CHAPTER IV
THE DRAFTED COPPERHEAD
Would he dare to tell his father about the draft? The question keptrepeating itself in Bob Bannister’s mind, and the answer to it grewmore and more uncertain as he drew nearer to his home. Already he couldsee the gabled roof of the house, and, back of it, dimly outlinedagainst the gray sky, the white blades of the windmill, free from theirlashing, whirling swiftly in the rising wind. The windmill did the workof three men for Rhett Bannister. It sawed his wood, pumped his water,churned his milk, threshed his grain, and drove the machinery by whichhe manufactured his stock in trade. A few years before the beginning ofthe war he had secured a patent on a design for a beehive, ingeniouslyadapted to the instinct of the bees, and so arranged as to make theirproduct removable quickly, easily, and at any time. His success in themanufacture and sale of these hives had been so great that for a timehe was quite unable to supply the demand for them. Then the war came,and with it, and as a consequence of it, his ever-growing unpopularity;and, almost before he knew it, his business had so fallen away thatit became necessary for him to dismiss his hired help, and he himselfhad little to do save to manufacture and store his product in hope ofbetter times. Indeed, for the last few weeks the whir of the wheel hadbeen an unusual sound, and Bob wondered as he drew near, that it shouldbe going on this day, especially at so late an hour. So, instead ofstopping at the house, he went straight on to the shop entrance, todiscover, if possible, the cause of this unwonted activity.
At the bench, in the gloom, he saw his father, fashioning, with thepower-saw, a heavy block of wood into the form of a brace. The man didnot look up from his work as the boy entered; perhaps he did not hearhim come.
“I’m back, father,” said Bob; “I saw the windmill going and I came onover here.”
“Yes; you’re late. What kept you?”
“Why, nothing in particular.”
“Were there any letters?”
Then Bob remembered that in his eagerness to hear the discussionconcerning the Emancipation Proclamation, in his excitement over thereading of the draft-list, and in his haste to get away after hisfather’s name had been announced, he had forgotten to inquire for hismail.
“Why, I--didn’t get the mail,” he stammered. “I--I--didn’t ask for it.”
“Why not?”
The man laid down his work, slipped the belt from the pulley, andturned toward Bob.
“Because--” replied the boy, “because I wanted to get away.”
“Mean again to you, were they? Small, contemptible spirits! Howtyranny in high places is always imitated by the mob!”
“Not so much that, father; but--there was news.”
“Oh, news. I see. Was the conscription-list in?”
“A special messenger brought it.”
“And did you see it? or hear it read?”
“Adam Johns read it out loud.”
And then there was silence between them. The man could not quitecondescend to ask for the desired information; the boy could not quitebring himself to the point of volunteering it. So they stood there inthe gathering darkness, speechless. Over their heads the great wheelcreaked and whirred. And each knew, in his heart, that the other knewthat Rhett Bannister’s name was on the list of drafted men.
Out in the road there was the noise of wagon-wheels going by, mingledwith the talking of men. And then, above the rattle of the wheels,above the creaking and groaning of the windmill, above the howling ofthe wind, came the voice of one shouting:--
“Rhett Bannister--you copperhead--you’re drafted--thank God!”
That was all. The voices were again silent. The wagon passed on, thewhir and wheeze of the windmill never ceased. In the darkness Bob couldnot see his father’s face, but he knew as well how it looked as thoughthe sun of midday shone on it. And then, involuntarily, from his ownlips came the confirmation:--
“Father, it is true.”
But Rhett Bannister did not reply. He stood there in the darkness,dimly outlined, immovable. Still the wheel went round, faster andfaster in the driving wind, and the boughs of the maples, bending andspringing in the gale, swept and scraped against the eaves of thework-shop. Then the doorway was darkened by another figure. Bob’smother, peering into the gloom, called out:--
“Rhett, dear, are you there?”
“Yes, Mary.”
“Rob hasn’t come yet.”
“Yes, mother, I’m here too.”
“I’m so glad! What was it those men shouted, Rhett? Does it mean anyharm to you?”
“I hope not, Mary. It was just some wild zealot echoing the sentimentof his crazy masters, that’s all. We’ll go in to supper now.”
As he spoke, Bannister pulled the lever that clamped the wheel, and thewhirring and grinding ceased. Then he locked the shop-door and they allwent down the path to the house.
