be obliged to get away from here under cover of the
darkness, and we must execute you before we move. A devil of a bore! I
had no idea, when I invited you to dine with me, that I should have to
finish up the evening’s entertainment by hanging you. But you see how it
is. Fortune of war. Fortune of war.”
“Major Monck, I must request you, if you please, to desist from this
brutal style of jesting, which is certainly as degrading to you as it is
insulting to me,” said Colonel Rosenthal with calm dignity.
“Jesting, _jesting_, say you! Dashed if I ever felt less like jesting in
my life! blazes, man, don’t you see that I’m in blood earnest? But come,
light another cigar. Here’s a good one; try it—do. We have plenty of
time; let’s see,” said Monck, pushing a fine cigar towards his prisoner,
and taking out his watch to consult it—“Oh, yes, plenty of time to smoke
another cigar apiece. Let us make ourselves comfortable. It is now only
five minutes past eight, and we needn’t hang you until nine; that will
give us an hour to finish up your job neatly, and then get away under
cover of the darkness, before the moon rises at ten. Come, light your
weed, and let’s enjoy each other’s company while we can.”
“Major Monck, if you will persist in this offensive style of joke, I, as
a prisoner, have no power to prevent you. So pray proceed until you
become tired. And don’t on any account cease for my sake, as I shall not
give myself the trouble to listen to you,” said Justin, drawing a paper
from his pocket and beginning to read.
“Joke! Heaven and earth, man! can’t you see that this is no joke! Here
you are within—” Monck again referred to his watch and then
continued—“within fifty minutes of your execution, and you persist in
calling it a joke!”
Justin Rosenthal was assuredly a brave man. He had frequently faced
death fearlessly even in its most fearful forms. But now, as a
conviction of Monck’s real meaning forced itself upon his soul, he
shuddered in spite of himself and grew a shade paler.
“Major Monck,” he said, gravely, “you will not dare to carry out your
design! You will not dare to commit this cold-blooded murder!”
“I should like to know what it is that I would not dare to do! But this
is no cold-blooded murder, Colonel Rosenthal. For reasons that appear
good to me I condemn a prisoner to death and order his execution. A
dashed disagreeable duty, as I said before—especially when it has to be
done upon a man one has been dining with. I had no thought of winding up
our social evening in this way. But you heard the row outside?”
“I heard it,” curtly replied Justin.
“Well, it was about you.”
“Me!”
“Yes. You see a party of my poor fellows went out yesterday to intercept
some Yankee commissary stores that were on their way across the valley.
But my poor boys were themselves intercepted by a squadron of Yankee
cavalry that came from W. to look after them. There was an engagement,
and my men were routed with considerable loss. Some were taken
prisoners; and some were hung up to the roadside trees to dry in the
sun. Those who escaped by flight rushed into the camp in great haste and
disorder this evening.”
“Thank Heaven!” exclaimed Justin.
“Exactly; but you see this thing works two ways. For instance, when they
learned we had a Yankee colonel here as a prisoner—you heard the row
they raised?—they called for your life in retaliation of their murdered
comrades. I could not in common justice refuse them so reasonable a
request. And so, Colonel Rosenthal,” said Monck, once more coolly
consulting his watch, “as it is now half-past eight o’clock, you have
‘just thirty minutes to live.’”
“Oh, Heaven!” groaned Justin, dropping his head upon his hands and
thinking of his young sister in her desolate orphanage, and of another
still dearer than that sister, and realizing how the news of his
dreadful doom would break those loving hearts.
“Come, come, man alive!” exclaimed Monck, heartily, “don’t be cast down
because you are going to be strung up! Fortune of war, you know; and it
may be my fate to-morrow if I fall into the hands of the clock peddlers!
Come, drink your brandy—it will set you up. And here: take something
substantial with it,” he added, rising from his place and going to the
side-table to bring a plate of biscuits.
At that moment Justin felt a light hand laid upon his head. He looked up
and saw Wing standing beside him. The boy was deadly pale, but perfectly
calm.
“Listen, my Colonel,” he whispered: “there is one chance left to you for
life. You know that we have heard of Monck,—how he——”
The remainder of the sentence was breathed into the ear of Justin
Rosenthal, whose countenance immediately cleared up.
