THE PROGRESS OF THE UPRISING
It would be hard to put Louis’s feelings into words when he found
himself alone once more. Here he was bound hands and feet to a corner
post of the old mill, robbed of his valuables, and with the prospect of
even harsher treatment in the morning.
“They are thorough rascals, if ever there were any,” he thought,
bitterly. “I believe they would murder me if they thought they could
get anything more out of me by doing it. I’m in a scrape and no
mistake. What’s to be done, Jess?”
For reply the faithful mare bent her soft eyes on him and gave an
unsatisfactory whinny. Evidently she felt something was wrong. On her
back rested a rusty brown saddle, which one of the mountaineers had
“swapped” for Louis’s new trappings.
“It’s a shame the way they treated us,” went on the youth. “But never
mind, only let us get away and some day we’ll get square, won’t we? I
wonder how strong this confounded rope is?”
Louis found it much stronger than expected--far too strong to be either
stretched or broken--and a half-hour’s work upon it only sufficed to
chafe his wrists and ankles to the blood-drawing point. He stopped his
struggles and drew a long breath.
“They understand tying a fellow up,” he murmured. “Is it possible I
must remain in this dismal place all night?”
It was not long before Louis was shivering, for he was wet to the skin,
and the wind that was rising swept through every opening in the old
mill. Jess, too, began to grow impatient, wanting her blanket and her
noonday meal. Slowly the hours dragged by until nightfall.
Louis had about given up all hope of getting free when through the wind
he heard a broad, negro voice singing loudly:
“Oh, my Sue, my Sue, I lub you!
Oh, my Sue, my Sue, be mine!
An’ de possum, an’----”
The negro voice came to a sudden stop as Louis cried loudly for help. A
period of silence followed.
“Wot’s dat?”
“Help me! I am tied up in the mill!”
“Golly, who is yo’?” There was a crashing through the woods and
presently a tall darky, weighing all of two hundred pounds, blocked up
the entrance to the mill. “Golly, yere’s a bit ob work!”
“Release me, will you?” asked Louis, eagerly.
“Who tied yo’ up like dat, massa?”
“Some rascals who robbed me of my watch and money. Cut that rope. I am
almost perished with cold.”
The negro at once complied with Louis’s request, and once free the
youth drew a long sigh of relief.
“Who war dem fellows, massa?” questioned the negro, eagerly.
“One of them is named Sam Jacks. He is the leader. Two of the others
were named Hogwell and Ross. Do you know them?”
“I dun heered tell of dem, massa. Dey cum from de mountains over
yonder--a mighty bad crowd dem.”
“I am much obliged to you for coming to my assistance. I am sorry I
can’t reward you, but they took all my money, as well as my watch and
my new saddle.”
“Dat’s all right, massa--glad to do yo’ a good turn, sah. Yere, let
me help yo’ fasten dat old saddle, sah--seein’ it’s de best yo’ got
left, sah,” and the ponderous black friend went to work with a will.
In two minutes more Louis was on Jess’s back, and, bidding his friend
good-bye, made off up the hill in the direction of the turnpike. The
negro watched him out of sight and then went on his way, singing as
before, as though to forget the discomforts of the storm in melody.
Once on the highway again, Louis put spurs to his mare and in less
than an hour gained a good-sized town in Maryland. Here he put up at
the hotel for two hours, in the meantime getting dinner and having Jess
fed. He told the hotel-keeper how he had been robbed, and as the man
happened to know the youth’s father, he readily trusted Louis for the
accommodations furnished.
It was growing well towards night when Maryland soil was left behind
and Louis turned up the well known road leading to Goreville. His
hard riding had tired him greatly, and he was not sorry when towards
midnight the home acres were gained, and he was permitted to place
faithful Jess in the stable, silence the watch-dog, and enter the house.
“Louis! And in all this rain!” exclaimed his father, as he descended
from his bedroom to greet his son. “I’ve been looking for you for the
past two days, but I didn’t think you would start out in such weather
as this.”
The son’s story was soon related, and then it had to be repeated for
the benefit of Mrs. Rockford, Lucy, and Martha. All listened with close
attention to what was told.
“I have suspected as much,” declared Mr. Rockford. “The South is bound
to bring on a war. They won’t argue the point or listen to reason. The
seceding of South Carolina has started a flame which will take hard
work to quench.”
