The Rival Spies.
They found the admiral at Natchez, and when Frank had reported his
arrival, he was ordered to take his station at Gaines' Landing--a place
noted for guerrillas--which they reached in safety. For two or three
days, nothing worthy of note transpired, the rebels, if there were any
about, being careful not to show themselves.
One night, while Frank was walking the deck, arm-in-arm with his cousin,
the officer on watch approached, and said, in a low voice:
"Look there, sir! What kind of a craft is that?"
Frank looked in the direction indicated, and an object about the size of
a man's head could be dimly seen in the water, silently but rapidly
approaching the vessel. It came from toward the nearest shore, and the
thought that it was a torpedo instantly flushed through his mind. Taking
the spy-glass from the quarter-master, he leveled it at the object, and
could distinctly see that it was a human head, and that it belonged to
some one who was an excellent swimmer, for he was making rapid progress
through the water.
"I don't see any torpedo there," said he, at length, handing the glass
to his cousin, "for the fellow, whoever he is, is using both hands."
Then raising his it voice, he called out, "Who comes there?"
"A friend," was the scarcely audible reply.
"Come on board here."
"That's just what I want to do," answered the man, who, with a few more
strokes, was near enough to be seized by the quarter-master--who had ran
below with a lantern--and lifted upon the guards.
"Who are you, and what are you doing here at this time of night?" asked
Frank, as soon as the man had come on deck.
"My name is William Striker," was the answer, "and I am an escaped Union
scout."
Frank took the lantern from the quarter-master's hand and held it up, so
that he could obtain a good view of the man's face. He was certain he
had seen it before, but could not remember where.
"I have a better memory than you, sir," said the man at length. "I have
seen you before. I met you in the trenches at Vicksburg."
As the man spoke, he produced a bundle of wet papers, from which he
selected one that he handed to Frank. It was the appointment of major,
and addressed to William Striker, United States Scout. But this was no
proof that the man was in reality what he professed to be, for Frank
remembered that he had once passed himself off as Lieutenant Somers, of
the rebel army, and had shown his appointment and orders to prove it. It
was true that he wore the dress of a Union major, but that might have
been obtained in the same manner that Frank once got his rebel uniform.
There was something suspicious in a man's presenting himself on board
the vessel at that time of night, and in so uncommon a manner.
"Well," said Frank, "if you were in the trenches at Vicksburg, tell me
something that happened there."
The soldier then told Frank of the experiment of which the latter had
made use to see "how far off the rebels were," during which he lost his
cap, the rebel who captured it offering to "trade" for it a tattered
slouch-hat with a bullet-hole in it, and informed him that he was the
scout who had told him the story of his "partner" Sam, and their raid
into the rebel camp, which resulted in the capture of Colonel Peckham.
He also related other little incidents which Frank had not forgotten,
and which proved that he was in reality the scout whom he had met in the
trenches, and not a rebel spy, as he had at first feared. Being fully
satisfied on this point, the major was conducted into the cabin, and
while he was exchanging his wet clothes for some that Frank and Archie
had provided for him, the former ordered his steward to prepare supper
for their guest, for he knew, by experience, that a man who had been a
prisoner among the rebels was hungry. The major sat down to the table
with a most ravenous appetite, and the good things the steward had
prepared rapidly disappeared. When he had finished his meal, in answer
to Frank's inquiry how he came to be a prisoner, he gave the following
account of his adventures, which he remarked were a "little ahead of any
thing he had ever gone through."
"In the first place," said he, "I must tell you what became of my
comrade, Sam, as it was in endeavoring to assist him that I was
captured. His career as a scout, although an exciting one, full of
stirring adventures and hair-breadth escapes, was brought to a close
soon after the capture of Vicksburg.
"When the army again took up its line of march, we made several
excursions into the rebel lines, and one night we stopped at a
plantation-house to shelter ourselves from the rain, for it was storming
violently, and also to see if we could not pick up some information that
might be of use to us. The only inmate of the house was an old woman,
who, believing us to be rebels, talked freely with us on all subjects;
and during the conversation, which finally turned upon scouting,
informed us that there was a scout in the rebel army who was far ahead
of any "Yank" that ever lived. He was described as a daring,
quick-witted fellow, and many a disaster that had befallen us was owing
to him. As I listened to the stories told of him, I came to the
conclusion that there was a good deal of truth in them, and that some
spy must indeed have been in our camp, for the woman was acquainted with
several moves we had made, and which had been defeated, the particulars
of which, I thought, were known only to the general and his staff. This
led me to believe that the scout, whoever he was, staid about
head-quarters, else how could he obtain so much information.
