SCOUTING IN THE ENEMY'S COUNTRY
Colonel Bickford was evidently a gentleman of taste, for he had
selected a beautiful locality for his residence; but the scouts had not
yet learned whether he was a Unionist or a Confederate. They were still
in Kentucky, though not more than ten miles from the Tennessee line.
When they had ridden a couple of miles, they met half a dozen negroes,
with fishing-rods on their shoulders.
"Going a-fishing?" asked Deck, as he reined in his steed.
"Yes, sar. De sodjers done took all de meat in de country, and all de
corn. Niggers can't git not'in t'eat 'cept out ob de creeks," replied
the foremost of the party, who was a light mulatto.
"Who lives in the house a mile or two down the stream?" continued Deck.
"Cun'l Bickford."
"Oh, yes; he is a Union man," added Deck.
"No, sar!" exclaimed the mulatto vigorously. "Cun'l ob a Tennessee
regiment. Whar you git his coach hosses?"
"I'll tell you about that next summer; but we only borrowed them for a
couple of days. He is badly wounded I heard."
"Yes, sar; fotched home on a stretcher from Monticello, whar he com'd
wid de army."
"Why didn't he come down to Newberry along with the army?" asked Life,
who knew precisely where he was when Monticello was mentioned.
"De army don't come dis way, dey foller de road by de Souf Forks."
"Where do they go then?"
"Dunno, Mars'r; dey don't tell whar de go," replied the mulatto,
shaking his head.
This man seemed to be intelligent, and know more about the region than
most of the negroes. Deck bade them good-by, and resumed his march.
"I dunno's we need go any furder," said Life, after they had gone a few
rods.
"I hope we shall be able to obtain more reliable information than from
the reports of these darkeys," replied Deck, who was in favor of doing
the work thoroughly.
"Jest as you say, Lieutenant; but if they had come down this way we'd
'a' seen some stragglers," answered the Kentuckian. "I reckon I know
just whar they are gwine, 'cause I've been over the road myself.
They'll foller the South Fork, and strike Jamestown, Fentress County,
and from there make for Gainsborough, where they can git steamboats to
tote them to Nashville."
"There is a village ahead," said Deck.
"That is Newberry" (as it was then called).
They went into the place, and found a grocery store and post-office.
They halted near it, and spent some time in a consultation. At
Jamestown they could determine with certainty where the army was going.
It was a little over twenty miles, while the road the army had taken
was quite thirty, though the roads were better by the latter route.
Deck promptly decided to proceed to Jamestown. They deemed it
advisable to avoid the towns, especially Albany, the capital of the
county; and it seemed to be necessary to provide themselves with a
quantity of food, for they might not be able to procure a dinner or a
supper as readily as they had a breakfast.
They dismounted, and entered the store. They found the postmaster half
asleep behind his counter; and when Deck inquired if he had anything to
eat, he replied in a very sulky manner that he had nothing. He had been
robbed of about everything he had that was eatable by runaway soldiers
like themselves, who had deserted from the army.
"Haven't you got anything?" persisted Deck.
"Not a thing; a dozen of you runaways came here last night, and took
everything I had, and never paid me a cent for what they carried off,
and threatened to shoot me if I made a row about it. I can't afford to
keep store for sech fellers," protested the man, with intense disgust.
"But I have a little money, and I am willing to pay for whatever we
obtain," added the lieutenant.
The storekeeper raised his head sharply, and appeared to be wide awake
at these words.
"Don't you think you could raise something for us?" asked Deck.
"Provisions is mighty skeece down here, for the army has picked up
everything they could find; and we are as poor as starved turkeys."
"Well, if you hain't got nothin', of course we can't git nothin',"
added Life.
"If you're gwine to pay for what you have, I might raise somethin' for
you," said the storekeeper. "I bought two mighty handsome chickens
yesterday, and had to give a dollar apiece for 'em. My wife roasted 'em
last night, and hid 'em away for our own use. If you don't mind payin'
two dollars apiece for 'em, you shall have 'em."
"All right; bring them along," answered Deck.
The man left the store, and was absent about ten minutes, when he
returned with the chickens. They were quite large, and were a toothsome
morsel for hungry men. Deck then called for a dollar's worth of
crackers, which the storekeeper had to bring from their hiding-place
outside the building. General Woodbine had provided him with five gold
half-eagles, which the lieutenant had concealed in as many different
places about his own and Life's person, and a few dollars' worth of
silver.
Deck paid in gold for the provisions. The postmaster, who looked like a
happy man since he saw the precious coin, wrapped the chickens in
papers, putting a little package of salt with each; and the wanderers
stuffed them into their capacious pockets, finding also space enough
for the crackers.