“Never mind the war just now, father. What am I to do about my watch
and money?”
“Better let them go, Louis. You can prove nothing against Jacks and his
companions, for if brought into court they would deny everything, and
as matters stand down there, their word would be taken in preference to
yours.”
“I don’t believe any fair-minded men, even if they are so-called
rebels, will uphold such actions. Mr. Arlington is a rebel, and so is
Andy, but they are honest and square for all that. They are merely
sticking up for what they believe is right.”
“Gracious, Lou, you are not going to turn rebel, are you?” exclaimed
Lucy, half in horror.
“I’ll wager pretty Grace Arlington has been trying to convert him to
slavery,” asserted Martha, who was the tease of the family.
“No, I’m not going to turn rebel,” answered the boy, blushing at the
mention of Grace. “But I want you to understand that there are a great
many gentlemen and men of honor down South, and some mighty nice
people, too, for all of their notions about slavery and State rights.”
“Of course there are, my son,” said Mr. Rockford. “And, as you say,
they think they are in the right, and they are willing to fight for
what they think. But, for all that, they are wrong, and sooner or later
they must acknowledge it.”
“Mr. Arlington told me, one day, that there used to be nearly as many
slaves in the North as there were in the South, and when we gave up
slavery here we sold our slaves to the South.”
“There is something of truth in that, Louis--we certainly had slaves,
and some were sent South--how many I do not know.”
“And he said that now we want to free those same slaves or their
children--after taking Southern money for them,” went on the boy,
earnestly.
“What I object to, Louis, is the extension of slavery. I think it ought
to be allowed to die out. I am sure the matter could be arranged if
the real statesmen could get together, without the interference of the
hot-heads on both sides. It would be much better to arrange things
peaceably than to plunge the whole nation into civil war.”
Soon after this the conversation was interrupted by Mrs. Rockford, who
had prepared a hasty but hot midnight meal for her son. Louis partook
of this with avidity, and on retiring rolled himself in a flannel
blanket, to sweat out any cold he might have caught when out in the
wintry rain.
For several days after Louis returned home matters moved along quietly
at the dairy farm. Then came Christmas, and among the boy’s gifts was a
new silver watch and chain from his mother and father, and knit mittens
and a neck muffler from Lucy and Martha. Of course Louis made gifts in
return, things bought with some money left at home when he had started
on his visit to Andy; and the holiday passed with a pleasantness long
to be remembered.
A few days later came news from Charleston which set everybody to
talking. It was to the effect that Major Anderson, in command of Fort
Moultrie, had abandoned that stronghold, spiked his guns and burned
their carriages, and moved to Fort Sumter. The fort where this United
States officer had been stopping was a low-walled place, hard to
defend, and on the coast; the place to which he had withdrawn was on an
island in the harbor, and was as strong as a fort could well be.
The South Carolinians had for a long while thought they could swoop
down upon Major Anderson and his force and secure an easy surrender.
Now, when they saw the plucky commander entrenched behind the frowning
walls of Fort Sumter they grew furious, and at once made preparations
to occupy not only the works which the Union men had abandoned but
also a number of other places, including ancient Fort Johnson, which
had been abandoned since the Revolution. “We’ll drive the Yankees out
in fine style,” they told each other. And then came a wait of several
months, as winter set in throughout the North, and other matters
claimed attention in the South.
South Carolina had seceded from the Union on the twentieth of
December, 1860. On the ninth of January following, Mississippi joined
her Southern sister, and then Florida, Alabama, Georgia, Louisiana, and
Texas did likewise by the first of February. There followed a lull, and
then came the shot which, as some writers have said, was heard around
the world, a shot which threw our great and glorious nation into a war
that lasted four years and cost thousands upon thousands of lives, and
millions upon millions of dollars.
Fort Sumter was fired upon by the Confederates. Major Anderson had
been called upon to evacuate and had refused. On Friday morning, April
12, 1861, at exactly half-past four o’clock, a shell was thrown from
Fort Johnson and burst directly over Sumter. It was a signal-gun, and
directly afterwards came a shot from an ironclad battery on Morris
Island; and then began a fierce bombardment which lasted all day and
all night, and the greater part of the next day. Fort Sumter was fairly
riddled with cannon-balls and torn up by shells, and was set on fire a
score of times. Such a fierce onslaught could not long be endured, and
feeling the uselessness of fighting further, and being nearly out of
provisions, a flag of truce was displayed, and arrangements were made
to evacuate the next day.
