A SPY! A SPY!
For nearly six months after the battle of Stone River, the Federal army
made no general advance. General Rosecrans made his headquarters at
Murfreesboro, while Bragg’s was at Tullahoma. But these months were not
months of idleness. Almost daily skirmishes took place between the lines,
and there were a number of contests which arose to the dignity of battles.
Morgan’s cavalry protected the right of Bragg’s army. His headquarters
were nominally at MacMinnville, but it could truly be said they were in
the saddle. Morgan did not stay long in any one place. A number of
expeditions were made against him, sometimes with a whole division, but he
managed to elude them with slight loss.
Only twice during all this time did severe reverse overtake him—once at
Milton, when he failed in his efforts to capture a brigade of infantry,
and again at Snow Hill, when he was charged by a whole division of cavalry
under the leadership of General David Stanley.
His captures of scouting and forage parties were numerous during these
months, and he added a long list of prisoners to those he had already
captured. But so strongly was every place held, and so numerous had become
the Federal cavalry, it was impossible to make any large capture. The
enemy had learned by bitter experience, that eternal vigilance was their
only safety in guarding against Morgan, and the troops which held the left
of Rosecrans’s army were always in fear. No Federal soldier was safe half
a mile outside the lines. Bitterly did many sleepy soldiers curse him, for
at three o’clock every morning they were forced to get up and stand at
arms until broad daylight. The Federal officers wanted no more surprises.
But in spite of all their vigilance, Morgan would swoop down and carry off
prisoners from under their very noses.
These months were busy ones for Calhoun; he and his scouts were always on
the go. At the battle of Milton he greatly distinguished himself, and was
the subject of a complimentary order. But during the battle he received a
slight flesh wound in the arm and the ball came from the rear. Again was
Conway behind him. The thought that he might be slain in this treacherous
manner was distracting, but what could he do? He durst not complain; such
a monstrous charge against a brother officer would have to be
substantiated by the best of proof. He could only avoid Conway as much as
possible during battle, and hope for the best. After the battle at Milton,
by reason of losses in the regiment, Conway was promoted, being appointed
major. It was fortunate for Calhoun that he was chief of scouts, and on
Morgan’s staff, or Conway would have made his life a burden, for he was a
member of the regiment of which Conway was major.
One day Calhoun, being sent on special duty over to the left of Bragg’s
army, found himself in Columbia. He now remembered what Captain Haines had
told him of the misfortunes which had befallen the Osbornes, and he
determined to visit them. As he approached the place a sigh escaped him,
for the plantation no longer was blooming like a rose, and the splendid
mansion house was a charred mass of ruins.
He found the family living in a small house which once had been occupied
by the overseer. Their story was soon told. After Lieutenant Haines had
been exchanged, he came back and was stationed at Columbia. He visited
them frequently, was very attentive to Miss Osborne, and at last asked her
to become his wife. He was very politely but firmly refused. He now began
a series of petty persecutions, and was forbidden the house as a guest.
Then he began to threaten. He reported to the commander that Osborne’s
house was the headquarters of a gang of guerrillas which gave the Federal
authorities in Columbia and Pulaski a great deal of trouble.
About this time the murder of General Robert McCook by guerrillas greatly
angered the Federals. A few days after he was killed a couple of foragers
from Columbia were found dead. Lieutenant Haines lost no time in reporting
that the gang of guerrillas sheltered by Osborne had murdered the men. A
party was sent out, who burned the house, took away everything of value in
the shape of stock, and arrested Mr. Osborne, who was afterwards sent
North as a prisoner.
Calhoun listened to the recital with flashing eyes. “The villain!” he
exclaimed; “if I had only known this he would not have escaped so easily
when we captured him at Gallatin.”
“That is not all,” continued Mrs. Osborne, in a broken voice. “After all
this had happened, the scoundrel had the effrontery to renew his suit, and
say if Emma would marry him he would see that Mr. Osborne was released;
that he had powerful political friends who could accomplish this. We
spurned his proposition as it deserved. I knew my husband would rather rot
in prison than consent to such a monstrous thing.”
“Oh! had I known! had I known!” exclaimed Calhoun, pacing up and down the
room in his excitement; “but we may meet again.”
Little did Calhoun think that before many days they would meet again, and
that that meeting would nearly mean for him the ignominious death of a
spy. A few days after his return from Columbia, he asked the permission of
Morgan to visit Nashville. “I would like to see,” said he, “what our
friends, the enemy, are doing in that city.”
Morgan shook his head. “I don’t want to see you hanged,” he replied.
