Raiding with Morgan
[Illustration: AS HE SAT ON HIS HORSE AND LOOKED OUT UPON THE RIVER.]
The Young Kentuckians Series
Raiding with Morgan
BY
Byron A. Dunn
Author of “General Nelson’s Scout,” “On General Thomas’s Staff,”
“Battling for Atlanta,” “From Atlanta to the Sea”
Chicago
A. C. McClurg & Co.
1903
COPYRIGHT
BY A. C. MCCLURG & CO
A. D. 1903
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PUBLISHED SEPT. 30, 1903
PREFACE.
General John H. Morgan was one of the most picturesque figures in the
Civil War, an officer without a peer in his chosen line. During the two
years of his brilliant career he captured and paroled at least ten
thousand Federal soldiers, and kept three times that number in the rear of
the Federal army guarding communications. When we consider the millions of
dollars’ worth of property he destroyed, and how he paralyzed the
movements of Buell, we do not wonder that he was considered the scourge of
the Army of the Cumberland.
General Morgan was a true Kentucky gentleman, and possessed one of the
kindest of hearts. The thousands of persons captured by him almost
invariably speak of the good treatment accorded them. The following
incident reveals more clearly than words his generous spirit. In reporting
a scout, he says:
“Stopped at a house where there was a sick Lincoln soldier, who died that
night. No men being in the neighborhood, his wife having no person to make
a coffin or bury him, I detailed some men, who made a coffin.”
The adventures of Calhoun as a secret agent of the “Knights of the Golden
Circle” opens up a portion of the history of the Civil War which may be
almost unknown to our younger readers. During the war the whole North was
honeycombed with secret societies, whose members denounced Lincoln as a
usurper and a bloody monster, and maintained that the government had no
right to coerce the South. They resisted the draft, encouraged desertions,
and embarrassed the Federal Government in every way possible. In secret
many of the leaders plotted armed rebellion, the liberation of Confederate
prisoners, and the burning of Northern cities. They held out inducements
to the South to invade the North, and there is but little doubt that
Morgan was lured to his destruction by their representations.
Shortly after the close of the war the author met a gentleman who had
served on the staff of General Breckinridge. This officer affirmed that he
carried a message from Breckinridge to Morgan, saying that the former had
positive information that forty thousand armed “Knights” stood ready to
assist Morgan if he would invade Indiana. Everything goes to show that
Morgan relied on these reports, and it was this belief that induced him to
disobey the orders of General Bragg.
It is an interesting question whether General Breckinridge was really
privy to the plans of the “Knights,” and whether he secretly encouraged
Morgan to disobey orders, hoping that the appearance of a Confederate
force in the North would lead to the overthrow of the Lincoln Government
and the independence of the South. The author has taken the ground that
Breckinridge was fully cognizant of Morgan’s intended move.
This volume mentions only the greatest of the General’s raids, and the
author has tried to narrate them with historical accuracy as regards time,
place, and circumstances. In stating the number of his men, his losses,
and the damage he inflicted on the Federals, the General’s own reports
have been followed; these, as was to be expected, differ widely in many
cases from those of the Federal officers.
The tale of the exploits of Calhoun is substantially true, though the hero
himself is fictitious, for every one of his most notable feats was
accomplished by one or other of Morgan’s men. It was Lieutenant Eastin, of
Morgan’s command, who killed Colonel Halisy in single combat. Calhoun’s
achievements in the escape from the Ohio Penitentiary were actually
performed by two different persons: a sharp dining-room boy furnished the
knives with which the prisoners dug their way to liberty; Captain Thomas
H. Hines planned and carried to a successful termination the daring and
ingenious escape. Captain Hines fled with General Morgan; and every
adventure which befell Calhoun in “The Flight to the South” actually
befell Captain Hines. The Captain’s marvellous story was published in the
January number of “The Century,” 1891, and to this narrative the author is
indebted for the leading facts.
