OFF FOR WASHINGTON
“Now, then, who is the next volunteer? Come, gentlemen and fellow
citizens, you have read our worthy President’s proclamation; you know
how urgent is the call; you know that the rebels are collecting a great
force to capture our noble Capitol at Washington; you know how those
same rebels have taunted us, saying the North could not be kicked into
a war; and you know also what the cities and towns and villages around
us are doing--enrolling their patriots as fast as the names can be put
down. Shall it be said that Goreville stood back when called upon to do
her duty? Never! Come, who is the next volunteer?”
Captain Paulding stood upon the stoop of the grocery store, addressing
the crowd which had collected at the roll of the drum in the hands of
young Benny Bruce, who had also enlisted, although less than fifteen
years old. The captain had been “spouting” earnestly for half an
hour, but no new volunteers had appeared. The muster roll numbered
thirty-four names, and Captain Paulding wanted forty before starting on
the long march for Washington.
Behind the captain sat a clerk with the list in hand and a table with
pens and ink beside him, for the captain knew that many volunteers had
to be “caught on the fly,” or their enthusiasm would wane and they
would not sign the enlistment paper. Beside the clerk sat Josiah Bruce,
the father of Benny, a veteran who had lost a hand in the Mexican war,
and who was much crippled by rheumatism.
“Come, boys; come and sign!” cried Josiah Bruce, waving his stump of an
arm over his head. “I went to Mexico, and my son there is goin’ to beat
the drum fer ye. Sign, I say, an’ be patriots! Hurrah for the Stars and
Stripes! Oh, if I wasn’t doubled up with this ’ere rheumatism, I’d show
ye! Benny, beat the drum ag’in. Perhaps some o’ the men standin’ around
hain’t heard it yet!”
And Benny beat the drum so vigorously that a larger crowd than ever
began to collect. Again Captain Paulding addressed those before him.
“Shall it be said that the majority of the men of Goreville were
cowards; that they would not march forth to uphold the hand of their
President? No, never! Come now and sign; place your names on the golden
roll of honor ere it is too late. Ha! Here is another, our worthy
citizen, Moses Blackwell. Moses is a blacksmith, as we all know, and
creation help the rebel that gets in front of him in a hand-to-hand
fight. Soldiers, three cheers for our new member, Moses Blackwell.”
And as Moses, a tall, thin, but, nevertheless, powerful fellow, put
down the rough scrawl which went for his signature, the cheers were
given with a will. As the blacksmith stepped back, two others came to
the front, one a man who had just hopped from a farm wagon, and who
came forward with his pants tucked in his boots and his whip in his
hand.
“Bart Callings and Nathan Hornsby!” announced Captain Paulding. “Keep
the ball a-rolling, boys. Now is the time, remember, ere it is too
late. Soldiers, three cheers for Callings and Hornsby! That makes
thirty-seven. We want at least three more. Come, now! Come! Everybody
join in, please.”
“‘My country, ’tis of thee,
Sweet land of liberty;
Of thee I sing!’”
Loud and clear arose the song on the bracing April air, and ere the
refrain had died away two more names had been added to the list. The
echo of the final word yet rang over the distant hills when Louis
Rockford slipped shyly from his horse and mounted the store porch from
the side.
“I want to sign, please,” he almost whispered to the clerk.
“Hello, Rockford! Then you are really going, after all!” cried the
clerk. “I’m glad to hear it. Rowe put you down as too cowardly, but I
knew better and said so. Captain, Louis Rockford will sign.”
“Another! The fortieth!” shouted Captain Paulding. He shook Louis by
the hand. “Going in place of your poor father, I suppose. Soldiers,
three cheers for our fortieth man, Louis Rockford.”
And once more the cheers rang out, this time with an extra will, for
Louis had many friends among the younger members of the company. But
during the cheering Louis’s quick eye detected that Jerry Rowe’s lips
did not move. Almost instinctively he felt that, though he had many
friends in the company, he had also one enemy.
Louis had had an easier time than he anticipated getting his parents
to consent to his enlistment. The reason for this was that, now Mr.
Rockford could not go, he felt the family should be in some way
represented and had whispered as much to his wife during the moments
when not in pain. And Mrs. Rockford had agreed, but with tears in her
eyes, for her only son was sorely needed about the dairy, and the
thought that he must go forth to meet great danger filled her with
alarm. A deeply religious woman, she spent a night in prayer, then
called Louis to her side, and kissing him fondly, told him to do his
duty to his country.
The days which followed the enlistment flew on wings, so much was
there to do. Louis was called on each day to drill for three hours,
from four o’clock to seven in the afternoon and evening--this time
being chosen that the men might do a fair day’s work at home before
commencing. At first he was put in the “awkward squad,” drilled by old
Josiah Bruce, and rapidly taught how to stand at “attention,” how to
“right face,” “left face,” “about face,” “mark time,” and “march.” This
learned, he was given a gun and put through the manual of arms until he
could handle the weapon as well as any of them.
Louis’s earnestness was warmly approved by the old Mexican veteran.
“You’re a born soldier, Louis,” he said one day when the drilling was
over. “Keep on as you have begun and my word on it, you’ll come out of
the war with shoulder-straps.”
“Now I’ve started, I mean to do my best,” was the quiet answer, and
those words told the whole story, as the chapters which follow will
testify.