When word came to Washington that Fort Sumter had fallen, the
excitement was intense. Everybody looked to President Lincoln, who had
succeeded Buchanan in March, for he was the head of the nation, and
must decide in a crisis like this. This was on Sunday. On Monday came a
proclamation, calling for seventy-five thousand men to go to the war.
The proclamation aroused the nation as never before. It was published
in the newspapers and scattered broadcast, and inside of three days
companies were forming in all of the Northern States and getting ready
to march to Washington. Old uniforms were brushed up, old guns cleaned
and oiled, old drums re-headed, and nearly every man and boy began to
study Hardee’s Tactics, a soldier’s manual. What the effects of this
proclamation were in the South we will see later on, when we follow the
daring career of Andy Arlington.
It was Mr. Rockford who brought home the news to Louis and the others
that the President wanted seventy-five thousand men, and wanted them
immediately. He had been down to Goreville and came back stating that
the citizens were going half-crazy.
“Paulding has already issued an address, calling on the men of this
neighborhood to join a company he is forming,” said Mr. Rockford.
“Harley, the miller, is going, and so is that young Bingham, the clerk
in the grocery store, and Umbleton and Dilks. You never heard such
spouting and shouting in your life.”
“Will you join, father?” asked Louis, quickly, and his usually grave
face lit up with sudden earnestness.
“I don’t know. Paulding urged me, but I said I wouldn’t commit myself
until I had talked matters over at home.”
“Oh, John!” cried Mrs. Rockford, and then stopped short. She did not
want her husband to leave her, and yet she wanted to see him do his
duty as a citizen.
“If you don’t go, father, I’ll go--if they’ll take me,” went on the
son, but in rather a low tone.
“You, Louis!” burst from mother and both sisters.
“Yes. Why not, mother? I am as tall and strong as some of the men. I
really think one or the other of us ought to go.”
“If either of us go it will be I,” said Mr. Rockford, decidedly. “But
we will talk it over in the morning,” he went on, as he saw his wife
was on the verge of tears.
Fate decided for Mr. Rockford before he had a chance to decide for
himself, although secretly he was much in favor of going, if matters
around the dairy could be arranged. That evening, when passing among
the cows, one particularly vicious animal turned upon him and jammed
him into a corner of the barn, breaking his collar bone and otherwise
injuring him.
The accident frightened the others of the family very much, and a hired
man was sent post-haste for the village doctor. It was after midnight
before Mr. Rockford was pronounced out of danger, and then the doctor
announced that he would not be able to leave his bed for many weeks and
perhaps months to come.
Ordinarily such an accident would have brought in many neighbors to
sympathize and offer aid, but now the war was the one subject on
everybody’s mind, and the family was passed by, excepting by a few of
the most intimate friends.
It was two days later, when Louis was down in the village at the
general store, that he was addressed about going to Washington with
Captain Paulding’s company. Robert Paulding had been nothing but a
plain lawyer a few days previous, yet now everybody called him captain,
and many of the men touched their hats unconsciously whenever he passed.
It was Harry Bingham, the grocer’s clerk, who addressed Louis, as he
measured out some cotton goods Mrs. Rockford needed for bandages. “Now
your father can’t go, Louis, you ought to take his place,” he said.
“Your family ought to be represented, you know; and there are lots of
young fellows going besides me--Dick Coombs, Jerry Rowe, Mart Wilkins,
and a lot more.”
“I’ve been thinking of it, Harry,” answered Louis. “I’ll go if mother
can spare me.”
“Well, you want to make up your mind pretty soon. Captain Paulding is
going to start us off for Washington by the middle of next week if he
can.”
Just then another young fellow came into the grocery. It was Jerry
Rowe, the son of a local horse doctor. He was an overbearing fellow,
and Louis did not like him.
“Hello, Rockford!” he cried. “They tell me you haven’t joined the
company yet. What’s the matter, are you afraid?”
“No, I am not afraid,” replied Louis, his face flushing. “I--”
“It looks as if you were afraid; doesn’t it, Harry? All the fellows
who are not afraid are going,” went on Jerry Rowe, and then he moved on
to another part of the store, before Louis could say another word. But
those cruel, thoughtless words of Rowe decided Louis. Come what might,
he must obtain permission to enlist inside of the next twenty-four
hours.