GENERAL NELSON'S SCOUT
[Illustration: As lightly as a Bird he cleared the Fence.]
General Nelson's Scout
BY
Byron A. Dunn
[Illustration: Decoration]
Chicago
A. C. McClurg and Company
1898
COPYRIGHT
BY A. C. McCLURG & COMPANY
A. D. 1898
_All rights reserved_
TO
Milton,
MY LITTLE SON,
WHO WAS GREATLY INTERESTED IN THE STORY
OF "GENERAL NELSON'S SCOUT,"
WHILE BEING WRITTEN,
AND WHO GAVE ME MANY VALUABLE HINTS,
THIS VOLUME IS
AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED.
INTRODUCTION.
Throughout the following pages the threads of history and fiction are
closely interwoven. The plot of the story is laid in the dark and stormy
days of 1861, amid the waving trees and blue grass fields of Central
Kentucky.
No State wept more bitter tears at the commencement of the dreadful
struggle between the North and the South than Kentucky. With loving arms
she tried to encircle both, and when she failed, in the language of one
of her most eloquent sons, "So intense was her agony that her great
heart burst in twain."
Resolutions of neutrality did little good. Sympathies and beliefs are
not controlled by resolutions or laws, and never can be. Kentucky was
divided into two great hostile camps. The Secession element was very
active, and the Union men saw the State slowly but surely drifting into
the arms of the Confederacy.
Then it was that Lieutenant William Nelson of the United States navy, a
well-known and very popular Kentuckian, asked the privilege of raising
ten regiments of Kentucky troops. The request was granted, and Nelson at
once commenced his task. Only a man of iron determination and the
highest courage would have dared to undertake such a work. He became the
object of the fiercest hatred and opposition,--even from many who
professed to love the Union. But he never wavered in his purpose, and
established a camp for his recruits at Dick Robinson, a few miles east
of Danville.
Here it is that the story opens, and Nelson is the chief historic
figure--a figure with many imperfections, yet it can be said of him as
it was of King James V., in "The Lady of the Lake":
"On his bold visage middle age
Had slightly pressed its signet sage,
Yet had not quenched the open truth
And fiery vehemence of youth;
Forward and frolic glee was there,
The will to do, the soul to dare."
All military movements chronicled in the story are historically correct.
The riot in Louisville, the fight for the arms, the foiling of the plot,
the throwing of the train from the track, are all historical incidents.
Every real character in the story is called by his true name. In this
class belong Colonel Peyton and his son Bailie. The high character of
the one and the eloquence of the other are not overdrawn.
The story of Shiloh, as told, may be contradicted, but, the author
believes, cannot be successfully controverted. Had it not been for
General Nelson, Buell's army would never have reached the battlefield of
Shiloh Sunday night.
Fred Shackelford and Calhoun Pennington, the heroes of the story, are
children of the imagination, as well as their relatives and friends.
With this brief introduction, the author sends forth this little volume,
hoping that the rising generation may not only read it, but enjoy it,
and be somewhat enlightened by it.
Through bitter tears and dreadful carnage the Union was preserved; and
through it all there has come a great blessing. Thoroughly united, the
North and the South are vying with each other in upholding the honor of
the flag. Shoulder to shoulder they stand, battling that the last
remnant of tyranny may be driven from the New World.
B. A. D.
WAUKEGAN, ILL., June, 1898.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. THE QUARREL AND THE OATH 15
II. THE MEETING WITH NELSON 22
III. THE DAY AFTER BULL RUN 34
IV. THE TRIP TO NASHVILLE 58
V. FATHER AND SON 80
VI. THE FIGHT FOR THE ARMS 98
VII. THE FOILING OF A PLOT 115
VIII. A DARING DEED 135
IX. A LEAP FOR LIFE 153
X. IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY 167
XI. CRAZY BILL SHERMAN 187
XII. A DESPERATE ENCOUNTER 195
XIII. THE MEETING OF THE COUSINS 206
XIV. THE BATTLE OF MILL SPRINGS 227
XV. A FIGHT WITH GUERRILLAS 238
XVI. FORT DONELSON 253
XVII. AFTER THE BATTLE 267
XVIII. "WE BOTH MUST DIE" 279
XIX. SHILOH 294
XX. "MY SON! MY SON!" 311
ILLUSTRATIONS.