"We are all right now," said Deck, as they left the shop, and hastened
to the tree where they had left their horses.
"We sha'n't starve, nohow," replied Life.
When they came in sight of the horses, they discovered with surprise
and chagrin four men, evidently deserters from the Confederate army,
two of whom were untying the bridles of the animals. One of them had
succeeded in doing so, and was about to mount the steed.
"What are you about thar?" demanded Life, as he stalked towards the man
who had a foot in the stirrup.
The deserter stopped for an instant, and then leaped on the horse.
"I reckon we need those hosses more'n you uns do," replied the fellow
coolly and impudently.
"I reckon you won't have 'em," replied Life. Reaching up his long right
arm, and grasping the man by the throat, he dragged him from the animal
in the twinkling of an eye, pitching him on the ground as though he had
been a piece of carrion; and he lay there looking at the stalwart form
of the Kentuckian, not much inclined to close with him.
The sergeant held the horse recaptured, which he had ridden so far, and
Deck advanced upon the other. But the other two went to his aid, and
planted themselves between Deck and his steed. They did not appear to
be armed, having doubtless thrown away their heavy flint-lock muskets,
though they might have pistols in their pockets.
"I reckon you uns can't have these hosses," said one of the men in
front of the other two.
"I reckon we can and will," replied Deck, drawing one of his revolvers
from his pocket. "Out of the way!"
The fellow in front made a spring at the lieutenant with the evident
intention of wresting the revolver from him; but Deck was too quick for
him, and fired. He dropped his right hand, and covered his shoulder
with the left.
"Leave that horse!" shouted Deck, aiming at the man who was at work on
the bridle.
At this moment Life, who had mounted his horse, rode to his side. The
one who had stood near the wounded man was feeling in his pockets, when
the tall Kentuckian rode upon him, and seizing him by the collar lifted
him clear of the ground, and flung him nearly a rod from him. He struck
heavily against a log, and did not move again. Life then rode up to the
man at the other horse, and would have served him in the same way if he
had not run away into the woods. Deck unhitched the horse, mounted him,
and both of them rode off at a gallop.
"We shall be likely to meet more of them carrion," said Life; "for the
woods and the roads are full of 'em."
"It is best to avoid them if we can," suggested Deck.
"I reckon we kin; for we're gwine to strike across the country,"
replied the sergeant, now an acting second lieutenant, as he took from
his pocket a small compass, which had served him in the wilds of the
far West.
A little farther along, Life turned into a cart-path in the woods, and
then halted. Poising the compass, he watched the needle for some time.
"This path is just what we want; for it runs to the south. I went
through here somewhere with four horses, and a nigger for a guide,
years ago on my way to Nashville. It ain't more'n five miles to Elliott
Roads, and then a little more'n twenty to Jamestown. I cal'late we'll
git thar to-night."
In about an hour they came to the end of the cart-path. Life used his
compass again; and they continued, aided by the position of the sun,
till they came to another path, leading to the south. The Kentuckian
said they saved about ten miles by taking this cross-cut; and they soon
reached the main road. Avoiding the two villages of Elliott's Roads and
Pall Mall, as they were called then but not now, by going around them,
they returned to the main road again.
It was a hilly region; for the Cumberland Mountains were not more than
ten miles from them, covered with forests, and hardly cultivated at
all. In a lonely place they turned into the woods to feed the horses.
Behind his saddle, Deck had a grain-bag containing half a bushel of
oats in each end, provided by the forethought of the Kentuckian at the
stable of Colonel Bickford. A liberal feed was emptied on the ground in
a clean place, which the horses greedily devoured.
The riders produced the chickens; and one of them soon disappeared with
a corresponding quantity of the crackers. A mountain brook rippled near
them, and the thirst of both men and horses was slaked in its clear
waters. Perhaps each of the scouts had slept an hour in the boat by
turns, and they put in another hour at this halt, as much for the
benefit of the horses as for that of the men. Refreshed and invigorated
by the food and the sleep, they renewed the march. About three miles
farther on, as they were descending a hill, they were not a little
astonished to see half a dozen men stretch themselves suddenly across
the narrow road, blocking their passage.
Like the others they had encountered at Newberry, they were plainly
deserters; and two of them had muskets which they pointed at the
scouts. Three to one was a large odds. Even Life believed it was more
prudent to run than to fight; and wheeling his horse, he bade Deck
follow him. The forest was open enough to permit the passage of horses,
and a couple of rods back the leader turned into the woods. Deck
followed him closely; and they made a sweep around, and then struck out
for the road again. But they were checkmated by the deserters, who ran
down the highway to intercept them. They formed across the road again,
the two armed ones taking aim at them.
