A friend with the countersign

A FRIEND

WITH THE

jCOUNTERd
SIG

MACMILLAN'S STANDARD LIBRARY

CALIF. LIBRARY, LOS ANGELES

A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

A FRIEND WITH THE
COUNTERSIGN

BY
B. K. BENSON

AUTHOR OF "WHO GOBS THSBE?"

NEW YORK

GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS

COPTBISHT, 1901,

BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.

Set up and electrotyped July, 1901. Reprinted December,
1901 ,' October, 1902 ; March, 1907 ; October, 1908.

Norfaooti $«BS

J. 8. Cubing ft Co. — BerwU k & Smith
Norwood M«* U.f A.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

I. DOCTOR KHAYME 1

II. AT HEADQUARTERS, A. OF P 7

III. SCOUTING WITH SHAKESPEARE 20

IV. SUSPICIONS 36

V. To THE WILDERNESS FOR WARREN .... 42

VI. THE RETURN FROM THE WILDERNESS ... 58

VII. WITH GENERAL WARREN 73

VIII. WITH THE DOCTOR 79

IX. To MINE RUN 83

X. IN THE MINE RUN LINES 98

XI. HOLLOW BUTTONS ....... 114

XII. MYSTERY 120

XIII. WITH MEADE IN THE WILDERNESS .... 129

XIV. WITH LEE IN THE WILDERNESS .... 142
XV. THE HORSESHOE SALIENT 152

XVI. THE BLOODY ANGLE 167

XVII. LYDIA COMES AND GOES 185

XVIII. AN AMBULANCE 203

XIX. JERICHO 213

XX. SHOWALTER . 229

XXI. YORK 244

XXII. FIRE 253

V

vi CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

XXIIL WATER 261

XXIV. SERVING CAVALRY 267

XXV. ON LEE'S RIGHT FLANK 276 '

XXVI. KING WILLIAM 287

XXVII. THE SIEGE OF SHOWALTER 299

XXVIH. HIGH POLITICS .308

XXIX. " LIEUT. C. M. CHA " 317

XXX. CATCHING TARTARS 323

XXXI. A WEEK OF AGONY 335

XXXII. A FORLORN HOPE 347

XXXIII. FORTINBRAS 363

XXXIV. THE SEIZURE 378

XXXV. A THOROUGHFARE 387

XXXVI. BERWICK'S LAST SERVICE 398

XXXVII. LIFE OR DEATH 407

XXXVIII. LIFE AND DEATH 429

XXXIX. FROM LYDIA'S NARRATION 440

XL. ANNULMENT 451

MAPS

TO TACK PAGE

THE RAPIDAN 48

FROM THE RAPIDAN TO THE Po 156

FROM THE Po TO THE PAMUNKEY 194

FROM THE PAMUNKEY TO THE JAMES , 232

A FEIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

DOCTOR KHATME

"When afar

You rise, remember one man saw you,
Knew you, and named a star ! " — BROWNING.

WE were at the Sanitary Commission's field hospital. There
were ambulances, tents, surgical appliances. The Doctor and
his daughter had been busy all the morning.

On a bed, swung by pulleys and ropes, lay the outstretched
form of a gallant enemy who had been picked up on the field
of Bristoe by one of Dr. Khayme's ambulances. Colonel
PaulFs wound was in the throat, so near an artery that the
most delicate care was required in handling him. Lydia, a
nurse trained in the British hospital at Bombay, and proficient
through experience in the campaigns of McDowell, McClellan,
and their successors, was giving herself to this seemingly fatal
case with great patience, while the skill of Dr. Khayme had
already effected a little alleviation of the poor man's agony ;
the colonel was yet speechless, indeed great fear was felt that
he would never regain his power of speech.

*******

I believe there is a theory, or perhaps I should say fancy, —
for the Doctor speedily knocked the notion out of my brain
with one of his arguments invariably unanswerable, — that all

2 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

things move in cycles. One of those novel writers, Marryat
perhaps, makes a peculiar character contend that everything
comes again — that you and I shall after a while find ourselves
back in this same old world, surrounded by the same old
friends, and smoking the same old pipes. Even at the time I
am speaking of I didn't believe all this, for while it is true that
the Doctor was slowly puffing from the very pipe with the very
idol's head that I had seen more than a year before, my cob
was an innovation ; I had added the comfort of smoking to my
unpleasant experience while with the Confederates. Yet here
I was at Centreville, from which hamlet more than two years
ago I had marched in the ranks of the Eleventh Massachusetts
to the disastrous field of the first Bull Run.

" It all comes back ? " asked my old tutor.

" Vividly."

The Doctor and Lydia had walked with me to a hill from
which we had a wide view of the undulating country to the
southward, a region peculiarly familiar.

" How long has it been since you saw this landscape ? "

"How long is it from August twenty-eighth, sixty-two, to
October seventeenth, sixty-three, Doctor ? "

" Four hundred and fifteen days," replied Dr. Khayme.

" It is ten thousand," said Lydia.

" This is the very spot where we rested on the twenty-eighth
of August last year ! " I exclaimed.

" Where were we then, Father ? "

" At Manassas Junction," said he.

"Yes," I said; "do you see that turn in the road down
yonder? From that spot, as Gregg's brigade was marching
toward Stone Bridge, we saw the dust made by Pope's column
coming from Manassas to Centreville."

My dear Lydia's eyes were moist; she seemed about to
speak, but remained silent.

" Is it not strange, Doctor, that I should be here again, at my
old starting-point ? "

DOCTOR KHAYME 3

"Yes; certainly strange, Jones, the world would say, no
doubt ; yet in Meade's army there are thousands who are think-
ing somewhat similarly in regard to their own experience."

" But with a great difference," said Lydia ; " Mr. Berwick
has had the experience of two persons."

" General Meade will retreat no farther," said the Doctor.

In the Bristoe campaign, Lee's hopes of repeating Stonewall
Jackson's famous march of the previous year had been baffled
by the successful retreat of the Union army, in determining
which retreat I had played some small part ; indeed, through
very remarkable good luck, I was credited by General Meade
with having been the first to bring him undoubted news of
Lee's purpose. The Union army now occupied the old
Confederate intrenchments constructed in Beauregard's time.
Farther than we could see, the lines of infantry extended right
and left. Batteries had been planted at irregular intervals
upon commanding knolls. In the northwest could be heard at
times the low rumble of cannon firing — some small cavalry
action, perhaps, away off toward Aldie.

The positive speech which Dr. Khayme had just uttered did
not surprise me, either by its manner or its matter. I knew
him of old ; he was not only a man of unerring judgment, but
he also enjoyed, in some mysterious way, unique privileges of
communication with the powers that were.

" I leaned my musket against that tree there," said I ; " there
is another tree almost its match near Dr. Gaines's house."

" When did you lean your musket against that tree ? "

"July twenty-first, sixty-one. Do you see that smoke off
yonder in the southwest — about six or seven miles? That
is just about the place where that old musket is now — or
rather the two pieces of it."

" When did you see the tree at Dr. Gaines's ? "

" June twenty-eighth, last year."

" In the battle in which you were wounded ? "

" The day after the battle. They laid me under the tree."

4 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

"When you saw that tree at Dr. Gaines's, you did not
recall this one ? "

" Oh, no ; of course not."

" Your memory will never suffer lapse again."

" I know it, Doctor."

" How do you know it ? "

" I cannot answer that question, but I know it. How does
the mind know anything ? "

" The fact that you solved the past unaided is proof enough
to me," said the Doctor; "you had great will-power and exerted
it greatly. If you had not done so, there is no saying when
you could have put things together. You had only one thing
to hold to."

"That is exactly what Dr. Frost told me when I was in
his hands. He said that unless I should be able to find some
one who knew me, the getting of one isolated fact would be of
little importance."

" He was right," said the Doctor ; " that surgeon of yours is
no common man, I judge. I am sure he would be greatly in-
terested in your entire history ; I should be glad to talk with
him about it."

" In regard to the workings of the will, Doctor ? "

" Yes. The story you might tell of dangers, of scouts, of
battles, and all of it, would doubtless make a very interesting
chapter of personal adventure, and your ability to judge impar-
tially the political and military features of this war gives your
case an interest of yet higher order, but I think that your Dr.
Frost must be a true thinker who would at once recognize
the meaning of your experience — a struggle of individual will
against the most adverse circumstances. You have won. Your
case, if it ever becomes known to the world — and I think it
your duty to tell it some day — will furnish very great encour-
agement to every man: the will is free, Jones."

Dark clouds were rolling up from the south. "We shall
have a shower," said the Doctor.

DOCTOR KHAYME 5

"Yes," said Lydia; "and I must get back to Colonel Paull,"
and she hurried on ahead of us.

" What will be the next movement, Doctor ? "

" Lee will retreat at once," said the Doctor. " Meade will
advance. He should not have retreated ; and he would not
have done so, except for deference to the views of the adminis-
tration."

" What ! He should not have retreated ! And Lee on his
flank ! "

" If Meade had advanced he would have been in Lee's rear,
and by this time might have had Richmond ; but, of course,
the Washington authorities will never allow the capital to be
uncovered, and Meade could not do otherwise than retire."

"Doctor, your saying that General Meade should not have
retreated distresses me."

" Why so ? "

"You told me — I remember the date distinctly — it was on
July twenty -third, sixty-one — that it would be given me to
serve the country in a remarkable way. I have been trusting
that my bringing to General Meade the information which
decided him to retreat was the service meant."

" And what then ? "

" If he should not have retreated, did I not do harm ? "

"Not at all; he would have retreated too late, but for the
news you brought. You did not cause him to retreat, but to
retreat in time."

I felt comforted. " Then my work — or at least the impor-
tant work which you foresaw as possible, — has been done,
Doctor ? "

He looked at me seriously, silent for a few moments. Then
he said : " You have done what few could have done, my boy.
But your having brought information as to Lee's march seems
a small service compared with what I can see is possible to
you — and possible to no other man ! "

" What am I to do, Doctor ? " I asked eagerly and fearfully.

6 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

" Particulars are worthless," said he ; " and I cannot foresee
the precise line of your work. Your present powers are so
great that I can see many things as possible — so many that
among them all I refuse to select. It seems to me that you
will have it in your power to do for your cause — for the
Union — as great a work as you have recently done for this
army. Try to be content with this, my boy, and trust in the
right."

How could I be content ? I was long silent.

" What do you think now, Jones, as to the duration of the
war ? " he asked, no doubt wishing to divert my thought.

" I think the Confederates cannot hold out always," said I ;
" the Army of the Potomac is much stronger than Lee's army. "

" Yes ; this Bristoe campaign was a very bold thing on Lee's
part," said the Doctor ; " but he will retreat at once. He can-
not advance without a battle for which he is not prepared on
this ground, and he is already too far from his base. He can
do nothing but retreat."

" I remember that, last year, after second Manassas, Captain
Haskell told me that we were too far advanced from Richmond.
We were over yonder, about six miles from this spot."

" That captain of yours seems to have had great influence
over you, Jones."

" The best man I ever knew, to be a soldier," said I ; " when
he was killed, my life was changed. I suppose it was lack of
interest in my surroundings that began to cause me to feel
interest in the possibilities of other surroundings."

" Not a doubt of it, " said the Doctor ; " when the mind
loses one resource it gets another."

When we reached the Doctor's camp I found one of General
Meade's orderlies waiting for me. I was commanded to report
at once to the general. The Doctor said to me aside, " Don't
hesitate to confide in the general ; he knows enough already to
justify your telling him everything."

II

AT HEADQUARTERS, A. OP P.

*' What say you to't ? will you again unknit
This churlish knot of all-abhorred war ?
And move in that obedient orb again,
Where you did give a fair and natural light ;
And be no more an exhal'd meteor,
A prodigy of fear, and a portent
Of broached mischief . . . ?" — SHAKESPEARE.

GENERAL MEADE was alone ; he admitted me at once.

"Berwick," said he, kindly, "I owe you a good deal. I
don't want you to believe that I have forgotten you. My time
has been very full since you came to me on the Rappahannock."

" Yes, General."

" From what Dr. Khayme tells me, you must have been in
the rebel army quite a while."

" Yes, General ; a very long and dreary time."

" And there seems something mysterious about it," he said.
"Now, all I can exact of you is information for public benefit.
Your private reasons for joining the rebels are your own, but
don't allow your modesty to get in the way. I want to ask you
about some things, and to-night I have a little time."

" General," said I, " this is a very embarrassing matter. Of
my own motion I should not venture to burden you with my
confidence, but Dr. Khayme has advised me to do so."

" I would not suggest it, Berwick, except for the fact that it
may enable me to judge of the relative importance of whatever
you can tell me concerning the enemy."

" Then I am in your hands, General ; I will keep nothing back."

7

8 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

"How long were you with the rebels? "

"I went into their lines on June third, sixty -two, sir."

" In Confederate uniform ? "

"Yes, sir."

"And you pretended to serve them all this time?"

" General, it was not mere pretence on my part."

" Indeed ! Dr. Khayme hinted at mystery, but you astonish
me ; upon my soul, you do. You lost your — ? " The general
had been going to say " mind," no doubt, but checked himself.

" Not my mind, General, but my memory."

" What ! Entirely ? "

"Oh, no, sir; my memory of the events of a few years. I
had suffered such lapses before."

" You went into the rebel lines, and then lost your memory ? "

" Yes, General."

