TRYING TO LICK A BATCH OF RECRUITS INTO SHAPE.
FOR awhile the tumult of thought kept Si awake, but he was too young,
healthy, and tired for this to last long, and soon he had his head
pillowed on his blanket-roll, placed in the open car-window, and was
sleeping too sound to even dream of Annabel, while the rushing train
pelted his face with cinders from the engine and a hail of gravel from
the road-bed. But what was that to a soldier-boy who had been home, seen
his best girl, and had one of his mother's square meals?
When the train rolled into Jeffersonville in the afternoon, they saw
Lieut. Bowersox on the platform anxiously waiting for them. His face
lighted up with pleasure when he saw them, and eagerly coming forward he
said:
"Great Cesar, boys, but I'm glad you've come. I've been waiting for you
all day. Rush orders came last night to send everybody to the front.
I guess they are in need of every gun they can get. I should have gone
last night, but I managed to stave off my orders till now. If you hadn't
come on this train, though, I should 've had to go on with out you.
Hurry along, now. We are going right across the river."
Despite the Lieutenant's urgency, Si found time to hand him a jar of
honey and a small crock of butter from their home supplies, which he
received with proper appreciation, and handed over to the grinning negro
boy he had picked up somewhere in Tennessee for a servant. They followed
the Lieutenant to where he had his squad of about 100 recruits gathered.
He said:
"Here, Klegg, you will act as Orderly-Sergeant, and Shorty and the rest
of you as Sergeants of this detachment. Here is the list of them, Klegg.
Make up a roll and call it whenever I order you to do so."
Si took the list and looked over the crowd. They were mainly boys of
about the same age and style as himself when he first enlisted, but he
thought he had never seen so green, gawky a lot in the world. Like him
then, every one was weighted down with a bundle of things that would
evidently be contributed to the well-being of the people along the line
of march.
It seemed to him that they stood around the platform in as ugly
crookedness as a lodgment of driftwood on a Wabash bottom after a
freshet.
"Where on the Wea prairies," muttered Shorty, "did Old Abe pick up that
job lot o' wind shaken, lopsided saplings? Must've bin pulled when green
and warped in the dryin'."
"Well, we've got to git 'em into some sort o' shape," answered Si. "You
must help."
"I help?" returned Shorty despairingly. "You'll need a West Point
perfessor and a hay-press to git that crowd into soldier shape. I ain't
once."
"Here, Sergeant," ordered Lieut. Bowersox, "line the men up, count them,
learn their names, and give them a little preliminary drill, while I go
to Headquarters and see the Colonel again about our transportation."
"Fall in, boys; fall in," commanded Si.
The crowd looked at him curiously. They knew that he wanted them to do
something, they were willing to do it, but they hadn't the slightest
idea what it was. They made a move by huddling up a little toward him.
"Fall in in two ranks, with the right here," shouted Si.
There was more inconsequent huddling, which seemed so purposely awkward
that it irritated Si, and he spoke sharply:
"Gosh all Krismuss, what's the matter with you lunkheads? Don't you know
nothing? You're dummer'n a lot o' steers."
"Guess we know 'bout as much as you did when you first enlisted," said
the smallest of the lot, a red-cheeked, bright-eyed boy, who looked as
if he should have been standing up before a blackboard "doing a sum" in
long division, instead of on his way to the field of strife. "Show us
how, and we'll learn as quick as you did."
Si looked at the fresh young boy. There was something actually girlish
in his face, and it reminded him of Annabel. His heart softened toward
him at once, and he remembered his own early troubles. He said gently to
the boy:
"You're right. What's your name, my boy?"
"Abel Waite."
"Well, Abel, we'll make a soldier out of you in a little while. You are
the smallest; you'll be the left of the line. Go and stand there at the
corner. Now, boys, all lay your bundles down. Here, you tall fellow,
what's your name?"
"James Bradshaw."
"Well, Bradshaw, you'll be the right of the line all the time, and the
rest 'll form on you. Come, stand here."
Bradshaw shambled forward in a way that made Shorty call out:
"Here, Bradshaw, wake up! You ain't now follerin' a plow over the last
year's corn-furrers. Straighten up, lift them mud-hooks livelier and
drop your hands to your side."
The man stopped, raised his hands, and looked at Shorty with his mouth
wide open.
