"What do you mean by being here at all?"
"I got lost in the woods last night," he said, "and went to sleep here,
waiting for day."
"Then get back to your company at once," said I; "what is your
regiment?"
"The Seventh," he replied.
"And your brigade?"
He looked up wonderingly at this, and I feared that I had made an
unnecessary mistake through over-carefulness in trying to secure another
corroboration of what I already knew well enough. I thought I could
perceive his idea, and I added in an instant: "Don't you know that
troops have come up in the night? What brigade is yours?"
"Branch's," he said.
"Then you will find your camp just in this direction," said I, pointing
to the rear and left. He slunk away, seemingly well pleased to be quit
at so cheap a cost.
Fearing that our voices had been heard by the pickets, I plunged through
the bushes directly toward the east, and ran for a minute without
pausing. Again the cold sweat was dropping from my face; again I had
felt the mysterious mental agony attendant upon a too violent transition
of personality. Perhaps it was this peculiar condition which pressed me
to prolonged and unguarded energy. I went through thicket and brier
patch, over logs and gullies, and when I paused I knew not where I was.
After some reflection I judged that I had pursued an easterly direction
so far that Jones was now not to the northeast, but more to the north; I
changed my course then, bending toward the north, and before sunrise
reached the creek which, on the preceding night, I had crossed after
leaving Jones. I did not know whether he was above me or below, so I
crossed the stream at the place where I struck it, and went straight
away from it through the swamp.
After going a long distance I began to fear that I was missing my
course, and I did not know which way to turn. I whistled; there was
no response.
No opening could be seen in any direction through the swamp. My present
course had led me wrong; it would not do at all to go on; I should get
farther and farther away from Jones. If I should assume any direction as
the right one, I should be likely to have guessed wrong. I spent an hour
working my way laboriously through the swamp, making wide and wider
sweeps to reach some opening or some tree on higher ground. At last I
saw open ground on my left. I went rapidly to it, and found a field,
with a fence separating it from the woods,--the fence running east and
west,--and saw, several hundred yards toward the west, the corner of the
field at which I had stationed Jones.
At once I began to go rapidly down the hill toward the place. As I came
near, I saw both horses prick their ears. Jones was sitting on the
ground, with his gun in his lap, alert toward the west; I was in his
rear. Suddenly he, too, saw the movement of the horses; he sprang
quickly to a tree, from behind which I could now see the muzzle of his
gun ten paces off. I whistled. The gun dropped, and Jones advanced,
frightened.
"I came in an ace of it," he said, in a loud whisper; "why didn't you
signal sooner?"
"To tell you the truth, I did not think of it in time, Jones; I am glad
to see you so watchful."
"I should never have recognized you in that plight," said he; "what have
you done with your other clothes?"
"Had to throw them away."
"Well! I certainly had no notion of seeing you come back as you are--and
from that direction."
This was the first time I had seen myself as a Confederate standing with
a Union soldier. In the night, mixed with the rebels, I had felt no
visible contrast with them. Since I had left the wagon I had had no time
for thought of personal appearance. Now I looked at myself. My hands
were scratched with briers; my hat was torn; a great hole was over one
knee, which I had used most in crawling. I was muddy to my knees, having
been more rapid than cautious in crossing the creek. For more than
twenty-four hours my mind had been on too great a strain to think of the
body. By the side of me, Jones looked like a glittering general
questioning an uncouth rebel prisoner. He smiled, but I did not.
"Now, let us mount and ride," said I; "we can eat as we go. The horses
have had an all night's rest, and I can notify you that I need one, but
it won't do to stay here. I know all that we need to know."
* * * * *
We decided that we should return to Old Church by the route which we had
followed in coming. As we rode, I described to Jones the position and
force of the enemy, so that, if I should be taken and he left, he could
report to General Morell. We avoided the fields and roads, and stuck to
the woods, keeping a sharp lookout ahead, but going rapidly. At the
first water which we saw I took time to give my head a good souse.
Near the middle of the forenoon we came out upon the hills above Crump's
Creek, and were about to descend when we heard a noise at our left,
seemingly the galloping of horses. We dismounted, and I crept toward the
road until I could see part of it winding over the hill. About
twenty-five or thirty rebel cavalry--to be exact, they numbered just
twenty-seven, as I counted--were on the road, going at a gallop up the
hill, and apparently excited--running from danger, I thought. They
disappeared over the hill. I thought it quite likely that some of our
cavalry were advancing on the road, and that it would be well for me to
wait where I was; if I should go back and call Jones to come, our men
might pass while I was gone.