" But how could you imagine that you belonged to any par-
ticular Confederate organization ? "

"I could not, General ; at first I was unconscious."

" The loss of your memory rendered you unconscious ? "

"Oh, no, General. I had gone through the Confederate
picket-line on the Chickahominy for General Morell, and was
about to enter the main line, when a shell from one of our own
guns knocked me senseless."

"And the rebels picked you up? I see; of course they
thought nothing strange. But how did they decide your case ?
How could they find a regiment to claim you ? A very singu-
lar situation, Berwick ! Upon my soul, it was ! "

"As it happened, General, I was taken while still uncon-
scious to the field hospital of the First South Carolina regi-
ment. When I could begin to talk, the surgeon knew that my
memory was gone ; he knew it before I knew it. He saw pal-
metto 1 buttons on my coat, and he thought, of course, that I
belonged to some company in his regiment."

1 The palmetto tree is prominent upon the coat-of-arms of South Carolina.

AT HEADQUARTERS, A. OF P. 9

"But, Berwick, he would soon find out that you did not! "

"Yes, General; that is exactly what happened. Dr. Frost
soon found that I did not belong to his regiment — nor could
any other regiment claim me as one of its missing men. The
adjutant of Gregg's brigade was notified of my case, and agreed
that I should be attached to any company I might choose, but
only temporarily — as it was thought, of course, that my
friends would find me sooner or later, and in that case I was
to be remanded to my proper company."

" And you willingly submitted to this ? You, a Northern
man!"

" General, I was educated in Charleston. Dr. Khayme him-
self was one of my teachers there. Now, when my memory
was lost, it went back only to South Carolina before the
war, and I knew nothing but South Carolina, and not very
much of that. Besides, I could not doubt that in my normal
condition I had already enlisted as a Southern soldier."

The general looked incredulous.

" General," said I, " there ought to exist a copy of an order
from General Grover detailing me for special service. There
ought to exist some record of my work for General Morell in
regard to the battle of Hanover Court-House. I have a field-
glass which once was General Morell's ; he gave it to me as
an act of appreciation for service I had done. Dr. Khayme
kept it when I went into the Confederate lines, fearing that it
would cause suspicion. I can furnish abundant proof of my
having lived in Charleston, and having spent much time in
other parts of South Carolina. There need be no doubt of my
statement, unless it be doubt of the fact that the mind may
suffer loss of memory."

" What you are telling me is very strange, Berwick. Does
Dr. Khayme know all that you are telling me ? "

" He knows more about it than I do, General. Dr. Khayme
certainly knew, on the night of June second, when General
Morell ordered me to go into the Confederate lines, that my

10 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

mind was then in a peculiar state. He provided a safeguard
for me which I could not then see through."

" What sort of safeguard ? "

"He made me write in a diary, as a Confederate soldier.
I will show it to you ; here it is, General."

The general took the little book, in which several dates had
been filled by me, at Dr. Khayme's dictation, with events
occurring on a march of Confederate troops.

" I see B. Jones written here," said he, at last.

" Yes, sir ; my name is Jones Berwick. I was called Ber-
wick Jones by the Confederates — or simply Jones. I knew
better, but the surgeon thought that my mind had tricked me,
and I had to go by the name of Jones."

" But why did not the Doctor make you write the name of
some regiment under this signature ? "

" What regiment, General ? "

" Oh, I see ; if they had found the name of a regiment, you
would have been suspected, as the regiment would not own you ! "

" Yes, sir ; the regiment would have disclaimed me at once."

"I see."

" And then, too, General, the Doctor knew the fate of a spy
caught within the enemy's lines."

" I see. Upon my soul, that Doctor is a clever man ; and
not only a clever man but — " he shook his head mean-
ingly. "But why change your name? What's the good of
the Jones ? "

"Jones is very common, sir, as a surname, and the Doctor
might well hope that it would attract no suspicion. Then,
Berwick is not an unknown name in Charleston, and, as the
sequel proved, I was thrown into a regiment which had three
companies in it from Charleston. Jones Berwick might have
been recognized, by name at least, as the son of a Northern
man."

" I see ; upon my soul, that Doctor is wonderful. And no-
body from Charleston recognized you ? "

AT HEADQUARTERS, A. OF P. 11

" No, sir ; and I recognized nobody, though I now know that
in Company L there were men with whom I had gone to
school."

" Company L ? How many companies in that regiment ? "

" Only ten, sir. We had no Company D."

" Why not ? "

" There was a Company D, sir, at first, but it became Mcln-
tosh's battery, and another company was put into the regi-
ment, and was called Company L."

"I know that battery. That was my old brigade which
broke yours at Fredericksburg, when your General Gregg was
killed. Were you in Company L ? "

" No, sir — Company H ; and Company A of the sharp-
shooters."

" What sharp-shooters ? "

"The battalion of sharp-shooters formed in McGowan's
brigade."

" Ah ! Lee has that system ? "

" General Fender had a battalion formed for every brigade
in his division. After his death, General, the battalions were
dissolved, and the men went back to their regiments. But
they are to be reorganized this winter, when no campaign is
going on, and put in better shape than ever."

" What is the plan ? "

" Two or three men are detailed from each company, making
a hundred, or a hundred and twenty from the brigade. These
men are formed into three companies, under officers noted for
qualities that fit them for work at the front. The battalions
do all the skirmishing — at least while their strength lasts —
for the brigades."

The general wrote some words on a sheet of paper at his elbow.

" How long did you serve in that battalion, Berwick ? "

" It was organized just after Chancellorsville, General, and
was dissolved in September. I went through the Gettysburg
campaign in the battalion."

12 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

" How were you armed ? "

" We had Enfield rifles, General ; almost every man in Lee's
infantry has an Enfield."

" Is there not a body of men armed with Whitworths ? "

" No, sir ; there are only twenty such rifles in Lee's army."

" How do you know ? "

" A general order was published concerning their distribu-
tion. They were assigned to peculiar men, who act indepen-
dently. Ben Powell, of our brigade, has one."

" You say ' our ' brigade," said he, smiling. His doubts had
gone, I thought.

" Force of habit, General."

"Admit no one," said General Meade, speaking to an
orderly, whose face had appeared at the door.

" Can you give me other information as to the arms of the
rebels ? "

" There is only one thing I can now think of, General. The
most of the men will not keep their bayonets."

"Why not?"

" They say they are burdensome, without sufficient advan-
tage to offset the burden. In the early battles the men were
poorly armed, and whenever possible each man picked up a
better gun — he did not care whether his bayonet fitted the
new gun or not. I am inclined to believe, General, that there
is beginning to be a tendency now among the men to hold to
their bayonets ; one of the brigade commanders of our division
makes a great effort to compel the men."

" Who is it ? "

" General Lane."

" How does he compel them ? "

" He refuses to grant any privilege, such as a pass or a fur-
lough, to a man who has no bayonet. Any written applica-
tion coming to him from below, must bear the statement of the
officer in command of the applicant's company that the man
has his bayonet. After a battle General Lane has all the bay-

AT HEADQUARTERS, A. OF P. 13

onets picked up as far as possible, and a fitting match goes on
among the men. Lane's brigade is beginning to influence
others."

General Meade again wrote some words.

"I was led to believe, from what Dr. Khayme told me,
that your memory was remarkably good," said he ; " at least
I understood that it could be depended on."

" That is true, General."

" Yet the tale you are now telling me seems to contradict
it."

"My memory will never suffer lapse again, General, and
my case is doubly peculiar in the fact that I can now recall
perfectly everything that I saw and heard while in Lee's
army."

" More mystery," said he, shaking his head, yet smiling.

" General, I cannot understand it, but it is true."

"How do you know that you will never lose yourself
again ? "

"I don't know how I know it, General. I might say,
however, that there is an entire absence from my mind of a
peculiar feeling that I was formerly always conscious of.
Dr. Khayme also asserts that I shall never suffer again, and
he declares that my power to remember now is compensation
for my former loss."

" Have you let anybody know of your return ? "

" No, General ; I received your order."

" Do you wish to report to your company ? "

" No, sir ; it would be torture to be gazed at ; besides, I trust
you are going to allow me to serve the cause in some way that
will not compel me to take the life of my former friends."

"Yes; I have consented to Dr. Khayme's request, and I
think, Berwick, that you and I can play a bigger game than
the gunpowder game, so far as your services are concerned."

" General," I said, " you are very good."

" I can exchange you as a prisoner of war ; you can go back

x!4 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

and serve in your Company H, and constantly be of great help
to us."

The thing was feasible. I had thought of it, myself. I
had been missing from the First South Carolina but a few
days. To return after a while as an exchanged prisoner,
would not astonish anybody.

"Or, if you prefer," added the general, "you may escape.
In that case you can get back at once. If you are to be ex-
changed, time will be lost ; exchanges are not made suddenly
nowadays."

" General," said I, " the life would be too painful. It would
be a life of continual hypocrisy, and I doubt, too, if I could
serve you better in that way."

" All right, Berwick. Do as you choose about it."

" I am willing to work, General, and at once."

" Before I give you any particular work to do," said he, " I
shall provide for your standing."

He wrote a few lines and handed me the following order : —

" HEADQUARTERS ARMY OP THE POTOMAC,

"October 17, 1863.
"SPECIAL ORDER.

"Private J. Berwick, Co. D, llth Mass. Vols. is hereby relieved from
further duty with his company. All pickets will pass him.

"Gso. G. MEADE, Major General Commanding.'1''

"Now, Berwick," said the general, "you may leave me; I
will send for you again shortly. I have many questions to ask
you, if I can ever get the time ; but, upon my soul, I don't see
how I'm to get it. Wait. What do you think of Lee's army
— its morale ? "

"As good as ever, "General."

" Did it suffer after Gettysburg ? "

"I did not see any demoralization, General. Of course
Pickett's division and some others may have weakened, but I
don't think so."

AT HEADQUARTERS, A. OF P. 15

" And the rebels will fight as well as ever ? "

" Yes, General."

" You may go now. No, don't go yet. Your view of the
spirit of Lee's army is singular, do you know?"

" How so, General ? "

" It is commonly believed that the men are no longer hope-
ful."

" That is not entirely true, General. They are not so hope-
ful as they were when they advanced into Pennsylvania, but
they are just as ready to fight as ever. Gettysburg did not
destroy their hopes. I must say that Vicksburg made many
of them gloomy for a time, but Chickamauga has fully restored
them."

I supposed that the general would have preferred to hear
me say that Gettysburg had weakened the morale of Lee's
army, but I could not say it truthfully, and surely he wanted
the truth ; so I was somewhat surprised when he said gayly : —

" You are right, Berwick. It would have been folly to attack
Lee at Hagerstown."

" I was in the lines at Hagerstown, General, and I saw noth-
ing but willingness to receive an attack."

The general smiled. Inadvertently and ignorantly I had
made a great advance with him — that is, of course, a great
advance for a common soldier to make with a general. I saw
that he was pleased, but I did not understand.

" Then you think the rebels are as strong as ever ? "

" No, General, I do not. The long war is telling on them.
The recruits furnished to the regiments are greatly mixed;
some of them, no doubt, are good men, and will become as good
soldiers as the old men, but some are almost worthless."

" What proportion are good men ? "

" Perhaps half, judging from those received by our regiment
— I mean the First South Carolina," I added hastily, seeing
the general's repeated smile.

" And half are so bad that you call them worthless ? "

16 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

"According to my observation, General, some soldiers are
worse than worthless; they do nothing but weaken good
men."

"How many such men are now in the company to which
you were attached ? "

" Four or five only, sir."

" And you think similar material has been sent to the other
companies — and to other regiments ? "

" Yes, sir."

"Have you any opinion as to the general condition of the
South ? Is it not getting tired of the war ? "

" Naturally so, General, especially in some sections. South-
east Mississippi is almost in a state of revolt. I hear that
Jones County has seceded from the Confederate States ! " l

The general chuckled. " That's a good one," said he ; "I
guess Jones has recovered its memory ! You Joneses seem
to get all right, if you just get time enough ! " And General
Meade again chuckled at his joke.

" And some of the mountains in North Carolina are held by
armed men who resist the conscription — organized bodies of
them, I am told."

"Were your rations regular ? "

"Generally so, sir, in camp. Of course on long marches
and in close places we suffered a good deal. The pay is
very irregular, sir. The Confederate States now owes me for
four months."

"By the bye," said the general; "the United States owes
you more than that. But I don't see how you can claim it
unless you go back to your company."

1 From Raymond, Mississippi, Gazette, of January 10, 1896.

"... Believing that if Mississippi had the right to withdraw from the
Union, Jones County had a right to secede from Mississippi, there was a coup
d'etat, and the territory, twenty-four miles square, known as the county of
Jones, was declared to be independent under the name and title of The Free
State of Jones." [ED.]

AT HEADQUARTERS, A. OF P. 17

" Then, General, I'll make the United States a present of it,"
said I.

" Perhaps I can arrange it," said he ; " if not in one way,
then in another ; you understand that you belong to my house-
hold hereafter, though you will be much with Dr. Khayme,
in order to serve our purposes better, for everybody must not
know your doings. Did General Lee's reputation suffer in
consequence of Gettysburg?"

" Yes, sir ; I am sure that with the people it did. Yet his
men love him better than ever."

" Through sympathy, you mean ? "

"Yes, sir; and their confidence in him is unshaken. They
believe that hereafter he will take care of them."