"The woman seemed to be well acquainted with him and his movements, and
told us of several of his exploits, which, if true, showed the spy to be
a man admirably fitted for his position. I listened attentively to all
she said, in hopes I should learn something of his personal appearance,
for I had made up my mind that as soon as I could find out his
movements, he and I would have a meeting, But all I could learn was that
his name was Bob Cole.
"'Well,' said I,'do you know that as long as I have been in the army, I
have never seen this man?'"
"'Haven't yer!' exclaimed the woman, in surprise. 'Wal, come to think, I
don't know as that is so funny, arter all, 'cause he's in the Yankee
camp most of the time, an', as they think he is one of them, he goes an'
comes when he pleases, He's a smart one, I tell yer. Some of the boys
told me that he is a goin' to bring in a prisoner this week, in the
shape of a Yankee scout an' spy. Bill Striker is his name, I believe. Do
yer know him?'
"I couldn't help starting when I found that I was known to this noted
rebel; but the woman didn't notice it, and I replied:
"Oh, yes! I've heard of him.'
"'Cordin' to all accounts,' continued the woman, 'this Yankee an't much
behind Bob, for he has often been in our camp, an' he don't allers go
back empty-handed. If he ketches a feller in an out-of-the-way place, he
is sartin to gobble him up. But his time is most up now, 'kase Bob never
fails in any thing when he onct gets his mind sot on it, an' when I
heerd that he was a goin' to ketch this Yank, I believed he would do it.
"It was very encouraging to sit there and listen to a person talk so
confidently of my speedy capture; but, as it happened, I had been put on
my guard, and another thing, I didn't have quite as much faith in Bob
Cole as his rebel friends had, and was in no way concerned about his
being able to fulfill his promise. It set me to thinking, however, and I
determined I would not sleep sound until I had found him, and then there
would be a prisoner taken, sure; but it wouldn't be Bill Striker.
"'What kind of a looking man is he?' I asked, at length.
"'Oh, he's a'--
"Just at this moment we heard several horsemen going by the house, and
Sam exclaimed:
"'There are some of our boys now. Perhaps we are wanted.'
"I knew well enough what he meant. Although we had frequently met rebels
while scouting about through their lines, we were not at all fond of
them, and did not want to be in their company if we could help it.
"Those who had just gone by might at any moment return and enter the
house; and besides, it occurred to me that if I was so well known to the
rebel spy, I was not safe except in our own camp. I might, at any time,
run into a trap he had laid for me. At any rate, we thought it best to
get within our lines as soon as possible; so, without waiting to hear
the woman's description of Bob Cole, we bid her good night.
"We reached our camp in safety, reported our return, and the next
morning I walked up to headquarters, where I remained until dark,
talking with the general's hostler, and keeping an ear open for news,
but was obliged to go away without hearing any. The next day I was kept
busy carrying dispatches, and when I returned at night, I learned that
Sam had gone into the rebel camp, as they were making some movement, the
particulars of which the general was anxious to learn. I thought nothing
of it at the time, but when night came and he did not return, I began to
fear that he had been captured or killed. It then occurred to me that if
I could get back to the house where lived the woman who had told us of
Bob Cole, I might learn something that would be to my advantage; so I
put on my rebel uniform, and in a few moments was out of the lines. I
reached the house in safety, and was delighted to find there were no
rebels about. The woman seemed glad to see me, brought me a cup of water
to drink, and after a few minutes' conversation exclaimed:
"'Wal, they've gobbled up one of them fellers!'
"'Which one?' I asked.
"'I don't know his name. Bob done it. He seed him leave the Yankee camp,
an' follered him, an' while they were ridin' along together, he tuk out
his pistol an' told the Yank to give up his we'pons; but the feller
wouldn't do it, an' Bob had to shoot him. But he didn't kill him; he
only shot him through the shoulder. He's sartin to be hung.'
"You can easily imagine my feelings as I sat there and listened to this.
It required a strong effort to subdue my feelings.
"'How does Bob Cole disguise himself?' I asked, in as firm a voice as I
could command. 'What does he do in the Yankee camp?'
"'That's what nobody, 'sides Bob an' the general, knows,' answered the
woman. 'Didn't you never see him? He's a little man, has black hair and
eyes, wears no whiskers, and allers rides a little gray horse. He's
smart, I tell yer.'