In a short time I saw in the road, going westward at a slow walk,
another body of cavalry. These men, to my astonishment, were armed with
lances. My surprise gave way to pleasure, for I remembered much talk in
the army concerning a Pennsylvania regiment of lancers.
As I could see, also, that the men were in Federal uniform, I boldly
left my place of concealment and walked out into the road. The cavalry
halted. The captain, or officer in command, whom I shall here call
Captain Lewis, although that was not his name, rode out a little to the
front of his men, and said, "So you have given it up?"
"No, sir," said I; "to the contrary, I have made a success of it."
"Well, we shall see about that," he exclaimed; "here! get up behind one
of my men. We want you."
For me to go with the cavalry and show them the plain road before their
eyes, was ridiculous. As I hesitated, the captain cried out, "Here,
Sergeant, take two men and carry this man to the rear!"
"Captain, please don't be so fast," said I; "one of my comrades is near
by with our horses--" I was going to say more, but he interrupted me,
crying, "We intend to pay our respects to all your comrades. No more
from you, sir!"
As I showed no willingness to mount behind a man, the sergeant and
detail marched me down the road. I endeavoured to talk to the sergeant,
but he refused to hear me.
This affair had puzzled me, and it continued to puzzle me for a short
while, but I soon saw what it meant, and saw why I had not understood
from the first. My mind had been so fixed upon my direct duty that I had
not once thought of my pretended character. For his part, the captain
had supposed that I was a Confederate deserter coming into the Union
lines. This was now simple enough, but why, under such circumstances, he
had not questioned me in regard to what was in his front, I could not at
all understand. I tried again to speak, but was commanded to be silent.
This was a ludicrous experience, though unpleasant. My only serious
consideration was in regard to Jones. I feared that he would wait for me
indefinitely, and would be captured. Although such a result could bring
no blame to me, yet I was very anxious about him. Concerning myself, I
knew that I could suffer restraint but a very short time; just so soon
as I could get speech with any officer willing to listen, I should be
set right.
The sergeant and his two men marched me back nearly to Hawes's shop,
some two miles beyond Crump's Creek, where I was brought before Colonel
Tyler, who was in command of two or three infantry regiments which had
advanced from Old Church on that morning.
Colonel Tyler was the centre of a group of officers; the regiments were
under arms. The sergeant in charge of me reported that I was a
Confederate deserter, whom the Pennsylvania cavalry had found in the
woods beyond Crump's Creek. Colonel Tyler nodded, and began to
question me.
"When did you leave your regiment?"
"On the 22d, Colonel," I replied.
"That is a long time to lie out in the woods," said he; "now be sure
that your memory is right. What day of the month is this?"
"The 24th, I think, sir."
"And it has taken you two days to come a few miles?"
"From what place, Colonel?"
"Why, from Hanover."
"No, sir; it has taken me but a few hours."
"What is your regiment?"
"The Eleventh Massachusetts, Colonel."
The colonel smiled. Then he looked angry. Then he composed his
countenance.
"Have you any idea what is the matter with this man, Sergeant?"
The sergeant shook his head. "I don't know anything about it, Colonel. I
only know that we took the man as I have said. He tried to talk to
Captain Lewis, but the captain thought it best to send him back
at once."
"You insist on belonging to the--what regiment did you say?"
"The Eleventh Massachusetts, sir," said I, unable to restrain a smile.
"Then what are you doing here?"
"I was brought here much against my will, Colonel."
"But what were you doing when you were captured?"
"I have not been captured, Colonel; when I came to meet the lancers, I
was returning from a scout."
"What brigade do you belong to?"
"General Grover's."
"What division?"
"General Hooker's."
"Where is your regiment now?"
"Near Bottom's Bridge, Colonel," I said; then added, "it was there on
the 21st; where it is now I cannot say."
The colonel saw that I was a very remarkable Confederate deserter; he
was beginning to believe my story; his tone altered.
"But why are you in Confederate uniform?"
"Colonel," said I, "I have been sent out by order, and I was just
returning when our cavalry met me. I tried to explain, but they would
not listen to me. The officer threatened me and would not let me speak."
The colonel looked puzzled. "Have you anything to prove that you are a
Union soldier?"
"No, sir," said I, "not a thing. It would be dangerous for me to carry
anything of that kind, sir. All I ask is to be sent to General Morell."
"Where is General Morell?"