At last came the day when the company was to start for Washington, that
being then the objective point of all the Union troops. It was felt
that if the South struck any blow at all it would be at our Capitol.
Louis had taken an affectionate farewell of his father and his mother
at home, and now Lucy and Martha took him down to Goreville Square in
a dairy wagon, not only to see him off, but to witness the celebration
given in honor of the departure of the Goreville Volunteers. Big
bonfires were blazing, a flag flew from the front of every house and
place of business, and the small boys were shooting off all the powder
and crackers they could lay hands on, while in the midst of all little
Benny Bruce was rolling his drum as never before, calling the men
together for their first march of a hundred and fifty miles or more.
“Fall in, men!” cried Captain Paulding. There was a hasty handshaking
and a kissing all around, and the men hurried to the center of the
square. “Company, attention! Shoulder arms! Forward march!”
Rap! Rap! Rap-rap-rap! went Benny Bruce’s big drum, and off the
company started in two rather irregular lines. Old Bruce gave a rousing
cheer and this was taken up on all sides, while the ladies waved their
handkerchiefs and some of the boys set off the cannon they had borrowed
from somewhere. The Goreville Volunteers were off at last.
Each man was provided with a gun of some kind, finding the weapon
for himself, and each had likewise furnished himself with a belt and
ammunition-box, a haversack, and a blanket. None of the privates had
uniforms outside of caps, which the general store-keeper at Goreville
had donated. The officers wore uniforms of their own selecting,
while Benny Bruce had been tricked out with uniform and drum by his
enthusiastic father. The flag the company carried had been presented
by the ladies of the district, who had held a large “donation” party
for the purpose of raising the necessary funds. Each man’s haversack
was stocked to overflowing with rations, and behind the company drove a
wagon packed with other necessities of camp life.
The course of the company lay directly southeast through the State of
Maryland. At that time it was known that Maryland was “on the fence” so
far as joining the North or the South was concerned, and hardly had the
boundary-line of the State been crossed than Captain Paulding halted
the company and made a brief address.
“Men, we have now entered the State of Maryland,” he began. “We trust
this State will remain true to the Union, but we are not sure that she
will do so. I know personally that there are many people living here
who are rebels at heart, and some of these people may try to make us
trouble. If--”
“Let ’em try it on, that’s all,” came in a growl from the rear line.
“Silence in the ranks. I feel as you do about this matter, but at the
same time if we can reach Washington without open trouble, we had best
do so. Of course, we will maintain our rights, but to seek a quarrel
will only delay us.”
Having spoken thus, Captain Paulding paused for a moment and then
commanded Privates Rockford and Bingham to step forward. Wondering what
was up, Louis did as ordered, and Harry Bingham followed.
“You will go on ahead,” said the captain. “Take the road to Frederick
and keep on until about four o’clock this afternoon, when you can look
around for a good halting-place. If you see anything alarming report to
me as quickly as you can.”
Louis and Bingham replied that they would. Then they saluted the
captain in true military style and hurried off side by side.
“I’m glad he detailed us for this work,” said Louis, a few minutes
later. “It’s much pleasanter to have a friend along.”
“Rather have me than Jerry Rowe, eh?” replied Harry Bingham. “Well, I
don’t blame you. Rowe is very overbearing. But I reckon he’ll have the
starch taken out of him before the war is over.”
Knowing what was expected of them, they hurried off at a rapid pace,
and soon the company was lost to sight behind a turn in the road. It
was a clear and by no means cold day and both felt in capital spirits,
and Louis would have started to whistle, but suddenly thought better
of it. Their course lay along a low hill, and this passed, they came
within sight of several farmhouses. As they passed the first of these,
two farmers came out to meet them.
“Hullo, sodgers; whar ye goin’?” questioned one.
“Down the road,” answered Louis, pleasantly.
“Goin’ to Washington, I allow,” put in the second farmer.
“Perhaps we are,” said Harry, with spirit. “Any objections?”
“Objections? Not at all, young man. Only--”
“Only what?”
“Reckon ye’ll wish ye hadn’t gone afore long--when Jeff Davis takes
hold o’ things at the Capitol.”
Both farmers laughed meaningly; in the midst of which Louis and his
friend proceeded on their way.
“Captain Paulding was right; Maryland is full of rebels,” said Louis,
when they were out of hearing. “We must be on our guard and not let the
company run into trouble.”
On and on they went, over one hill after another; past open fields and
through heavy woods. At the noon hour they halted beside a brook and
partook of a portion of the rations contained in their haversacks.
“I’ll tell you one thing,” remarked Harry, as he munched a sandwich.
“We are not going to live as well as we did at home--not by a good
deal.”
“Fortunes of war,” laughed Louis. “Think of what the old Revolutionary
heroes had to put up with.”
“Yes, and the heroes of the War of 1812 and the Mexican War. Do you
know what made me enlist? It was old Bruce’s stories of how General
Scott took Mexico.”
“I am glad President Lincoln has called General Scott to take charge in
Washington. I want to see the old fellow. Who knows but that--Hist! Who
is that coming?”
Louis broke off short as three horsemen appeared at the ridge of the
hill just beyond the brook. The three horsemen wore the uniforms
and trappings of cavalrymen. In a moment more they were leading
their animals down to the brook for a drink. Feeling they might be a
detachment of the enemy, the two Union boys started to withdraw from
sight. But the movement came too late.
“Halt, there!” came the command, and in a moment more the three
cavalrymen were upon them.