As lightly as a Bird he cleared the Fence _Frontispiece._
He plunged forward, and passed the Goal
half-a-length ahead _Facing page_ 22
He dealt the Ruffian such a Blow that he fell like a log 54
As quick as a flash Fred snatched a Revolver from the holster 78
"You here!" gasped the Major, and he made a grab for
his collar 130
"Fire! Fire!" thundered a Colonel who had just sprung
out of the foremost car 142
Fred raised his Head, "Ferror! Ferror!" he cried 186
The Federals were among them, shooting, sabering,
riding them down 202
The Battle now raged along the entire line with great fury 236
Fred drew his Revolver, and the Guerrilla dropped
from his horse 246
"Why, Boys, they are trying to get away; we mustn't let them" 266
"For God's Sake, don't shoot! I promise" 290
Springing from his horse, he bent over the death-like form 316
GENERAL NELSON'S SCOUT.
CHAPTER I.
THE QUARREL AND THE OATH.
A short distance from Danville, Kentucky, on the afternoon of July 21,
1861, two boys might have been seen seated by the roadside under the
branches of a wide-spreading oak. Near by, tethered to the stout rail
fence which ran along the side of the road, were two spirited
thoroughbred horses that champed their bits and restlessly stamped their
feet, unnoticed by their young owners, who seemed to be engaged in a
heated discussion.
The two boys were nearly the same age and size, and were cousins.
Calhoun Pennington, who was the more excited of the two, was very dark,
and his black hair, which he wore long, was flung back from a broad and
handsome forehead. His countenance was flushed with anger, and his eyes
fairly blazed with suppressed wrath.
His companion, Frederic Shackelford, was not quite as large as Calhoun,
but his frame was more closely knit, and if it came to a trial of
strength between the two, it would take no prophet to tell which would
prove master.
Frederic was as fair as his cousin was dark. His eyes were deep blue,
and his hair had a decided tinge of red. The firm set lips showed that
he was not only a boy of character, but of decided will. While his tones
expressed earnestness and deep feeling, his countenance did not betray
the excitement under which his cousin labored. Young as Frederic was, he
had learned the valuable lesson of self-control.
So earnest did the discussion between the two boys become, that Calhoun
Pennington sprang to his feet, and raising his clenched hand, exclaimed
in passionate tones: "Do you mean to say that Kentucky is so sunk in
cowardice that she will not enforce her proclamation of neutrality? Then
I blush I am a Kentuckian."
"I mean to say," calmly replied Frederic, "that it will be impossible
for Kentucky to enforce her ideas of neutrality. Kentuckians are no
cowards, that you know, Calhoun; but it is not a question of courage.
The passions aroused are too strong to be controlled. The North and the
South are too thoroughly in earnest; the love of the Union on one side,
the love of the rights of the States on the other, is too sincere. We
could not remain neutral, if we wished. As well try to control the
beating of our hearts, as our sympathies. We are either for the old
flag, or against it."
"I deny it," hotly cried Calhoun; "you fellows who are always preaching
about the old flag are not the only ones who love the country. It is we
who are trying to keep it from becoming an instrument of oppression, of
coercion, who really love the old flag. But I know what is the matter
with you. Owing to the teachings of that Yankee mother of yours, you are
with the Abolitionists, nigger-stealers, the mud-sills of creation,
lower and meaner than our slaves. You had better go back to those
precious Yankee relatives of yours; you have no business in Kentucky
among gentlemen."
Frederic's eyes flashed. He raised his clenched hand convulsively; then,
with a tremendous effort, he controlled himself and slowly replied:
"Calhoun, we have always been friends and companions, more like brothers
than cousins; but if you value my friendship, if you do not wish me to
become your deadliest enemy, never speak disrespectfully of my mother
again. If you do, young as I am, I shall demand of you the satisfaction
one gentleman demands of another. This refused, I shall shoot you like a
dog."
