A NIGHT IN A JAIL AT JAMESTOWN
Lieutenant Ripley returned from the conference with the riflemen, and
reported that thirty of them were willing to enlist in such an
organization as that proposed; the others were unable to reply until
they had been home to their families. The lieutenant was confident that
he could raise the sixty proposed as a beginning within a reasonable
time, and the colonel had a similar confidence in the patriotism of the
loyal Kentuckians in that part of the State.
The men had finished their dinners, the prisoners had been paroled with
the approval of Major Lyon, who was beginning to be in a hurry to march
back to Jamestown as soon as the first company had rested from the hard
work of the day; and there had been much more of it than could be
indicated in the narrative of the principal events.
"I am sorry that we cannot take with us even a small company of those
riflemen, for I think they would be very useful in the course of a few
days," said Captain Gordon, after the major had given the order to form
the column for the march. "It is plain to everybody who knows anything
about the movements of the army that there will be a battle within a
week."
This statement seemed to fire the enthusiasm of the old lieutenant of
the Home Guards, and he talked apart with Colonel Halliburn very
earnestly for some time. Then he went over to the riflemen, who had
mounted their horses in readiness to return to their homes. He appeared
to have proposed something to them, and in a few minutes he hastened
back to the group of officers.
"Thirty-six of the riflemen desire to go with you as temporary
volunteers for immediate service," said Ripley. "Will you accept them,
Major Lyon?"
"I will, though I cannot take them as a part of my squadron, for our
ranks are now very full," replied the commander.
"I meant to have them go as an addition to your force, to be under your
command," replied the lieutenant.
"Of course there can be no objection to your going with us in this
manner, and you will bring up the rear of my command," added Major
Lyon, as the orderly sergeants reported that the companies were formed.
The officers took their proper places, and the order to march was given
to the captains. Life Knox and Milton were again ordered to scout the
road and its adjacent fields in advance. The wagons were ready to fall
in behind the riflemen, and the column moved. The company officers kept
in their places, but the major went where he pleased along the line.
When the column reached the foot of the hill, he fell back to the
second platoon of the first company, where Deck was riding on the left
of the first section.
"I was so busy that I neglected to ask the names of the men who were
killed in the action where you met the enemy on the road from
Columbia," said the major, as he wheeled his horse, and took his place
by the side of his son.
Deck had noticed that he had asked no questions when the report of the
killed was given to him; for something had called his attention away
from the subject at that moment. The lieutenant was glad to escape the
necessity in that presence of informing his father of the death of his
cousin; for this was a family matter, aside from military routine.
"I was glad you did not ask that question then," added Deck.
"I understand you, Dexter; for when I saw Sandy in the ranks I looked
for Orly Lyon; but I did not see him. Was he badly wounded?" inquired
the commander.
"Worse than that, for he was killed in the action. He fought bravely,
and he always did his duty faithfully; for, however it was with his
father and his brother, Orly's heart was in the work," replied Deck
with no little feeling.
The major was silent for a moment. It was evident that he was moved by
the news, though he always controlled himself; for the fact that his
two sons and two nephews were liable at any time to be struck down in
their youth was present to his mind when he had time to think of such
things. Orly was only sixteen, and he was the first of either his own
or his brother's family to pass over to the other shore.
"I am more sorry for his father and mother than for him; for he died in
defence of his country, and that is the death of the hero and patriot.
It will be a heavy blow to his poor mother; and, unlike her husband,
her heart was on the right side. She told me when her boys enlisted in
the Home Guard, a Secessionist body, that it broke her heart to have
her sons fight with the enemies of her country, but that she could be
even willing to have them sacrificed on the right side."
"Do you know where Uncle Titus is now, father?" asked Deck.
"He is in a prison-camp, the name of which I have in my valise in one
of the wagons. I shall write to him as soon as I have time, and to your
Aunt Meely."
In another hour the head of the column arrived in the midst of a
pouring rain at Jamestown, which is the capital of Russell County. It
was the 17th of January. It had been clear in the morning; but the rain
began to fall not a quarter of an hour before the column reached the
town. It was almost a deluge, and it was likely to continue into the
night. The Secessionist element was predominant in the place; but the
major took forcible possession of a number of buildings which would
afford shelter to his troopers and their horses.
He found several Unionists, who gave him all the information he needed
in regard to buildings, and he put some who attempted to prevent him
from occupying the buildings under arrest. The county prison was one of
the structures occupied; and the prisoners were confined in it, with
troopers enough lodging there to keep them in order.
"You'll catch fits when you fall in with Old Zollicoffer," said one of
the prisoners, as Life Knox, who was in charge of the jail, locked him
into the cell with half a dozen others.
"We uns 'll be very glad to see Old Zolly, and I reckon we shall pay
him a visit afore many days," replied the sergeant.
"If you do, you uns 'll git wiped out," added the man.
"Mebbe we shall do the wiping," said Life, as the keeper of the prison
came up to him.
"I reckon I needn't stop here no longer," said he. "But I'll show you a
room before I go, where you can sleep in a bed. It's where I sleep,
though I hain't got no prisoners in the jug just now. There ain't much
civil law afloat around here; and a Secesh man can kill a Union man,
and nothing said about it."
"I'm much obleeged to you; and I consayt that you ain't much of a
Secesh yourself," answered Life, as his conductor unlocked a door near
the entrance to the jail.
