I FALL INTO THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY
Mrs. Harris kept a select and fashionable boarding-house. There were
many regular boarders and a stream of people coming and going all
the time. She was a Southern sympathizer, and her house was a hotbed
of sedition and intrigue for both sides. Among her guests were three
Yankee officers, whom I made up my mind--or, rather, my mind needed no
making up--to dislike. Uniform and all, I objected to them. The day
after we came Mrs. Harris was chatting with us in mother’s room.
“I must introduce you to those Federal officers who are in the house,”
she remarked.
“I beg you will not!” I replied indignantly. “I will have nothing to do
with them.”
“Then you will make a grave mistake, my child. That course would betray
you at once. You’ve put your head into the lion’s mouth, and prudence
is the better policy until you get it out again. If you meet these
officers and are civil to them they may be of assistance to you when
you want to go back.”
Accordingly, when our household met as usual in the parlors that
evening, Captain Hosmer, Assistant Adjutant-General William D. Whipple,
of Schenck’s command, and Major Brooks--also, I think, of Schenck’s
command--were presented to me.
Major Brooks had such a keen, satirical way of looking at me that I
immediately took a violent prejudice against him, though I tried hard
to conceal it. Schenck’s adjutant I did not like much better. Captain
Hosmer was objectionable on general principles as a Yankee, but he was
really a handsome fellow and a most charming gentleman, and though I
had hard work overcoming my prejudices sufficiently to be quite civil
at first, I ended by becoming warmly attached to him. My impulse was to
avoid these gentlemen and to show my colors in a passive way. I say in
a passive way, because anything approaching discourtesy Dan would have
condemned. On duty, he would have shot a Yankee down quickly enough;
off duty, he would never have failed in politeness to a gentleman in
any uniform. As I could not well appear here as a Confederate officer’s
wife, I was introduced to these gentlemen as Miss Duncan. The day
after our arrival we mailed Captain Locke’s picture, which he had
given us for the purpose, to his sister in Harrisburg, and called to
see Mr. Holliway’s mother and sisters. They were charming women, and
entertained us in true Baltimore fashion.
Indeed, I soon found myself in a whirl of gaiety. Mrs. Harris’s house
was a merry one. Of course, being in Baltimore, its politics were
mixed, as we have said, but as far as social position and culture were
concerned, the guests were above reproach. The parlors in the evening
reminded one of those of a fashionable pleasure resort.
Next door was another boarding-house. Mother’s windows overlooked the
entrance, and we amused ourselves--according to boarding-house custom
and privilege--by watching our own and our neighbors’ callers and
guests, and by nicknaming them. There was one of the next-door boarders
who entertained us greatly. We dubbed him “the Professor.” He had a
funny way of wearing his green goggles as if they were about to fall
off his nose. He had long, snaky curls which looked very greasy and
glossy, and he walked with a slight stoop, using a gold-headed cane;
and he always carried a book under his arm.
In our own house were two ladies who afforded us much amusement. They
were sisters, as Captain Hosmer took occasion to inform me early in our
acquaintance, but they were politically so opposed to each other that
they did not speak.
Mrs. Bonds was a black Republican, Mrs. Lineman a red-hot rebel. This
latter fact we discovered by degrees. Women did not gossip in those
days--not to talk was a necessary evil--very evil and very necessary in
a boarding-house of mixed politics in Baltimore during war times.
Mrs. Harris kept a private parlor for herself and daughters, and here
we poor rebels met every now and then with a little less restraint,
though even here we had to be very careful. One day a note was brought
me.
“Happy greetings, dear friends! Can you arrange without
inconvenience to yourselves for me to call, and will you allow
me that pleasure? Do not hesitate to decline if you feel so
disposed. I will understand.
“L.”
There was no other signature, but we knew the hand. Thank God! He was
alive and well! We took the note to Mrs. Harris. Of course we would see
him if we could make a way. After a little consultation it was arranged
that we receive him in the little parlor upstairs. We addressed an
envelope to ourselves, put a blank sheet of paper in it, sealed it, and
enclosed it in a note to the captain. The latter we did not know how to
address; we were merely to give it to his messenger, who was waiting.
We wrote:
“Delighted. Come to side entrance at half-past eight; present
enclosed and you will be shown up.
“N. & M.”
At half-past eight we were waiting in Mrs. Harris’s private
parlor--there were several ladies there beside ourselves. Of all
nights, why couldn’t they keep away this night?--when Mrs. Harris’s
maid brought up the envelope we had addressed to ourselves.
“Show him up,” we said.
Why in the world wouldn’t those other women go? And would there be any
callers in the private parlor to-night?
“Dr. Moreau!” announced Mrs. Harris’s maid.