" Can you give me any notion of the average strength of a
regiment in Lee's army ? "

" They vary too much, General ; yet to hazard a guess, I
should say that three hundred rifles is now a good regiment —
perhaps bigger than the average."

" And its original strength was a thousand or so ? "

"Yes, sir."

" Do you know anything of the condition of Lee's cavalry ? "

" Yes, sir ; from common talk I do. It has lost greatly in
efficiency. The horses are broken down. The men purchase
their own horses, and the government pays for their use ; with
such an arrangement the result is poor horses, for the men are
reluctant to buy a costly horse."

General Meade wrote again on the sheet at his elbow.

" Do you know Richmond ? "

"Yes, sir."

"Well?"

"No, General; not well. I went over Richmond a few
days after I joined the Confederates. Then, again, I saw
something of it afterward. I was an inmate of one of the
hospitals in the city for nearly two months."

" Sick ? "

18 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

"No, sir; wounded. I was hit at Gaines's Mill. Of course
I could not see much of Richmond from the hospital, but when
I could hobble about I went over the central part a good deal.
Then, after Fredericksburg, I was in a hospital in the outskirts
of Richmond for eight weeks. I was sick at that time."

" And you remember what you saw ? "

"Yes, sir."

" You remember the ground you marched over ? "

" Yes, sir."

" Well, Berwick, I shall deprive the Eleventh Massachusetts
of your help hereafter. You must not get shot any more."

" Nor shoot anybody, I hope, General."

" I understand — but," said the general, " I cannot yet see,
upon my soul I cannot, why you should have consented to the
views of the secessionists."

"Why, you see, sir, I had lived in South Carolina from
fifty-nine until a very short time before she seceded, and
had heard frequent discussions of the subject of State's rights
— almost always one-sided discussions, if the expression is
allowable — or if two sided the Union side was weak, and my
memory served me so peculiarly that it retained always the
stronger argument."

"That is strange," said he, "yet not altogether anomalous;
I have heard men say that what they want to forget is just
what their memory persists in bringing up."

The general called an orderly

"Watson, this is our friend Berwick; he will report here
frequently. Ask Captain Scranton to come."

Watson saluted, and retired.

"General," I begged, "please give no hint of my former
experience to any one ! "

" Of course not, Berwick ; I know how to protect you."

A red-bearded officer — tall and handsome — entered and
saluted.

"Captain, this is Mr. Berwick of the Eleventh Massachu-

AT HEADQUARTERS, A. OF P. 19

setts. I confide to you the fact that I have taken him away
from his regiment ; hereafter he is to be with us. He has my
written authority to pass everywhere; you are authorized to
facilitate his work. Good evening, Captain."

Captain Scranton saluted and retired. Then the general
said : —

" Captain Scranton is a volunteer aide on my staff. You will
find him a man of resources, and a wonderfully pleasant com-
panion if you can succeed with him, but I warn you that he is
a most peculiar bird, and it won't do to rumple his feathers.
Berwick, you may go ; all you need to do now is to do nothing
until I send Watson for you."

At the Sanitary Camp I asked Dr. Khayme what General
Meade had in his mind when he received so cheerfully my view
that Gettysburg had not demoralized Lee's army.

" General Meade," said he, " was greatly criticised by many
newspaper people for not destroying Lee's army. The admin-
istration, too, was greatly displeased; some members of the
President's cabinet were loud in their complaints against the
general. He contended, however, that to attack would entail
a useless sacrifice, and that the result would be disaster.
Therefore, he was pleased when you spoke as you did, for he
knew that you were telling the truth."

" Doctor, can you tell me what it is that I am to do ? "

He looked at me sympathetically.

Then he shook his head.

Ill

SCOUTING WITH SHAKESPEARE

" Good at a fight, but better at a play." — MOORE.

IF there is any condition in life which might truly be called
happiness I for one have never found it. There is always some-
thing to distress you, no matter how greatly your condition may
have been bettered. One might think that a ragged rebel, sud-
denly converted into a friend — however humble — of the com-
mander-in-chief of the Army of the Potomac, a mental vagrant
given back to friends, and with love added, should have been
happy — but I know that constant joy cannot be our condition
here below. I had much to grieve for. Dr. Khayme had
gently given me to know that my dear father had suddenly
died on the day preceding that of my leaving the Union army
to penetrate the Confederate lines on the Chickahominy, that
is to say, on June 2, 1862. He had been a good father, and
I mourned his loss deeply ; in my grief, however, there was no
bitterness ; I thanked God that death had not come in conse-
quence of my misfortune or fault ; he had gone from me when
I had gone, and he had not suffered the agony of suspense
that would have been inevitable had he known of my dis-
appearance.

My father's death was not all ; old comrades of the Eleventh,
old playmates of my childhood, had found bloody graves on
fields where I had fought against them ; at second Bull Run,
there is no doubt that I had fought hand-to-hand with men
of the Eleventh — one of whom certainly recognized me.

What is past is past.

20

SCOUTING WITH SHAKESPEARE 21

Lydia was to become my wife. Necessarily, the marriage
would not take place while the war lasted. My father's
estate — much diminished I had learned — was in the hands
of executors who had been his life-long friends. My desire
to remain with Lydia, therefore, kept me with the army ;
although it would be an easy matter to get a furlough, there
was nothing to require my presence at home, and I shrank
from the peculiar publicity which I knew must attend me
should I now return to my friends in the North, who had been
apprised in some degree of my past and who would be doubly
curious.

On the evening of the 18th, Captain Scran ton came to me
from General Meade, accompanied by his servant, who was
leading an extra horse. I was directed to report at once to
the general for the purpose of serving as guide to a scouting
party. Rain was falling heavily; I threw on my overcoat and
gum-blanket, bade good-by to Lydia and the Doctor, and rode
off with the captain.

" But," said he, " where are your arms ? "

" I shall not need any," said I.

He whistled long and loud.

" ' On what submissive message art thou sent ? ' " he quoted.

"What does General Meade want me to find out, Captain?"

" Ask General Meade," said he.

" Then you are not going with us ? Pardon me, sir, but my
first question should not have been asked."

" No harm done," he replied, in a tone that showed soften-
ing— adding, as if to himself, "'Many thousand reasons hold
me back. ' "

I felt rebuffed, and dropped behind with the captain's ser-
vant. The man was a foreigner, but of what particular coun-
try I could not tell from his features. Small of stature, dark,
lean, wiry, with a black mustache twisted at the ends, and
small side-whiskers, he might be French, Italian, Austrian, or
Swiss — most likely Swiss.

22

" Misser Bairveek," he said, u de capitan ees not glad."

" No," I replied ; " but I am to blame."

" Not so," he responded ; " he now be trouble because at de
scrape de army ees."

"Indeed!" said I, sharply — somehow the fellow's lingo
irritated me.

" Misser Bairveek, ees not dees de vorst you ever bevore see
de army ov de Powtamaque fall in two ? "

" I think she'll get out right enough," I answered.

" Dees ees like not de Getteesburg. Eef de army be in com-
mand ov a Stonevall Zhackson! Dat ees vot I say, Misser
Bairveek."

I was a little surprised at this speech; I wondered if the
servant was echoing the master. There were many people who
did not consider Meade a Napoleon, but for one of his own
staff to allow his servant to criticise seemed wrong — entirely
wrong.

"I think, sir," said I, somewhat sternly, "that General
Meade has not yet been defeated."

The man started as if he had received a blow, and said no
more.

It was quite dark when we reached headquarters. Before
General Meade's tent five cavalrymen, booted and spurred,
were standing about, bridle in hand. The captain at once
entered, bidding me to follow. General Meade seemed ab-
sorbed in a map spread before him. No one had been with
him except Watson, his orderly.

" Berwick," said the general, " I want you to find out whether
Lee's infantry is in our front."

The general's tones were harsh ; he looked annoyed — even
angry.

" It is retreating, General," said I, boldly.

" Upon my soul ! How do you know ? "

"I simply give General Lee credit for having good sense,
General."

SCOUTING WITH SHAKESPEARE 23

A shade of a smile passed over his face. " But we have con-
tradictory reports. Rebel infantry were on our right yesterday,
and last night ; the report comes from a man as big as General
Sedgwick."

" Well, General, I engage to satisfy you in three hours that
the Confederates are preparing to leave, if they have not already
gone."

Now, what made me sure of being able to accomplish a work
which seemed difficult, and caiised me to make a promise that
seems boastful, was not indeed my belief that General Lee
would do the right thing. I knew from sad experience the
straitened condition of the Southern army ; I knew that this
condition had been, more than once before, justification for
movements made contrary to the rules of the military art as
they are written in the books ; for General Lee, at this time,
to swing to the flank of the Army of the Potomac would be
not more audacious than was his dividing his forces at Chan-
cellorsville ; my assurance came from absolute confidence
in Dr. Khayme's foresight. "Lee will retreat at once," he
had said.

" Then," said the general, " get about the work without delay.
Here, Watson! Call those men in! No; wait. Captain
Scranton, be good enough to see for me that all arrangements
are perfect, and go with the party to the front. Examine the
map, Berwick."

" No, General ; I have no need for a map of this ground. I
have a better one in my head, sir."

So the captain did go with us, after all. Scranton took
Scherzer, his servant, aside, and seemed to be giving him some
instructions ; the man went off — to his quarters, no doubt.

The squad mounted silently and looked ready for orders.

" ' Make known which way thou travellest,' " said the cap-
tain ; adding, " We obey your commands, Mr. Berwick."

I directed the men to ride in single file behind me. The
night was dark, and it was yet raining, but I knew the roads

24 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

well ; even the fields and woods were known to me, and I had
no hesitation in going forward rapidly.

At our advanced infantry posts on the Manassas road we
were halted. We were now only three miles from army head-
quarters. Captain Scranton gave proof of our mission, and we
rode on rapidly toward Bull Run. The rain was falling thick
and fast, heavily enough to cause me to believe the fury of the
storm was now being spent. I halted the party.

" Who has the best horse ? "

" I, sir," replied two men at once.

" One of you — here, you if you please — remain in this spot
to carry the first report to the general."

We went on and crossed — fording ; the water rose to our
saddle skirts. The noise of the rushing stream and of the fall-
ing rain drowned that of our own splashing. On the southern
bank I paused again. Putting my hand on the shoulder of the
second man, " What is your name ? " I asked.

"Holcomb, sir."

"Remain here. Take notice all, that we are distributing the
party as relays. One will ride to the next, and so on."

A mile more, and Stephenson was stationed in the road.
This reduced the advance to four: two men, the captain,
and I.

Said he, " We must be near Manassas."

"Two miles," I replied.

The rain had ceased. We had spent three-quarters of an
hour; I urged forward faster, keeping in the middle of the
road ; the captain was at my side — the two men in the rear.

" But do you observe no caution ? "

" Not to-night, Captain ; the rebels have gone."

" How do you know ? "

" Look behind you."

In the rear the heavens were red with the reflection of
camp-fires.

" ' I throw a northward look,' " he quoted.

SCOUTING WITH SHAKESPEARE 25

" Now look before you."

" ' Look with thine ears,' " he responded.

All was darkness in the south.

Another man was posted. We pushed on down the road ;
the stars were out, and the setting moon.

" Halt ! " I whispered, reining up sharply.

Strange objects were at the roadside. I had not seen them
there before. On this spot I had lain down weary at daylight
on the morning of August 28, 1862, while the sky in the south
glowed with Manassas in flames. Here I had eaten and rested.
The spot — the old spot — was before my memory in the vivid
freshness of that summer morning ; then a grassy spot though
covered with the dust of scorching August, now a spot littered
with the remains of a hurried bivouac.

" Hurrah ! " I said ; " nothing but cavalry ; push on."

"Cavalry the devil," grumbled the captain between his
teeth ; " as if cavalry was nothing ! " He had forgotten to
quote.

We reached the junction of the road from Blackburn's, a
mile or a little more from Manassas, and paused.

" Captain," said I, " are you convinced ? "

Before us stretched a plain on which there was scarce a tree
or an elevation — a country devastated by two armies in more
than three campaigns and innumerable ravagings.

" Berwick," said he, " how in the hell did you know it ? "

" Are there any of Lee's infantry left in ten miles of us ? "

"Not a lost soul."

We stationed Goodman at the fork.

"Warren ought to be at Blackburn's Ford by this time,"
said the captain ; " and I hope Gibbs's cavalry regiment is yet
at the Junction, but we'd better go slow. ' Thou stand'st where
snares of war may tangle thee.' "

The three rode on, diverging toward the right. Whether
Federals were now at Manassas I cared little. Broad Run was
my object. Lee's infantry must be behind Broad Run, or else

26 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

behind the Rappahannock. We passed Manassas a mile at our
left and kept on. We reached the top of a high hill, from
which the horizon in the south seemed ten miles distant.

" Kimball," said the captain ; " ride back at once and send
word to General Medde that Lee's infantry have sailed for
France ! "

The horse-hoofs smote the ground in our rear. The captain
and I were alone. We rode on, side by side, in the darkness.

" Have a cigar," he said.

" And let the ashes grow, or a bullet may come our way," I
replied.

It was a good one. I was only a private ; to all seeming the
captain had become very friendly. He continued to quote
Shakespeare. In a hollow we came to a recently deserted cav-
alry camp. I dismounted. I knew, somehow, that it had been
a bivouac of the Confederates, but I wanted to make the cap-
tain know it. I picked up two small objects lying by one of
the sodden camp-fires and remounted.