“You have saved me again, Wing! But you—you, my boy?” he exclaimed, in a
low tone.
“Oh, leave me to myself and to God! I shall be safe—I am always safe!
Oh, believe it! believe it when I swear it to you. Hush! that monster is
coming back!” said Wing, retreating to the door.
In fact, at that moment Monck did return, bringing in one hand a plate
of biscuits, and in the other a plate of cheese, which he set before his
prisoner, saying:
“Come! ‘let us eat, drink, and be merry, for to-morrow we die;’ or,
rather, to-night, at least, you do!”
“All right!” exclaimed Justin, laughing. “A soldier must be ready to
meet death at any moment and in any manner. Your health, Major Monck!”
he added, pouring a little brandy into his glass.
“That’s your sort! That’s the way I like to see a man meet the King of
Terrors! Come—I will pledge you in this glass, and then I suppose we
must go out and begin the ceremonies. Thunder! how time flies! It is
actually a quarter to nine. We must make haste,” said Monck, filling his
glass and approaching to touch the glass that Justin held towards him.
As the glasses clinked, the eyes of the two men met, and Justin, with a
peculiar gesture, too slight to be noticed by an ordinary observer,
raised his to his lips, and then set it down.
The glass of Monck nearly fell from his hand. He stared steadily at his
prisoner for a full minute and then demanded:
“What was that for? Was that an accident or not?”
“What, an accident?” inquired Justin, innocently.
“_That—that!_ Are you—But nonsense! I suppose it _was_ an accident.
Come, Colonel Rosenthal! ten minutes to nine, and we have got to go out.
Come! it will be all over in a few minutes. What I do is not done in
malice, and I hope you will bear no malice towards me,” said Monck,
rising from the table.
“None whatever. In pledge of which, before we leave the board, let us
shake hands,” said Justin, rising, and offering his hand to the
guerrilla.
“Quite right!” exclaimed Monck, heartily, clapping his fat hand into the
extended palm of Justin, who gave it a peculiar grip and shake.
Suddenly Monck sank down into his seat as if he had been shot.
“Then it _wasn’t_ an accident!” he exclaimed, staring at his intended
victim.
“No.”
“And you are—”
“Yes.”
“Then I’m dashed if I can hang you! And a devil of a dilemma it places
me in!” muttered the guerrilla chieftain, placing his great hands upon
his knees, and dropping his head upon his breast in deep thought.
Justin resumed his seat, and sat as calmly as if he had been at his own
table, for he felt that he was now as safe as if he had been in his own
camp.
“And time is flying! And presently some of the men who were charged with
the preparations for the execution will be at the door, to tell me that
all is ready, and to ask for the prisoner! And in their present state of
excitement, the rascals—the mutinous rascals—would take you out and hang
you whether I like it or don’t like it; a devil of a dilemma! I had
better get you off from here as quietly as possible—eh, Colonel
Rosenthal?”
“As you like. It is your affair,” said Justin, coolly.
Monck scratched his head, repeating at intervals:
“A devil of a dilemma!”
Then he got up and went to the door and spoke to the sentinel on duty
there, saying:
“Rushley, pass the word for Captain Bannister to come here.”
Then he began to walk uneasily up and down the floor.
In a very few minutes Captain Bannister came in, wearing a grave and
anxious expression of countenance.
Monck met him near the door, drew his arm within his own, and walked him
off towards one of windows; but not until Justin had heard Bannister
say, in a low voice:
“Nothing has occurred since my connection with this band that has so
seriously distressed me as the doom of this gentleman. Major Monck, if
it be possible, save him! His execution would cover us with obloquy.”
“That is just what I sent for you to consult about,” answered Monck, as
they both passed, arm in arm, out of Justin’s hearing.
They stood within the recess of the window, conversing in a low tone,
for some ten or fifteen minutes, at the end of which Monck nodded his
head and approached the table. He took writing materials from the
drawer, sat down and hastily scratched off a few lines on a slip of
paper, which he handed to Captain Bannister, saying:
“You will leave this room by the back door, which will take you into the
back yard. Go then through the garden and orchard, and around by the old
field, and so make a circuit to the ferry. In that way you will escape
showing your prisoner to the disaffected men who have come in from that
luckless expedition. As for the other men, it does not matter, as they
are not nearly so blood-thirsty! The devil is in it that I should have
to pass a prisoner out of camp in this surreptitious way. No matter.