"On the reserve line near New Bridge."
"Why send you to General Morell?"
"Because I must make my report to him."
"Did he send you out?"
"Yes, sir."
"How is it that you are attached to General Grover and also to General
Morell?"
"Well, Colonel, that is something I do not like to talk about, but it is
perfectly straight. If you will send me under guard to General Morell,
the whole matter will be cleared up to your satisfaction. I beg you to
do so at once. I know that General Morell will consider my report
important, and will be disappointed if it should be delayed, sir."
"Not yet," said he; "but I will send him a description of your person. I
shall want you here in case General Morell does not claim you and
justify your claims."
"But if General Morell does not justify me, I am a rebel, and what would
you do with me?"
"If you are a rebel, you are a deserter or a spy, and you say you are
not a deserter; if you are either, General Morell does not need you."
"Colonel," said I, "would not a rebel spy be an idiot to come
voluntarily into the Union lines dressed as I am dressed?"
"One cannot be too careful," said he. "You claim to be a Union man, but
you cannot prove it."
"Then, Colonel, since you refuse to send me back to General Morell, I
beg that you at once send back for my companion."
"What companion?"
"His name is Jones. He was chosen by General Morell to accompany me. He
is near the spot where I met the lancers. He has both of our horses, and
I fear he will wait too long for me, and be captured."
"By the lancers?"
"No, sir, by the rebels. He has on his own Federal uniform."
"But why did you not tell me this before?"
"Because I wanted you first to consent to send me to General Morell; you
refuse, and I now tell you about Jones. He can justify me to you; but
time is lost in getting to General Morell, sir."
Colonel Tyler wrote something and handed it to the sergeant, who at once
went off, accompanied by his two men.
"What force of the enemy is in our front?" asked the colonel.
"My report is to be made to General Morell, Colonel."
"But if I order you to report to me?"
"Do you recognize me as a Union soldier, Colonel?"
"What has that got to do with it?"
"You would hardly have the right to command a rebel spy to betray his
cause," said I.
"But you may be a rebel deserter," said he, smiling.
"If I were a rebel deserter, why should I not claim to be one, after
having reached safety?"
"But you may have intended to go home, or you may have been lost, and
if so you are properly a prisoner of war."
"How should a lost rebel know what I know about the composition of the
Union army?"
"I know your case seems pretty strong; but why not give me the benefit
of your knowledge? Some of my men are now almost in the presence of
the enemy."
"General Morell advised me to report only to him, unless our advanced
troops should be in any danger."
"Then I tell you that we are in danger. We contemplate attacking a small
force, but we don't want to run our heads into a hornet's nest."
"Well, Colonel, since you put it so, I will answer you."
"What force is in our front?"
"There are six or seven regiments of infantry and a battery. There are
cavalry, also; several hundred, I presume."
"And where are they?"
"The cavalry?"
"The whole force of which you speak."
"They were at Hanover Court-House all last night, and until day this
morning, I cannot say that they have not moved since."
"Do you know who commands them?"
"Yes, sir."
"Who is it?"
"General Branch."
"Did you see him?"
"No, sir."
"How then do you know that he is in command?"
"I see that I misunderstood your question, Colonel. I do not know that
General Branch is present with his brigade, but I do know that the
troops at Hanover compose Branch's brigade."
"How did you learn it? A man told you?"
"Three different men, of different regiments, told me."
"Well, that ought to be accepted," said he.
I was allowed to remain at my ease near the circle of officers. It was
easy to see that Colonel Tyler was almost convinced that I was telling
the truth.
In about an hour the sergeant returned without the two men, and
accompanied by Jones, who was leading my horse, and who at once handed
the colonel a paper. I was immediately released, and in little more than
two hours reached the camp of General Morell, and made my report.
* * * * *
General Morell expressed gratification at my quick return with valuable
results. He told me that General Hooker's command had not moved, and
that he would gladly send a statement of my work to General Grover, and
would say that I would be found with Dr. Khayme until actually ordered
back to the left. He then told me to go back to my quarters and rest;
that I must get all the rest I could, and as quickly as possible.
* * * * *
Although the day was quite warm, I put my gum-blanket over me, to shield
my gray clothes from the gaze of the curious. I was soon at Dr. Khayme's
tent. Without thinking, I entered at once, throwing off the hot blanket.
Lydia sprang up from a camp-stool, and raised her hands; in an instant
she sat again, trembling. She was very white.