" Well ? " he asked.

" Confederates."

" ' And what accites your most worshipful thought, to think
so ? > "

" Strike a match, please."

He did as I said, and I held near the blaze a small piece of
thoroughly soaked newspaper.

All that was legible was :

of

repor

General Le

invaders. Sou

independence are

to be abandoned no mat

" Were they not Confederates ? "
" { I think so, truly, noble Roman.' "

SCOUTING WITH SHAKESPEARE 27

« And look at this."

It was a bit of hoe-cake made of Indian meal. The captain
smelt of it, and threw it down.

"Now, Captain, we must be cautious. That regiment, or
whatever it was, has not had time to get very far away."

" ' I am your shadow, my lord ; I'll follow you.' "

"The embers of that camp-fire were still warm. Perhaps,
Captain, you should now return to General Meade, and not go
farther forward with me."

" ' And if I do not, may my hands rot off,' " he answered
imperturbably.

" Captain, have we been gone three hours ? " I asked.

"We have."

" Have our men reached the general, do you think ? "

« Easily."

" It is seven miles to Centreville."

" They would go it in thirty minutes ; thirty-five at the out-
side — counting in the time at the picket post. ' We are time's
subjects, and time bids be gone ' ; come on."

" I have a great desire to know where the army — Lee's
army has gone."

" Well ; so have we all ; the vote is unanimous."

" And I shall try to find out."

"Lead on. ' For my part, I'll not trouble you with words.' "

" But I want to go as far as Bristoe — or at least to the creek
this side."

"How far is it?"

" Four miles."

" We shall then be eleven from Centreville."

" Yes, and more if we return through Manassas."

" We shall be all night getting back," said he.

" Captain, I think I'd better go alone ; not that you would
hinder in any way, but that you may be needed at head-
quarters."

" General Meade ordered me to go with the party to the

28 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

front ; you are the party. ' This is the latest parle we will
admit/ sir," said he.

I knew that A. P. Hill had been at Bristoe, for he had there
attacked the rear-guard under Warren just four days previously,
and Cooke's North Carolinians had met a bloody repulse, losing
many prisoners and a battery. I wanted to know whether the
enemy were yet at Bristoe. Unless they should be found there
in strong infantry force, I should feel sure that Lee had retired
behind the Rappahannock. For my own part, I was confident
that Lee's army had abandoned the campaign, but I must try
to satisfy General Meade fully. Between Manassas and Broad
Run there was no good military position for either attack or
defence, and no force of the enemy could be supposed to hold
this ground, yet I had already found abundant proof that the
region was in the hands of the Confederate cavalry, and it
behooved us to have a watchful care lest we run headlong upon
some party moving or in camp. So I rode ahead of the cap-
tain, and cautiously, stopping at every turn in the road and on
every elevation reached, and straining eye and ear to catch the
slightest motion or sound. The road was sloppy ; no march
had been made upon it since the heavy rain that had fallen
early in the night ; it ran diagonally across the country toward
the southeast, making in the direction of the railroad.

I had paused at a turn in the road, just where it left a copse
of undergrowth; the captain was yet advancing behind me.
Suddenly I knew that something was moving two or three
hundred yards or so in front. I turned my horse at once and
rode back into the thicket ; the captain followed me.

" The enemy," I said, dismounting quickly.

We led our horses forty or fifty yards into the woods. I
whispered to the captain that I should go to the road; he
understood at once, and took my bridle from me. I crept
back and lay flat. The tread of horse was now distinct, and
the murmur of voices. Soon the road before me was filled
with a dark, moving mass ; the night was nearly black, and

SCOUTING WITH SHAKESPEARE 29

did not allow me to see face or uniform, yet I knew that here
was one of Stuart's regiments. The column passed at a walk.
There was not much said by these troopers, yet now and then
I could catch a word which by its peculiar accent betrayed the
pure Southerner. But without this evidence, without any
particular evidence, I had become aware that these men were
Confederates before I saw anything more than a black mass
moving on the opposite hill. How had I known this ? Was
it instinct ?

The column had gone. I returned to the captain, took my
bridle from him, and put my foot in the stirrup. I had not
said a word.

" How now ? What news with you ? " he whispered.

"Confederate cavalry. They have gone northwest."

We mounted. I was moody and silent. The captain ob-
served my depression. Said he, " You seem tired and sleepy."

The words aroused me. What if this man had known of
my past experience ! would he not suspect that my sudden
gloom had been caused by homesickness, so to speak — desire
to see old friends in the Southern army ? I shook off my
nerveless torpor.

" Captain," said I, " I am all right. Let us forward again."

We crossed the railroad, I leading.

The captain said, " Lee has gone to the Eappahannock."

I did not reply. I knew what he meant. The railroad here
had been destroyed. Heaps of cross-ties had been made, and
the rails had been piled upon them, and had been bent with
fire. The work meant Lee's retreat. He had gone.

We now advanced more boldly, for we could not believe that
Confederate cavalry would be on the east of the railroad. A
little before midnight we rode up to the crossing of Broad Run,
behind which there should have been seen the light of a great
camp, had Lee's army yet been in position. But upon the other
side of the stream, which we did not try to cross, all was dark-
ness and silence. The burnt chimneys at Bristoe Station were
there — but no Lee's army.

30 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

" They've been gone a full day, no doubt, and our cavalry
nave not found it out ! " exclaimed the captain, in tones unnec-
essarily angry.

There was nothing more to be done. We turned our horses'
heads, and started for Manassas.

" Have another cigar," said Captain Scranton.

Was he a good fellow after all ? His stiffness had all gone.
He was treating me as a companion, not as an underling.
Even his giving me a second cigar was not offensive.

"Berwick," said he, "we'll have no rest to-morrow. "Tis
grievous to be thought upon.' "

" Why so, Captain ? "

" We shall advance ; I'd risk my halidome that we meet the
troops unless we get to camp before day."

" Then why should we ride back ? "

I had said the words vacantly. Whatever he might have
done, my mind was set on getting back to the Doctor and
Lydia. I did not think that the Sanitary Camp, or General
Meade's headquarters even, would be moved on the first day's
advance, and I was counting upon a good rest.

" To make sure, and to go to bed ; ' we'll sort occasion to a
double need.' "

We rode rapidly. Overhead a few stars were shining. We
sped through groves and along a road that sank and rose, and
gave us now and then an extended vision right and left. In
the far north the welkin's rim was merely tinged with a line
of brightness — to the unpractised eye, nothing; but, to one
who knew, the encampment of a mighty army. The red fire
of Scranton's cigar sparkled at my left, as his tall horse in
long lopes easily kept abreast. I was thinking of Lydia ; of
the first time I had met her since she had become a woman ;
of my love for her from that day — a love suppressed, I had
thought, kept down at least by a will that had been trained to
serve reason. I was thinking of my trials in the army of the
South; of my dear captain fallen before his time a useless

SCOUTING WITH SHAKESPEAKE 31

sacrifice — useless ? No, not useless — devotion to an idea can
never be useless ; I was thinking of the strange instinctive —
" Halt there ! " rang out ahead of us in the gloom, and
we pulled up violently — so suddenly that Scranton's cigar
dropped from his teeth and fell to the ground, where I saw
it sputtering for a second in a mud-pool.

Only for a second. With my left hand I seized Scranton's
bridle ; with my right I jerked my horse square to the east,
and I dug the spurs into his sides. I saw flashes, and heard
shots, and felt my left arm almost torn from the shoulder
by the momentary inertia of Scranton's iron-gray — merely
momentary, for the next instant we were beyond the railroad
and speeding side by side over the plain. Not a word had
been said by either.

There was no pursuit. Who were these men who had met
us and fired on us ? I had indistinctly caught the outline of a
group of horsemen ; how long a column was behind the front
files, who could know ? Were they Confederates ? I knew
they were Confederates.

We halted. Scranton was laughing.

" Berwick, we have run away from our own men ! "

I was a little vexed. He could not understand. I could
not make him understand even if I tried.

" Then, Captain, you wish to ride back to them ? "

He sobered at once. " ' Give me some breath, some little
pause, my lord, before I positively speak herein.' "

" I think we did right to run, Captain," I said ; " we'd bet-
ter risk a shot or two in the night than risk being captured ;
and we'd better smoke no more."

I might have made it stronger — so far as my part of
the proceeding was concerned. I might have added that I
would risk the fire of a battalion before I would risk a Con-
federate drumhead court martial, but Captain Scranton, of
course, knew nothing of my former experiences, and was not
to know.

32 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

" Berwick," said the captain, " you are right. ' Full of wise
care is this your counsel, sir.' What next ? "

" We must get into the road again, further north."
r We let the horses blow after their spurt. It was past mid-
night. Just how far we had ridden out of our course I did not
know, but I knew the direction to Manassas. The captain
became inquisitive.

" Who intercepted our expedition ? "

" Confederate cavalry, Captain."

" Twice. * Foes to my rest and my sweet sleep's disturbers.'
But you astonish me, Berwick, upon the soul of Meade, you
astonish me ! "

" Because I run from Confederates ? "

" Evade thou not. No ; because you can tell a Confederate
by his smell," said he.

" You do my smellers too much honour."

He stretched his arm toward the west. " Tell me," he said,
" what command is nearest us in this direction. ' What sayest
thou ? Speak suddenly ; be brief ! ' "

" Give it up," said I.

" Berwick, seriously I inquire how you knew that the
column which we first met was Confederate."

" Captain, I heard one of them say ' reckin so.' "

"And seriously again, I inquire how you know we were
fired on by Confederates."

What reply could I make ? The captain was hard on me, I
thought. To answer that I knew, but was unconscious of the
process by which I knew, would be absurd.

" Did you hear speech, Captain ? "

" Only two words."

" What were the words ? Repeat them please, and natu-
rally."

"'Halt there!'"

" Captain, you are not a Confederate."

" Not just at present."

SCOUTING WITH SHAKESPEARE 33

" And I doubt your being a Northerner."

" Ah ! he turns the tables. ' Bold, quick, ingenious, capable.'
You are right. I am English."

He had said the words as a Virginian or perhaps a Mary-
lander would speak — possibly he was from Baltimore. The
man puzzled me. I said nothing. The captain pressed me no
further. I knew that he had lied.

We entered the road again, a mile northward of the scene of
our adventure. The country here was bare of trees and level ;
I could dimly see a long distance to the front. We had been
in the road but a few minutes when I discerned the forms of
men on horses blocking the way, some two hundred yards from
us.

" Who comes there ? "

" Friends with the countersign ! " I cried.

The captain had reined back with a jerk, but was now
reassured.

" Halt, friends ! Advance one, with the countersign ! "

The captain rode forward alone and gave the password. We
were told by the men on post that they had been advanced to
this spot from Manassas early in the night; that Manassas
was held by the Nineteenth New York cavalry, under Colonel
Gibbs. We rode on through the old camp at Manassas, and
took to the left for Centreville. The captain was talkative —
almost merry.

" Berwick, we've made a night of it. ' If to have done the
thing you gave in charge beget your happiness, be happy,'
General Meade. I swear his doubts are fled."

" He was very anxious, was he, Captain ? "

"Anxious? He was a whole hornets' nest. Tor by his
face straight shall you know his heart.' You ought to have
seen his message to Halleck."

" Trouble between him and Halleck ? Sorry to hear it,"
said I.

" ' Penetrable to your kind entreats,' I have the honour to

34 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

say that our general got the best of the man in Washington.
But, no more of this, Berwick. The thing is settled, and we
tell no tales." 1

His laugh sounded like irony.

" Berwick, how long have you been in the army ? "

" Joined in sixty-one, Captain — before Bull Run."

" Were you at Bull Run ? "

"Yes, sir — twice."

" What regiment was it ? General Meade told me, but I've
forgotten."

" Eleventh Massachusetts."

"You've had experience; 'follow thy drum; paint the
ground gules, gules.' But you follow no longer; you lead.
When did the general detach you ? "

" Very recently, sir." I feared that Scranton had seen me
on the 12th, when in Confederate clothing I had stood in the
midst of General Meade's staff for half an hour answering
questions concerning Lee's movements ; and I added, " Where
were you on the twelfth in the afternoon, Captain ? "

"The twelfth? Let me see — oh, yes; Meade sent me to
the south of the river. Why ? "

" That was the day of my first work for the general," said I.

As we neared the lines there was the commotion that pre-
cedes movement. Everything was astir. Fires were sur-
rounded by groups swallowing their breakfast. Evidently a
march was to begin.

1 Halleck telegraphed Meade: "Lee is unquestionably bullying you. If
you cannot ascertain his movements, I certainly cannot. If you will pursue
and fight him, I think you will find out where he is. I know of no other
way."

Meade replied : " If you have any orders to give me, I am prepared to
receive and obey them, but I must insist on being spared the infliction of such
truisms in the guise of opinions as you have recently honored me with, par-
ticularly as they were not asked for. I take this occasion to repeat what I
have before stated, that if my course, based on my own judgment, does not
meet with approval, I ought to be, and desire to be, relieved from command."
[Ed.]

SCOUTING WITH SHAKESPEARE 35

And the captain said, dramatically waving his hand, " ' The
silent hours steal on, and flaky darkness breaks within the
east' "

"Captain," said I, "I feel that I've ridden with Shake-
speare."

" Don't laugh, Berwick ; I can't help it. You see, I trod the
boards for five years in old England."

