DOWN THE SHENANDOAH.
In that wild mountain region, Tom had no difficulty in finding a secluded
spot, where there was no probability that he would be molested. He had
been in a state of constant excitement during the night, for the country
was full of soldiers. The mountaineers of Virginia were rushing to the
standard of rebellion. They were a wild, rude set of men, and they made
the night hideous with their debauchery. Tom succeeded in keeping out of
the way of the straggling parties which were roaming here and there; but
he was filled with dread and anxiety lest he should, at the next moment,
stumble upon a camp, or a squad of these marauders.
The nook in the mountains which he had chosen as his resting place was a
cleft in the rocks, concealed by the overhanging branches of trees. Here
he made his bed, as the sun rose, and, worn out with fatigue and anxiety,
he dropped asleep.
When he awoke, the sun was near the meridian. He rose and walked out a
short distance from his lodging place, and listened for any sounds which
might indicate the presence of an enemy. All was still; silence deep and
profound reigned through the solitudes of the mountains. Tom returned to
his place of concealment, and after eating the remainder of the food he
had brought with him, he stretched himself upon the ground, and went to
sleep again. He had nothing else to do, and he needed all the rest he
could obtain. It was fortunate for him that he had self-possession enough
to sleep--to banish his nervous doubts and fears, and thus secure the
repose which was indispensable to the success of his arduous enterprise.
It was after sundown when he finished his second nap. He had slept nearly
all day,--at least ten hours,--and he was entirely refreshed and restored.
He was rather stiff in some of his limbs when he got up; but he knew this
would wear off after a little exercise. He had no supper with which to
brace himself for the night's work; so he took a drink from the mountain
stream, and made his way back to the railroad. But it was too early then
to commence the passage of the Gap, and he sat for a couple of hours by
the side of the road, before he ventured to resume his journey.
While he was passing through the narrow gorge in the mountains, he met
several persons, on foot and on horseback; but as he was armed with a
pistol, he did not turn out for them; but when a party of soldiers
approached, he sought a hiding place by the side of the road until they
were out of hearing. When he had passed through the Gap, he came to a road
crossing the track, and after debating the question thoroughly, he decided
to abandon the railroad, and pursued his course by the common highway
towards the North.
Continuing his journey diligently for a time longer, he came to another
road, branching off to the left from the one he had chosen, which required
further consideration. But his conclusion was satisfactory, and he
continued on the same road, which soon brought him to a more thickly
settled country than that through which he had been travelling.
By this time Tom's stomach began to be rebellious again, and the question
of rations began to assume a serious aspect. He was not suffering for
food, but it was so much more comfortable to travel upon a full stomach
than an empty one, that he could not pass a dwelling house without
thinking of the contents of the cellar and closets. It was perfectly
proper to forage on the enemy; but he could not eat raw chicken and geese,
or the problem of rations would have been effectually settled by a
demonstration on the hen-coops of the Shenandoah valley.
He came to a halt before a large mansion, which had the appearance of
belonging to a wealthy person. Its larder and kitchen cupboards, he
doubted not, were plentifully supplied with the luxuries of the season;
and Tom thought he might as well obtain his provisions now, as wait till
he was driven to desperation by hunger. He entered the front gate of the
great house, and stepped upon the veranda in front of it. The windows
reached down to the floor. He tried one of them, and found that it was not
fastened. He carefully raised the sash and entered.
Tom was determined to put himself upon his impudence on the present
occasion; but he satisfied himself that his revolver was in condition for
instant use before he proceeded any farther. Passing from the front room
to an apartment in the rear, he found a lamp and matches, and concluded
that he would have some light on the subject, which was duly obtained.
Leaving this room, he entered another, which proved to be the kitchen. A
patient search revealed to him the lurking place of a cold roast chicken,
some fried bacon, bread, and crackers.
Placing these things on the table, he seated himself to partake of the
feast which the forethought of the occupants had provided for him. Tom
began to be entirely at home, for having thrown himself on his impudence
now; he did not permit any doubts or fears to disturb him; but the handle
of his pistol protruded from between the buttons of his coat. He ate till
he had satisfied himself, when he happened to think that the coffee pot he
had seen in the closet might contain some cold coffee; and he brought it
out. He was not disappointed, and even found sugar and milk. He poured out
a bowl of the beverage, and, having prepared it to his taste, was about to
conclude the feast in this genteel style, when he heard footsteps in the
adjoining entry.
Tom determined not to be cheated out of his coffee, and instead of putting
himself in a flurry, he took the bowl in one hand and the pistol in the
other. The door opened, and a negro timidly entered the room.
"Well, sar!" said the servant, as he edged along the side of the room.
"Hem! Well, sar!"
Tom took no notice of him, but continued to drink his coffee as coolly as
though he had been in his mother's cottage at Pinchbrook.
"Hem! Well, sar!" repeated the negro, who evidently wished to have the
interloper take some notice of him.
But the soldier boy refused to descend from his dignity or his impudence.