"I reckon I ain't," replied the keeper as he led the way into the room
and closed the door after him; "but it don't do for me to say much
about it here. Them fellers you brought in here would hang me to the
first tree they found if they knowed it."
The apartment was not a cell. It contained a bed and some furniture,
and the sergeant thought he could be very comfortable in it till
morning.
"Which way did your troopers come from, Sergeant?" asked the keeper.
"From the west. We left Millersville this morning," answered Life.
"We had a company of Cornfeds in town last night, and they started for
Millersville this mornin'. I reckon you hain't seen nothin' on 'em,
have you?" continued the keeper, as he seated himself on the bed while
the sergeant occupied the only chair in the room.
"Cornfeds is good," laughed Life; "but I cal'late they don't get much
of that sort of feed just now."
"Then I reckon you hain't seen 'em."
"I reckon that we uns have seen 'em; and I reckon them Cornfeds wish
just now that we hadn't seen 'em."
"Did you meet 'em?"
"I'll bet we did, about five miles from here; and about one-third on
'em got killed before they surrendered."
"Surrendered!" exclaimed the keeper. "I thought, when I heerd 'em talk,
that no Cornfeds ever did anything o' that sort."
"They got badly chawed up, and they couldn't help theirselves; that's
the whole on't. Is there any news floatin' about round here?" asked
Life.
"I reckon there is, lots on't. If Thomas ain't already camped round
here somewhere, he ain't fur off. They say he's waiting for some
general's brigade to jine 'im afore he goes for Old Zolly's
entrenchments," replied the keeper, whose name was Butters, as the
sergeant learned from him later.
"I reckon our major will find out where he is," added Life.
"This town is about fifteen miles from Mill Springs; and I consayt that
there will be a bigger battle than we have had in these parts, or
anywhere in the State, before long. General Thomas is sent down here to
clean out Old Zolly, and I reckon he'll do it," replied Butters. "I
wish I could have a hand in it."
"So you kin if you are so minded. You don't seem to have nothin' to do
here now. Ever been in the mili'try?"
"No; but I kin shoot a rifle nigh on to as good as old Ripley over to
Millersville, and he can beat any other man at it in Kaintuck."
"Ripley is here with a party of his riflemen, and I cal'late he'll take
you into his company if you want to go."
"Where is he now? I'd like to see him, for I've often been over to his
place to shoot with him," said Butters.
"He bunks in the jail with some of his company."
"I know a dozen others here who are in the same boat with me; and two
more on us were hanged a month ago for shooting a Cornfed sergeant for
killing two good Union men."
"I'll find Ripley for you," said Life, as he left the room, intent upon
adding more men to the loyal army.
He went through the jail, calling the name of the lieutenant till he
found him, and then conducted him to the room of the keeper. Ripley
gave his hand to Butters, and was very glad to see him. The bed was
wide enough for two, and Life invited the lieutenant to sleep with him.
"No; I reckon I'll take Lieutenant Ripley up to my house, for he's an
old friend of mine," interposed Butters; "and he's the only man that
can ever beat me shootin' with a rifle. I'm ready to jine for this
campaign under him."
"I have thirty-six men now, serving for a short time till we get things
settled, and I should like enough to make up a hundred," replied
Ripley, as he left the prison with Butters.
He had not been gone ten minutes before Lieutenant Lyon came in. The
sentinel on duty showed him Life's room. The visitor was wet to his
bones, as the French say; for he had been looking up some Union men his
father wished to see, and he had brought them to the hotel where the
officers were quartered. One of them was a captain, and another was his
host in the town; and the major had been directed to report to the
former.
Deck had been sent out to find him; for it was reported that he was in
Jamestown, and not in Harrison, where he had expected to find him, but
had not. His room had been taken from him for this officer, as he was
the lowest in rank of any commissioned officer. His father had sent
him out with directions to take a couple of men from the quarters of
Lieutenant Belthorpe, who was the officer of the day, and find a room
where he could in the town. But he knew that Life Knox was in command
at the jail, and he preferred to go there.
"You are wet to the skin, Leftenant!" exclaimed the sergeant, as he
admitted him to the room.
"Not the first time I have been so since we left Riverlawn," replied
Deck. "You have got a good room here, Life."
"Good enough; but I cal'late to camp on the floor, and give this bed to
you, Leftenant."
"Not at all, Life; the bed is big enough for both of us. I am not
afraid to sleep with you, if you are not with me."
"'Tain't quite reg'lar; but it's just as you say, Leftenant."
There was a fireplace in the room, and a pile of wood in the corner;
and the sergeant went to work at once to build a fire to dry his
officer. There was plenty of light wood, full of pitch, in the pile;
and in a few minutes a roaring fire was blazing on the hearth. Without
asking any questions he proceeded to remove Deck's coat, and assisted
him to take off the rest of his clothes, which had not been done before
except when he took his baths in the streams.
"Now jump into bed, Leftenant; give me your shirt, and I will dry the
whole of your duds. The room is warm now."
Deck had been so chilled by the rain that he was glad to comply with
the sergeant's requests. Life placed the nether garments on the chair
before the fire, and then moved up a light table, stretching his sabre
from one to the other to form a clothes-horse. At midnight he waked his
officer to have him put on the dry shirt, for Deck in the bed had slept
like a tired boy. After a look through the corridors of the prison,
Life went to bed himself.