The ruffians had got in ahead of them, and again the two muskets stared
at them. Both of them drew their revolvers, for they had no idea of
being stopped in the execution of their mission.
"Hallo, you uns!" shouted one of the men. "We don't want to hurt you;
but we want them hosses, and we must have 'em."
"You can't have 'em!" shouted Life.
"And if you've got any grub we want that!" called another of the
ruffians.
"Out of the way!" yelled Life, as he spurred on his horse.
As they started, the armed men fired. Neither of the scouts fell from
his horse; but Deck clapped his right hand upon his left arm close to
his shoulder. He did not keep it there for more than a moment, but
grasped his revolver. The two horsemen rode down the ruffians, firing
their weapons with great rapidity. Two of the assailants had fallen in
the road, and two more had been hit. The scouts drew their second
pistols, and continued to fire. A third fell, and then the others ran
into the woods, hiding themselves behind the trees.
The result was decisive enough to satisfy the riders, and they went off
at a lively gallop. The work of that day was done; and though they saw
other skulkers, they were not again attacked. At five o'clock in the
afternoon they reached the vicinity of Jamestown, the capital of
Fentress County. They could not help learning, both from sights and
sounds, that there was great excitement in the village. A convenient
and partially wooded hill lay on their right, which they decided to
ascend.
This elevation commanded a complete view of the village and its
surroundings; and they witnessed the approach of General Crittenden's
army. It did not halt, but proceeded to a more convenient
camping-ground. It moved out of the place by the Livingston Road; and
this settled the question in the mind of Lieutenant Knox, and they had
accomplished their mission.
"We have nothin' to do now but to git back to the brigade," said Life.
"Shall we start back to-night?" asked Deck wearily.
"Does your wound pain you, my boy?" asked the Kentuckian tenderly.
"Not much; but I am willing to admit that I am very tired," answered
Deck.
"This is not a good place to stop over night," added Life.
"I could ride all night if it were necessary."
"No; but we will halt somewhere near where we did for dinner to-day."
Life led the way down the hill to the road. Everybody in the village
had gone to see the army; but they met a negro half a mile from the
place, and the Kentuckian questioned him. He confirmed the conclusion
at which they had arrived; and they rode on till they came after dark
to the spot where they had halted at dinner-time.
Life had dressed the wound of his companion, which was a slight affair.
Deck had brought with him the bandages and salve his mother had given
him, and the injury was doing very well. The horses were watered and
fed, and half of the remaining chicken was consumed by the riders. The
scouts stretched themselves on the ground, where they slept the sleep
of the just for five hours.
At one o'clock the horses were saddled, and the march was resumed. In
the forenoon of the next day they reached Newberry by the route they
had taken the day before. They had eaten the last of the chickens and
crackers, and they stopped at the post-office to obtain more. The
storekeeper had procured and cooked two more, which he was glad to sell
at the same price, with an abundant supply of crackers. He added
another half-eagle to his funds, and became very friendly to them. But
he asked no troublesome questions, not even to what Confederate
regiment they belonged. He wished them a safe and pleasant journey, and
they proceeded on their way.
Their boat was not where they left it; and they rode along the creek
till they discovered it in the middle of the stream, occupied by two
negroes, who were fishing. Life ordered them to bring it to the shore,
to which the fishermen objected, for they were having remarkably good
luck. But when the Kentuckian pointed his revolver at the speaker, they
pulled to the shore at once. Deck noticed that they handled the oars
very well; and he offered them five dollars if they would row the boat
to Cuffy's ferry. They turned loose their horses, and they made their
way back to their own stable.
The offer was a godsend to the negroes, and they promptly accepted it.
Without their services the scouts would have been in a bad situation,
for Deck's wounded arm rendered him unfit to row against the current of
the great river. He had learned the dangerous places, and under his
direction the ferry was reached in safety.
"Whar you done been to, Mars'rs?" asked Cuffy as they landed.
"We ask questions, but don't answer them," replied Deck. "Bring out our
uniforms, and have two horses ready for us."
The scouts, after they had washed themselves, put on their uniforms,
and again they looked like Union officers. Cuffy set the two negroes
over the river; and with two dollars and a half in the pockets of each,
they were satisfied with their day's work. The brigade with the light
battery attached had marched, and were doubtless in Burkesville at the
time the scouts arrived at the ferry. Deck and Life, one or both of
them, had slept most of the way during the long and hard pull up the
river, and they were in tolerable good condition when they landed.