B. A. DUNN.
August 1, 1903.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. AFTER SHILOH 15
II. THROUGH THE LINES 28
III. RECRUITING IN KENTUCKY 49
IV. MORGAN’S FIRST RAID 69
V. MORGAN’S FIRST GREAT RAID 82
VI. CAPTURED BY HOME GUARDS 94
VII. CALHOUN TAKES FRED PRISONER 108
VIII. THE CAPTURE OF GALLATIN 113
IX. THE DUEL 126
X. HARTSVILLE 142
XI. MORGAN’S SECOND GREAT RAID 151
XII. A SPY! A SPY! 161
XIII. UNDER ARREST 181
XIV. THE KNIGHTS OF THE GOLDEN CIRCLE 196
XV. OHO NE! OHO NE! OHO NE! 214
XVI. CALHOUN MAKES HIS REPORT 226
XVII. THE PASSING OF THE RUBICON 234
XVIII. THE RIDE OF THE SIX HUNDRED 246
XIX. AN ANGEL OF MERCY 253
XX. CALHOUN AWAKES TO LIFE 269
XXI. THE ESCAPE 281
XXII. PRISON DOORS ARE OPENED 292
XXIII. THE FLIGHT TO THE SOUTH 303
XXIV. CHIEF OF THE SECRET SERVICE 310
XXV. THE LONE RAIDER 318
XXVI. “COME” 328
ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
As he sat upon his horse and looked out upon the river _Frontispiece_
He easily distanced all his pursuers 31
Sauntering into the depot they gazed curiously around 76
They silently crept down the gorge 101
He fired at Conway 120
The force of the blow threw the Colonel forward on 157
his saddle
He cautiously crept up on the Sergeant 183
Into the darkness Calhoun dashed, following his guide 223
Escape of Morgan from prison 302
She held her breath and listened to catch the sound 319
of battle
RAIDING WITH MORGAN.
CHAPTER I.
AFTER SHILOH.
The great battle of Shiloh had been fought, and victory had been snatched
from the hands of the Confederates by the opportune arrival of Buell’s
army.
The Southerners had lost their beloved commander, slain; a third of their
number had fallen. Although defeated they had not been conquered. They had
set forth from Corinth in the highest hopes, fully expecting to drive
Grant’s army into the Tennessee River. This hope was almost realized, when
it suddenly perished: twenty thousand fresh troops had arrived upon the
field, and the Confederates were forced to retreat. But they had fallen
back unmolested, for the Federal army had been too severely punished to
think of pursuing. Both armies were willing to rest and have their
decimated ranks filled with fresh troops.
Of all the Southern troops engaged at Shiloh none felt their defeat more
keenly than the Kentucky brigade under the command of Colonel Trabue. They
had fought as only brave men can fight; they left one-third of their
number on the field, killed and wounded. Defeat could not demoralize them,
and it fell to their lot to cover the retreat of Beauregard. They had
stood like a wall of adamant between their fleeing army and the victorious
Federals. No charge could pierce that line of heroes. With faces to the
foe, they slowly fell back, contesting every inch of ground.
Fondly had they hoped that Grant would first be crushed, then Buell
annihilated, and their march to Nashville would be unopposed. From
Nashville it would be an easy matter to redeem their beloved Kentucky from
the ruthless Northern invaders.
It was but a few days after the battle that there was a social gathering
of Kentucky officers at the headquarters of General John C. Breckinridge.
Conspicuous in that group of notable men was one whose insignia of office
showed him to be only a captain. But he was already a marked man. He had
greatly distinguished himself in Kentucky and Tennessee as a daring raider
and scout, and at the battle of Shiloh he had rendered invaluable service
at the head of a squadron of independent cavalry.
It was but natural that in such a gathering the situation would be freely
discussed. “It looks to me,” said Breckinridge, with a sigh, “that if we
are forced to give up Corinth, our cause in the West will be lost. I am in
favor of holding Corinth to the last man.”
“What is your opinion, Morgan?” asked one of the officers, turning to the
captain of whom we have spoken.
Thus addressed, John H. Morgan modestly answered: “The General will pardon
me if I differ with him somewhat in his opinion. Corinth should be held,
as long as that can be done with safety to the army. But Corinth itself is
of little value to us, now that the railroad between here and Chattanooga
is in the hands of the enemy. It is not worth the sacrifice of a hundred
men.”
“What! would you give up Corinth without a struggle?” asked the officer,
in surprise.
