CHAPTER XXVII
A FRIEND INDEED
"Hush, my dear boy! not a word!" said Captain de Banyan in an impressivewhisper, as he led the way along the street.
Somers made no reply; for he readily perceived that the utmost cautionwas necessary, though he did not understand the position of his friend,or what complications there were in the situation. He was filled withrejoicing at finding himself again in the way of getting back to theUnion army. Of course, his feelings towards Captain de Banyan, in spiteof his antecedents in the Third Tennessee, underwent a sudden andagreeable change; and in the joy of his heart he was disposed to embracehis friend, and beg forgiveness for the suspicions he had entertained ofhim.
They had advanced but a short distance from the main street, when theyheard the clatter of horses' hoofs.
"That's bad," said Captain de Banyan, as he stopped to ascertain in whatdirection the horsemen were going.
"What's bad?" demanded Somers.
"My absence has been discovered, I am afraid. The provost-marshal has asection of cavalry to run down Union prisoners who may escape. I thinkthey are after me; at any rate, we must be very careful where we go."
A few moments later, a small party of horsemen dashed down the street bywhich the captain was conducting his retreat. It would prove fatal totheir hopes, if they were seen; and Captain de Banyan entered the yard ofa house, followed by his companion. There was a stable on the premises;and, without a special invitation from the owner, they entered, makingtheir way to the hay-loft, which seemed to be the most promising place ofconcealment. A horse in the stall below whinnied when they reached thesecond floor, expecting, no doubt, his morning rations of hay.
Unfortunately for the fugitives, still more unfortunately perhaps for thehorse, there was very little hay in the loft; so that a securehiding-place was not readily found. But, as it was no part of thecaptain's intention to remain long in this loft, they seated themselveson a grain chest, to wait till the troopers should pass the house.
"What time is it, captain?" asked Somers.
"About four in the morning. We are rather late. It will be daylight inabout an hour."
"Where have you been since we parted?"
"Since we parted, my boy? We didn't part. You did all the parting,Somers," replied De Banyan in a reproachful tone.
"I know I did; but, after what I had heard, you need scarcely wonder. Youacknowledged that you had been a rebel officer, and a member of the ThirdTennessee regiment."
"I grant it; but I thought enough else was said to enable you tounderstand my position."
"Well, I had some hopes that you were all right; but I could not banishmy fears. How could I know that you had not been sent over on the otherside for the same purpose that we crossed the James?"
"You might have known it, my dear fellow. They don't usually send menover on such business whose loyalty is doubtful. You heard the captainsay that I had been suspected."
"I did; but I could not fully understand your position."
"And so you gave me the slip? Well, Somers, I forgive you."
"I am sure, if I had not been in doubt in regard to what you were, Iwould not have left you, even if I had been certain of hanging with you."
"I know you wouldn't, my boy. I confess there were a great many darkthings against me; but I assure you I am a loyal and true man. I havesuffered more for the Union than you have; for I was born in the sunnySouth, and all my friends and neighbors went with the rebels. I had noalternative but to go into the army, where my experience in the Crimea,in Italy, and in Mexico, made me an officer. I escaped as soon as Icould, and enrolled myself on the right side."
Somers grasped the hand of his brave and devoted companion, which hepressed with a warmth that indicated his feelings more eloquently thanwords could have done. He was entirely satisfied with the explanation,because it was fully sustained by the conduct of the captain, and by thewords of the rebel cavalry officer who had claimed his acquaintance. Hewas even disposed to believe that De Banyan had been a soldier in theEuropean wars and in Mexico; which was a degree of credulity hardly to beexpected of a sensible young man.
"You will forgive me for my unjust suspicions, captain? I assure you itwent against my grain to believe that you were a rebel."
"You had good reason for it. I was more afraid of you, when I confessedmy sins to the rebel officer, than I was of him. We are friends again,Somers; that's all I want."
"You have proved yourself my friend by this last act; and I should haveneeded no further explanation to convince me that you were a loyal man."
"I am all that, my dear boy."
"Where have you been since I parted from you?"
"I got up to Petersburg in the afternoon. I was put in that hole where Ifound you at first; but, when the provost-marshal learned my story, hesent for me, and I was conducted to his office. Just as I came out of thedepot, you went in. He wanted to question me, he said. Well, I happenedto know him, though he did not know me. I knew his weak point; and, in aword, I bamboozled him. I assured him I was an officer in the ThirdTennessee, and that, on further inquiry, he would find I was all right;that I had rendered greater service to my country by going over to theYankees than I could possibly have done by remaining with my regiment;which, you are willing to believe, was strictly true.