But Calhoun argued so zealously, that at last Morgan’s scruples were
overcome, and he gave his consent, but added, “If you should be captured
and executed, I would never forgive myself.”
Calhoun looked upon it as a mere holiday affair; he had passed through too
many dangers to be terrified. Taking half a dozen of his trusty scouts
with him, he had no trouble in reaching the Cumberland River a few miles
above Nashville. The few scouting parties of the enemy they met were
easily avoided. He ordered his scouts to remain secreted in a thick wood
near by a friendly house, from which they could obtain food for themselves
and provender for their horses.
“If I am not back in three days,” said he, “return to Morgan, and tell him
I have been captured.”
His men pleaded with him to let at least one of them accompany him, but
this he refused, saying it would but add to his danger.
From the gentleman who resided in the nearby house he secured a skiff
which had been kept secreted from the lynx-eyed Federals. In this Calhoun
proposed to float down to Nashville.
Night came dark and cloudy. It was just such a night as Calhoun wished.
Clad in a suit of citizen’s clothes, and with muffled oars, he bade his
comrades a cheerful good night, and pushed out into the river, and in a
moment the darkness had swallowed him up. He floated down as noiselessly
as a drifting stick.
In an hour’s time the lights of Nashville came in view; the dangers of his
trip had just commenced. He knew that the banks of the river would not
only be strongly patrolled, but the lights from the shore and from the
steamers moored at the wharfs shone across the stream in places, making it
impossible for an object the size of his boat to pass without being
noticed.
But Calhoun was prepared for just such an emergency. He was a capital
swimmer, and had no fears of the water. He had weighted his skiff with
stones, bored a hole in the bottom, and filled it with a plug which could
easily be removed. When he had drifted as far as he dared, he removed the
plug. The skiff gradually filled and at last sank. If any person had
looked after it disappeared, all he would have seen would have been the
small branch of a tree, covered with leaves, floating down with the
current.
When Calhoun was well down abreast of the city, and coming to a place
where shadows covered the river, he turned toward the bank. Fortunately he
landed near a dark alley which led down to the water. Listening intently,
he heard nothing, and making his way up the alley, he soon came to a
street. A violent storm came on, which was of advantage to him, for if he
met any one, it would account for his dripping clothes. It also had the
effect of driving the patrol guards into shelter.
Calhoun was no stranger in the city. He had visited it frequently when a
boy, for he had an uncle residing there, now a colonel in the Confederate
army. But his family still resided in the old home, and he knew that there
he would find a haven of safety. Carefully making his way, and dodging the
few guards that he met, he soon reached the house. The yard was inclosed
with a high iron fence, the pickets provided with sharp points. But
Calhoun had been in the army too long to be baffled by any such obstacle.
He mounted the fence with but little trouble and dropped down into the
yard.
Making his way to the rear of the house, he found refuge in a small shed.
The night had turned cool and he shivered with the cold. But he durst not
arouse the household, for the alarm might be heard outside. The hours
passed wearily by, but at last morning came. He looked eagerly for some of
the family to appear, but only the colored servants passed in and out. To
escape being seen he had hidden behind a large box in the shed.
He heard the call for breakfast, and concluded he had never been so hungry
before in his life. After a while his patience was rewarded. A young lady
came out of the house, and entering the shed, began looking around, as if
searching for something. It was his cousin Kate.
“Kate!” he whispered.
The girl started and looked wildly around.
“Kate!”
She uttered a little scream and turned as if to flee.
“Kate, don’t be afraid. It is I, your cousin Calhoun Pennington.”
“Where? Where?” she half-whispered, looking eagerly around and poised as
if still for flight.
“Here behind the box. Come close. There, don’t ask a question. Get the
servants out of the way and smuggle me into the house unseen. I am wet,
cold, and hungry.”
Kate flew to do his bidding. In a few moments she came out and beckoned to
him, and right gladly he followed her into the house. One risen from the
dead would hardly have created more surprise than did his appearance. His
aunt and Kate persisted in embracing him, wet and dirty as he was.
To their eager questions, he said: “Dry clothes first, Auntie, and
breakfast. I am famished. I will then talk with you to your heart’s
content.”
Mrs. Shackelford had had a son about the size of Calhoun killed in the
army, and our hero was soon arrayed in a nice dry suit, and seated before
a substantial breakfast, upon which he made a furious assault. When his
hunger was fully appeased, he informed his aunt and Kate he was ready to
talk. And how they did talk! They had a thousand questions to ask, and he
had full as many.
To his surprise and joy he learned that his cousin, Fred Shackelford, had
not been killed by his fall over the cliff, as Major Hockoday reported.