“Not if a battle offered a reasonable hope of victory,” replied Morgan.
“What I mean is, that the place should not be held so long as to endanger
the safety of the army. Corinth is nothing; the army is everything.”
“Then you believe, Captain, that Corinth could be lost, and our cause not
greatly suffer?”
“Certainly. The further the enemy advances into the South, the more
vulnerable he becomes. Even now, give me a thousand men, and I can keep
forty thousand of the enemy busy protecting their lines of communication.”
“Morgan, you are joking!” exclaimed several of the officers.
“No joke about it. I expect to see old Kentucky before many days; and if I
do, there will be consternation in the ranks of the Yankees.”
“Do you think you can reach Kentucky with a thousand men?” asked
Breckinridge, in a tone which showed his doubt.
“I shall make the attempt with less than half of that number,” replied
Morgan, coolly.
A murmur of surprise arose, and then Trabue asked: “Will Beauregard let
you make the hazardous attempt?”
“Yes, with my own squadron, but he will risk no more men in the venture.”
“Well, good-bye, John, if you try it,” said one of the officers, laughing.
“Why good-bye, Colonel?”
“Because the Yankees will get you sure.”
“Perhaps!” answered Morgan, dryly, as he arose to go.
“The whole South will ring with the praises of that man one of these
days,” remarked Breckinridge, after Morgan had made his exit.
“A perfect dare-devil. I am proud he is a Kentuckian,” remarked Trabue.
Not knowing the flattering words spoken of him, Morgan wended his way to
his headquarters, where he was informed by the orderly who took his horse
that a young Confederate officer had been waiting for some time to see
him.
“He said he must see you,” continued the orderly, “and if necessary he
would wait all night.”
“All right, I will see what he wants,” replied Morgan, as he turned and
entered his headquarters. There he was greeted by a young man, not much
more than a boy, who wore the uniform of a Confederate lieutenant.
Morgan gave him a swift glance, and then exclaimed: “Bless my heart! if
this isn’t Calhoun Pennington, son of my old friend Judge Pennington! I am
more than glad to see you. I have heard of some of your exploits, and
often wondered why you did not seek to take service with me. Let’s see!
You were on the staff of the late lamented Governor Johnson, were you
not?”
“Yes,” replied Calhoun; and his voice trembled, and tears came into his
eyes in spite of himself, as he thought of the death of his beloved chief.
“A grand man, a brave man,” said Morgan, gently. “Now that he has gone,
what do you propose doing?”
“That is what I have come to see you about. General Beauregard has offered
me a position on his staff, but I wanted to see you before I accepted.”
“What! a position on the staff of General Beauregard! That is a rare honor
for one so young as you are. Of course you are going to accept?”
“I do not know yet; I am to give him an answer in the morning, as I said I
wanted to see you first. Great as the honor is which has been offered me,
I feel it is a service which would not be agreeable to me. I much prefer
the freer life of a scout and ranger. Perhaps you may know, I have done
much of this kind of work. I have even performed more dangerous tasks than
that of scouting, and I confess I rather like it.”
Morgan mused for a moment, and then suddenly asked: “Are you not a cousin
of Frederic Shackelford, son of the late Colonel Richard Shackelford of
our army?”
Calhoun’s brow clouded. “Yes,” he answered; “but why do you say the late
Colonel Shackelford? Uncle Dick is not dead.”
“Is that so? I am rejoiced to hear it. It was reported he was among the
slain.”
“He was desperately wounded,” answered Calhoun, “but he did not die, and
he is now a prisoner in the hands of the Yankees. Uncle Dick is a hero;
but as for that traitor cousin of mine, I hate him!” and again Calhoun’s
brow grew dark.
“I have no reason to love him,” laughed Morgan, “but I cannot help
admiring him. He it was who discovered our well-laid plans, and forced me
to flee from Lexington, as a thief in the night.”
