A STUBBORN PROPOSITION
The general, who was always on the alert, ordinarily began his work
with the sun, and rarely did he stop with the setting of it, either.
The next morning, therefore, he was at his headquarters at an unusually
early hour.
Fortune had favored him in that one of the harbor patrol boats, making
a daring reconnaissance about midnight, to discover if possible what
had happened to the _David_, had captured a whale boat from one of the
Union ships, bound on a similar errand, and had brought her crew to the
city. By questioning them Beauregard learned of the blowing up of the
_Housatonic_, and the almost certain loss of the torpedo boat. He was
sorry that he missed the _Wabash_ and the admiral, and intensely
grieved over the lack of any tidings from the _David_ or her men,
which, however, caused him little surprise, but he was glad, indeed,
they had been so brilliantly successful in eliminating the magnificent
new steam sloop-of-war _Housatonic_ from the force blockading them.
Incidentally he learned, with some additional satisfaction, that
Admiral Vernon was to be relieved of his command on account of illness
and was going North with his flagship in a few days. The admiral had
shown himself so intensely enterprising and pugnacious that Beauregard
hoped and expected that any change in opponents would be for the
betterment of the situation from the Southern point of view.
When he had digested the important news of the morning, he sent for his
prisoner of the night before. The general had been very indignant on
the wharf, and justly so, but he instinctively felt that there was
something in the situation, which, if he could get at it, might relieve
from the odium of his position the young officer, whose family history,
no less than his personal character, absolutely negatived the idea of
cowardice or treachery.
General Beauregard hoped that by questioning him quietly and calmly,
and by representing to him the critical situation in which he found
himself, that he might induce him to clear up the mystery. He spoke to
him kindly, therefore, when he was ushered into the room and bade him
be seated. He marked with soldierly appreciation of the lieutenant's
feelings the evidences of his sleepless night, the anguish of his soul,
in the haggard look upon his face.
"Mr. Sempland," he began with impressive and deliberate gravity,
carefully weighing his words that they might make the deeper impression
upon the younger man, for whom he felt profound pity, "you bear one of
the noblest names in the commonwealth. I knew your father and your
grandfather. They were men of the highest courage and of unimpeachable
honor. Their devotion to the South cannot be questioned. I grieve more
than I can say to find you in so equivocal a position. I am convinced
that there is some explanation for it, and I ask you, not as your
general, but as your friend, to disclose it to me."
"You called me a coward last night, sir."
"In the heat of my disappointment and surprise I did make use of that
term, sir. It was a mistake. I regret it," said the general, magnanimously.
"I do not believe your failure to take out the _David_ arose from any
fear."
This was a great concession indeed, and Sempland was intensely
relieved, and an immense load was lifted from his breast by the
general's reassuring words.
"Sir, I thank you. I could have borne anything than that."
"But, my boy," continued the general, severely, "you must remember that
you still lie under the imputation of treachery to the South, and you
will recognize readily that such an accusation is scarcely less
terrible than the other."
"General Beauregard, believe me, sir," burst out Sempland, impetuously,
"I pledge you my word of honor, I am not a traitor to the South, I
would die for my country gladly if it would do her service. I fully
intended to take out the _David_. I begged for the detail, and was
thankful beyond measure to you for giving it to me. I was overwhelmed
with anger and dismay and horror at my failure. I swear to you, sir, by
all that is good and true, by everything holy, that it was not my fault
that I was not there--I--I--was detained."
"Detained? By whom?"
Sempland only bit his lip and looked dumbly at the general.
"Come, my boy, I want to help you," said the veteran officer,
persuasively. "Who, or what, detained you? Where were you detained? It
must have been some man--or was it a woman? Tell me, and, by heavens,
I'll make such an example of the traitor as will never be forgotten in
South Carolina or the Confederacy!"
"I cannot, sir."
"Think! Your rank, your honor, it may be your life, all depend upon
your reply. You are concealing something from me. You do not answer,"
continued Beauregard, keenly scanning the face of the young man
standing before him in stubborn silence. "I see that you are shielding
some one, sheltering some unworthy person. Who is it?"
Still no answer. The general's patience was gradually vanishing in the
face of such obstinacy. Yet he restrained his growing displeasure, and
continued his questioning.
"Where did you go after you left me?"
"To my quarters, sir, to write a letter."
"Were you there all the time?"
"No, sir."
"Where did you go after the letter was written?"
No answer.
"Major Lacy said--" began the general, changing his tactics.
"Did he tell you?" cried Sempland, in sudden alarm and great dismay.
"He knew then?" exclaimed the general, triumphant in his clew. "No, he
didn't tell. He never will tell now. I have learned from a picket boat
that was captured last night by our patrols, that nothing was seen of
the _David_ after the explosion."
"Poor Lacy!" said Sempland. "Well, sir, he died the death of his
choice."
"Yes," said Beauregard, "little in life became him as the ending of
it."
A little silence fell between the two in the room.
"And I might have been there," said Sempland at last.
"I had rather see you dead, sir, than in your present case," commented
the general, deftly.
"Yes, sir, and I'd rather be there myself," returned the young man,
"but I--I beg your pardon, General, were they successful?"
"In a measure. They missed the _Wabash_, but blew up the _Housatonic_."
"Did the cotton ships get out?"
"Unfortunately, no. One of them was sunk. The other two returned in
safety. But all this is beside the question. We are losing sight of the
main point. For the last time, will you tell me why you failed to be on
hand?"
"General Beauregard, as I said, I would rather be where Lacy is now
than have failed as I did, but I cannot tell you what detained me"
"For the last time, Mr. Sempland, I beg of you to answer me. You know
the consequences?"
The general spoke sharply now. Such determination and contumacy had at
last got the better of his patience and forbearance. He had tried to
save Sempland, but the young officer would give him no assistance.
Well, on his own head it would be.
"You realize what is before you, sir?"
"Yes, sir."
"A court-martial. Possibly--nay, certainly, death. For in the face of
your refusal to explain I can do nothing more for you."
Sempland bowed to the inevitable.
"You have said," he began, "that you did not believe I was a coward,
nor a traitor. If you will not allow the stigma of either of these
charges to rest upon me, I will bear with equanimity whatever
punishment the court-martial may award."
"Even to loss of life?"
"Yes, sir."
"Very well," said the general, shrugging his shoulders, a trick of his
French ancestry. "I have done my best, Mr. Sempland, for you. As to my
personal beliefs, I can and will express them, but I cannot tell
whether the court-martial will receive them or not. Will nothing move
you?"
"Nothing, sir."
The general struck a bell on the desk before him.
"Orderly," he said, as a soldier presented himself, "my compliments to
the assistant adjutant-general. Ask him to come here. Ah, General
Wylie," he said as that functionary presented himself, "will you make
out an order assembling a court-martial to try Lieutenant Rhett
Sempland, here, for disobedience of orders and neglect of duty in the
presence of the enemy, and--well, that will be enough, I think," he
continued after a pause which was fraught with agony to Sempland at
least, lest the general should mention cowardice or treason again.
"Meanwhile see that Mr. Sempland is carefully guarded here in the
headquarters building."
"Very good, sir," said the officer, saluting. "This way, Mr. Sempland."