Into the room walked the “Professor,” green goggles and all. Who in
the world was _he_ coming to see? What was he doing here any way? And
on this night of all nights when we were looking for Captain Locke and
wishing for as few witnesses as possible! Through the open door behind
the “Professor,” we caught a glimpse of Mrs. Bonds out in the hall,
following him with curious eyes. If we could only slip down-stairs and
keep the captain from coming up to-night! And why didn’t the girl bring
the captain in? Milicent was rising to go out into the hall, when the
“Professor,” having glanced around the room, approached us.
“I was invited to call on some ladies here this evening? Am I in the
wrong room?” said a perfectly strange voice, the voice you would expect
to hear from a fossil.
We looked up in confusion. If we could only get him out of the way
before the captain entered! He waited while we pondered how to answer.
“What ladies do you wish to see?” I asked.
“Well, this _is_ good! Little madam, may I take this seat beside you?”
He dropped into the chair between us and we caught for an instant his
old merry laugh, “nipped in the bud,” it is true, for we gave him
a warning glance. Mrs. Harris was considerate and tactful, and we
not only had our corner to ourselves, but attention and observation
diverted from us as much as possible. We were much amused at Captain
Locke’s “make-up,” and he was evidently very proud of it.
“It must be very clever for _your_ eyes not to have seen through it,”
he said. “I have been looking up at your window and watching you
every day. I saw, too, that you made merry at my expense. It was a
great temptation to speak to you many times, but I didn’t want to make
advances nor to ask permission to call until I knew something about how
the land lay over here.”
“You don’t know how anxious we have been about you, or how glad and
thankful we are to see you,” we assured him. “We have been very uneasy
at not hearing from you. Where is Mr. Holliway?”
“God knows!” he answered gravely. “He was afraid to follow my fortunes,
I think. He left me at Frederick. He ought to be here by now, but if he
is he is keeping very close.”
“He is not here,” we answered. “We have been to see his mother and
sister, and they know nothing of him.”
“Then something is wrong. He had an idea that we might be tracked to
Frederick very easily from Berlin, and from Frederick to this place if
we came by the direct route; so he branched off into West Virginia,
intending to reach Baltimore by a more round-about route than mine.
Poor Holliway! he was not well, and he was nervous and unstrung over
this trip from the first. He felt that I was reckless and that I was
throwing away my own chance and his.”
Some one in the room came near us and we returned to generalities. Very
soon after Captain Locke made his adieux, promising to call again when
we could arrange it.
Captain Hosmer had sought opportunities for showing special courtesies
to me, but I had rather repelled him. He was good enough, however, to
ignore my bad manners and to persist in turning my music for me. We
had dances very often in the evenings, I playing the same tunes for
folks to dance by that I played for the Prussians and that I play for
my children. One night, I had the audacity to rattle off the Virginia
reel, and they danced it with spirit, every Yankee of them. My fingers
were just itching to play Dixie, and I don’t know what foolhardiness I
might have been guilty of if Captain Hosmer, who was turning my music,
had not bent over me and said:
“I would like to have a little private talk with you, Miss Duncan. I
know who you are. You are from the South and you have run the blockade.
Your position is not free from danger. You are suspected. Pray be
careful. When you have finished this, go upstairs and I will follow
you.”
His manner was so serious that it took all the saucy daring out of
me. Perhaps it saved me from playing Dixie. As soon as I could do so
without attracting observation, I got Milicent to take my place, and
went up-stairs to the private parlor.
I had hardly taken my seat when he came in.
“I was sorry to attack you so suddenly,” he said, “but you were so shy
of me that it was my only chance.”
I had learned to like and to trust him; he was honest and kind, and I
told him my situation frankly. Of course I didn’t explain Captain Locke.
“It is not so bad as it might be,” he said, “But you must have a care
about your associates. People in this house are always more or less
under observation, and arrest on charge of treason is not an unknown
thing in it.”
“I am married--” When I came to that part of my confession the captain
looked surprised indeed.
“Didn’t you guess from the dignity I have displayed that I was a
matron?”
“I never dreamed it! I don’t mean that you were not dignified,” he
added quickly, and in some confusion.
“My husband is a staff-officer in the rebel army,” I added proudly.
“Lucky fellow!”
“I think he is a lucky fellow to be a staff-officer in the rebel army.”
“To be your husband, I meant.”
“I wonder if he would agree with you there!” We were on a subject very
interesting to me now.
“I will show you his picture in the morning,” I volunteered.
“Better not,” Captain Hosmer said promptly.
I suppose I must have shown how hurt I was, for he added quickly: “Of
course I’ll be glad to see his picture. Don’t forget to bring it down
at breakfast.”
But he had frozen me for the time being. I could not talk about Dan to
him when I saw it bored him to listen, so we went back to the original
subject of our conversation. Among other persons he spoke of Mrs.