At the supper-table the subject of the draft was not mentioned. But,later in the evening, after Bob’s sister had gone to bed, and awood-fire had been lighted in the fireplace, for it had grown suddenlycold, Rhett Bannister chose to inform his wife of the situation. Tryas he might to prevent it, the social blight which had fallen on himcovered her also with its sinister darkness. Her heart was deeplytroubled. She passed her days in anxiety and her nights in fear. Sheknew little of the deep undercurrents of political passion and offratricidal strife that were undermining the bed-rock of the nation.She knew only that she trusted her husband and believed in him, andwas ready to endure any suffering for his sake. And while, always, hesought to protect and comfort her, even to the extent of keeping fromher knowledge such matters as would give her unnecessary anxiety oralarm, still there were times when he thought she ought, for the sakeof all of them, to know what was happening. And to-night was one ofthose times.
“Sit here, Mary,” he said. “Let’s talk over this matter of the draft.That rowdy shouted, and Robert confirms the report, that I have beendrafted. That means that I shall have to go and fight in the ranks ofthe Union armies, whether I will or no.”
“O Rhett! Do you mean that you have to go as Charley Hitchner did, andJohn Strongmeyer?”
“Yes, only they were drafted by the state. The government at Washingtonchooses to take me.”
“But what shall I do without you? If they knew how impossible it is foryou to go and leave me alone, they wouldn’t make you do it, I’m sure.”
“Yes, dear. The privations and sufferings of wives and children are notconsidered. The administration at Washington needs men to carry on thisunholy war, and wives may starve and babies may die, but the war mustgo on. There, Mary, never mind,” as the tears came into the woman’seyes, “I haven’t gone yet. Perhaps I’ll not go. A man’s house is hiscastle, you know. They’ll have hard work to take me if I choose tostay. Well, Rob, who else was drafted? You heard the list read.”
“Yes, father, Adam Johns read it. His own name was the first one onit.”
“Ah! poor old Mrs. Johns. She idolizes that boy.”
“And must Adam Johns go to war?” inquired Mrs. Bannister, anxiously.
“Yes, mother,” replied Bob. “He said he would go. He said he was sorryhe had waited for the draft. And Henry Bradbury said he would take careof Adam’s mother. And a lot more said so too.”
“Oh, well!” rejoined Bannister, “such obligations rest lightly on theconsciences of those who make them after the excitement and passionhave died out. Poor Anna Johns will have to look out for herself if herboy goes. And if he dies, God help her! Who else were drawn, Robert?”
“Why, Elias Traviss. They said he would pay his three hundred dollarsexemption money, though, and stay home; that he could well afford to doit.”
“Yes,” said Bannister, bitterly, “there lies the iniquity of the wholeproceeding. The rich man may buy his release from service with money;the poor man must pay the price with his body, his blood, his life,perhaps. It’s barbarous; it’s inhuman!”
Then, all in a moment, Mary Bannister grasped the idea of purchasede
xemption.
“Why, Rhett!” she exclaimed, “you have that money in the bank, youknow. If they come for you, you can pay them the three hundred dollarsand stay at home, the same as Elias Traviss is going to do. Can’t he,Robbie?”
“Yes, mother, or hire a substitute the same as ’Squire Matthews did.”
“So you won’t have to go, Rhett, you see, even if you are drafted. Andwe can well afford the money.”
Bannister looked from his wife to his son, and back again, with a smileof pity on his lips for their simplicity. But there was no anger in hisvoice as he replied:--
“That is true, Mary. Doubtless I could purchase immunity from the draftwith money. But my money would be used by me to buy a substitute, orby the government for the purposes of the war, and the moral guilt onmy part would be even greater than though I went myself. No, I shallnot purchase my release, nor shall I go to war. There are means ofdefending my rights and my person against this tyranny, and I shallexercise them. I may die in the attempt, but I shall not have itcharged against my memory that I fought my brothers of the South withbayonet and rifle, or helped others to do it.”
In his excitement, he rose from his chair and paced up and down thefloor, but, in a moment, growing calmer, he added:--
“Oh, well! they haven’t come for me yet. Let’s not borrow trouble.We’ll have it soon enough. Keep a stout heart, Mary. And we’ll all goto bed now and sleep away our cares.”
It was all very well for Rhett Bannister to speak thus lightly ofsleeping away cares, but as for his poor wife, she lay half the night,dreading lest the next noise she should hear might be Lincoln’ssoldiers come to take away her husband to what both he and sheconsidered a cruel, causeless war. Nor did sleep come quickly to closeBob’s eyes. Never before had the conflict between parental love andduty and his exalted sense of patriotism been so fierce and strong.Yet, reason with himself as he would, he was not able to convinceeither his heart or his judgment that his father was right and thatAbraham Lincoln was wrong. And as the great War President expounded histhought on the crisis to the American people, and governed his conductaccordingly, Bob Bannister believed in him, trusted him, followedhim in spirit, and would have followed him in body had he been ofsufficient age to bear arms.