He finished the bowl of coffee as deliberately as though the darkey had
been somewhere else.
"Well, sar! Who's you, sar?"
"Eh, Blackee?"
"Who's you, sar?"
"Good chicken! Good bread! Good bacon!" added Tom. "Are the folks at home,
Blackee?"
"No, sar; nobody but de women folks, sar. Who's you, sar?"
"It don't make much difference who I am. Where's your master?"
"Gone to Richmond, sar. He's member ob Congress."
"Then he's in poor business, Blackee," said Tom, as he took out his
handkerchief, and proceeded to transfer the remnants of his supper to its
capacious folds.
"Better luff dem tings alone, sar."
But Tom refused to "luff dem alone," and when he had placed them on the
handkerchief, he made a bundle of them.
"Golly, sar! I'll tell my missus what's gwine on down here," added the
servant, as he moved towards the door.
"See here, Blackee," interposed Tom, pointing his pistol at the negro; "if
you move, I'll put one of these balls through your skull."
"De Lud sabe us, massa! Don't shoot dis nigger, massa."
"Hold your tongue then, and mind what I say."
"Yes, massa," whined the darkey, in the most abject tones.
"Now come with me, Blackee, and if you open your mouth, one of these pills
shall go down your throat."
Tom flourished his pistol before the negro, and led the way to the window
by which he had entered the house. Passing out upon the veranda, he
cautiously conducted the terrified servant to the road; and when they had
gone a short distance, he halted.
"Now, Blackee, what town is this?" demanded Tom.
"Leeds Manor, sar," replied the trembling negro.
"How far is it to the Shenandoah River?"
"Only two or tree miles, massa. Now let dis chile go home again."
"Not yet."
"Hab mercy on dis nigger dis time, and sabe him."
"I won't hurt you, if you behave yourself."
Tom questioned him for some time in regard to the river, and the towns
upon its banks; and when he had obtained all the information in regard to
the valley which the servant possessed, he resumed his journey, driving
the negro before him.
"Spare dis chile, massa, for de sake ob de wife and chil'n," pleaded the
unwilling guide.
"I tell you I won't hurt you if you behave yourself," replied Tom. "You'll
have the whole place down upon me in half an hour, if I let you go now."
"No, massa; dis nigger won't say one word 'bout you, nor de tings you took
from de house--not one word, massa. Spare dis chile, and luff him go
home."
But Tom compelled him to walk before him till they came to the river. The
place was called Seaburn's Ford.
"Now, Blackee, if anybody wants me, tell them I've gone to Winchester,"
said Tom, when he had ordered his escort to halt.
"No, massa, I won't say one word," replied the servant.
"If you do, I'll shoot you the very next time I see you--depend upon that.
You can go now."
The negro was not slow to avail himself of this privilege, and ran off,
evidently expecting a bullet from the revolver would overtake him before
he had gone far, for he glanced fearfully over his shoulder, begging his
captor not to shoot him.
Tom stood upon the bank of the Shenandoah. The negro had told him that he
was about thirty miles from Harper's Ferry, which he knew was in
possession of General Patterson's forces. Attached to a tree on the shore
was a small flat-bottomed boat, which attracted the attention of the
soldier boy. Tom was accustomed to boats, and the sight of this one
suggested a change of programme, for it would be much easier to float down
the stream, than to walk the thirty miles. This was a point which needed
no argument; and unfastening the painter of the boat, he jumped in, and
pushed off. Seating himself in the stern, with the paddle in his hand, he
kept her head with the current, and swept down the rapid stream like a
dreamy youth just starting upon the voyage of life.
Like the pilgrim on the sea of time, Tom was not familiar with the
navigation of the Shenandoah, and he had neither chart nor compass to
assist him. The current was very swift, and once in a while the bateau
bumped upon a concealed rock, or bar of sand. Fortunately no serious
accident occurred to him, though he found that the labor of managing the
boat was scarcely less than that of walking.
There was one consolation about it; he was in no danger of missing the
road, and he was not bothered by Confederate soldiers or inquisitive
civilians. His light bark rushed on its way down the stream, without
attracting the notice of any of the inhabitants, if any were abroad at
that unseemly hour of the night. The difficulties of the navigation were
overcome with more or less labor, and when the day dawned, Tom made up his
mind that he had done a good night's work; and choosing a secluded nook by
the side of the river, he hauled up his boat, intending to wait for the
return of darkness.
The place he had chosen appeared to be far from any habitation, and he ate
his breakfast in a very hopeful frame of mind. Though he was not very
tired or very sleepy, yet for the want of something better to do, he felt
compelled to go to sleep, hoping, as on the previous day, to dispose of
the weary hours in this agreeable manner. His pastime, however, was soon
interrupted by loud shouts and the tramp of men, not far from the spot
where he lay. A hurried examination of the surroundings assured him that
he had chosen a resting place near one of the fords of the river, over
which a rebel regiment was then passing.