I doubted the England part, and my doubt of the man's
integrity made me resolve not to trust him. I deplored the
fact that General Meade had told Scranton that I could pass
anywhere; I must watch this man, but I must not let him
watch me.

IV

SUSPICIONS

" By a divine instinct men's minds mistrust
Ensuing dangers ; as, by proof, we see
The waters swell before a boist'rous storm."

— SHAKESPEARE.

MY sleep had been troubled. I knew very well that Dr.
Khayme possessed some mysterious power by which he could
cause me to sleep at his will, for I had previously had experi-
ence of this benign influence, but on this occasion I had not
had opportunity to get his help : he had been called to the
aid of some men who had run against Mosby in the night with
the usual result.

When I rose about one o'clock, I found that the Doctor had
returned.

" You have not slept well," he said.

Lydia looked sympathy ; the dear girl had her own troubles
and her own work, yet I knew that her heart was wishing to
comfort me.

"And there is a new expression on your face," said the
Doctor.

" Yes, Doctor ; I have had an experience," said I, sadly.

" Tell us about it," said Lydia.

I gave them briefly an account of my night's work.

" Not very wonderful," said the Doctor.

" Not wonderful ! "

"No; do you think men have the same powers, and in the
same degree ? "

"Not at all, Doctor."

3d

SUSPICIONS 37

"At how great a distance do you think you could tell a
Confederate from a Northerner ? "

" By his speech, do you mean, Doctor ? "

" His everything. Certainly, Jones, it is likely that no man
could be more sensitive than you, to the presence of Confed-
erates. Habit, called second nature, may develop beyond
nature. You simply know a Confederate at a great distance
and many Confederates at a greater distance."

The Doctor went into a talk on habit, giving some wonder-
ful illustrations, to which I listened attentively. His words
brought comfort ; I had felt great fear of the Southerners, and
I was glad to be told that my intercourse with them had given
me some capacity for avoiding them.

*******

Headquarters had moved to Warrenton. Doctor Khayme,
according to his wont, still held his camp at Centreville; he
would not move until the army was more settled. He had
expressed a conviction that there would be no engagement
north of the Kappahannock ; he would, therefore, save him-
self and especially Lydia the worry of short marches ; when
Meade crossed the river would be time enough. Lydia's skill
was in great demand even at Centreville, for there were small
cavalry skirmishes almost daily at this period, and she had
her hands full at the hospital. There seemed as yet no hope
for Colonel Paull.

For some days I saw nothing of my dearest friends. Al-
though the distance from Warrenton to Centreville was not
great — but twenty-two miles I think — my attachment to
General Meade's secret corps did not allow me, in this inter-
val, to visit the Sanitary Camp. General Meade was delaying
his advance until the railroad, destroyed by Lee's army, should
be rebuilt ; otherwise supplies would be precarious.

My chief acquaintance was Captain Scranton. This man
was a puzzle to me. He certainly had some strong qualities ;
I had found him brave, but careless; mentally quick; too

38 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

quick — impulsive ; of firm loyalty to his adopted country, so
far as one could judge from words, yet I knew that he was
not thoroughly honest. He frequently expressed admiration
for General Lee and above all for the great military genius
lost at Chancellorsville ; his outspoken belief in the superior-
ity of Southern generalship made me think at times that he
was by no means confident of the final success of the Union
cause. He had been with General Meade in the campaign of
Gettysburg, and had been greatly distinguished for his reck-
less daring, having ridden straight through fire of shell and
shot, on both the 2d and 3d, carrying orders from Meade to
Sickles, and from Meade to Hancock, when other messengers
sought circuitous and safer courses. He gave evidence that
he belonged to the gentle class, yet there were times when, per-
haps because of the mannerisms contracted through his train-
ing as an actor, I could have thought him a cheap imitation of
the gentleman. As it was impossible for me to confide in him,
it was likewise impossible to expect confidence from him.

One morning I was lying on the edge of the wood in the rear
of headquarters, with nothing to do but enjoy the Indian
summer, and everything to think of drowsily. Time was
heavy on my hands, and the weather was not conducive to
voluntary enterprise. I wished that the army would go into
winter quarters — then my friends could come. That great
work which I was to do, bore upon me, prolonging suspense ;
it was difficult to believe that I was to get it done soon, for
now nobody was doing anything — except a few cavalry some-
where on the flanks.

A footfall sounded behind me, and Scranton approached.
He sat by me. For my part I felt little like talking.
" < What's the matter, Clarence ? May I know ? ' "
" Captain, isn't this the laziest weather you ever saw ? "
"Atrocious. 'Thus far into the bowels of the land have we
marched on without impediment' — now we wait for impedi-
menta."

SUSPICIONS 39

" Captain, where did you get that servant of yours ? "

He started ; recovering at once, he laughed : " Curious
rooster, isn't he ? He is Alsatian, I think ; ' hasty and tinder-
like upon too trivial motion.' "

This thinking Scherzer Alsatian was almost self-betrayal.

" I judge that he has seen better times," said I.

" Yes ? Perhaps so ; many people have seen better times.
Now ' in good time here comes the Duke himself.' How he
keeps going I don't know. He doesn't even stagger."

It was known that Scherzer drank some liquor, though not
of the heady sorts.

" I've never seen him drunk," said I, thinking it strange that
the captain should exaggerate the habit of his servant.

"No; there's many a cup 'twixt his lip and his slip."

Scherzer came very slowly ; I felt that his eyes were on me
and not on the captain — but when he was very near, the mat-
ter was reversed ; he refused to look at me.

" What is it, Scherzer ? " asked Scranton.

" The men haf come."

" Let them wait."

" I did say that, and they did say no ; not haf time to wait."

" Go back and say that I will come."

It was perversity, no doubt, which made me linger. So far
as military duty was concerned, Scranton would not stand on
ceremony with me ; if the men spoken of by Scherzer had come
in consequence of orders, the captain would at once go to them;
that he had shown no haste caused me to think some private
affair was claiming his attention. I was a little curious ; he
was silent — wishing me to be the first to go, perhaps.

" You think we shall advance soon, Captain ? "

"Berwick, General Meade will advance when necessary.
' He hath a wisdom that doth guide his valour to act in
safety.' "

" His caution is to his credit," said I ; " what would you
have him do ? "

40 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

"Exactly what he is doing. ' I partly know the man.' Ber-
wick, bigger game is afoot than that in Virginia."

"What is it you mean, Captain? The presidential elec-
tion ? "

"Thou art unregenerate. Learn wisdom, Berwick, learn
wisdom ! "

" Hard to do, Captain, without a teacher."

" Wouldst be a willing scholar ? "

"Yes — if I might choose what to study."

" Children put to school do not dictate such things."

" What things ? "

"I speak of them not now hastily, 'lest after hours give
leisure to repent.' Could you be faithful ? Pardon. Could
you have such faith as to swear beforehand ? "

" To incur danger blindly ? "

" * My lord, I hold my life as dear as you do yours.' Do
you not approve the obedience — the unquestioning obedience
— of the soldier?"

" But we are first volunteers. We fight for our country. In
the manner of fighting obedience is correct."

" ' How shall we find the concord of this discord ? ' Hear
that ? I think I shall go down and see what it is that Scherzer
is exercised about."

A gun had fired miles away in the southwest, and had
furnished Scranton with a chance for diverting the talk.
Guus had been firing all day, at times ; this was a man with
pretexts.

After a short time I began to walk back to headquarters, my
way being through a wooded hollow, where a small brook ran.
Just as I leaped the stream, I saw to my right, not more than
fifty yards away, a group of men, six at least. They were
standing near each other, all looking toward their centre where,
from the peculiar nature of their attitudes, I thought there was
a smaller man whom I could not see. Prominent among these
men was Scranton, as attentive as the rest. The noise I made

SUSPICIONS 41

must have been heard, for they looked toward me, and some of
them moved a little, so that I could now see that the central
figure was Scherzer.

I passed on without speaking.

Suddenly I stopped. My suspicions — indefinite, it is true,
and unreasonable, had led me to fancy that the important work
which Dr. Khayme had hinted at, had some connection with
Scranton and Scherzer. I looked round ; they were not to be
seen.

But how could this subordinate officer and his foreign ser-
vant have any relation to a work which, I had been told, was
to be of national influence? I continued my way, laughing
inwardly at myself for allowing my imaginings to get the
better of my judgment.

TO THE WILDERNESS FOB WARREN

*' Eos. Well, this is the forest of Arden.
Touch. Ay, now am I in Arden ; the more fool I."

— SHAKESPEARE.

EARLY in November the army advanced to the Rappahan-
nock. A combat at the bank of the river, where it is crossed
by the railroad, resulted in the loss to the Confederates of
almost the whole of Hays's Louisiana brigade and a great
part of Hoke's. On the 8th the Army of the Potomac crossed
the Rappahannock ; headquarters were fixed at Culpeper. In
none of these movements had my services been demanded.

Dr. Khayme now moved his quarters near us, and for a
few weeks I had the happiness of being once more with my
dearest friends. Colonel Paull, still under Lydia's care, was
but little better, his removal having given him great pain.

In the afternoon of November 20th, I was ordered by General
Meade to report to General Warren for secret service. On
arriving at the headquarters of the Second corps — then tem-
porarily under Warren because of General Hancock's slow
recovery from wounds received at Gettysburg — I was told
that the general was absent. He soon returned, however,
and received me.

" Do you know the Eapidan ? " he asked.

" I have crossed it, General, several times."

" Above or below our front ? At what fords ? "

" I have crossed it at Liberty Mills, at Raccoon Ford, and at
Germanna."

42

TO THE WILDERNESS FOB WARREN 43

"Germanna!" he exclaimed; "tell me about Germanna
Ford. Is it deep?"

" When I crossed it the water was shallow enough, General,
but the time was midsummer."

" And you think it is not f ordable now ? "

"General, it was waist-deep in summer. I suppose it is
hardly fordable for infantry at this season."

" But for cavalry and artillery ? "

" They would have no trouble, General, unless the river was
swollen by rain."

" Do you know the country beyond Germanna ? "

"Not at all, General; I know the ground at and around
Chancellorsville, and around Fredericksburg, but between Ger-
manna and Chancellorsville I know nothing more than the
road and objects easily seen from the road — and they are not
greatly varied, sir. It is a wilderness down there."

" As bad as around Chancellorsville ? "

" Yes, General ; I judge that there is a wide scope of coun-
try, south of the Rapidan, that is little else than unbroken
forest."

I inferred that an advance was contemplated, and that the
Second corps was to cross the Rapidan at Germanna. I learned
afterward that in Hooker's campaign General Warren had
crossed the Rappahannock at United States Ford, much below
the point upon which his attention was now fixed. The gen-
eral continued to question me.

" Do you know Flat Run ? "

" Not by that name, General."

" Then by what name ? Has it another name ? "

"I mean, General, that I may have seen the stream you
speak of, without learning its name."

"How far beyond Germanna Ford is the first important
stream ? "

" About three miles, sir."

" Here," said he, " look at the map. Here is a stream laid

44 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

down as Flat Run just about three miles from Germanna
Ford."

" Yes, sir ; I remember crossing it."

" Does it present any difficulty ? "

" No, General ; it is easily forded."

" This angle between the Orange and Fredericksburg turn-
pike and the Germanna road cannot be crossed ? "

" I think it can, General ; there is certainly a road coming
into the Culpeper road — "

" The Culpeper road ? "

" The same that you call the Germanna road, General — the
road from Culpeper to Wilderness Tavern and on ; there is a
road just about a mile beyond the stream. I don't know where
it goes, but I know it starts in a southwest direction ; it ought
to cut off that angle. It leaves the Culpeper road near the
point marked Spotswood's."

" How far is it from Germanna Ford to Wilderness Tavern ? "

" About six miles, General."

"I want to know where that Spotswood road goes. You
must find out for me. It is important."

" When shall I do the work, General ? "

" As soon as possible ; at once."

" How long can you give me, sir ? "

" Not more than forty-eight hours."

" I must start at once, then, sir."

" You must start at once. What do you need ? Speak out."

" Nothing, sir ; I have everything necessary. I can start in
two hours."

" You want no men ? "

"No, sir."

" Very well. You understand fully what I require of you ? "

" I think so, General. You wish me to report within forty-
eight hours the condition of the Spotswood road, and where it
crosses or enters the Orange and Fredericksburg turnpike."

" Exactly. You may go."

TO THE WILDERNESS FOR WARREN 46

Riding back to the Doctor's camp, I began to plan for the
undertaking before me. To Germanna Ford it was more than
ten miles, four or five more to the road which I must examine,
and I supposed five or six thence to the Orange and Fredericks-
burg turnpike. To go and come directly would take the greater
part of one day. A day would do for the work itself when
I should get upon the ground — that is, if I should not be
hindered by conditions now unforeseen. The region to which
I was going was what is known as The Wilderness — a
tangled thicket upon an enormous scale, with here and there
an opening in the jungle, the home of some settler who, on
account of his peculiar tastes, or perhaps because of the dis-
covery of fertility in some small spot, or because he could do no
better, had cleared a little space far away from any neighbour.

The Wilderness begins near Chancellorsville, and extends
westward no man knows how far — the name being applied
to an indefinite scope of country. The road I was going to
examine was in the midst of The Wilderness.

