_The Court-martial and the Hostage._
THE division which had been encamped on Grand Prairie reached
Springfield in safety, and formed their temporary camp in the field,
back of the brick school-house, which stands about a quarter of a mile
to the west of the new court-house.
The first order issued to the officers of the battalion of Benton
Cadets, the Thirty-fifth and Thirty-seventh Illinois, was to assemble at
a given time, to act upon a court-martial, at the quarters of Major D—,
Judge-Advocate, to try the case of Lieutenant Edward Wells, charged with
willful murder of Harry Hayward, a captain in the service of the United
States of America, and attached to the army of the Mississippi, now
under command of Major-General Hunter.
It was a sad day! Lieutenant Wells was a favorite with both officers and
men of his command. He always had been mild as a female, kind and
benevolent—sacrificing his own comfort for the good of the privates in
his battalion. True, some said that Wells would not fight bravely—that
he ought to have been created a _woman_; but everybody gave him credit
for being the kindest of the kind. When first accused, there arose a
very bitter feeling against him. Captain Hayward also was a great
favorite with the men. He was a stern but kind soldier. When the news of
his brutal murder came to the knowledge of his “boys,” their first cry
was “revenge,” and they naturally sought some one on whom to wreak their
vengeance. At first Lieutenant Wells narrowly escaped a summary fate,
more especially as it was whispered about camp that Wells had become a
suitor for the hand of the fair Mamie Hayward, had been _rejected_ by
her, and spurned by the captain. But in a short time it was given out
that Mamie had confessed her affection for Wells, and that Captain
Hayward had remarked in the presence of others, that he deemed Wells an
honorable man, and would gladly favor his suit. This turned the tide of
feeling in favor of the lieutenant, and when the court-martial was
convened, nothing but a consciousness of a soldier’s duty prevented an
open revolt, or at least a most decided and forcible expression of
feeling. But, trusting to the judgment of the officers forming the
court, the soldiers decided to await the result.
Have our readers ever witnessed a trial by court-martial? It is not like
the ordinary court of justice. First, the charge is read, as thus:
“Lieutenant Edward Wells, of Company H, Battalion of B—— C——, is charged
with the willful murder of Harry Hayward, a captain in the U. S. army.
“2d.—Specification.—1st. In this, that said Lieutenant Edward Wells,
did, on the night of the seventh day of November, 1861, assassinate and
murder said,” etc.
Following this, in any case of the kind, would be found a list of
“specifications,” setting forth in detail, all the chief events
connected with the crime.
The prisoner was brought to the tent of Major D—— to answer to the
charge. He was very pale, yet perfectly composed; and when the question
was asked, the ready and firm response was:
“NOT GUILTY!”
The Judge-Advocate, a noble-hearted but just man, informed the prisoner
that he was to act, not only as “prosecuting counsel,” but as “counsel”
for the prisoner, and that he (the Judge-Advocate) must give the
prisoner the benefit of any doubt that might arise in his favor.
To those of our readers not familiar with the _modus operandi_ of a
court-martial, we would give the following information for their
benefit:
The doors of the court are closed to all outsiders. The prisoner makes
his plea, and retires. The witnesses are brought forward and examined,
but no cross-examination is allowed. If a question is to be asked by any
of the officers sitting upon the court, it must be reduced to writing,
and silently handed to the Judge-Advocate. If he sees fit to put the
question, it is done; if not, it is thrown aside.
We will now proceed to a brief summary of the trial.
“Lieutenant Edward Wells, you are charged with the willful murder of
Harry Hayward, a captain in the United States service. What is your
plea. Guilty, or _not_ guilty!”
“Not guilty!” was the decided response.
“Let the first witness be called, George Swasey, colored.”
The person familiarly known as “Swasey’s nigger” took the stand. When
brought forward, he glanced around as if fearful of something, and then
asked:
“Is Massa William Nettletum where he can hear dis chile tell de truff?”
“You have nothing to fear from _any_ person, if you _do_ speak the
truth, and _all_ the truth,” replied Major D.