"I asked the privilege of putting on my uniform again, which he granted;and, with the gold in my pocket, I purchased a full fit-out of thequartermaster. The provost-marshal told me that I must report atRichmond, which I promised to do; and, my dear boy, I hope I shall beable to do so at no distant day, though it doesn't look much like it justnow. He gave me an apartment next to his office, for the night; where, ofcourse, he expected to find me in the morning. In the night, I got up,and went into his office to transact a little business on my own account.
"After I saw you at the depot, my dear fellow, I couldn't forget your sadlook. You seemed to be as hopeless as a stray chicken in the wet grass,and I was trying to think what I could do for you. I couldn't have goneback to Harrison's Landing without you; it would have broken my heart.And what could I have said to the general, when he asked for you? Howcould I have made my peace with the officers of the regiment, if I hadgone back without you?"
"It was very kind of you, after the shabby manner in which I had treatedyou," added Somers.
"That was the very reason why I was bound to help you out of the scrape,if I could. I wanted to set myself right with you. I wanted to convinceyou I wasn't the man you took me to be."
"You have convinced me in the fullest manner; and I owe you a debt ofgratitude which I shall never be able to pay."
"Steady, my boy; we are not out of the scrape."
"No matter whether we get out of the scrape or not, my feelings towardsyou will be just the same."
"Thank you, Somers; I am satisfied."
"But where did you get the pass you gave the corporal of the guard at thedepot?" asked Somers.
"I found the provost-marshal's signature on certain papers, one of whichI filled out to suit myself. But there was a sentinel at the door of theoffice, put there, I suppose, for my benefit; though I was sorry totrouble the poor fellow to stand there on my account. My friend, theprovost, had done this little act in the most delicate way in the world.He did not tell me that I was under guard; but I happened to find outbefore I put my foot in the trap.
"In a word, not wishing to disturb the sentinel, I took the liberty ofleaving by the way of the window of my chamber, instead of the door.Luckily there was a one-story shop next to the office; and with the aidof a blanket from my bed, I dropped down upon it, without disturbing themeditations of the sentinel or the slumbers of the provost. I got intothe street, and went to the depot. There I told the corporal of the guarda very interesting story about the prisoner who had been brought up inthe afternoon, meaning myself; and that the man I wanted was neededimmediately as a witness. You know the rest, my dear fellow; and here weare."
"And here we are like
ly to remain, I'm afraid," added Somers.
"Not a bit of it. I haven't exhausted half my expedients yet. On thenight before the attack on the Redan, at Sebastopol, I went all over thatcity, and spent the evening at the house of one of the most distinguishedcitizens--a gentleman who had a government contract for rations. Ofcourse, he didn't know me."
"Hush! There is some one coming into the stable below," said Somers, ashe heard a door opened on the floor below.
It was impossible to move then without making noise enough to excite theattention of the person who had entered; for the stable was old andrickety, and the boards creaked at every step they took. The fugitiveslistened with breathless interest to the movements of the unwelcomevisitor. The horse whinnied again; and the person entered the stall, andspoke to him. The sound of his voice filled the occupants of the loftwith consternation; for evidently the speaker was not a negro servant, asthey had hoped and expected to find him, but a white man, and one whoused the English language well.
"Come, Jenny, there's a job on hand for us; and you must postpone yourbreakfast till we catch the Yankee prisoners," said the person, who, thefugitives were now satisfied, was an officer of the cavalry service.
While De Banyan was telling his story, they had heard some noise at thehouse; and they now concluded that the party which had ridden up thestreet had come to call this officer for duty. They hoped that nothingwould require him to pay a visit to the loft, and that, like a goodofficer, he would be as expeditious as possible in his preparations.
"You are my prisoner, if he comes up-stairs," whispered De Banyan.
Somers pressed the hand of his companion to assure him that he understoodhis plan; and they held their breath, in the intense anxiety of themoment, for further developments. The present seemed to be the turningpoint in the career of the adventurers; and, if they could once escapefrom the horns of this dilemma, skill and prudence would conduct them insafety to the Union lines.
The officer below, after he had politely informed "Jenny" of the earlymovement, seemed to be in no hurry to get into the saddle. He went out atthe door of the stable, and all was silent again, except the voice ofJenny, who seemed to be protesting against any movement before she hadreceived her customary feed of corn.
"Peters!" shouted the officer from the door, "hurry up! The Yankees willget to the James River before you get the saddle on my horse. Where haveyou been?"