The Confederate army was holding the south bank of the
Rapidan. Lee's infantry extended only to Morton's Ford on
the east — his right — but cavalry picketed the river in its
lower course and kept close watch at every crossing-place. To
make the venture alone seemed prudent, becaxise: First, a
body of men could hardly evade detection and pursuit ; Sec-
ond, even if a body of men should not be seen while on the
ground, it was certain that after the work had been done the
Confederates would learn of the expedition, and in that case
suspicion might point to the projected movement — a con-
tingency to be averted by all means possible ; Third, I felt
that alone I could accomplish the work in less time than a
party would require, and haste was demanded of me. But
for the fact that every able-bodied man in the South had been
called to serve in her armies, I should have thought that to
wear civilian's clothing would be the safest course, but a man
so young as I — in fact almost any man remaining in this

46 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

region — and not a soldier, would naturally excite suspicion.
After deliberating upon the respective difficulties, I concluded
that the way to go was to go clothed in blue uniform, and
unarmed, and that the most of the work should be done at
night.

At the Doctor's I found that he and Lydia were absent
about some merciful work. I wrote to Lydia, filled a bag
with oats, put into a haversack some cold food which the cook
found for me, and made a start. From the Doctor's camp to
Germanna Ford it is twelve miles and a half ; I rode it by
two o'clock, encountering here and there along the road some
groups of our cavalry, who let me pass on without challenge.
A quarter of a mile from the ford I found a cavalry picket,
who stopped me and sent for Lieutenant Hassett who was in
command at this point. The lieutenant was unwilling to let
me go on. I took him aside and argued the matter ; I told
him that I was on special service by order of Generals Meade
and Warren, but he wanted proof — I might be a spy return-
ing to the rebels — I might be deserting ; he could not let me
pass without orders. He was clearly in the right, and I was
uncertain what to do ; I had not brought with me the order
of General Meade detaching me, and I had not thought of
getting General Warren to pass me through our lines. I tried
Hassett again. I told him, generally, what my work was to
be — and stressed its importance ; if through his rigid adher-
ence to observances, my work should be ruined at the outset,
the result would cause General Warren great displeasure. He
replied that that was none of his business ; he added that in
his opinion there were ninety-nine chances in a hundred that
I was telling the truth, yet he could not and would not risk
that odd chance. Then I asked him to send a man back to
General Warren for authority, and meantime to let me ex-
amine, under guard if need be, the course of the river near by.
He was deliberating upon this proposal, when the pickets
brought up another horseman, who proved to be one of Gen-

TO THE WILDERNESS FOR WARREN 47

eral Warren's couriers ; the general had feared that I should
be stopped and had sent an order, -which at once set me right.

The night was cold ; the few cavalrymen at the post were
lying around a fire. The lieutenant told me that three men
were posted on the bank of the river — at daybreak they
would be withdrawn. I got ready for the work before me;
a long smooth staff was cut for me by one of the men. I left
my horse in Hassett's care.

Less than half a mile above Germanna Ford, the Rapidan,
after having made to the south a horseshoe, around which the
distance is nearly three miles, and across which the distance
is hardly one mile, begins to run northeast, and keeps this
course for two miles ; then it turns sharply to the southeast
and continues generally to flow in this direction for a long
distance. From Germanna Ford, by the course of the river
around the horseshoe to Brookes's Ford, the next crossing
above, is perhaps three miles ; in a straight line, Brookes's
Ford is not more than a mile from Germanna.

Lieutenant Hassett picketed only the ford at Germanna, but
patrolled between Germanna and Brookes's Ford night and day.
He admitted that the difficulties of a near approach to the river
caused his patrols to move merely across the heels of the horse-
shoe at night; every morning, however, a round was made
along the stream itself. From his advanced posts the Confed-
erate pickets were frequently visible by day, and their fires by
night. They were posted upon the high ground a few hundred
yards beyond the ford ; as to picket firing, there existed a tacit
truce.

A cavalry regiment pickets many miles ; to guard the con-
vex side of the loop would be almost a necessity for the Con-
federates, because, if they neglected to do so, a regiment of
Union cavalry might hide in the loop, and cross ; but Confed-
erate necessity was not to be judged by rule ; the Confederacy
was weak, and must do as it could, and I doubted that more
than a man or two were posted around the loop.

48 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

I asked the lieutenant if a man could find a crossing within
the bend. He replied that the stream could be crossed at
almost any point, at least in the day, when a man could see
how to pick his way ; in the night there would be some danger
— he might find a deep hole instead of a shallow. I decided
to risk that danger ; I knew that shallow water makes more
noise than deep water, and by using my ears, and feeling my
way cautiously, I believed that I could avoid the holes.

It was three o'clock when I left the bivouac fire of Lieu-
tenant Hassett's men and went on foot into the horseshoe. The
night was not very dark — a cold, starlit night, the moon hav-
ing gone down at two. Keeping near to the river bank, I care-
fully noted every sign which might help me to determine the
relative merits of different places for crossing. The river ran
at my left as I went up-stream into the loop. Far to the south-
ward an owl was hooting ; at times I fancied I heard its mate
responding from deeper depths of The Wilderness. Trees on
the bank of the river leaned forward over the waters like bow-
ing battalions grounding arms. Behind me, when I turned, I
could see intermittently the single light at Hassett's bivouac ;
at the front was the forbidding forest with Confederate pickets
on its borders, and patrols on every available road.

The river was of varying width — about a hundred and fifty
feet average — and of varying swiftness. As I groped along its
bank, carefully considering its relations of width and velocity,
I came to the knowledge — something I ought to have had
without effort — that the narrow places were the swift places,
but I could by no means decide that the swift places were shal-
low. After an hour's slow progress, I fancied that I had caught
a feeble gleam of light through the trees beyond the river, but
if a light was there, I had lost it at once, and could not recover
it. Possibly, thought I, some Confederate over there was
lighting his pipe — yet I knew that a Confederate would not
use a match for this purpose, especially if near a fire; beyond
the Rapidan matches were costly. I kept on; at once the

•v,

TO THE WILDERNESS FOR WARREN 49

river began its curve toward the northwest ; I had reached the
middle of the bend. I sat down and tried to think what was
best to do ; every further step I should now take up the river
was doubling my work. Had not that gleam of light come
from a bivouac fire ? I went back to the spot from which, a
few moments before, I had seen the light. I moved my head
this way and that, trying every angle possible within a reason-
able scope — nothing but trees, and water, and night. I deter-
mined that if that were a fire made at a Confederate picket
post, I should learn the fact as fact. Walking slowly back-
ward from the water, I ascended the sloping bank of the
stream, keeping my gaze to the front. On top of the bank it
was worse ; the boughs of the bending trees did not let me see
even the surface of the river. I went on back, still seeking
higher ground, but the ground became no higher. What to
do? Suddenly I had it; I went rapidly toward the water,
and reached again the spot from which I had seen the light.
The nearest tree was soon climbed ; from its branches I tried
every available angle, and could see nothing in front except
the dim foreground of the river's noisy surface, and behind it
the black trees rising, and farther away an ascending plane,
all gloom, which lost itself immediately in a near-by horizon.
I came down from the tree and tried another, but only to fail.
Yet I would not give up. From a taller tree, and yet from a
lower altitude, I had a full view of a light through the woods
in front. By diligent and attentive work, moving about in the
tree, and giving heed to all surroundings, I became convinced
that the light was on higher ground than mine — that it was
back from the river a hundred yards or more. But that light
— what was it ? Might it not be a light in some dwelling?
No — it was long past midnight; peaceful inhabitants would
be asleep at this hour. The only reasonable supposition was
that the light came from the bivouac of the Confederate
pickets. Doubtless a group of cavalry were lying asleep
around the fire, with one of their number stationed as a

60

vedette on the very bank of the river opposite me. I remained
long in the tree, watching the light, and at last became certain ;
I had seen, for the space of two or three seconds, the light
obscured by an object passing before it ; I felt sure that a man
had stood for a moment between me and the fire.

I came down. My mind was made up. There was in all
probability no group of Confederate pickets between this group
at the apex of the bend and the group on the Germanna road,
and these groups were a mile apart by the course of the stream,
and half a mile in a straight line. Each group, no doubt, had
a vedette on the river bank, but between the vedettes the watch
would be kept up by patrols. I went back down the river until
the bending tree tops from either bank, as the stream curved a
little this way and that, would hide the surface of the water
from the eyes of a sentinel stationed on the bank in front of
the fire. The place which I chose was a little wider than the
river's average, and was rapid also. If there was a sentinel
opposite, I should wade into bis clutches, but I felt little fear
of finding one. I stripped entirely, for I knew not the depth,
and I did know that the air was cold, and that in wet clothing
for the remainder of the night I might catch my death. I
placed my overcoat on the ground and in it I tied up all my
other garments, making as compact a bundle as I could ; then
I tied the sleeves of my blouse, which I had allowed to hang
out for the purpose, around my neck so that the bundle rested
between my shoulders. If the water should deepen to my
shoulders I would keep the bundle above it with one hand. I
went forward as rapidly as I well could, yet carefully at first,
feeling my way with my long staff.

The water was fearfully cold — so cold that a succession of
icy shivers went through and through me — so cold that I laid
aside all caution as to speed, and waded straight for the oppo-
site shore — little need upon it for a Confederate vedette!
Perhaps I had been two minutes in passing the stream, two
minutes of suffering, of agony, especially around those portions

TO THE WILDERNESS FOR WARREN 51

of my body which were alternately beneath and above the sur-
face— for the air was colder than the water. When at length
I had succeeded in crossing, and stood naked upon the southern
bank, my suffering became torture. The cold river breeze of
near-by dawn upon my wet body speedily began to take away
my strength. Ten millions of needles pierced my skin. For a
second I thought I was gone — that I should never have strength
to put my clothes on, and that I must freeze in this spot. Sud-
denly I tore my bundle undone; — how I managed it I do not
know, but in a moment I had succeeded in throwing my over-
coat around my shoulders ; then I dropped sitting to the ground
and covered my legs and feet, the best I could, with my other
garments, wrapping them around me in any shape they would
take.

The intensity of the cold was now followed by a deathly
sickness at the stomach, and I felt — although my reason
assured me that the experience was but transitory — that I
was going blind. In this condition I was conscious of no
sound or sight for many minutes ; at length my fear began to
pass away, and I became quite warm, and had no distress,
except that I was yet sick and reluctant to make the exertion
necessary to clothe myself. After I had fully dressed, it
required great effort of will to determine upon going forward ;
but for the fact that the terrible water behind me prevented, I
think I should have gone back to the bivouac fire of our cav-
alry and perhaps should have given up the enterprise.

I now made my way slowly through the forest, gaining
strength at every step. Hills were climbed ; logs were passed
over or around. I wanted to go to the left of the fire I had
seen, and to the right of the Germanna road. The fire could
not be more than three hundred yards, or four hundred yards
from me ; the Confederate picket post on the road was, I sup-
posed, fully half a mile away. That the two posts were con-
nected by a bridle-path, if not by a road, was highly probable,
and on this bridle-road there might be other posts ; I must get

52 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

through the chain of pickets before day, which would not be
long in coming.

Hope rose within me when I thought the worst was over —
despair came when I thought of the terrible ordeal that I must
again go through on my return. I can truly say that for the
next twenty -four hours, except when asleep, thought of the icy
waters, and plans to moderate their severity, were never out of
my mind for one whole minute.

Day was beginning to show at my left when I again caught
the glimmer of fire at my right oblique; I crept on forward.
When I had the fire almost exactly on my right hand, I saw
a path before me — a narrow and crooked path made by horses'
hoofs which had thrown fresh earth this way and that. I
paused and looked long to right and left, and then, seeing
nothing, and hearing nothing, I ran hastily on across the path
through the woods, and did not stop until I knew that from
that path I could not be seen by any patrol.

I was now in the enemy's lines, or rather in the rear of his
cavalry outposts. Suddenly a thrill of terror almost over-
came my strength. The thought that food would be helpful,
although it was not yet near the breakfast hour, had made me
feel at my side — my haversack was not there ! What had
become of it ? Had I failed to wrap it in my overcoat when
I stripped to wade the river ? I could not remember that I
had it then. Had I taken it off before I climbed the trees ?
I could not remember. Had I left it at Hassett's picket post ?
There was no recollection of my doing so, yet I believed that
I had taken it off there, and had come away forgetting to take
it again.

The loss of a day's food to most men is of little importance ;
to me it was almost a matter of life or death. It was true that
I might get through my work before I should suffer extreme
hunger, but if I should be delayed in any way my condition
would become one of great peril, for there was no food in this
land except what the armed enemy had, and the little more

TO THE WILDERNESS FOR WARREN 53

that might be in the few scattered homes of inhabitants not
less hostile. Besides, my strength was waning; I was already
suffering from cold and enervation, and needed food now.
What would be my condition to-morrow ? Could I hold out
so long ? Such reasoning and such fear almost caused me
to turn at once and abandon the undertaking. But what
would General Warren say ? What would Dr. Khayme say ?
What should I think of myself ? I determined to go on, and,
if necessary, to risk something in order to obtain food if I
could but know where food might be had. I cursed my foolish
lack of carefulness ; I had left behind me my only luggage,
a necessity for the success of my work. Then, added to my
fears of hunger and consequent exhaustion, continued to rise
in my mind the horrors of the Rapidan. How could I sur-
vive, weakened by twenty-four hours' fast, a repetition of its
passage ?