"Come, Bradshaw," said Si gently, taking hold of him, "I'll show you.
Now you stand right here. Put your heels together. Now turn your toes
out. Throw your shoulders back this way. Close your mouth. Put your
little fingers on the seams of your pantaloons that way. Now stand just
so."
The poor man looked as miserable as if put in a strait-jacket, but tried
to literally obey instructions.
"Now, what's your name?" Si asked the next tall est man.
"Simeon Wheelwright."
"Wheelwright, you stand behind Bradshaw, just as he does."
And so Si went painstakingly through the whole squad until he came
to Abel Waite, whom he found did not need any instruction, for he had
profited by hearing the lectures to the others, and was standing as
stiff and correct as a veteran could have done.
"Great outfit," remarked Shorty, walking down the line, gun in hand,
and surveying it critically. "Looks like a mourners' bench froze stiff.
Here, you red-headed man there, take in that corporation. You won't have
so much bay window after you've lived on army rations awhile."
"Now," commanded Si, "when I say 'Count twos from the right,' I want you
to begin and count. The first man you, Bradshaw says 'one,' and the next
man on your left says 'two' and so on. The men in the rear rank do the
same. Count twos from the right Count!"
"One, two; four, six; seven, nine; ten, 'leven," shouted the boys, in
all manner of tones and general bewilderment.
"Stop it; stop it!" yelled Si, his temper again rising. "Great day,
can't you fellers understand plain English when it's talked to you?
What's the matter with you, anyway? Here, Bradshaw, when I give the
order to count, you count one. Wheel wright, you count one at the same
time. Williams and Talbot, you each count two. Then Aldrich, you and
Reynolds count one, and so on."
At last he got them to count to his satisfaction, and then proceeded to
the next lesson.
"Now, at the command 'right face' everybody face to the right. The No. 1
men in the front rank stand fast. The No. 1 men in the rear rank take
a side step to the right. The No. 2 men each take a side step to the
right, and places himself on the right of No. 1."
"Great Jehosephat, Si," remonstrated Shorty; "it'll take 'em a month to
learn all that."
"Don't care if it does," said Si desperately. "They've got to learn it
sometime, and they can't learn no younger. Might as well begin now as
any time. 'Tention! Right face!"
Si had hard work restraining the angry words which fumed up when he saw
the execution of his command. Only a few had turned to the right. The
rest had either stood still, turned to the left or were turning first
one way and then another, to adjust themselves to those nearest them.
"Looks like a political primary just before the vote's called," remarked
Shorty. "Better git red rags to tie around their right hands, so's
they'll know 'em."
"It'll be a shame to take them across the Ohio river in this shape,"
said Si in deep vexation. "They'll shoot one another's heads off in the
first fight, if they've guns in their hands."
"Don't worry," answered Shorty consolingly. "They'll pick it up mighty
fast as soon as they see other fellers doing it, and 'll be in purty
good shape by the time we git 'em to the regiment. We was just as green
as they are."
Si repressed his petulant words with an effort, and started in to give
them an ocular demonstration of the way to execute "right face," but was
interrupted by the Lieutenant coming up and saying:
"Here, we've got to move right out to catch the ferryboat and the train
on the other side. 'Tention! Pick up your bundles. Forward, march!"
[Illustration: THE RECRUITS LINED UP ON THE PLATFORM. 186]
Tactics were forgotten in a go-as-you-please rush on to the ferryboat,
through the streets of Louisville, and on to the cars for Nashville.
Everybody else was doing the same. The boat and streets were filled
and the depot yard packed with men all pushing forward for the "front."
While Si, walking alongside the Lieutenant, led, Shorty and the rest of
the detail brought up the rear. After they had scrambled into the old
freight cars and stowed them selves away, Si looked over his squad and
counted it.
"Have you got them all aboard, Sergeant?" in quired Lieut. Bowersox.
"I've got the right number, sir," Si answered, saluting; "and if they
ain't all the same men they're just as good."
"All right," returned the officer. "I had 103 put in my charge to take
to the regiment, and 103 men I must have when I get there."
"You shall have the full 103, Lieutenant," assured Shorty, "if we have
to snatch in a native or two to take the place of some that fall through
the cracks."