But here and now was the fact of his father’s conscription to dealwith; a fact which opened the door to untold trouble, to possible, ifnot probable, tragedy. For Bob knew that in declaring his proposedresistance to the draft his father was not indulging in mere bravado.What Rhett Bannister said he meant, and what he undertook to do he didif it was within the power of human accomplishment. So Bob waited indread for the coming of the officer to serve the notice of the draft.
But when, three days after the drawing, a deputy provost-marshal didcome with a conscription notice, neither Bob nor his father was athome. So the notice was left at the house with Mrs. Bannister, andshe, poor woman, after contemplating it all the afternoon with dreadand apprehension, thrust it into her husband’s hand at night, sayingdeprecatingly, tearfully:--
“O Rhett, I couldn’t help it! He just gave it to me, and I didn’t knowwhat it meant till I read it, and I don’t know now, except I suppose itmeans that you are really drafted and must go to war. And he wouldn’tstay to let me tell him why it was just impossible for you to go,and--and that’s all I know about it, Rhett dear.”
Bannister took the notice and read it over. It was simply to the effectthat, in accordance with the Act of Congress of March 3, 1863, he hadbeen drawn to serve for three years, or during the war, as a soldierin the armies of the United States. It further notified him to reportfor duty within ten days from the date of service of the notice, atthe office of the provost-marshal for the district, Captain SamuelYohe, at Easton, Pa. There was an additional notice to those desiringto purchase release from service, to pay the three hundred dollarscommutation money to the deputy internal-revenue collector for thedistrict.
When he had carefully read the notice a second time, Bannister foldedit and laid it on the desk.
“I have ten days of peace,” he said, “in which to prepare for war.”
Thereafter he was very busy. He cleaned up many odds and ends of workas though he were preparing for a long journey. Oddly enough, however,he spent much time in making repairs to his windmill. He carried theboxing of the shaft higher above the roof of his shop, closed thetop of it over carefully, and made a little window in each of thefour sides. He appeared anxious to get it completed before a stormshould come up. Little was said about the draft, or about his personalliability for service, and the subject of commutation money, or asubstitute, was not again so much as mentioned. But it was with a senseof dread and apprehension that Mrs. Bannister and Bob saw the days goby, saw the preparations going forward for the approaching crisis,noted the fixed lips and the unfaltering eye that always indicatedthat Rhett Bannister’s mind was made up and that wild horses could notdrag him from his purpose. Once, the thought flashed across Bob’s mindthat possibly, instead of attempting to resist the draft, his fatherhad decided to accept the inevitable and report for duty as a soldierof the United States. And the idea sent such a thrill of joy throughhim, so set the blood to bounding in his veins, opened up to him such avision of pride and exultation, that it was hard for him to get backto the level of the stubborn fact that all the work being done by hisfather was being done simply for the purpose of being better preparedto resist the officers of the law.
So, on the evening of the tenth day from the date of service of noticeof the draft, Rhett Bannister was still at his home. With apparentunconcern he sat at the table in his sitting-room reading a late copyof the New York _Day-Book_, a violent anti-administration journal whichhad that day reached him.
“The _Day-Book_ is right,” he said, laying down the paper, “indeclaring that if there was any manhood left in Pennsylvania, hercitizens would rise in armed rebellion against the enforcement of thiscruel and obnoxious draft as did the citizens of New York city in July.If the army had both ways to face, North and South, the war would soonbe at end. Well, I am but one against the powers at Washington, but allthe armies of the United States cannot force me to wear their uniformand bear their weapons against my will.”
By that speech, Bob’s hopes, if he still cherished any, were completelydashed. He knew by that that his father would resist the enforcement ofthe draft to the end, bitter and bloody though the end might be.
The ten days had expired. All the other drafted men from Mount Hermonhad gone to Easton. But Rhett Bannister had not responded to the call.Henceforth, by the terms of the conscription act, he was classed as adeserter, subject to arrest, court-martial, and speedy execution. Hehimself said that a price was now on his head.
Mrs. Bannister went about the house, pale, apprehensive, startingfearfully at every unusual sound, peering constantly up the road, yetin dread of what she might see there.