Wait until we join our forces with that of Goldsborough and the Free
Sword, and we will see whether better discipline cannot be maintained
among these wild colts.”
Captain Bannister received the written paper with a bow and then turned
towards Justin.
“Colonel Rosenthal,” said Monck, “I place you in the hands of Captain
Bannister, who will see you safely beyond our lines.”
Justin bowed grimly, and then inquired:
“My two orderlies?”
“Their lives will be safe. We don’t hang children! We shall hold them
prisoners until they are exchanged. And now, for Heaven’s sake, be off
with yourself, and leave me to settle with those howling furies
outside.”
Thus urged, Justin followed Captain Bannister, who conducted him through
the back door into a back yard, where they mounted two horses that stood
ready saddled and bridled; and thence they rode through the garden and
the orchard, and round where the edge of the woods skirted the old
field, and by that covered path to the ferry, where they were challenged
by the sentinel on duty.
Bannister gave the countersign, and passed with his companion.
The old ferryman came out of his house at the captain’s summons, and got
his boat ready. And in a few minutes Justin was safely landed on the
other side of the river. His guard, however, did not leave him until
they had passed all the pickets, and reached the extreme outposts of the
guerrillas’ encampment.
Then Captain Bannister took from his pocket the paper that Monck had
given him, and handed it to Justin, saying:
“In case you should meet with any scouts of our band, you have only to
show them this paper, and you will pass unmolested.”
Justin took the paper with a bow, and then thanked Captain Bannister for
all his courtesy.
“You will follow this path through the wood until you reach the turnpike
road leading to W.—the same road upon which our men first surprised
you,” said Captain Bannister.
“Thanks! All right. I shall find the way,” answered Justin.
And the two men parted—Captain Bannister returning towards the camp and
Colonel Rosenthal proceeding on his way.
It was the same dark and narrow path, through the thick, impenetrable
forest, that he had travelled as a prisoner on the night previous. And
his progress was of course as slow and difficult now as it had been
then.
His soul was troubled, too, for the boys he had left behind. He was
somewhat comforted by the assurance of Monck that their lives should be
safe, and he was cheered by the recollection of Wing’s words; but still
he was most anxious to get on to W., that he might at once see to the
exchange of the prisoners.
Two hours of slow riding brought him to the high road, upon which he
emerged just as the moon was rising, and flooding all the valley with
light.
Here, where there was no obstruction, he put spurs to his horse, and
flew along at a furious rate of speed for several miles, when suddenly
his horse fell lame.
He dismounted, and examined the creature’s feet, hoping that he should
find a pebble, or some transient irritation of that sort, the removal of
which should restore the horse to the free use of his limbs. But he
found nothing, and was at length forced to give up the search in the
belief that the cause of lameness was something more serious and
permanent than he had supposed. Justin was as merciful as he was
courageous. He did not mount again; but, taking the bridle in his hand,
walked on, leading the steed after him.
In this manner he had progressed slowly over another mile of the road,
when he suddenly heard the clatter of horse’s hoofs behind, and the next
moment Wing rode up, and drew rein beside him.
“Wing!” he joyfully exclaimed.
“Yes, my Colonel, Wing. I am like the bad penny, always coming back to
you,” said the lad gayly, as he dismounted, and leading his horse,
walked by his colonel’s side.
“Oh, my dear boy! I am so delighted to see you safe! But how does it
happen that you are here?”
“My Colonel, it is easily explained. After I had given you that hint—”
—“Ah, yes—that hint, my boy! It saved my life. And that is the third
time you have come between me and certain death, my child,” said Justin,
earnestly.
“I was going to say that after I left the room, the guards, obeying
orders that had been given them, no doubt, took me up into a back attic
and locked me in.”
“Humph!”