At Nashville the crowd and confusion were excessive; detachments of
men of all kinds, sorts and conditions armed and unarmed recruits,
convalescent veterans, men coming back from furlough, stragglers under
guard, squads of Quartermaster's employees, gangs of railroad laborers
and bridge-builders were all surging around, while their officers,
superintendents, foremen, etc., shouted themselves hoarse in trying to
get their men together and keep them so. When Si at last got his men on
board, and the train had moved out, he was dismayed to find that he was
five short.
"They was lost in that shuffle back there in the depot," said Shorty.
"Lucky it wa'n't more. Wonder that we ever got through as well as we
did."
"What in the world am I going to do?" inquired Si dolefully. "There's no
use sending back for them. They've probably got mixed up with some other
squads, and gone the Lord knows where. They haven't sense enough to find
their regiment in such a ruck as this."
Si counted his men over again, with no better result.
"I've got an idee," said Shorty, as Si came up to commune again with him
as to the misfortune. "I noticed five mighty lively young Irishmen in
that bridge gang that's on the rear car, and I've got a pint flash of
whisky that some fellow was green enough to lay down while we was there
in Nash ville. I'm goin' back to that car on recruitin' duty."
Si, unable to think of anything better, went with him. The train had
stopped on a switch, and seemed likely to rust fast to the rails, from
the way other trains were going by in both directions. The bridge gang,
under charge of a burly, red-faced young Englishman, was in the rear
car, with their tools, equipments, bedding and cooking utensils.
The English foreman was a recent arrival in the country. This was his
first employment here. Naturally surly and domineering, these qualities
were enhanced by potations at Nashville and since leaving.
Si and Shorty strolled up to the young Irishmen, who were standing on
the ground near their car. They were very plainly recent arrivals, for
they still wore the characteristic clothes of the Emerald Isle, and
after a little conversation with them Shorty produced his bottle and
offered them a drink. The foreman had watched them suspiciously, and he
came swaggering up, saying insolently:
"'Ere, you bloomin' sojer, Hi want you to keep haway from my men, hand
not be a-givin' them drink. You stay by yourselves, hand Hi won't 'ave
'em hinterfered wi' by nobuddy."
"Your men," sneered Shorty. "You talk as if they was niggers, and not
white men. Who made 'em yours?"
"Stow yer wid, ye bloody blue-jack," returned the foreman
contemptuously, "hand pull ha way from here. Hi never could bear sojers
blokes, too lazy to work hand too cowardly to steal. Hike out o' here,
and shut you 'ead, hif you know w'at's well for you."
"Shut up your own head, you British blowhard," retorted Shorty, "and
mind your own business. Wait until you are a little longer in the
country be fore you try to run it. And I don't want no more o' your
slack. If you don't keep a civil tongue in your head I'll make you."
The Englishman was just in the mood to be savagely tickled at the
prospect of a fight. He had not had a good, square one since he had
been in the country, and nothing yet had offered so gratifying as
the prospect of polishing off one of the despised "Hamerican sojers."
Several of the hated officers had strolled up, attracted by the high
words, and it would be an additional pleasure to thrash one of their men
before their eyes, in revenge for the slights he felt they had put upon
him.
"You won't fight," he said disdainfully, "except with a gun or a knife,
like a bloody Dago. Ye dassent put up yer 'ands like a man."
For response, Shorty handed his cap, his gun, his bottle, his
blanket-roll, his belt and haversack to Si, rolled up his sleeves,
spit on his hands, doubled his fists, and stepped forward into a boxing
attitude.
"Balance up to me, you beer-bloated Britisher," he exclaimed, "and git
naturalized by a real Star-Spangled Banner lickin' by an artist who
kin comb down any man that owes allegiance to Queen Victoree. Here's a
Heenan for your Tom Sayers."
The Englishman began disrobing with an alacrity that showed how much
his heart was in it. A ring was speedily formed, the officers, mainly
Lieutenants and Captains, eagerly assisting, while keeping their eyes
over their shoulders to see that no one of much higher rank was in the
neighborhood.