Instead he was alive and well, was with the army at Murfreesboro, and
frequently visited them.
“He has been a good friend to us,” said Mrs. Shackelford, “but at one time
he was nearly the death of Kate.”
“Why, how was that?” asked Calhoun.
Then for the first time he heard of Forrest’s plot to capture Nashville,
and of Kate’s part in it, of her condemnation, and imprisonment as a spy,
and how Fred had secured her pardon.(2)
Calhoun listened to the story in wonder. When it was finished, he
exclaimed: “Why, Kate, you are a heroine! I am proud of you.”
“I am not proud of myself,” answered Kate. “I blush every time I think of
how—how I lied and deceived.”
“Oh! that is a part of war,” laughed Calhoun. “If Morgan didn’t lie about
the number of men he had, the Yanks would gobble him up in no time. We
don’t call such things lying; it’s a righteous deceiving of the enemy.”
“But I am ready to sink into the earth with shame every time I think of
Ainsworth,” sighed Kate.
“That’s rich,” laughed Calhoun; “crying because you broke the heart of a
Yankee! Kate, I have a mind to send you into the enemy’s lines. If Cupid’s
darts were only fatal, your bright eyes would create more havoc than a
battle.”
“No use sending her away,” broke in Mrs. Shackelford; “there are more
Federal officers buzzing around her now than I wish there were.”
“Mighty useful to worm secrets from,” exclaimed Kate; “but I make no
promises to any of them.”
“That’s right, Kate, get all the secrets from them you can,” said Calhoun;
“that is what I am in Nashville for. Can any one get around the city
without much danger?”
“Oh, yes, in the daytime; but there is always more or less danger to
strangers. Business is going on as usual. The city is lively, livelier
than before the war; but it is soldiers—soldiers everywhere.”
“And you have to have no passes?” asked Calhoun.
“It is best to have one. Most of us have standing permits to come and go
in the city as we please.”
“Can you get me a permit?” asked Calhoun, eagerly.
“There is Jim Grantham,” replied Kate, thoughtfully; “his description will
suit Calhoun close enough. I can get Jim to loan you his.”
Calhoun was now told that the Southern people in Nashville were thoroughly
organized into a secret society. They had their signs and pass-words, so
that they could know each other. So far no one had proved a traitor. The
Federal authorities suspected that such an organization existed, but their
shrewdest detectives never succeeded in finding out anything about it.
Kate, who had gone for the permit of James Grantham, soon returned with
it. The description fitted Calhoun almost as well as if made out for
himself. He could now walk the streets of Nashville with little fear of
arrest.
He was given a list of those who could most probably give him the
information he desired. He marvelled to see how quickly a little sign
which he gave was answered, and was amazed at the work this secret
organization was doing. Not a regiment entered or left Nashville but they
knew its exact strength, and to what point it was ordered.
In two days Calhoun had gathered information which would be of vast value
to the Confederate cause, and it was now time for him to see by what means
he could leave the city. He was on his way to see three gentlemen who said
they could get him outside of the city without trouble or danger, when an
incident happened which came near sending him to the gallows. He was
walking unconcernedly along the street, when he suddenly came face to face
with Haines, now a captain. Although Calhoun was dressed in citizen’s
clothes, the captain knew him at a glance.
“A spy! A spy!” he yelled at the top of his voice, and made a grab at
Calhoun. Calhoun struck him a tremendous blow which sent him rolling in
the gutter, and fled at the top of his speed.
But a score of voices took up the cry, and a howling mob, mostly of
soldiers, were at his heels. He hoped to reach the river, where among the
immense piles of stores heaped along the levee, or among the shipping, he
might secrete himself, but a patrol guard suddenly appeared a block away,
and his retreat was cut off. He gave himself up for lost, and reached for
a small pistol which he carried, with the intention of putting a bullet
through his own heart; “for,” thought he, “they shall never have the
pleasure of hanging me before a gaping crowd.”
Just then he saw two young ladies standing in the open door of a house.
What told him safety lay there he never knew, but hope sprang up within
his breast. Dashing up the steps, he thrust the ladies back into the
house, slammed the door to, and locked it. So rude was his entrance, one
of the ladies fell to the floor.
“Save me! Save me!” he cried, “I am a Confederate spy,” and he gave the
sign of the secret order.
The young lady who had not fallen was terribly frightened, but she grasped
the situation in a moment.
“Upstairs,” she gasped, pointing the way; “tell mother, the secret place.”
Calhoun lost no time in obeying her. The girl flew to the back door and
opened it, then back just as her sister was rising, her face covered with
blood, for she had hit her nose in falling.