Lineman.
“I see that you are inclined to form an intimacy there. Mrs. Lineman
is in perfect sympathy with the South, but, as you know, her sister is
not. They do not speak now, but family differences are frequently made
up. Then confidences ensue. And Mrs. Bonds is really a political spy
for the North. She thinks the mystery about you is deeper than it is,
and you will do well to be on your guard before her and my brothers in
arms whom you meet in this house. Major Brooks already has suspicions
about you.”
“I don’t like him,” I said viciously.
“Disguise that fact a little better if you can. I don’t think any of
the gentlemen whom you meet here are malicious, or that they will go
out of their way to harm you, but it is good policy to temper your
cold civility toward them with a little more warmth.”
“You are very good,” I said humbly, “and I really mean to act according
to your advice.”
He smiled. “You are not good at playing the hypocrite, are you?”
“I must improve. But I really must tell you--I don’t need to be a
hypocrite with you, you know--I believe Major Brooks is malicious.”
He laughed outright. “Be careful not to offend him, then. Ah, I am
afraid my first lesson in diplomacy will only have skin-deep results.”
The next morning I did not forget Dan’s picture. I brought it down with
me, and slipped it into Captain Hosmer’s hand as I passed behind him to
my seat at the breakfast table. I was very much pleased later when he
told me what a fine fellow he thought Dan must be, and that he thought
the picture very handsome. Then I talked about Dan again until he was
bored--when I shut up. After this I saw a great deal of Captain Hosmer.
He was always so thoroughly well-bred that his attentions were very
agreeable to me in spite of his uniform, and I formed a warm personal
friendship and attachment for him. We were also seeing a good deal of
Captain Locke.
I thought him very reckless in visiting us as he did, and I told him
so frankly. He had doffed his disguise, wig and all, and appeared now
every day, and sometimes oftener, at Mrs. Harris’s in his own proper
person, dressed in citizen’s clothes. He came openly to the parlor in
the daytime immediately after breakfast or lunch; and he was always
there after dinner when the parlors were thronged. Several times he had
joined the dance, selecting, by the way, Mrs. Bonds for a partner more
than once. In fact, he singled this lady out for a number of pleasant
courtesies. I could not keep him out of the way of the Yankee officers,
and Major Brooks was always starting up at us somewhere like a Banquo’s
ghost. His eyes got sharper and sharper until I thought they would cut
me in two. In halls and by-ways I was always coming upon him and always
getting out of his way, and I was always surprising a cynical little
grin on his face. One day I encountered him on the first landing of
the stairway, squarely face to face. He addressed me, wishing me good
morning gruffly, and standing in such a position that I could not pass
him without rudeness unless he moved to one side. He did not move, and
I was at bay.
“I know who you are, Miss Duncan,” he said mischievously. “You are a
good rebel now, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am a good rebel, as you call it. I’m a Virginian--and a rebel
like Washington was, and like Lee is.”
“I thought so. And you ran the blockade to get here.”
“That’s so, too. I got across at Berlin.”
“I wish you’d tell me how.”
I told him how. I sat down on the stairs to talk, and my enemy sat down
beside me. Captain Hosmer came in, looked up, and saw the confidential
and apparently friendly situation, laughed, and went on to breakfast.
“I don’t call that running the blockade,” he said. “I call that
storming it. I didn’t think it possible to cross at Berlin or,
indeed, at any other point. Our line at the Potomac has been greatly
strengthened and the rules are very rigid and inspection most thorough.”
“I managed to cross at Berlin because you had such a nice provost
marshal there. He knew two little women couldn’t do any harm.”
“Humph! He doesn’t know women as I do, then!”
“Perhaps he had always known only very lovely ladies,” I said with the
softness of a purring cat.
He grinned. “You’ll be wanting to run back soon, I dare say.”
“I reckon I will. I wish you’d help me. Can’t you tell me how?”
He laughed outright. “You _are_ cool!” he said.
“You know what my duty is?” he added after a pause.
“Yes,” I answered. “To fight on the right side, but I’m afraid you’ll
never do that. Now, I have been wanting to play Dixie ever since I’ve
been here, and I’m afraid of nobody but you. To-night I mean to play
it.” But I did not. That afternoon a card was brought up to Milicent
and me. Major Littlebob, U. S. A., was sorry to disturb us, but would
we please step down a minute. “Major Brooks came in with him,” said the
servant who brought the message.
“Major Brooks is going to have us arrested,” I thought in terror.