Cuffy had the four horses left at the ferry by the deserters who had
been drowned, and the two officers took the two best ones. It was all
of forty miles by the roads to Burkesville, where the general said he
might be on their return. After the best supper the ferryman could
provide for them, they started on their journey, following the river.
On their arrival, about midnight, at Creelsboro', they were agreeably
surprised to find the brigade there. The general had given them the
countersign, and the lieutenants were promptly recognized by the
sentinels. They were conducted to the tent of General Woodbine, who was
called by his servant.
"I am very glad to see you, Lieutenant Lyon; and you also," said the
commander, as he took them both by the hand. "I did not expect to see
you before to-morrow. Have you obtained the information I need?"
"We have, General," replied Deck. "We saw the Confederate army on the
march through Jamestown, and on the way to Livingston, which makes it
certain that General Crittenden is going to Gainsboro'."
"Where he can obtain steamboats to convey his army to Nashville,"
supplemented the general. "I am satisfied now. I feared that
Crittenden might march from Monticello, when I saw him headed in that
direction from Oak Forest, by the way of Seventy-Six to the river, and
then cross to Burkesville, and pick up the supplies of which he is in
such great need. I must await further orders here. I have no doubt you
are very tired, and one of the sentinels will conduct you to your
tents."
"I think Lieutenant Lyon had better see Dr. Farnwright before he goes
to sleep," said Life.
"Is he wounded?" asked the general, with interest and anxiety.
"Only slightly. We had a skrimmage with half a dozen deserters from the
enemy, and licked 'em handsome," added Life.
The officers were shown to their tents, and the surgeon sent for. The
wound was carefully dressed, and the doctor said it would be well in
three days. He slept soundly after the long and hard journey; and the
surgeon had ordered him to remain in his tent if the brigade did not
march in the morning, which it did not. The first persons to call upon
him were his father and his brother.
"Where have you been, Dexter?" asked Major Lyon, after his wound had
been considered. "I did not know you had been absent till this morning,
though I missed Lieutenant Knox when I saw Sergeant Fronklyn at the
head of his platoon."
"Life and I have been away on secret service; and for further
particulars you must apply to General Woodbine," replied Deck with a
meaning smile.
"I shall not apply to the general," added the major. "I am glad your
wound is no worse; and I hope your new duties on the staff will be
agreeable to you."
"I know they will, especially if I get my share of the fighting,"
answered Deck.
But the story of this campaign of the Riverlawn Cavalry, ending with
the decisive battle of Mill Springs, is completed. Deck Lyon has won
and obtained his promotion, and has entered upon a new sphere of duty,
in which his bravery, skill, and enterprise enabled him to distinguish
himself.
Before noon a messenger, escorted by a squad of cavalrymen, arrived at
the camp with sealed orders for General Woodbine, and bearing a large
bag of letters for the officers and soldiers. There were several for
Major Lyon and for his two sons. They were from home; and everything at
Riverlawn was quiet and prosperous, with no evidences of war near the
family.
Levi Bedford kept a watch every night at the fort named after him, and
the fifty-one negroes were as tractable as usual. A number of them had
been drilled for service in case of need, but fortunately there had
been no occasion for their services. Through his sister Dorcas, Kate
Belthorpe sent her regards to Deck, and he had something to think of as
he sat in his tent.
Among the major's letters was one which had been forwarded from his
brother Titus, then in a prison-camp in the North. He had written
before, and the major had replied to his letter. Titus had been
informed that his two sons had enlisted in the Riverlawn squadron, and
were good soldiers. Titus had no whiskey ration, or the means of
obtaining liquor. It was plain from his letter that he was forced to be
a sober man; and his sentiments were much more reasonable than they had
ever been before. The major wrote to him again, informing him that his
son Orly had been killed in action while bravely doing his duty as a
soldier.
General Woodbine had his orders; and the information obtained by the
scouts showed that he had no mission on this part of the frontier of
Tennessee, and he must wait for further instructions. He sent a full
account of the situation in this portion of Kentucky, in which there
was no Confederate force of any magnitude,--none except guerillas and
home banditti. But orders soon came, and the cavalry brigade and light
battery were moved to the westward.
Those who are disposed to follow Deck Lyon in his further military
career through marches, battles, and adventures, will find it set forth
in the succeeding volume of this series, taking its title from the
official position of the hero, "ON THE STAFF," though he is now a first
lieutenant at eighteen.
End of Project Gutenberg's A Lieutenant at Eighteen, by Oliver Optic