“Quick, Annette, in the parlor,” said her sister; “assent to everything I
say.”
Annette staggered into the parlor hardly knowing what she did, for she was
dazed and terribly frightened. The sister, whose name was Inez, was now at
the door, which was giving way before the blows of Calhoun’s pursuers. All
this happened in less than a minute.
“Stop!” she cried, “I will unlock the door,” and she did so, and when the
soldiers rushed in, crying, “Where is he? Where is the spy?” she stood
wringing her hands and sobbing, “My sister! Oh, my sister! he has murdered
her.”
The words brought the soldiers to a halt. “Who murdered your sister?”
asked a sergeant who seemed to be the leader.
“The man! the man who ran in here!”
“Where is he? He is the fellow we want.”
“He rushed out of the back door. Oh! my sister, my sister!”
“After him, boys; don’t let him get away!” yelled the sergeant, and they
rushed through the house in hot pursuit.
The house was rapidly filling, when a captain appeared, and learning of
the sobbing Inez what the trouble was, said: “Murdered your sister!
Horrible! where is she?”
“Here,” said Inez, leading the way into the parlor. Annette was reclining
on a sofa, her face bloody; she was apparently in a fainting condition.
The captain acted quickly. He ordered the house to be cleared, sent a
subordinate for a surgeon, and another to have the whole block surrounded.
In the mean time the mother of the girls had appeared, and was adding her
sobs to those of her eldest daughter. When the surgeon came and had washed
the blood from Annette’s face, her only injury was found to be a bruised
nose.
Both the captain and the surgeon looked inquiringly. “How is this?” they
asked, “you said your sister was murdered.”
“I—I thought she was,” stammered Inez. “I saw the blood and thought the
man had stabbed her.”
“Tell us just what happened,” said the captain.
Annette, who had by this time so far recovered from her fright as to
comprehend what was going on, saw Inez give her the signal of danger. It
put her on her guard.
“Why, it was this way,” said Inez, in answer to the captain, “sister and I
were going out, but just as we opened the door, there was a tumult on the
street. We stopped to see what the trouble was, when a man dashed up the
steps. We tried to oppose him, but he struck sister a cruel blow, knocking
her down, flung me backward, and slamming the door to, locked it; then
running through the house, disappeared through the back door. Seeing
sister’s face covered with blood, I picked her up and carried her into the
parlor. By this time the soldiers were breaking down the door, and I went
and unlocked it.”
Annette only knew that she tried to oppose the entrance of a strange man,
who knocked her down. She must have been rendered unconscious, for she
remembered nothing more, until she found herself lying on the sofa in the
parlor. The mother, Mrs. Lovell, was upstairs, and knew nothing of what
had happened until alarmed by the screams of her daughters and the noisy
entrance of the soldiers. These stories so accorded with the known facts
that the captain did not for a moment doubt them. But when the sergeant
returned and reported that no trace of the fugitive could be discovered,
he was puzzled.
Orders were given to search every house in the block. This was done, but
the search was fruitless. When this fact was reported, the captain bit his
lip in vexation. Then turning to Inez, he said: “Pardon me, Miss Lovell,
while I do not doubt your story in the least, are you sure the fellow ran
out of the house? Was not his opening the back door just a ruse? He opened
the door and then dodged into some room, thinking this house the safest
place for him. Every house in the block has been searched except this one,
and we can find no trace of him. While I regret it, I shall be compelled
to have this house searched.”
“I am sure he ran out,” answered Inez, “but I confess I was very badly
frightened. If you think he is in the house, search it. I ask as a favor
that you search it, for if he is concealed in the house as you think, he
may murder us all.”
A thorough search was made, but there was found no trace of Calhoun. The
officers and soldiers retired greatly puzzled. A strong guard was
maintained around the block for three days; then all hopes of catching
Calhoun were given up, and the guard was withdrawn.
The Federal authorities had become aware who the fugitive was through
Captain Haines. “I cannot be mistaken,” he said; “I have met him too many
times. He is one of the most daring of all of Morgan’s cutthroats”; and
then he gave an account of his first meeting with Calhoun.
But where was Calhoun all this time? When he rushed upstairs at the
command of Inez, he was met at the top by Mrs. Lovell, who started in
affright at the sight of him.
“Your daughter said, ‘The secret place!’ ” he exclaimed, as he gave her
the sign of danger. “My pursuers are already at the door.”
The lady quickly recovered herself. “Come!” she said, and led Calhoun into
a room. Here she began working in a corner. Her hands trembled as she did
so, for the soldiers were thundering at the door downstairs, and she could
hear it giving way. To Calhoun’s intense surprise, a section of the
apparently solid wall gave way, leaving an opening large enough for a
person to enter by crawling on his hands and knees.