Day was fully here. I looked around me — naught but
unbroken woods. In no direction could I see fifty yards.
Large trees and small saplings, pines and oaks and cedars
intermingled, the cedars especially presenting their stiff low
branches in every direction, and shutting off all vision, and
making progress very difficult. I listened — not a sound
caused by a human being or by his accessories. In this region
no woodman's axe rose and fell ; here no farmer's voice called
his swine for their early corn ; no lowing of cattle, or crowing
of cocks, or barking of dogs, or shout of ploughmen greeted my
ears. Instead, quail were piping, and squirrels chattering, and
a few robins pecking at the cedar berries.

I must go on. I diverged from a straight south course, seek-
ing the Germanna road ; it could not be far away. I crossed
a small brook babbling over stones ; on the next hill I paused
and listened again, for I was sure that the road must run in
the hollow before me. There was no sound, and I advanced
again, and soon saw through the trees a wide and longer space
in which I knew was the road I sought.

54 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

The sun had risen. I crept up nearly to the road; for a
long distance it ran straight ; I could see on it both ways.
Four hundred yards to my rear there were horsemen ; their
backs were toward me. At the south the road was clear. I
supposed that I was now a mile and a half from the ford, and,
therefore, almost two miles from Flat Run. I wanted food and
rest and warmth; I must keep going — that would at least
bring warmth. I went on through the woods, keeping within
sight of the opening which always told me where to find the
road. At the edge of a brook I knelt and drank my fill ; at
once I became ravenously hungry and full of despair. I made
for the road. I saw a white object lying on it ; I must know
what it was. Screened by the forest I looked at the object —
not bigger I thought that an ear of corn — long and atten-
tively. The stretch of road was deserted ; I hastily ran across,
not pausing in my flight, but stooping low and seizing the thing
as I passed — it was corn !

Now I was on the east of the Germanna road ; I had crossed
it for the reason that to get the corn, or whatever it might
prove to be, and return to the side whence I had started, would
have required an instant longer than the undelayed course, and
I knew the possibility of one instant's losing me. I had the
corn — an ear in the husk, or shuck — which I tore off, and
found to my delight a heavy-grained full ear. At least I should
not starve.

On the plantations in the South before the war, the ration,
or " allowance," for a " field hand " was a peck of corn meal
and three pounds of bacon a week. I had very frequently
heard it said that a hundred good ears would make a bushel.
I had therefore in the rough, a little more than the meal for
a slave's breakfast. I had no bacon, unfortunately, and in that
respect was so much worse off than the slave, yet I was happy
that I was no longer destitute. These thoughts ran rapidly
through my relieved mind. I write them here — trivial they
may seem to many — to emphasize the distress I had felt and

TO THE WILDERNESS FOR WARREN 65

the relief I now experienced. I had, it is true, but one meal,
and that in its crudest form ; I wanted more ; I felt that what
money I had in my pocket — about twenty-five dollars in
currency — would be a small price to pay for one more good
ear of corn.

I recrossed the road, no one being visible. The sun was
now fully twenty degrees above the horizon, and I was afraid
to lose time ; I kept on in a southeast direction, chewing corn
as I went.

Some two miles from Germanna Ford, I saw a small clear-
ing, and cautiously approached it. On my side of the road
stood a blacksmith shop, deserted. A log cabin was near it.
I went deeper into the woods and passed on.

The day was growing. I wanted to complete my work by
noon. My journey back could be made more rapidly in the
night, and with greater safety, but I needed sleep, and I knew
that if I should sleep after night had come I should suffer
from cold. I hastened on, going at the rate of a mile and a
half an hour. Three quarters of a mile or so beyond the black-
smith shop I came in sight of another clearing, and went toward
it. There was a one-room cabin with smoke rising from its
chimney. A little garden, now bare of vegetables, stretched
behind the cabin. I got on my knees and crawled up to the
garden fence, and looked through. In the garden was a small
group — two women, one old, the other of middle age, a bent
old man leaning on a staff, a boy, and a girl. My gaze was at
once attracted to a fresh heap of earth around which these per-
sons were standing. On the heap of earth was a wooden box
of peculiar shape, made from boards of different length — a
piece of patch-work. The box was not a coffin, but I knew at
once, from the heap of earth, and from the mournful attitudes
of these desolate people, that the box was doing a coffin's ser-
vice. The box was small — a coffin for an infant. The old
man stood still, leaning on his staff. He took no notice,
seemingly, of what was being done ; I saw that he was blind.

56 A FRIEND WITH THF COUNTERSIGN

With rude cords the two women lowered the little coffin into
the grave, saying nothing, making no sound except the noise
made by the touch of the box against the earth. Then I saw
one of the women, the younger, no doubt the mother of the dead
baby, — I saw her stoop and rise again with a common hoe in
her hand. I could stay no longer.

Yes, every able-bodied man was in the Confederate army, or
was a shirker. It was a time in the South when it might
almost be declared that the dead buried their dead. There
was no minister here to read a service ; there was no neighbour
to give a helping hand in this last and terrible necessity. But
for those negroes who remained faithful to the last, and are on
that account justly entitled to the gratitude of the Southern
people — which, however, has as yet taken no substantial form
generally — the farms everywhere would have grown up in
briers, and the families everywhere would not have been able
to live. But in this region there were not even slaves, and I
wondered how this family could, in this spot, continue to exist.
My heart was great with distress, not for these persons merely,
but for the gallant people — our own people — of our Southern
land. How long will it be before this thing shall end ? How
long before reason comes back, and the people get together once
more and live in peace ?

I crossed Flat Run, and came at length to the Spotswood
place, beyond which I knew was the road I wanted. I went
round the field, keeping in the woods, to the west, and found
my road running in a southwest course. I had seen the junc-
tion with the Germanna road when I had marched in the
ranks of McGowan's sharp-shooters. I took this road and
followed it — always going in the same direction. The road
was what is called a ridge road — it was running between two
valleys. It was not nearly so wide as the Germanna road, but
it was passable for an army-corps with its artillery. Here
and there I came to, and went around, small clearings with
cabins, but I avoided the road at all times, keeping in the edge

TO THE WILDERNESS FOR WARREN 67

of the forest. At the cabins — at one of them at least — I saw
children.

About one o'clock I came to the top of a hill from which I
could see, some hundreds of yards away, a wide road running
almost due west. This I knew at once to be the Orange and
Fredericksburg turnpike. My work was done ; there was noth-
ing more to do except to get back with the simple information
that Warren's corps could march from Germanna into the turn-
pike without making the acute angle at Wilderness Tavern.
How I wished for the power to tell General Warren at once.
Then my burden would be gone, and I could lie in the forest
and sleep. As it was, I must yet suffer great anxiety of mind
and great physical torture before I could feel free. My last
grain of corn had been eaten — and that horrible water behind
me!

VI

THE RETURN FROM THE "WILDERNESS

" Weary way-wanderer, languid and sick at heart,
Travelling painfully over the rugged road,
Wild-visaged wanderer ! God help thee, wretched one ! "

— SOUTHET.

I BEGAN to return, keeping nearly in the course by which I
had come. About two o'clock I lay down in a thick cluster of
undergrowth, and soon fell asleep.

Some noise woke me.

The sun was low, and I was cold. I had lain down in a
dense thicket, fully a hundred and fifty yards from the road-
side. What had made the noise that I had indistinctly heard
while awaking ?

I lay still and listened. Voices reached me ; yes, I could
hear voices, but could not distinguish words.

Did the voices come from persons on the road ? Hardly ;
the distance was too great — unless the persons were shouting.

I raised my head and rested it on my left hand noiselessly.
From my hiding-place everything was hidden. I tried to deter-
mine the direction of the voices — they were at my left ; that
is, at my front as I lay there on my left side, but I could not
tell now whether the road was in that direction, for I had lost
my bearings, and until I rose to my feet, should not know where
the road was. I feared to rise and look, lest in seeing, I should
be seen, so I remained as I was, listening hard.

The voices continued to reach me — intermittently rising and
dying into brief silence. I was cold and hungry, and night
was coming, and I was far from the dreadful river which I

68

THE RETURN FROM THE WILDERNESS 59

would cross or die before the next dawn should come, but I
felt that I must wait. Even if I had to wait till night fell,
I should yet have abundant time to make my way to the river,
for in the dark I should be in little danger on the road itself,
and could go rapidly until, near the ford, I should, through
necessity, take to the thickets again. These voices could be
coming from none but the enemy ; a company of cavalry, per-
haps, were feeding, or had halted for some other purpose, near
my hiding-place. No other supposition was possible — I knew
that Confederates were near me. Yet I heard none of the
sounds that horses make — no stamping or kicking or rattling
of harness, no snorting or neighing ; yet the horses might be
farther away.

I think that for a time I became quite unnerved, for I sank
back to the ground and shivered with cold and fear. When
my greatest discomposure had left me, I resolved to do some-
thing. I must crawl away ; I could at least do that, and with-
out difficulty. I turned over to my right side, and slowly rose
to my hands and. knees; then I carefully parted the under-
growth and crept along, keeping my body close to earth, and
making the least noise possible, moving so that I should not
shake the branches above me and thus betray my presence to
any one who might be looking toward the spot. In a few min-
utes — perhaps five minutes — I was clear of the tangle and
could make better progress. The woods were yet dense, and
between me and my fears I kept the thicket which I had left.
After I had gone fifty yards, I crept behind a log which was
lying across my course ; I lay flat, but raised my head to
look, taking the precaution to first remove my hat. I looked
and listened. Now I could hear no voices clearly, although
sounds, which from my fresh experience I knew to be voices,
yet reached me, but I could see smoke between the high
branches of the trees some two hundred yards away. I
turned and kept on for another fifty yards, then rose to my
feet, and began to walk away rapidly.

60 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

Suddenly I halted. In what direction was I going ? How
could I learn my true course ? The road — was it behind me,
or before me ? At my right, or at my left ? I knew that I
was somewhere within the lines of a triangle made by three
roads — but where? The triangle was large; it would soon
be made larger, for night would come and then I should be
utterly lost in The Wilderness. Now I regretted having for-
saken my hiding-place. If I had not been so hasty — if I had
but thought of the possibility now before me — I should have
remained quietly hidden, and at night I should have reached
the road beyond the menacing voices and could have gone on
with little fear. Now I realized what I had known theoreti-
cally— that danger and trial and any trouble are all terms that
are merely relative ; I wanted the Rapidan, horrible though it
had been before.

The sun was low. I decided to go back to the thicket, and
at once began to put my thought into execution. But when I
turned to go back I became terribly certain that I did not
know even the way to my former retreat. I walked fifty
yards and paused ; there was no sound, no smoke. I walked
another fifty yards ; still nothing. If my course was right I
ought now to be near the thicket, but there was nothing within
my vision that resembled the spot. What should I do now ?

I stood and leaned against a tree and thought, bitterly at
first, but soon I had the will to address myself to the task
before me. The sun was setting; I must go north; such a
course must quickly put me in the road I had left — thus
much was clear. The sun sets in the west ; I turned my face,
stretched my left hand toward the sun and my right hand
straight before me. I feared that the night would be cloudy.
How long could I hope to keep a northward course ? There
would be no stars to guide me ; to find the north moss at the
roots of the trees would be an almost interminable work — a
work to be repeated in darkness at every ten paces I should
make. So I saw that I must lose no time ; I must get to the

THE RETURN FROM THE WILDERNESS 61

road before the light went out in the west ; and I went forward
rapidly, incautiously unless speed under the circumstances
was the true caution. ... " Hey, Yank, come in ! " cried a
voice.

I stopped as if rooted to the ground. I could see no one,
but I had before my eyes, just at my right, the thicket in
which I had slept, and knew now that my road was at hand.

" Come on in ! " said the voice again.

Rapid thoughts go through my mind. I have stumbled on
the party I sought to avoid. How have I so suddenly found
the road, and just where I did not wish to find it ? I see the
reason: I have walked almost west; the sun's course in
November is low in the south ; it does not set in the west —
but toward the southwest ; I have walked northwestward, and
have walked straight to the road, and to the rear of the Con-
federates. Shall I run ? Shall I surrender ?

At the next moment the answer to these questions became
easy. Two Confederate cavalrymen showed themselves, ad-
vancing from behind a large tree not twelve paces distant, and
with their carbines presented. I said nothing ; I was afraid
to say anything, but was hoping that good fortune would yet
befriend me, though I had no definite project. I understood
instantly that my being unarmed was in my favour ; perhaps
the men would think I was deserting — yet, if I was a deserter,
why had I not gone at once to the pickets on the river, instead
of getting through the lines ? Perhaps these men would not
reason so closely — perhaps they knew that their picket-line
was so thinly stretched that a man might pass through with-
out intending it. At any rate they knew that in all likelihood
no body of Federal troops was south of the Rapidan; an
unarmed and solitary Union soldier would be a mystery to
them, perhaps ; I would bide my time and not betray my real
character ; in a word I would hope for something to turn up.

A man was now on either side of me, looking at me as if
expecting me to say something. The thought came that it

62 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

would be best for me to say nothing whatever. I certainly
could not tell the truth about my intentions, yet if I did not
I should be considered a deserter, and should be treated
accordingly, and what the practice of the Confederates was
in regard to the few deserters who came into their lines, I did
not know, for during the whole year and more when I had
been a Confederate, I pledge you my word that I had never
seen a Federal deserter. I would wait and see what was to be
done with me ; at the worst, I felt that I was not an armed
enemy, and that there would be no excuse for these men to
treat me with severity.

