COMPANY K.
Tom Somers felt that he was now a soldier indeed. While the company
remained in Pinchbrook, he had slept every night in his own bed, and taken
his meals in the kitchen of the little cottage. He fully realized that he
had bade a long farewell to all the comforts and luxuries of home. That
day, for the first time, he was to partake of soldiers' fare, and that
night, for the first time, he was to sleep upon a soldier's bed. These
thoughts did not make him repine, for before he signed the muster roll, he
had carefully considered, with the best information he could obtain, what
hardships and privations he would be called to endure. He had made up his
mind to bear all things without a murmur for the blessed land of his
birth, which now called upon her sons to defend her from the parricidal
blow of the traitor.
Tom had not only made up his mind to bear all these things, but to bear
them patiently and cheerfully. He had a little theory of his own, that
rather more than half of the discomforts of this mortal life exist only in
the imagination. If he only _thought_ that every thing was all right, it
went a great way towards making it all right--a very comforting and
satisfactory philosophy, which reduced the thermometer from ninety down to
seventy degrees on a hot day in summer, and raised it from ten to forty
degrees on a cold day in winter; which filled his stomach when it was
empty, alleviated the toothache or the headache, and changed snarling
babies into new-fledged angels. I commend Tom's philosophy to the
attention and imitation of all my young friends, assured that nothing will
keep them so happy and comfortable as a cheerful and contented
disposition.
"Tom Somers," said a voice near him, cutting short the consoling
meditation in which he was engaged.
His name was pronounced in a low and cautious tone, but the voice sounded
familiar to him, and he turned to ascertain who had addressed him. He did
not discover any person who appeared to be the owner of the voice, and was
leaving the position he had taken on the forward deck of the steamer, when
his name was repeated, in the same low and cautious tone.
"Who is it? Where are you?" said Tom, looking all about him, among the
groups of soldiers who were gathered on various parts of the deck,
discussing the present and the future.
"Here, Tom," replied the voice, which sounded more familiar every time he
heard it.
He turned his eye in the direction from which the sound proceeded, and
there, coiled up behind a heap of barrels and boxes, and concealed by a
sail-cloth which had been thrown over the goods to protect them from an
expected shower, he discovered Fred Pemberton.
"What in the name of creation are you doing there, Fred?" exclaimed Tom,
laughing at the ludicrous attitude of the embryo secessionist.
"Hush! Don't say a word, Tom. Sit down here where I can talk with you,"
added Fred.
"What are you doing here?"
"I'll tell if you will keep quiet a moment. Is the company full?"
"What company?"
"Captain Benson's, of course."
"No."
"I want to join."
"You!" ejaculated Tom.
"Come, come, Tom, no blackguarding now. You and I used to be good
friends."
"I've nothing against you, Fred--that is, if you're not a traitor."
"I want to join the company."
"Is your father willing?"
"Of course he isn't; but that needn't make any difference."
"But you don't believe in our cause, Fred. We don't want a traitor in the
ranks."
"Hang the cause! I want to go with the company."
"Hang the cause? Well, I reckon that's a good recommendation."
"I'm all right on that."
"Are you willing to take the oath of allegiance, and swear to sustain the
flag of your country?"
"Of course I am. I only followed the old man's lead; but I have got enough
of it. Do you think Captain Benson will take me into the company?"
"Perhaps he will."
"Ask him--will you? You needn't say I'm here, you know."
"But what will your father say?"
"I don't care what he says."
Tom thought, if Fred didn't care, he needn't, and going aft, he found the
captain, and proposed to him the question.
"Take him--yes. We'll teach him loyalty and patriotism, and before his
time is out, we will make him an abolitionist," replied Captain Benson.
"What will his father say?"
"His father doesn't know anything about it. Fred ran away, and followed
the company into the city."
"Squire Pemberton is a traitor, and I believe the army will be the best
school in the world for his son," added the captain. "It will be better
for him to be with us than to be at home. If it was the son of any other
man in Pinchbrook, I wouldn't take him without the consent of his father;
as it is, I feel perfectly justified in accepting him."
Tom hastened to the forward deck to report the success of his mission. The
result was, that Fred came out of his hiding-place, and exhibited himself
to the astonished members of the Pinchbrook company. When he announced his
intention to go to the war, and, with a pardonable flourish, his desire to
serve his country, he was saluted with a volley of cheers. Captain Benson
soon appeared on the forward deck, and the name of the new recruit was
placed on the enlistment paper.
Fred was seventeen years of age, and was taller and stouter than Tom
Somers. No questions were asked in regard to his age or his physical
ability to endure the hardships of a campaign.
The steamer arrived at Fort Warren, and the company landed. After waiting
a short time on the wharf, the color company of the --th regiment, to
which they were attached, came down and escorted them to the parade ground
within the fort. It was a desolate and gloomy-looking place to Tom, who
had always lived among green fields, and the beautiful surroundings of a
New England rural district.