"After talking awhile longer with the woman without learning any thing
further, I mounted my horse and returned to camp. While I was eating my
supper, I called to mind all the scouts with whom I was acquainted, but
not one of them answered to the description of Bob Cole. There was one
man in camp, however, who _did_ answer the description, and that
was the general's hostler. Could it be possible that he was the spy?
"At this moment an orderly entered to tell me that I was wanted at
head-quarters. I followed him to the general's tent, received my orders,
and began to get ready for the journey. As I came out of the tent I met
the hostler, who inquired:
"'Are you off again to-night, Bill?'
"I replied in the affirmative, and he continued:
"'Well, good luck to you. Don't let the rebs get hold of you.'
"I mounted my horse and rode out of the camp, fully satisfied that if he
was the spy I would soon know it.
"The night was very dark, but I had traveled the road often enough to be
well acquainted with it, and in an hour after I left our camp, I had
passed the rebel sentries, and was fairly within their lines. As I was
riding quietly along, keeping a good look-out on all sides, and pausing
now and then to listen, I suddenly heard the clatter of horses' hoofs
behind me, and some one called out, in a low voice:
"Bill! Bill Striker!'
"I instantly stopped, and a moment afterward up galloped the hostler.
"'Don't make so much noise, Jim,' said I, nastily. 'But what on earth
brings you here? Where are you going?'
"'I'm after you,' he replied. 'The general told me to overtake you, and
say that he had neglected to give you some very important orders.'
"All this while he had been coming nearer and nearer to me, and having
now got within reach, he suddenly seized my bridle, and presenting a
revolver, exclaimed:
"'Bill Striker, your scouting is up now! You're my prisoner!'
"If he imagined that he had taken me by surprise he was very much
mistaken. In an instant I had knocked aside the revolver, which
exploded, sending the ball harmlessly past my head, and in a moment more
I had wrested the weapon from him. Then, almost before he had time to
think twice, I lifted him off his horse and laid him across my saddle,
in front of me, as if he had been a bag of corn. He was very strong, as
wiry as an eel, and struggled most desperately; but I had him at
disadvantage, and when I thought of Sam, who was now a prisoner through
the treachery of this fellow, I felt as if I had the strength of ten
men. By the time I had fairly got hold of him, I was tearing down the
road toward our lines, while his own horse had gone on toward the rebel
camp. My only danger was in being cut off by the pickets. These passed,
I would be safe, for I had no fears of being overtaken. There was no
time to avoid them in jumping over fences and running through fields,
for I knew that the report of the revolver had been heard, and that,
unless I could reach our lines in a very few moments, Bob Cole would
again be a free man and I would be the prisoner. I used my spurs freely,
and my horse, which seemed to understand that he was called upon to make
use of his best speed, carried us over the ground at a tremendous rate.
In a short time I came within sight of a fire burning by the side of the
road. I heard a loud command to halt, followed by the noise of a bullet
as it whistled by my head, and the pickets were passed in safety. Half
an hour afterward I dismounted in front of the general's tent, and
delivered up my prisoner. You can't imagine how surprised our boys were
to learn that we had had a rebel spy in our camp so long without knowing
it. Bob Cole had played his cards remarkably well, and if Sam and I had
not stopped at that house to get out of the rain, there's no knowing how
much longer he would have been at liberty. But he was safe in the
guard-house at last, and I must confess that I breathed more freely. If
he was the only rebel who knew me, there was now no danger of running
into a trap laid for my capture. My first hard work must be to attempt
Sam's release. I knew it would be worse than useless to return to the
rebel camp that night, for it had been aroused, and my own chances of
escape would be none of the surest; so I let two days pass before
setting out, and then I did not follow my usual course, but took a
roundabout way to get behind their camp, where I would not run so much
risk of meeting the pickets.
"I reached the lines in safety, and as I was riding along by the side of
the road, keeping my horse on the grass, to make as little noise as
possible, I heard horsemen approaching, and presently up galloped a
party of rebels. I thought they would pass without discovering me, but
was mistaken, for one of them drew in his horse and exclaimed--
"'Wal, ef here an't another,' and I was speedily surrounded, and
commanded to 'hand over my we'pons.'
"'Look here, boys,' said I, 'I've got a pass,' and I made a motion to
produce it.
"'Oh, we don't want to see your pass,' said the corporal who had charge
of the squad; 'we've seed a dozen to-night that wasn't no 'count. You
must go to the guard-house, 'cause you know it's the general's orders
that nobody goes out o' camp.'