"I did not know you," she said; "yet I ought to have known you: Father
prepared me; but we did not expect you before to-morrow, at the
earliest." She was still all a-tremble.
"I am sorry that I startled you so; but I was so eager to hide from all
eyes that I did not think of anything else. Where is the Doctor?"
"He had a case to attend to somewhere--I don't know where it is; he said
he should be back to supper."
Lydia was getting ready to leave the tent. "I suppose you have had hard
work," said she, "and I shall leave you, yet I so wish to know what
success you have had."
"Then stay, and I will tell you about it," said I.
"Only tell me whether you succeeded," she said.
"Yes, I succeeded. I went into the rebel camp and remained all night
with a brigade of them. I know all that I was sent to learn."
"Oh, Father will be so glad!" she said; "now I will let you rest till he
comes, although I should like to hear all about it."
"But you will not hinder me by remaining," I exclaimed; "to be plain
with you, I had to throw away my uniform, and you see me with all the
clothes I've got."
She laughed; then, hanging her head a little, she said, "You need rest,
though, and I'll see if I cannot help you while you get some sleep."
When she had gone I lay down and closed my eyes, but sleep would not
come. After a time I heard voices, and then I saw a black hand open the
tent door and lay a package on the ground. I got up, and saw my name on
the package, which proved to contain a new uniform. I dressed and went
out. The Doctor's negro servant was cooking supper. I asked him who gave
him the package he had put into the tent. He said, "Miss Liddy she done
sont me wid a note to de ginnle en' de ginnle he gimme anudda' note en'
dat man he gimme de bunnle."
The Doctor came while the table was being spread. I gave a detailed
account of my work, his little eyes twinkling with interest as I talked,
and Lydia saying not a word.
When I had ended, I said, "And I have to thank Miss Lydia for her
interest in a ragged rebel; she had the forethought, while I was trying
to sleep, to make a requisition in my behalf; see my new
uniform, Doctor?"
"I'll give her a kiss for showing her good sense," said her father.
Lydia smiled. "You looked so forlorn--or so tattered and torn--that I
pitied you; I wrote a note to General Morell, not knowing what else
to do."
"Did he reply?" I asked, thinking wildly, at the time, of the
conclusion of the celebrated romance called "The House that Jack Built."
"Yes," said she; "you may keep the uniform, and I'll keep the note. I am
thinking that I'll become a collector of autographs."
"Why didn't you let that Confederate, whom you found behind the log,
come with you?" asked the Doctor; "do you not think that he was trying
to desert?"
"I thought so, Doctor," said I; "but I feared to be encumbered with him.
Speed was what I wanted just then."
"I suppose you were right," said he; "if he wants to come, he can come."
"I don't think such a man should have been trusted at all," said Lydia;
"if he would betray his own people, why should he not betray us?"
"Let us not condemn him unjustly; possibly he was telling the simple
truth," said the Doctor.
"In that case," said I, "I should have caught a Tartar if I had accepted
his company."
"One more thing," said the Doctor; "in talking to Captain Lewis,"--the
Doctor did not say Lewis, but called the officer by his name,--"in
talking to Captain Blank, why did you not raise your voice loud enough
for Jones to hear you? That would have relieved you at once."
"That is true, Doctor; but I did not understand the situation at all.
Yes, if I had known what he was driving at, a call to Jones would have
settled matters."
"I doubt it," said Lydia; "the captain might have thought you were
Roderick Dhu."
"That man must be somewhat idiotic," said the Doctor; "in fact, all
those lancers are what we mildly term unfortunates. I suspect that the
captain had begun to realize the impotency of his command in front of
Enfield rifles. I fancy that he was frightened, and that he blustered to
hide his scare."
It was getting late. Lydia retired to her own apartment. The Doctor had
smoked and smoked; his pipe had gone out, and he did not fill it again.
He rose. "You can get sleep now, my boy; you have done a good day's
work, or rather a good night's work sandwiched between two days. General
Morell ought to reward you."
"I do not want any reward," said I.
"You would not like a commission?" he asked.
"I don't know what good it would do me," said I.
"It would do you no harm," he said; "it would be an advantage to you in
many ways. You would fare better; your service might not be really
lighter, but you would command more respect from others. That captain of
the lancers will not think of apologizing to you; but if he knew you as
Lieutenant Berwick, he would be quick to write you a note. If promotion
is offered you,--and it ought to be offered,--you ought not to
refuse it."
"Doctor," said I, "I am not ambitious--at least, in that way."