When the men confronted one another it was seen that they were a
fairly-good match. The English man was stouter and heavier; he showed
a splendid forearm, with corresponding swelling muscles near the
shoulders, and the way he poised himself and put up his hands revealed
that he had "science" as well as strength and courage. Shorty was taller
and more spare, but he was quicker and had the longer reach. It looked
as if the Englishman had the advantage, from his solid strength and
staying power, as well as "science." But those who looked on Shorty
as inferior did not know of the training he had received among the
turbulent crews of the Mississippi River boats. A man who had summered
and wintered with that fractious race had little to learn in any trick
or device of fighting.
The first round showed that both were past-masters of ring tactics.
Their wardings and layings for openings were so perfect that neither
could get a blow in.
When they stopped for a moment to breathe the Englishman said with frank
admiration:
"Y're a heap better lot than Hi thort yer. Where'd ye learn to handle
yer dukes?"
"Never mind where I learned," answered Shorty. "I learned enough to git
away with any English man that ever chawed roast beef."
Again they closed, and sparred quick and hard for advantage, but neither
succeeded in getting in any thing but light, ineffective blows. Each
realized that the other was a dangerous man to handle, and each kept
cool and watched his chances. When they took another second to breathe
the Englishman said:
"I'm goin' to settle ye this time, young feller, in spite o' yer
fibbin'. Ye peck around me like a cock pickin' up corn, but I'll bust
ye. Look hout for yerself."
He made a savage rush to break through Shorty's guard by main force,
but Shorty evaded him by a quick movement, the Englishman struck his toe
against a piece of railroad iron, and fell to his knees. Shorty had him
at his mercy, but he merely stepped back a little further, and waited
for his opponent to rise and regain his position before he again
advanced to the attack.
The Englishman lost his coolness. Again he rushed savagely at Shorty,
with less care in his guard. Shorty evaded his mighty blow, and reaching
up under his guard struck him on the chin so hard that the Englishman
fell like an ox.
Shorty took him by the hand and helped him to his feet. "Do you want any
more? Have you got enough?" he asked.
"Yes, Hi've got enough," answered the English man. "I'm too groggy to
go on. Hi've been drink-in' a bit too much to 'andle myself wi' a
first-class man like yerself. Y've downed me, and y've downed me fair,
for Hi'm not the man to whimper about not being fit. There's my hand.
We're friends. We'll try hit again some day, when Hi've got the likker
out o' me; won't we?"
"Certainly, whenever you like," said Shorty, shak ing hands with him.
"Say, cul," said the Englishman, in the friendliest sort of way, "w'at
was ye wantin' around among my men?"
"To tell you the truth," answered Shorty, "I was after them to enlist
with us. We lost five men in the shuffle at Nashville, and I was lookin'
out for some to take their places.
"That's w'at I thort," said the Englishman. "That's w'at I was afraid
of. The 'ead bridge man 'as bin preachin' to me ever since 'e 'ired me,
hand we made hup the gang in New York, to look hout hand keep my men
from bein' enlisted. Say, youngster, his yours a good regiment?"
"The very best in the army," unhesitatingly as serted Shorty. "All
free-born American citizens, and high-toned gentlemen. I tell you,
they're daisies, they are."
"Hi don't 'know," said the Englishman meditatively, "but Hi'd like to
see a little bit o' fightin' myself. Bridge buildin's 'eavy, 'ard work,
and Hi wouldn' mind sojerin' a little while for a change."
"Come right along with me and this man," said Shorty catching on.
"You'll see the purtiest fighting to be found anywhere in the army, for
the 200th Injianny kin do it up to the Queen's taste. And we'll treat
you white. A better set o' boys never lived."
"Hi'll do hit," said the Englishman decidedly.
"Mebbe," suggested Shorty, remembering that this would still leave them
four short, "some o' your gang'd like to come along with you."
"Some o' them," said the Englishman earnestly. "Hevery bloomin' one o'
them 'as got to go. They've got to volunteer. Hif Hi find hany cowardly
bloke that'd rather be a beastly bridge-builder than a gentleman and a
sojer, I'll pound 'is 'ead offen 'im. They'll all volunteer, I tell ye,
w'en Hi speak to 'em."
Si had been quietly talking to the rest of the gang while this
conversation was going on, and discovered a general willingness to
exchange mechanical pursuits for those of a more martial character, and
so when they left the train at Chattanooga, Lieut. Bowersox marched at
the head of 130 recruits, instead of the 103 with whom he had crossed
the Ohio River.