For Bob, his days were miserable and his nights were sleepless. Heturned over constantly in his mind scheme after scheme to save thehonor of the family and to relieve his father from the desperatesituation in which he had placed himself. But all schemes were useless,impractical, impossible.
On the fourth day after the expiration of the time-limit, a rumor froma friendly source floated down secretly to the Bannister homestead, tothe effect that a detachment of United States soldiers, members of theinvalid corps, on provost-guard duty, had reached the county seat andwere about to start out to round up deserters, and drafted men who hadfailed to respond. They were likely, the warning went, to appear atMount Hermon at any hour. Loyal citizens said that Rhett Bannister hadreached the end of his rope; and radical Unionists remarked that theend of that rope had a loop in it.
Seth Mills came over that afternoon to have a last talk with hisobdurate neighbor.
“It won’t do any good, Rhett,” he declared. “They’re bound to gitye sooner or later, dead or alive. Now what’s the use o’ bein’ soconfounded pigheaded an’ contrary? Why don’t you jest make up your
mindto go like a man an’ hev done with it, fer your wife’s sake, an’ yourchildren’s sake, an’ your country’s sake, by cracky! That’s what I say.”
And Bannister replied:--
“I would be less than a man, Seth, if I yielded principle and pride,and humbled and stultified myself like a coward, in order to make iteasy for my family and myself. No matter what the outcome of this awfulstruggle may be, no matter what becomes of me in this crisis, I intendthat my children and my children’s children shall say of me, in thedays to come: ‘He kept his judgment and his conscience clear.’ I willnot yield, Seth, I will not yield.”
And that ended the argument, and Seth Mills limped back home,discouraged, saddened, angry, that his neighbor, whom he loved for hismany kindnesses and sterling character, should be so blind to his owninterests, so obstinate, so childish, so utterly unreasonable.
That night, some time after midnight, Bob was wakened from a troubledsleep, more by the feeling that something was going wrong than byany actual noises that he heard. He sat up in bed and listened,and, from somewhere outside the house, the sound of low voices camedistinctly to his ears. He leaped to the floor, thinking that at lastthe provost-guard had come to apprehend his father, and had chosen thenight-time for their errand, thinking the more easily to find him.Hastily slipping on his shoes and trousers, he started down the hall.By a ray of moonlight which fell through the hall-window he discoveredhis mother standing at the door of her room, fully dressed.
“Oh, Rob,” she whispered, “be still! be still!”
When he came closer to her he saw that she had been weeping and thather face was white with fear.
“Where’s father?” he asked.
“Hush! He’s not here. He went out after you went to bed. He’s been awayall night. Oh, Robbie, look here!”
She took his hand and led him to the window of her room and pointed outinto the road. Distinctly, in the moonlight, he saw a man in uniform,carrying a gun, pacing back and forth along the road in front of thehouse. Then she took him to the hall-window, and showed him anothersoldier leaning carelessly against the garden fence, with his eyesfixed on the rear of the house.
“There are four of them,” she said. “They came a few minutes ago. I sawthem come down the road. They have surrounded the house.”
“But, father,” repeated Bob; “where’s father?”
“Hush, Robbie, hush! They won’t find him. They think he’s here in thehouse, but he isn’t. He left it long before they came.”
“But, where is he, mother? I insist on knowing.”
“Don’t talk so loud, Robbie. You’ll waken Louise. They’ll hear you.”
“Did he go to the woods, mother? to the barn? to the shop? where?”
“Hush! my boy, hush! Don’t whisper it. He went to the shop. He’sin--Robbie, listen, he’s in the windmill tower. He has his gun withhim, and his revolver. He’s going to--to--”
She reeled and fell, fainting and exhausted, into the boy’s arms, andhe led and dragged her back into her own room, and laid her tenderlyon her bed. He chafed her hands and bathed her face, and by and by shereturned to consciousness, and told him in more detail of the manner inwhich his father had left the house, and of the coming of the soldiers.But she never loosened her clasp of his hand until the gray light inthe eastern sky announced the approach of dawn.
Then there came a knocking at the hall-door of the house. Bob releasedhis hand from his mother’s, and slipped quietly into his own roomand began to put on the rest of his clothes. But, long before he hadfinished, the knocking was repeated. It came louder, more persistently.He made haste to be ready, but, before he could leave his room, theknocking was again renewed, with strokes that resounded throughthe house. Somehow it reminded him of the knocking at the gate in_Macbeth_, and of the awful tragedy which the opening of that gate wasto disclose. What tragedy would follow the knocking at the door of thehouse of Bannister?