"I was looking for my boots."
"An orderly ought to wear his boots to bed with him, if he can't put themwhere he can find them," replied the officer, as the heavy step ofanother man was heard in the stable below.
"What news did you hear?" asked the officer, as the orderly led the horsefrom the stall.
"The sergeant said some officer that had been took as a deserter donerunned away," replied Peters, as the fugitives heard the rattle of thesaddle-gear.
"Hurry up, then!"
"He done took a Yankee prisoner from the depot with him," added Peters,who, if he had not been called an orderly, the listeners would have takenfor a negro.
"You may take a peck of corn in a bag for Jenny, Peters. We may have along ride of it," added the officer, as he left the stable.
A peck of corn! De Banyan and Somers were sitting on the grain chest! Itwas impossible to avoid discovery; and De Banyan threw off his cloak,ready for the emergency.
"Somers, my boy, we must change our tactics. They have heard the wholestory, and we can't blind them. We must make the best of it. Have you apistol?" whispered the captain.
"No; all I had was taken from me," replied Somers.
"I have only one. No matter; it would never do to fire up here," added DeBanyan, as he picked up a short pitch-fork which lay near him.
"Are you going to kill him?" asked Somers.
"It's life or death for you and me! We can't stop for trifles," answeredthe captain in hurried tones, but still in a whisper.
They listened for a moment longer to the quick movements of Peters in thestable below. It was evident that Jenny was duly caparisoned for service;and then another horse was led out, which belonged to the orderly. He wasprepared for service in less time than Jenny had required; and, a momentlater, the step of Peters was heard on the stairs. With the bag in hishand, he was coming up for the corn, as he had been ordered by theofficer. He did not see the fugitives till he had reached the last step;when, as he was on the point of opening his mouth to speak, De Banyanleveled a blow at his head with the handle of the pitch-fork, whichfelled him to the floor.
He sank down upon the stairs stunned or dead; and the captain, as thoughhe had carefully matured his plan beforehand, dragged the body to onecorner of the loft, where he covered it with hay.
"Not a word, Somers," said he in an excited whisper, as he crouched downbehind the grain chest.
"Are you going to stay here?" demanded Somers, astonished at thissingular disposition of the forces.
"Hush--the officer is close by."
With beating heart, Somers waited for the further action of his resolutecompanion. It was the most critical period of his life, it seemed to him,especially as he did not fully comprehend the purpose of De Banyan. Onlya moment elapsed, but it was long enough to be a week, before the ownerof Jenny returned to the stable.
"Peters! What are you about?" shouted he angrily. "I shall never get offat this rate. Peters!"
Peters was not in condition to answer the summons at that moment. Somershoped he was not dead; but he might as well have been dead, so far asspeaking was concerned.
"Peters!" shouted the officer again, with a string of SouthernConfederacy oaths; "where are you? What are you about?"
Of course, the orderly could not answer; and his silence only added tothe rage of his master, who continued to swear in a manner which musthave disgusted the gentle Jenny, and the other respectable horse standingon the stable-floor.
The officer rushed out of the stable, and the heaviness of his stepindicated the state of his mind. He had gone to look for Peters; but, asPeters was not outside, he must be inside; and the officer entered again.He now walked towards the stairs leading to the loft.
"Peters!" he continued to roar as he rushed up the stairs. "Peters! thisis your last day's service with me!"
But the poor orderly was unable to remove the stain which rested upon hisfidelity. He still held his peace; still silently submitted to the unjustimputations on his character. The officer landed in the loft just asCaptain de Banyan rose to receive him.
"Who are you?" demanded he, as the stout form of the captain confrontedhim.
"Your most obedient servant to command," replied De Banyan.
"You are a Confederate officer?"
"I seem to be; but I am not. Be that as it may, your presence isdangerous to my health and comfort."
"I see: you are the deserter."
"I am; but the future lies between you and me."
"Then we will let the future speak for itself," answered the officer,drawing a pistol from his belt. "Surrender, or you are a dead man!"
"I must positively decline the honor," replied De Banyan, as he swung thepitch-fork over his head, and attempted to strike him down.
He failed; and the officer fired, but without effect. At that moment,Somers stepped forward with a billet of wood he found on the floor. Atthe same time, De Banyan raised the pistol; but the rebel fired a secondtime before he could discharge it. Somers instantly dropped his stick,and his left arm fell to his side; the ball had passed through it. DeBanyan fired; the officer sank down, not killed, but badly wounded.