Milicent also was frightened by the message and by a call from an
unknown officer of the United States army who came accompanied by Major
Brooks. Mother followed us in fear and trembling to the parlor door as
we went in to behold--Milicent’s own curly-headed Bobby, all rigged out
in Major Brooks’s regimentals! There he was, all swallowed up in sash,
sword, and hat of a United States major of cavalry; beside him was the
major, laughing merrily. Milicent, in her relief, bent over and kissed
again and again the fairest, softest, cutest, sweetest Major Littlebob
that ever wore the regimentals of the U. S. A.; and it is needless to
say that after this we were never again afraid of Major Brooks.
“So, the whole purpose of your running the blockade was a visit to your
mother?” Major Brooks had asked.
“And to accompany my sister. And--to buy a few things--needles, pins,
and so forth,” I added in confusion.
Again the major laughed at my expense. Should I confide the Confederate
uniform to him and Captain Hosmer? I decided to draw the line at this,
as I had drawn it at Captain Locke. Of course, Captain Locke’s story
was his, not mine, and the uniform--well, the uniform was Dan’s, or,
rather, I hoped it would be. It was never out of my mind. I would
have failed in half my mission if I did not buy it and get it across
the Potomac to Dan. To buy shoes, gloves, ribbons, etc., was an easy
matter, but to buy, a Confederate uniform in Yankeeland, that was a
more delicate affair. It was Captain Locke who helped me out. He told
me where I could buy it, and offered to get it for me himself, but he
was taking so many risks on his own account that I was determined he
should take none on mine. He directed me to a tailoring establishment
on the corner of Charles and St. Paul’s Streets. The head of this
establishment sympathized with the South and had supplied many Southern
uniforms, and his store had a convenient double entrance, one on St.
Paul’s and one on Charles Street. One morning I went in at the Charles
Street entrance. I had chosen an early hour, and I found no one in but
the tailor.
“I want to buy a Confederate uniform,” I said. “Captain Locke referred
me----”
“Walk straight on out at the other door,” he whispered. “I see two
soldiers coming in from the Charles Street side.”
Without looking behind me I walked straight on as if I had merely
passed through the store to get to the other sidewalk. I heard some one
coming rapidly behind me, and then I was joined by Captain Hosmer.
“What are you in such a hurry for?” he asked. “Wait a minute and I can
walk home with you. I have a commission to execute back here.”
Accordingly I returned to the store with him, was introduced to the
friend accompanying him, and after a few moments walked home between
the two. But the tailor had given me a hint--I was to come still
earlier next day.
The next morning, however, he signaled me to pass on as I was about to
enter. At last one morning I caught him alone long enough to get my
uniform.
“I have to be very careful lately,” he apologized for waving me off the
previous day. “These Yankees suspect me and are always on the lookout.
Now we will get the uniform in a hurry. I have several pieces of fine
Confederate cloth just in that I will show you. Is your husband a
private?”
“Oh, no-o!” I exclaimed indignantly.
“I thought not,” he said suavely. “What is his rank?”
“He is a captain of cavalry now. That is--he was when I left home. But
I haven’t heard from him since. He may be major or colonel by now.
Can’t you fix up a uniform that would do for him if he is a captain or
a colonel or a major when I get back, or--that would do for a general?”
“Certainly, certainly, madam. Very wise of you to think of that.”
He showed me several pieces of very fine and beautiful cloth of
Confederate gray, and I made my selection.
“The question is, how are you to get it across the line. In what way
will you carry it?”
“Ah, that I don’t know. Captain Locke advised me to consult you.”
The tailor, who seemed to have had a liberal experience in such
matters, considered for a moment.
“Are other ladies going with you?”
“My mother.”
“It is easy then. I will cut this cloth into lengths that will be all
right for the tailor who makes the uniform. You and your mother can
make it into two Balmoral skirts. That’s the way you get your cloth
home. Now for the buttons and gold lace. Will you travel in the wrap
you have on?”
“In one like it; I shall pack this in my trunk. The inspectors will not
be so likely to condemn this if they find it in a trunk as they would
be to condemn a new one. So I will get a new cloak South; mother will
wear another.”
“I see.” He was impressed with the scheme and made a mental note of it.
“Send me your cloaks and I’ll fix the buttons all right.”
Cloaks of the period were long, sacque-like affairs, double-breasted
and with two rows of buttons. The tailor changed the buttons on our
cloaks for Confederate brass buttons covered with wadding, and then
with cloth like the wrap. The gold lace was to be folded flat and
smooth. Mother was to rip the lining from the bottom of her satchel,
lay the lace on the bottom, and carefully paste the lining back. We
wanted to take Dan some flannel shirts, and again fashion favored us.
Ladies wore wide plaid scarfs passed around their necks and falling
in long ends in front. We got seven yards of fine soft flannel in a
stylish plaid and cut it in two lengths. Mother, being quite tall,
could wear a longer scarf than myself, so, between us, we managed to
carry around our necks two good shirts for Dan.