If the fort itself looked dreary, how much more so were the casemates in
which the company was quartered! But Tom's philosophy was proof against
the unpleasant impression, and his joke was as loud and hearty as that of
any of his companions. The men were divided off into messes, and they had
an abundance of work to do in bringing up the company's luggage, and
making their new habitation as comfortable and pleasant as the
circumstances would permit.
The next day the Pinchbrook boys were designated as Company K, and placed
in the regimental line. The limits of this volume do not permit me to
detail the every-day life of the soldier boy while at Fort Warren, however
interesting and instructive it might be to our friends. A large portion of
the forenoon was devoted to squad and company drill, and of the afternoon
to battalion drill. The colonel, though a very diminutive man in stature,
was an enthusiast in military matters, and had the reputation of being one
of the most thorough and skilful officers in the state. Tom Somers, who,
since he joined the company, had felt ashamed of himself because he was no
bigger, became quite reconciled to his low corporeal estate when he found
that the colonel of the regiment was no taller and no heavier than
himself. And when he heard the high praise bestowed upon the colonel's
military skill and martial energy, he came to the conclusion that it does
not require a big man to make a good soldier. With a feeling of
satisfaction he recalled the fact that Napoleon Bonaparte, when he
commanded the army of Italy, was scarcely a bigger man than the colonel or
himself.
The colonel was a strict disciplinarian, and he soon diffused his energy
throughout the regiment. It made rapid progress in its military education.
Tom was deeply interested in the details of his new profession, and used
his best endeavors to do his duty promptly and faithfully. This was not
the case with all the boys in the company from Pinchbrook, and I am sorry
to say that some of them, including the brave and chivalric Ben
Lethbridge, had to sit upon the stool of repentance in the guard room on
several occasions.
Fred Pemberton was clothed in the uniform of the United States volunteers,
and we must do him the justice to say that he performed his duty to the
entire satisfaction of his officers. Fred was a good fellow, and barring
his treason, which he had derived from his father, was highly esteemed by
those who knew him. The only stain that had ever rested upon his character
was removed, and he and Tom were as good friends as ever they had been.
His motive in joining the army, however, could not be applauded. He
thought all his friends were going off to the South upon a kind of frolic,
spiced with a little of peril and hardship to make it the more exciting,
and he did not like the idea of being left behind. To the sentiment of
patriotism, as developed in the soul of Tom Somers and many of his
companions, he was an entire stranger. He was going to the war to
participate in the adventures of the --th regiment, rather than to fight
for the flag which had been insulted and dishonored by treason.
Every day the steamers brought crowds of visitors to the fort to see their
friends in the regiments quartered there, or to witness the drills and
parades which were constantly succeeding each other. Among them came many
of the people of Pinchbrook, and Tom was delighted by a visit from his
whole family. His mother found him so comfortable and contented that she
returned with half the heavy burden on her soul removed.
While the Pinchbrook boys were generally rejoiced to see their friends
from home, there was one in the company who was in constant dread lest he
should recognize a too familiar face in the crowds which the steamers
daily poured into the fort. Fred Pemberton did not wish to see his nearest
friends; but after he had been in the company some ten days, just as the
boys had been dismissed from the forenoon drill, he discovered at a
distance the patriarchal form of his father.
"My pipe's out, Tom," said Fred, as he rushed into the casemate where a
group of his companions were resting from the fatigues of the morning.
"What's the matter now, Fred?"
"The old man has just come into the fort."
"Has he?"
"Yes--what shall I do?"
"Keep a stiff upper lip, Fred, and we will put you through all right,"
said Sergeant Porter.
"What shall I do?" demanded Fred, who, whatever his views in regard to the
justice or injustice of coercion, did not wish to be taken from the
company.
"Come with me," said the sergeant, as he led the way into an adjoining
casemate. "No; nobody else will come," added he, motioning back other
members of the mess who was disposed to follow.
In the casemate to which Sergeant Porter conducted Fred, there was a pile
of boxes, in which the muskets of one of the regiments had been packed.
The fugitive from his father's anxious search was directed to get into one
of these boxes, from which the sergeant removed the gun rests. He obeyed;
his confederate put on the lid so as to permit him to receive a plentiful
supply of air, and other boxes were placed upon that containing the
runaway.
Squire Pemberton presented himself before Captain Benson, and demanded his
son. Fred was sent for, but could not be found. Sergeant Porter kept out
of the way, and not another man in the company knew anything about him.
The boys were very willing to assist the indignant father in his search,
but all their efforts were unavailing. The squire examined every casemate,
and every nook and corner upon the island, but without effect.
"I want my son, sir," said the squire, angrily, to the captain. "I require
you to produce him."
"I don't know where he is," replied Captain Benson.
"You have concealed him, sir."
"I have not."
The squire appealed to the colonel, but obtained no satisfaction, and was
obliged to leave without accomplishing his purpose. As soon as he had
gone, Fred appeared, and the boys laughed for a week over the affair.