“It was a place of utter darkness, and at first I could not see my hand
before me. But gradually as my eyes became accustomed to the scene, I
made out the form of a dormer window. While I was straining my eyes
towards that square of thinner darkness, for it was no more, I heard a
scraping and scratching on the outside of the window.”
“Well?”
“I went to see what it meant. I found that the noise proceeded from the
branch of a tall elm tree that was blown by the wind across the window.
Then a means of escape suggested itself to me. I tried the window and
found that I could hoist it. Then I peered out and perceived that with a
little dexterity I might seize the branch of the elm and swing myself
into the body of the tree, from whence I could easily get down to the
ground.”
“A dangerous experiment.”
“But I had no other alternative, than to try it. I turned back into the
room and felt my way along the wall until I came to the door. I felt up
and down the door to find whether there was any fastening by which I
could secure it on the inside. I found a strong iron bolt. And I
immediately bolted it, so that if any one should come, they should not
at once discover my flight.”
“Your old precaution, Wing.”
“Yes, sir. Then I went to the window, got out upon the sill, seized the
branches of the elm and swung myself into the body of the tree, from
which I climbed down to the ground. The back part of the encampment is
not strongly guarded, you know. By creeping and crawling through the
bushes and keeping in the deep shadows, I reached at last a path
skirting the wood. I came along under the shadow of the wood until I
heard a horseman galloping towards me. Then I took out the little
revolver that I had carried safely in my bosom through all my
adventures, and I cocked it to have it in readiness.”
“Ah!”
“The horseman came on, saw me and ordered me to halt. I replied with my
revolver. And he dropped from his saddle. I went up and seized the horse
by the bridle while I disengaged the foot of the rider from the stirrup.
Then, still holding the horse by the bridle with one hand, I rifled the
pockets of the rider with the other. I took from them nothing but a box
of wax matches and a written paper which I found contained the
countersign. Then I mounted the horse and rode down to the ferry, gave
the countersign to the sleepy sentinel and to the tipsy ferryman, and
was put across the river without difficulty. I made the best of my way
through the forest, giving the countersign wherever challenged, until I
passed beyond Monck’s lines and reached the high road. And here I am.”
“Wing, I have heard of a charmed life, but you seem to possess a charmed
liberty. There is no such thing as keeping you a prisoner. But this
rider whom you shot from his horse. Do you know who he was, my boy?”
inquired Justin, uneasily.
“Yes, sir. Captain Bannister.”
“Oh, Wing, what a fatal necessity! I am so sorry! He was a gallant
fellow, if he was a guerrilla. And he was returning from seeing me safe
through the lines!”
“I am sorry too, sir, but it couldn’t be helped. And if the thing was to
be done over again, I should have to do it over again,” said Wing with a
sigh.
“Where is your comrade? Where is Hay?” inquired Colonel Rosenthal.
“I do not know, sir. I have not seen him since we ate our supper
together this evening, but I presume he is still in the guerrilla camp.
But what is the matter with your horse, sir?”
“He has fallen lame, Wing.”
“A pebble in his shoe, perhaps?”
“No; I have examined carefully; there is nothing of the kind.”
“Will you let me look, sir?”
“Certainly, if you like,” said the colonel, taking the bridles of both
horses in his hands so as to leave Wing at liberty to make the
examination he wished.
“See here, sir. It was not a pebble, but it was something worse,” said
the boy, drawing a thorn from the horse’s foot, and holding it up to
view.
“Now, then, why couldn’t I have seen that?” exclaimed Justin, in some
surprise and impatience.
“Because it was not easy to be seen, sir. I did not see it. I felt it
with the ends of my fingers.”
“You have a very delicate touch, Wing—as delicate as a woman’s.”
“I think you can mount your horse now, sir. I think he will go without
trouble,” said the boy.
And Colonel Rosenthal got into his saddle and rode on towards W.,
followed by his favorite orderly.
Day was breaking when they rode into the town.
They went immediately to the head quarters of General W., to whom
Colonel Rosenthal reported.
Active preparations were set on foot in W. for an expedition against the
guerrilla bands who were now ascertained to have joined forces at the
Black Bear’s Pass, from which point they were preparing to make a
descent upon Maryland.
And now it is time to return to Elfie, and see how she fares with her
wild lover.