“Well den, de fact am dis. I went to see my gal. When I cum back, I met
de rebs. I hid behind a log. I see’d some one stick a knife in massa
cap’n, and I heard him say:
“‘Oh! Nettletum, you kill me!’”
All questions were answered in the same spirit, and it became evident
that the negro believed Nettleton the real murderer.
The next witness brought upon the stand was Alibamo Hinton. She swore
that Nettleton’s tent was next to the one she occupied—that he was in
attendance upon her and Miss Hayward, by permission of Captain Hayward,
and that Nettleton had _not_ been out of her presence that night. In the
first part of the evening, Nettleton had remained near her door; in the
latter part, he had missed his captain, and had prostrated himself on a
rug near the tent entrance. She had seen him there _all night_, as she
had not slept at all.
Miss Hayward was too much overcome to appear as a witness, and was
excused.
The next witness was Captain Hugh Walker.
The feeling of the soldiers, to learn the result of the trial, was
intense, and by the time Captain Walker was called to the stand, some
twenty or thirty had crept to the edge of the tent, and endeavored to
conceal themselves in the tall grass outside, to catch the proceedings.
But they were discovered by Walker, who demanded that they should be
removed. This was done, and a guard placed outside.
Captain Walker’s oath was as follows:
“On the night of the seventh of November, I followed Captain Hayward
from his tent. It was at the time gradually becoming dark. My motive in
doing so I will explain. As soon as it began to be rumored that we were
to meet Price, I observed a change in the conduct of Captain Hayward. He
had ever been the center of attraction. His tent was the ‘head-quarters’
of ‘our circle,’ drawn thither by the natural gayety of the captain, and
the presence there of ladies. But this feeling appeared to forsake him,
and on more than one occasion he denounced the war as inhuman. Pardon
me; I would not speak against the dead, but I doubted the loyalty of the
man, and _not_ his courage, and this it was which induced me to follow
him.
“I halted beneath a large tree, which stood near the spot where the
murder evidently was committed. I saw the captain seat himself upon the
bank. At this time it was quite dark, but I saw a shadow approaching. It
passed near me, but I failed to discover who it was. I first thought it
might be William Nettleton following his master. I listened attentively,
however, as the extreme caution of the intruder attracted my attention.
In an instant I heard a groan, a heavy fall, and a voice exclaim: ‘Oh,
William, where are you? Nettleton, I am murdered. WELLS _is the
assassin_!’”
A shudder ran through the court. Major D—— dropped his head upon his
hand and was silent. The officers whispered together. At last, a written
question was handed to the Judge-Advocate, which was promptly asked:
“Captain Walker, why did you not give the alarm, or arrest the murderer
yourself?”
“Sir,” was the prompt reply, “the sequel will show. It was dark; I could
not distinguish the features of any person two yards distant. I feared
he might escape if he should discover me. I therefore followed the
murderer cautiously, and he entered the tent of Lieutenant Wells. He did
not strike a light, but I listened, and heard him washing himself. I
kept close watch upon him until morning, to make sure I was not accusing
an innocent man. No one entered or left the tent. The one who washed his
hands, and left the bloody water, was Lieutenant Edward Wells.”
This evidence was conclusive. But no reason could be assigned for the
murder, unless it was that Miss Hayward had been heard to say that she
never should marry and leave her brother so long as he lived, and it had
now become well known that Wells was a suitor for her hand. Still, he
was a favorite with the captain, and even on the day of his death
Hayward had been heard to say that he believed Wells a man of honor,
whose suit he would favor. The only conclusion which could be arrived at
was, that Wells believed the love of a sister was too strong to give
immediate place to the love of a wife, and he felt that, the brother
once removed, he alone would become the object of Miss Hayward’s
affection. This, though but a flimsy pretext for so awful a crime, was
all that any one could offer in the way of a surmise.
The trial was over. But one decision could be given. It soon was rumored
about camp that sentence had been passed, and that at four o’clock the
next day it would be read to the prisoner, in presence of the whole
division.