“Aye!” answered Calhoun, “but for him and that brute Nelson, Kentucky
would now have been out of the Union. But that is not all. Had it not been
for the same two traitors there would have been a different story to tell
of Shiloh. Grant’s army would now have been prisoners, Buell’s in full
flight, and our own pressing northward to redeem Kentucky. Had there been
no Nelson, Buell’s army would not have reached Grant in time to save him
from destruction. If there had been no Fred Shackelford I should have
borne the news to General Johnston that Buell would join Grant by the
fifth, and Johnston would have made his attack a couple of days earlier. I
was bearing the news to Johnston that Nelson would reach Savannah by the
fifth when I was captured.”
“Captured?” echoed Morgan, in surprise.
“Yes, captured, and by no less a personage than my cousin Fred
Shackelford. But for this I would have reached Johnston by the second; as
it was, I did not reach Shiloh until the morning of the last day of the
battle.”
“Then you escaped?” queried Morgan.
“No; my cousin let me go, after he had held me until he knew my
information would be of no value. I was dressed in citizen’s clothes. He
could have had me hanged as a spy. I suppose I ought to be thankful to
him, but I am not.” And Calhoun shuddered when he thought how near he had
been to death.(1)
“That was kind of him,” said Morgan; “and you ought to be thankful to him,
whether you are or not. To tell the truth, I took a great fancy to young
Shackelford, and tried hard to get him to cast his lot with me. But as I
failed to get him, I believe you would make a splendid substitute. You
still think you had rather go with me than be on Beauregard’s staff?”
“A thousand times, yes. I had rather go with you as a private than be a
lieutenant on the General’s staff,” answered Calhoun, with vehemence.
Morgan’s eyes sparkled. “That is the finest compliment I ever had paid
me,” he said, “but I cannot allow the son of my old friend Judge
Pennington to serve in the ranks as a private soldier. Yet my companies
are fully officered now. Let’s see! How would you like to go back to
Kentucky?”
“Go back to Kentucky?” asked Calhoun in surprise.
“Yes, to recruit for my command. Do you think you could dodge the
Yankees?”
“I believe I could. I could at least try,” answered Calhoun, his face
aglow with the idea.
“The case is this,” said Morgan: “I am going to make a raid in a few days,
and am going to try to reach Kentucky. My present force is small—not much
over four hundred. I do not look for much help from the Confederate
Government. Those in authority do not regard with much favor independent
organizations. To augment my force, I must in a great measure rely on my
own efforts. I know there are hundreds of the flower of Kentucky youths
eager to join me if they had the opportunity. You are just the person to
send back to organize them. When can you start?”
“In the morning,” answered Calhoun.
Morgan smiled. “Good!” he said. “You are made of the right material. We
will make full arrangements to-morrow. Good night, now, for it is getting
late.”
Thus dismissed Calhoun went away with a light heart. He was to be one of
Morgan’s men. It was all he wished.
The next morning Calhoun informed General Beauregard that while sensible
of the great honor which he would bestow on him by appointing him a member
of his staff, yet he believed he could be of more service to the South by
casting his fortune with Morgan, and he had concluded to do so.
“While I greatly regret to lose you,” replied the General, “I believe you
have chosen well. To one of your temperament service with Morgan will be
much more congenial than the duties of a staff officer. In fact,”
continued the General, with a smile, “I think you resemble Morgan in being
restive under orders, and prefer to have your own way and go where you
please. A command or two of partisan rangers may do, but too many would be
fatal to the discipline of an army. Morgan may do the enemy a great deal
of mischief, but after all, the fate of the South must be decided by her
great armies.”
“True, General,” replied Calhoun, “but if Morgan can keep thousands of the
enemy in the rear guarding their communications, the great armies of the
North will be depleted by that number.”
“That is true also,” answered Beauregard; “and for that reason Morgan will
be given more or less of a free rein. I have recommended him for a
colonelcy. Convey to him my regards, and tell him I heartily congratulate
him upon his last recruit.”
General Beauregard’s kind words touched Calhoun deeply. “Thank you,
General,” he replied, with feeling. “I trust I shall never prove myself
unworthy of your good opinion. May God bless you, and crown your efforts
with victory!”
After parting with Beauregard, Calhoun lost no time in reporting to
Morgan. He found his chief in command of about four hundred men, rough,
daring fellows who would follow their leader wherever he went. A more
superb body of rough-riders was never formed.