“Quick, go in!” said the lady.
Calhoun needed no second bidding, but crawled in, and the wall slowly came
back to place. Calhoun found himself in a narrow place, between the wall
of the room and the side of the house. The house had been built with a
mansard roof on the sides, thus leaving a space. This space was about
three feet wide at the bottom, coming to a point at the top. Close under
the eaves, where it would not be noticed, an aperture had been left for
the admission of air, and through it a ray of light came.
Narrow and contracted as his quarters were, to Calhoun they were more
welcome than a palace. It was plain that the place had been occupied
before, for on the floor there were soft blankets, and in feeling around
Calhoun discovered a jug of water and some provisions. It was evident that
no one who was put in there hurriedly was to be allowed to suffer from
thirst or hunger.
Calhoun could hear every word which was said when the soldiers searched
the room. His heart stood still when he heard them sounding the walls, but
they gave forth no uncertain sound, and the soldiers departed, much to his
relief.
It was not until the next day that Calhoun was allowed to leave his
hiding-place, and then he was told he must not leave the room. He had to
be ready to seek his refuge at a moment’s notice, if found necessary. For
three days he was virtually a prisoner, then the guards around the block
were withdrawn.
Word was taken to his aunt and Kate where he was. They had been in an
agony of fear over his non-return. But they durst not visit him.
To Mrs. Lovell and her daughters Calhoun felt he could never repay what
they had done for him. He felt like a brute, when Annette was introduced
to him, her pretty features disfigured by a swollen nose, and when he was
making his most abject apologies, she interrupted him with a gay laugh.
“I am proud of that nose!” she exclaimed; “as proud as a gallant soldier
of his wounds, for does it not show that I have shed my blood for our
beloved South?”
We are of the opinion that during his enforced imprisonment, Calhoun would
have lost his heart to Annette if he had not learned she was engaged to a
gallant officer in Bragg’s army.
What troubled Calhoun the most was the thought that his scouts would
return to Morgan with the news that he was captured, but there was no help
for it.
After the guards had been withdrawn, he at once began to make plans for
his escape from the city. The original plan had to be given up, for the
vigilance of the Federals had been redoubled, and it was impossible for
any one to leave the city without his identity being fully established.
At last Inez clapped her hands. “I have it,” she cried. “Get him out to
Dr. Caldwell. The doctor lives clear on the outskirts of the city, and on
the bank of the river. Lieutenant Pennington can take to the river going
as he did coming.”
“But he can’t float up stream,” said Annette, “and as for a boat, that
will be impossible.”
“He can swim,” said Inez, “swim across the river. He will be above the
pickets around Edgefield.”
“But how can he get to Dr. Caldwell? It is not safe for him to appear on
the street. Not a guard but has a description of him,” said the careful
Annette.
“Dr. Caldwell is attending Mrs. Robinson (the Robinsons lived next door);
it will be easy for the doctor to take him in his buggy; no guard will
think of disturbing the doctor, he is too well known.”
Calhoun eagerly caught at the idea. When Dr. Caldwell visited Mrs.
Robinson during the day, he was seen, and consented to the scheme. “Muffle
him up,” he said, “he will be taken for one of my patients.” Before
Calhoun left he wrote a letter, and directed it to Captain Haines — Regt.
This Inez promised to mail when Calhoun was well out of the city.
Dr. Caldwell had no trouble in taking Calhoun to his home. Here he stayed
until dark, then bidding the hospitable physician good-bye, he plunged
into the river and was soon across, and began to make his way slowly up
the northern bank. But the night was dark, and after many falls and
bruises, he concluded to wait for daylight. Having made himself a bed of
leaves beside a log, he was soon sleeping as peacefully as if no dangers
were lurking near.
As for Captain Haines, he was bitterly disappointed when Calhoun was not
caught. But his leave of absence was out, and he had to return to his
regiment near Murfreesboro. A day or two after his return the following
letter came with his mail:
NASHVILLE, TENN., April 25, 1863.
To Capt. Chas. Haines,
My Dear Captain: When you receive this I shall be well out of Nashville.
We have already met three times, and I trust we may meet once more. If we
do, it will be our last, for one or the other of us will die. I know of
your damnable treatment of the Osbornes. Be assured it will be avenged.
Sincerely yours,
CALHOUN PENNINGTON,
Lieutenant, Morgan’s Command.
Captain Haines was no coward, but his hand trembled like a leaf when he
laid the letter down.