For a moment Calhoun gazed in the countenance of his cousin in silence.
In the stern, set features, the dangerous gleam of the eye, he read the
truth of what he had heard. He was fully as brave as his cousin, and for
a moment a bitter and stinging reply trembled on his lips; then his
better nature conquered, and extending his hand, he said: "There, Fred;
I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, much less reflect on the memory of
your mother. From the North though she was, she was one of the best of
women, and you know I loved her almost as much as you did yourself, for
in many ways she was a mother to me. Forgive me, Fred."
Fred grasped the extended hand, and with tears in his eyes exclaimed, "I
might have known you did not mean it, Cal. You are too noble to say
aught of one who loved you as my mother did. Forgive my hasty words."
"There is nothing to forgive, Fred; you did just right."
For a moment the boys remained silent, and then Fred resumed: "Cal, we
must both try to be charitable. Simply to be for the North or the South
does not make one a gentleman. True manhood is not measured by one's
political belief. Your father is none the less a gentleman because he is
heart and soul with the South. Calhoun, dark and fearful days are
coming--have already come. Father will be against son, brother against
brother. Members of the same family will become the deadliest enemies.
Our beloved Kentucky will be rent and torn with warring factions, and
the whole land will tremble beneath the shock of contending armies.
Ruined homes will be everywhere; little children and women will flee to
the mountains for safety."
"Not if Kentucky enforces her position of neutrality," broke in Calhoun.
"The picture you draw is one you Unionists are trying to bring about.
We, who would enforce neutrality, would avoid it."
"Calhoun, don't be deceived. You know that in many parts of Kentucky it
is dangerous now for a Union man to express his sentiments. Hundreds of
Kentuckians have left to join the Confederate army. They do so boldly
with colors flying and drums beating. On our southern border, armies are
gathering ready to spring over at a moment's notice. Kentucky cannot, if
she would, remain neutral. I feel, I know, evil times are coming--are
now here. Calhoun, a few moments ago we came near having a deadly
quarrel. I shudder as I now think of it. What if we had quarreled! What
if one of us had killed the other, we who are like brothers! Oh,
Calhoun! let us swear eternal friendship to each other. Let us promise
to be careful and not say anything to each other that will rankle and
hurt. We know not what will come, what the future has in store for us,
or whither we shall be led. Let us swear to succor and save each other,
even at the peril of our lives, if necessary. Wherever we may meet, let
us meet as friends--each ready to protect the life and honor of the
other. Let us swear it."
"Fred," slowly replied Calhoun, "it is a very strange compact you ask.
It sounds like some old story of knight-errantry. You must be getting
romantic. But when I think of how near we came to flying at each other's
throats, if you are willing to make such a solemn compact, I am."
And there, on that July evening, under the spreading oak, the boys
clasped hands and took a solemn oath to stand by each other, come what
might; even unto death would they be true to each other.
Little did either think what would be the outcome of that strange
compact. Little did they realize that the day would come when that oath,
if kept, would lead both into the very jaws of death--an ignoble and
terrible death. That oath, under the spreading oak, on that July evening
between two boys, was to become the pivot around which the fate of
contending armies depended.
Calhoun was the first to speak after the making of the solemn compact.
"Fred," he exclaimed, "now that we have sworn eternal friendship, it
will not do for us to quarrel any more. Like the man and his wife they
tell about, 'we agree to disagree.' But see how restless our horses are.
They must be disgusted with our loitering. Let us have a race. See that
tree yonder, nearly a mile away, where the Danville and Nicholasville
roads cross? I can beat you to that tree, and if I do, the South wins."
"Done," cried Fred, for he had all the love of a true Kentucky boy for a
horse race. "Now, Prince," said he, as he unhitched his horse, and
patted his glossy neck, "you hear. This race is for the old flag. Win,
or never hold up your head again."
"Selim," cried Calhoun, "how do you like that? It is the cause of the
Sunny South that is at stake. Win, Selim, or I will sell you to the
meanest Abolitionist in the North."
Both boys vaulted into their saddles, and at the word their steeds were
away like the wind.