Calhoun was introduced to the officers of the squadron, and when it became
known that he was going back to Kentucky to recruit for the
command—although many of the officers wondered why their chief had
selected one so young—they gave him a hearty welcome. But when it became
known that he was the son of Judge Pennington, of Danville, that he had
already won renown as a daring scout, and had been offered a position on
the staff of General Beauregard, their welcome was doubly enthusiastic.
To this welcome there was one exception. One of Morgan’s officers, Captain
P. C. Conway, had applied to Morgan for permission to go back to Kentucky
on this same duty, and had been refused. He was a short, thickset,
red-faced man with a very pompous air. His weakness was liquor; yet he was
a brave, efficient officer. What he considered an affront was never
forgiven, for he was of a revengeful disposition. It was consistent with
his character that he should become a mortal enemy of Calhoun.
When he was introduced to Calhoun he merely bowed, and did not offer to
give his hand.
“I believe I have heard of Captain Conway,” said Calhoun, with a smile. “I
have heard a cousin of mine speak of him.”
“Why, yes,” spoke up Morgan, with a twinkle in his eye, “Captain,
Lieutenant Pennington is a cousin of your particular friend, Captain Fred
Shackelford, of the Yankee army.”
Conway fairly turned purple with rage. “Lieutenant Pennington has no
reason to be proud of his relationship to that sneak and spy,” he snorted.
“I have no more reason to love my cousin than you,” replied Calhoun, with
some warmth. “He may have played the spy; so have I; but sneak he is not,
and I would thank you not to use the term again, traitor though he is to
the South and his native state.”
Conway glared at him for a moment, but there was something in Calhoun’s
eye which told him that if he repeated the term it might cause trouble, so
he snapped: “Well, spy and traitor, if those terms suit you better; but it
may be of interest to you to know that I have sworn to see that precious
cousin of yours hanged, and”—with a fearful oath—“I will see that he is.”
With these words he turned on his heel and stalked away.
“Shackelford’s name has the same effect on Conway that a red rag has on a
mad bull,” laughed Morgan. “He can never forget that trick your cousin
played on him.”
“Ah! I remember,” said Calhoun; “Fred told me all about it. Conway may
take a dislike to me simply because I am Fred’s cousin. I noticed that he
greeted me rather coldly.”
“I reckon he will not carry his hatred so far as that,” replied Morgan,
“yet it may be best not to mention Shackelford’s name to him.”
But Morgan might have changed his mind if he had heard Conway talking to a
brother officer.
“Just to think,” he fumed, “that the Captain picked on that young upstart
to go back to Kentucky to recruit instead of one of us. I volunteered to
go yesterday, and he put me down. To my mind, Pennington is no better than
that sneak of a cousin of his, and Morgan will find it out some day.”
“Better keep a still tongue in your head, Conway,” dryly replied the
officer, a Captain Matthews, to whom Conway was complaining. “Morgan will
give you hell if he finds you are trying to create dissatisfaction.”
“I am not afraid of Morgan,” muttered Conway, but he said no more.
In the mean time Calhoun was hurriedly making preparations for his
journey. Many of the officers and men were engaged in writing letters to
send back by him to the dear ones in Kentucky. Morgan intrusted to him
several important communications to prominent Southern sympathizers.
Just as Calhoun was ready to start, Morgan gave him his secret
instructions.
“What I now tell you,” he said, “is too important to commit to writing.
You may be captured. For hundreds of miles you must ride through a country
swarming with Yankees. You will need discretion, as much or more than you
will need courage. Much depends on your success. I intend to make a raid
north about the first week in May. If possible (and I think it is), I
shall try to reach Kentucky. My force when I start will not reach five
hundred. If I could be joined by a thousand when I reach Kentucky, I
believe I could sweep clear to the Ohio River. But with the short time at
your disposal that will be impossible. But join me at Glasgow with all you
can. I expect to be in Glasgow by the tenth of May at the latest.”
“All right,” replied Calhoun, “I will try to meet you there at that time,
with at least one or two good companies.”
Little did Morgan think at the time how badly he would need those
companies.
At last all was ready, and amid shouts of “Good-bye” and “Success to you,”
Calhoun vaulted into the saddle and rode away eastward.