The night was wearing on. A form, closely enveloped, approached the tent
of the commanding General. It proved to be the lady Alibamo.
“What is the will of our ‘daughter of the army?’” asked the General,
kindly.
“It is that I may visit Lieutenant Wells, and bring him to my tent. I
desire that an interview should take place between Miss Hayward and the
doomed man.”
The General seated himself at his table, and penned a few words, which
he handed to Mrs. Hinton. She glanced at the contents, and then falling
at the feet of that officer, she seized his hand, and kissing it,
sobbingly exclaimed:
“What! _without_ his chains? God bless you! God bless—”
“There, there! Go! go! Don’t make _me_ weep, or I won’t forgive you,”
returned the veteran warrior, as he turned away.
Alibamo left his tent, and in a few minutes entered her own, in company
with Lieutenant Wells, now free from all apparent restraint.
When Wells entered the tent, Miss Hayward was kneeling by the side of
her camp cot, her face buried in the folds of its coverings. For several
moments not a word was spoken, and, as Wells gazed upon the stricken
sister, he trembled violently, while a groan of intense anguish escaped
him.
Alibamo advanced, and gently touching her companion, said:
“Mamie, my darling, here is _our friend_, Lieutenant Wells.”
Miss Hayward did not raise her head, but reached forth her hand toward
Wells, which, quickly kneeling by her side, he took, and pressed to his
lips.
“Oh, heaven bless you!” he moaned. “_You_ do not believe me capable of
the dreadful crime with which I am charged?”
Miss Hayward tried to speak, but convulsive sobs choked her utterance.
“No, my ever kind and dear friend,” replied Alibamo, “she does _not_
believe you guilty. Nor am I satisfied that Captain Hayward has been
killed. I am under the impression that he was wounded and taken prisoner
by some rebels, who were lurking near our camp.”
“You _hope_ for the best, and so do I; but have you any grounds for the
formation of such an opinion?” asked Wells.
“Yes, and to me the best of evidence. William Nettleton went in search
of the captain. If he was killed, William would have found his body
before this, and returned to us with the intelligence. His continued
absence convinces me that the captain is still alive, and that his
faithful friend Nettleton is at this moment following him. It is this
hope which gives me fresh courage, and I believe a few days will see you
free, and your name as untarnished as it should be. I wished to tell you
this, and I also wished Miss Hayward to express to you personally, her
confidence in your innocence; hence, I brought you here. You may leave
us now, as my poor friend is too much agitated to converse.”
Wells was about to depart in silence, but Miss Hayward for the first
time raised her face, and her tearful eyes met his own. He sprung
forward, and kneeling before her, pressed his lips to her white
forehead, and said:
“That look is worth to me years of happiness. But, you can read my heart
_now_. When I am _proved_ innocent, then I will speak the words which
must not, till then, pass my lips. God bless you!”
He arose to depart, but was met by Captain Walker, who had just entered
the tent.
Walker cast a rapid glance around him, and placing his finger upon his
lips, enjoined silence upon all. Wells stood, with arms folded, sternly
and suspiciously gazing upon him, while Alibamo asked:
“What are your wishes, sir?”
“To serve you and your friend,” was the reply, spoken in a low voice,
and with apparent hesitation.
“It must be an important service which could render pardonable the fact,
sir, of you having, unannounced, and so rudely, intruded upon our
privacy,” said Mrs. Hinton.
“It _is_ an important service. No less than the rescue of——will you be
seated?”
The parties seated themselves in silence, when Walker continued:
“You must pardon me if I speak plainly, and directly to the point. It is
necessary that I should be brief.”
“Proceed, sir.”
“Miss Hayward,” continued Walker, turning toward the lady, “I must give
a few words of explanation to you. I _did_ love—_do_ love you now. You
need not shrink from me. You will, upon hearing my words, understand me
better. No man loves without hope, until there arises between him and
the one beloved some impassable barrier. The barrier which arose to
blast _my_ hopes was, your previous love, and the unfortunate
circumstance which has made me an unwilling witness against one to whom,
as I think, your heart still clings.”