"This showed me that I was not suspected of being a Federal, but was
arrested as one of their own men who was endeavoring to get out of the
lines.
"'I know it's mighty hard,' continued the corporal, 'not to let a feller
go home, when p'rhaps it an't five miles off; but orders is orders, you
know. Howsomever, you wont hev no trouble to get out o' the guard-house,
'cause--by gum! ef here an't some more,' and, as he spoke, he left me,
and rode up to three men who were crouching in the fence-corner by the
roadside. These were speedily secured, and we went on our way toward the
guard-house. The rebel army, it appeared, was encamped in a part of the
country where a number of regiments had been raised, and the men,
anxious to see home and friends once more, were deserting by
hundreds--'taking French,' as we call it. As we rode along, I learned
something, from the conversation of my captors, that made me wish I had
never taken Bob Cole prisoner, and that was, that Sam had died from the
effects of the wound he had received while resisting the rebel. This
was, perhaps, better than being hung, but how I wished I had known it
before taking the spy to camp. I had put myself in danger without being
able to be of any assistance to Sam, and I now set my wits to work to
conjure up some plan for escape.
"Finally, after capturing one more rebel who was about to 'take French,'
we reached the guard house, which was a rickety old barn. As we entered
the door, the rebels, with whom the house was filled, greeted us with
loud yells, and slapped us on our backs, as though they looked upon our
capture as a most excellent joke. The majority of our fellow-prisoners
were confined for attempting to leave the camp to visit their friends;
but putting them in the guard-house was only a farce, for I had not been
in the room fifteen minutes before I saw three men make their escape
through a window. I determined to try the same thing; so, after waiting
a few moments, to see that they were not brought back, I walked up to
the window and looked out. A sentinel was standing at the corner of the
building, but as soon as he saw me he shouldered his gun and walked off,
whistling. It was plain that he had no objections to my making my escape
if I wished to do so, and, as soon as he was out of sight, I crawled out
of the window, dropped to the ground, and walked off with an appearance
of unconcern I was very far from feeling.
"I had lost my horse, but that did not trouble me, for the camp was not
far off, and I had no fears of pursuit. I had scarcely got safely out of
their lines, however, before I became aware that I was followed. I
turned and saw a party of men, who, keeping their horses on the grass at
the side of the road, had succeeded in getting within pistol-shot before
I heard them. As I sprang over a fence I heard my name pronounced,
followed by the report of several revolvers and carbines, that sent the
bullets about me altogether too close for comfort.
"Well, to make a long story short, I laid about in the woods for a
month, making a raid now and then on a chicken-roost, to supply my
commissary department; but all this while the rebels followed me like
blood-hounds. I had gone miles out of my way--in fact, I did not know
where I was, until one day I was in with a party of guerrillas. I told
them I was a reb on French leave, and on my way to visit my friends, who
lived on the opposite side of the river. From them I learned that the
Mississippi was sixty miles distant, and was also informed that there
was a gun-boat at Gaines's Landing, and was advised to keep out of her
way. This was the best news I had heard in a long time, and I determined
to make the best of my way here. I came off to the vessel in the night,
because I did not know but there might be rebels on the watch, and as I
was entirely unarmed, I did not want to run any risks. Since leaving our
camp, I have traveled nearly two hundred miles without a weapon of any
kind, not even a pocket-knife; and if either of you has ever been a
prisoner, you can easily imagine that I am overjoyed to find myself safe
among friends once more. And now, captain," continued the scout, "I have
a proposition to make you. The leader of these guerrillas whom I met
back in the country makes his head-quarters in a deserted
plantation-house about forty miles from the river. He never has more
than two or three men with him, the others being scattered over the
country, stealing horses from both rebels and Union people. Now, I would
like to help capture him and break up his band of guerrillas, for he's a
perfect demon, and never takes any prisoners. There is a house about ten
miles from here where we can get all the horses we need, and three or
four men could do the job nicely. This guerrilla's brother was formerly
the captain of the band, but he was killed by a party of rebels, just as
he was about to hang a couple of Union prisoners he had taken--gun-boat
men, I believe. His name is Thorne, and--what's the matter, captain?"
Frank had started upon hearing the name of the guerrilla chief at whose
hands he and the mate had so nearly suffered death, and from which they
were rescued by the Wild-cats, and just as he finished relating the
story of the "Close Shave," the orderly entered the cabin and announced
the dispatch-boat "General Lyon" approaching.