“You will please be brief in comment, and come as quickly as possible to
the point in question,” replied Mrs. Hinton, as she observed the
agitation of Miss Hayward.
“I come to the point now. I know Miss Hayward is very unhappy, and I
would not add to it. I would save her lover.”
“To whom do you refer?” asked Wells, coldly.
“To you, sir,” was the prompt reply.
“I can not claim the title you honor me with, in connection with that
lady. Besides, she might not thank _you_ for such a service.”
“Oh, yes! yes!” eagerly replied Miss Hayward, as she gazed upon the
speaker.
“Stay one moment, Miss Hayward,” answered Wells. “Let us first learn in
what manner my deliverance can be effected. Captain Walker, you can
proceed.”
“You speak very coldly, Lieutenant Wells, to one who comes to offer you
service. But, before I proceed, I must exact a promise, that if my
proposition is not accepted, those to whom my words are addressed will
make no exposure of the same.”
There was a nod of assent, and Walker proceeded:
“I will not deny the fact that solicitude for Miss Hayward impels the
act. But of this no more. Lieutenant Wells, you are unbound and
unwatched. Place your sash across your breast, as worn by the officer of
the day. I will give you the counter-sign, and thus you will be enabled
to pass the pickets, and make good your escape. You can secure a safe
retreat, and, after the excitement of the mur—of this unfortunate
affair—has died away, Miss Hayward can be apprised of your place of
concealment, and take such action in the case as her judgment or heart
may dictate.”
A deathlike silence reigned for a moment, during which rapid glances
were exchanged between the friends. At length Wells asked:
“Captain Walker, would not an escape imply, upon my part, an
acknowledgment of the crime of which I am accused?”
“It might, in the estimation of many. But, you are generally believed
guilty. What matters it what your actions imply to _them_? Your friends
here, who have already made up their minds, will merely look upon it as
a desire upon your part to escape a certain, an unmerited, and a
dishonorable death.”
“And you will assist my flight?”
“I will.”
“And will you afterward convey Miss Hayward to me if she will come?”
“With pleasure; you but anticipate my intended services.”
Another rapid and significant glance passed between Mrs. Hinton and
Wells, which was not observed by Walker.
“One thing more, Walker: do _you_ believe me guilty of murder?”
“H’m—I _did_.”
“And _now_?”
“I _may_ have been mistaken. But, be that as it may, I will assist your
flight.”
“Are you ready?” asked Wells, rising.
“I wish you to return to your cell, and when all is ready, say _two or
three o’clock_, I will come for you.”
“But I will not go!” was the firm reply.
Walker perceived his mistake, and quickly added:
“As you please, sir.” And turning, he was about to leave the tent, when
he was confronted by the “officer of the day.”
“Captain Walker,” he said, sternly, “you feel an especial interest in
Lieutenant Wells. I did not suppose so, but learned the fact from your
conversation. I am glad you _do_ feel so great a friendship for him. You
shall have opportunity to make it manifest. You shall become his
Pythias!”
“What do you mean, sir?”
“This: that the sentence of Lieutenant Wells will be read to-morrow
afternoon at four o’clock. In the mean time, you, as his dear friend, do
not wish to see him confined, and will most cheerfully take his place in
the prison, and wear his chains. If the lieutenant is _present_
to-morrow at four, you, as his hostage, will be released. If he should
escape, as you have advised, of course you will be held as an aider and
abettor in that escape; and when you receive that punishment your guilt
deserves, you will have the consolation of knowing that you suffer for
the benefit of your very dear friend! Soldiers,” commanded the officer,
“place the irons upon Captain Walker, and convey him to the guard-room
in the old log-building.”
“Are you mad? You _dare_ not do it!” yelled Walker, as he foamed with
rage. But the soldiers promptly obeyed the command, and Walker was taken
from the tent.
“This indignity shall be avenged!” but he was carried quickly forward,
and the guard-room door soon closed upon him.
“You will be at liberty, upon your parole of honor, until to-morrow at
four o’clock, Lieutenant Wells.”
The officers shook hands and separated.