" Can't you speak ? " asked one of them.

His words did not express his thought, but they gave me a
plan. I made a motion with my hand — meaning nothing or
anything they might take it into their heads to infer.

" He's all broke up," said the other.

Indeed I must have had the appearance of utter exhaustion,
and but little resemblance to the man who had left General
Warren twenty-four hours ago. I thought I could strengthen
my plan; I sat down and raised my hands a little, with a
gesture of deprecation.

" Can't you say who you are ? What regiment do you be-
long to ? How did you get here ? "

I did not reply or even look up.

The men were standing over me, the butts of their carbines
on the ground. If it were but dark, I thought, I could spring
to my feet and run away without very great danger.

" Here, Jim, le's end this," said one of them ; " take him on
that side."

They pulled me to my feet, and marched me staggering
through the woods ; in a few moments we came in sight of a
fire. As I had first thought, when from the thicket I heard
the voices, a troop of cavalry had halted here. The horses
were on the west side of the road, in a wood less dense, guarded
by the greater part of the company. There was only one fire

THE RETURN FROM THE WILDERNESS 63

on the east of the road ; to this fire, around which men were sit-
ting, my captors conducted, or almost carried me.

" Hello ! " said a voice, " who is he ? "

" Don't know, Lieutenant," said the man at my left ; " we
found him down there in the thicket. He seems to be used
up that bad that he can't git his voice."

" Sorry-looking case," said the lieutenant ; " give him some-
thing to eat."

Food was offered me, but I would not notice it. I want to
say that this little act of refusal was a very hard thing to do.
But by this time I had fully conceived the plan that I would
adopt. I must simply do nothing and say nothing and let
these men infer my complete exhaustion, if not mental alien-
ation,— so that I could get away at the right time.

" The poor fellow ought to be sent to the hospital," said the
officer.

The two men who had brought me returned to their post —
at least I supposed so; I kept my eyes from wandering, in
order to raise no possible suspicion that my mind was alert,
and I did not see what my captors did with themselves.

" Bob," said the lieutenant, " get a saddle-blanket."

I had already sunk to the ground, and was lying near the
fire. Soon I felt a cover thrown over me. My face was
toward the officer and was uncovered. The men looked at
me, but with no very great interest, I thought. One of them
approached me. "Better try to eat," he said. I made no
motion or sound. I could see the last light of day in the
west. I wondered that no suspicion of the truth was in the
mind of any of the men.

" Reckon he's the other one," said a voice.

The lieutenant shook his head. " No, I think not ; he said
he would be armed, too."

Then a man's lips came close to the lieutenant's ear and
whispered something that I could not catch, but from the
movement of the lips and the cast of the eye and the entirety

64 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

of the procedure I feared that this speech was to put the
officer on his guard.

"Possum?"

The man nodded assent.

" Try it if you want to."

The man nodded again.

How was he going to test me? I remembered stories of
cruelties practised on prisoners by guerillas. Would he try
torture? The act called "playing possum" was not unknown
to me; when that animal counterfeits death he is easily
aroused by a sudden deluge of cold water. The lieutenant
rose and walked away. I held my teeth together, expecting a
bucketful of half -ice to be poured upon me. I was determined
to give no sign of self-betrayal ; but in an instant I could see
that this torture was not to be feared, for I was in no wise pre-
tending entire insensibility, and in case this dreaded test should
be applied, even a shriek from me could not convict me. No,
something else was going to occur. What was it ? I tried to
unriddle the thing, but could get nothing; I closed my eyes
and pretended to sleep, yet not my eyes entirely ; I could still
see.

The men around the fire were not talking ; they were doing
nothing. They were not cooking even, although they should
have been cooking at this hour. I inferred that they expected
to leave at a moment's order. While thinking thus, I observed
a man rise to his knees and crawl away, and I now became
aware of the fact that I was alone. All of the group had gone ;
the man I had seen go was the last ; the others had gone away
very silently, so skilfully that I had not seen them go. I saw
through it all — saw it at once. The manner of test to which
I was subjected was clear; I was told in act that if I wanted
to go, now was my time ; I did not believe that now was my
time, and I lay motionless. I fancied myself the centre of a
circle of men who were watching me, expecting me to get up
suddenly and run into their ready clutches to hold me thence-

THE RETURN FROM THE WILDERNESS 65

forward as a prisoner of war. Reflection had made me very
averse to being considered a prisoner of war — not only on
account of the dreadful possibility of being recognized as a
former Confederate, but also because, in the event of the dis-
covery of my true character, General Meade's contemplated
movement might be suspected and steps taken to defend the
fords. I must lie still; after a while suspicion would be
allayed and the men would return ; at the proper time there-
after, I could get away, I hoped ; in the meantime I must make
a plan to escape without seeming to escape; I must seem to
these men to lose myself, or in other words, I must act so that
they would let me go, or leave me here, for a positive escape
would kindle suspicion in regard to my enterprise. That this
could be managed, I did not well see; in fact, hope of success
seemed too small for any encouragement, but I knew that my
body was weakened, and suspected that for this reason my
mind was now working but feebly.

Fifteen minutes is a long time ; perhaps not so great a time
had elapsed when I felt a hand glide along my body. The
hand sought my pockets ; it took from them my knife, my pipe
and tobacco, my match-case and my pocket-book. While this
performance was going on, I had sufficient presence of mind to
remain as I was and make no movement of resistance ; I cared
little for the loss. The man who was doing the act was a thief
or a party to the scheme evolved for surprising me into con-
fession; in either case my policy was not to be changed. I
suppose there are thieves everywhere. I knew that Confed-
erate soldiers — at least many of them — did not regard re-
lieving a prisoner of his valuables as robbery; besides, the
Confederates were very destitute and might easily apply the
excuse of necessity to an act which usually they would abhor.
I was sure that these men were not intentionally cruel ; the
lieutenant had showed commiseration, and the men had neither
insulted me nor injured me bodily. They had the stamp of
old soldiers ; doubtless they had contempt for deserters ; but

66 A FBIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

my status was doubtful, and I had not seen — except at the
very first contact with them — any indication of scorn, or in-
deed of anything that might be thought to come from interest
in me. Yet the scheme that was now progressing, whatever
it might be, was proof that doubt of my character had caused
at least momentary interest.

After a while I became restless. The feeling was oppressive,
and I turned over, and then sat up, rubbing my eyes. The
blanket had fallen from me ; uncovered I sat there, my knees
drawn up and my head resting on them, seemingly unaware
that any change had been made in my surroundings. The
movement had given me a little relief; a moment more and
I sank back again and lay at full length. Then I heard
voices, and felt the blanket thrown over me ; I yet lay quiet
and hoped that the worst was over. The men had returned
to the fire.

"I'll swear I don't know what to do with him," said the
lieutenant.

" He's crazy — plum crazy," said another voice.

"If he wasn't, I'd know what to do mighty quick; I'd just
send him back. But I've got no man to spare to look after
lunatics ; and there ain't a house about here that's fit to take
him ; the folks would be afraid of him ; and then, we may get
orders to move any minute."

" Wonder why that man told us that lie."

" Don't know that he did. Maybe this is still another."

"Maybe so; this'n looks like he's been a-wanderin' round
loose in the woods for a week."

My ear was next the ground. I thought I could hear sounds
like the galloping of a horse far away ; a moment later I was
sure of it, and then from up the road toward the turnpike
came the challenge of a sentinel ; a short silence followed, and
a horseman rode almost into our midst. The lieutenant had
risen to his feet ; the newcomer handed the officer an envelope.

" Chunk up the fire, Bob," said the officer.

THE RETURN FROM THE WILDERNESS 67

Sparks and flame rose; the lieutenant bent down and
read : —

" Ordered to Germanna."

The group started at once for their horses, without waiting
for any word of command.

" Hold on there, some of you," said the lieutenant.

The men turned and came back.

I could very easily see that the messenger was one of this
company ; he had taken his place with them naturally — as if
he felt at home. Evidently he had been sent back somewhere
for orders.

" Corporal, go call in the posts."

A few minutes later the party was increased by the return
of the sentinels. Meantime the men at the fires on the west
of the road were getting ready.

" Sergeant, detail two men to take the prisoner back to the
regiment. Order them to lose no time ; to deliver him to the
guard, take a receipt, and then ride at once for Germanna."

It was now fully eight o'clock — perhaps later. The lieu-
tenant had reached the natural decision in my case. I
had hoped that he would do otherwise — that he would
decide to take me to the ford, and I was greatly disap-
pointed when I heard him give his order. Yet I com-
forted myself with the thought that an escape from the
regiment at the rear would be less suspicious than from the
picket at Germanna. As it was, I should be turned over to
men who would be prejudiced by the report given to them con-
cerning my helplessness, and who would therefore not be
likely to suspect me at all. But I did not wish to put any
greater distance between me and the river. My mind under-
went a sudden change ; I must get away. If these men should
take me back to their regiment I should not be able to report
to General Warren in time. Besides, it would be impossible
for me to continue much longer my present programme; I
must eat sooner or later, and must recover all my faculties.

68 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

To get away at once would cause no greater suspicion than
would be caused later. Yet I still hoped to moderate suspi-
cion, if not to prevent it entirely.

Two men came to me, and pulled me to my feet. The officer
looked at me, shook his head, and walked toward the horses,
leaving me with the detail ; evidently the lieutenant was yet
in doubt.

On the west of the road there was the bustle of preparation.
Some of the men had already mounted. I had heard no bugle ;
these men were experienced and required but a word passed
from one to another. They were not nearly so numerous as a
full company. The two men, using a little force, drew me
along. My hat fell from my head ; they did not observe it.
We crossed the road, in which the troop had now formed.
Two horses were yet tied to branches of trees ; the men led
me toward the two horses.

" How the hell we goin' to git him up ? "

" I'll mount, an' you help him up behind me."

" All right. Hello ! Dam 'fe ain't lost his hat."

The troop started down the road toward the river.

"Say, Bob, you go back and git his hat; it must be over
there at the fire."

The man who had spoken this counsel was already on his
horse. Bob started back across the road, saying, " Git him up
while I'm gone, if you can."

The mounted man leaned over and took me by my left arm.

"Now, here," said he; "don't you be contrairy; put your
foot up here, an' take holt o' my belt."

I struggled with him, violently resisting. My thought was
to pretend great fear of the horse. I pulled and pulled ; with
my right hand I pushed against the horse ; I broke away and
ran into the woods.

It had been done very easily. The man could not ride into
the thicket very well ; indeed he made no attempt to do so ;
he called out : —

THE RETURN FROM THE WILDERNESS 69

" Come back here, you dam fool ! The horse ain't a-goin' to
hurt you ! Come back ! Well, dam him, let him go ; it's a good
riddance — but what in the hell is a-goin' to become of him ?"

I had halted behind the first large tree. I could not see, but
I could hear. The mounted man did not move ; he waited for
his comrade, whose voice now reached me.

« Couldn't find it, Bill ! "

" Yes, an' there's more that you can't find."

" What you mean ? "

" He's gone ! "

Bob had reached his horse. "Well, sir," said he; "ain't
this a come-off? What you goin' to do about it?"

" You stay here till I come back."

He moved off through the trees and struck the road. I
heard the galloping of his horse as he followed hard after the
troopers, who by this time were perhaps half a mile away. I
remained behind the tree. I wanted my hat. I knew very
well where it was. I wanted to know what orders the lieuten-
ant would give in regard to me. Ten minutes passed and the
sound of galloping was again heard. Bill did not leave the
road. He shouted: —

" Seed anything of him, Bob ? "

"No."

" Come on, then ! "

They rode after the troop. I listened intently, fearing some
stratagem, but was soon convinced that their departure was
final. They went away in a fast walk, and for a long time I
could hear their horses' hoofs. While yet these sounds con-
tinued I crossed the road and picked up my hat. Then I
searched diligently around the camp-fire for remains of food,
but found so little that it merely seemed to aggravate my
hunger. Yet it gave me strength, no doubt, and the joy of
being free gave me more.

Near the fire I saw a small white object. I picked it up
and put it into my pocket. It was a torn envelope.

70 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

From this spot to Germanna Ford the distance, I thought,
must be eight miles at least; the deflections I must make
increased the distance to ten miles. I would keep out of the
road, for I must not risk being caught by a man who, if the
lieutenant had any suspicion, could easily be posted for
the purpose of capturing me. I knew that hard work was
before me ; I was yet weak, though I had had a long rest. It
was after nine o'clock ; day would come about six ; I had then
more than eight hours, but no time to waste.

I set out, following the course of the road, but keeping
within the bushes by its side. I had to make more than a
mile an hour, and it was not always easy to do so ; the diffi-
culty varied constantly. Sometimes I crept under low boughs,
and parted tangled creepers with my hands ; at other times,
for short distances, I had comparatively good walking. Occa-
sionally I crossed the road when my side was too difficult,
hoping that on the other I should find better ground. At last
I came near the junction with the road to Germanna ; I guessed
it was past midnight.

I crossed the Germanna road, leaving the Spotswood clear-
ing on my left, and keeping well within the forest. Weariness
was telling on me. I had begun to doubt that I should be
able to reach the river, and to doubt still more my power to
cross it, but I kept on. Once I heard the sound of a horse's
hoofs along the Germanna road, but at the time my way
was through such a dense tangle that I could see nothing.
Again I crossed to the west of the road. Once an animal
crept along the branch of a tree almost over my head ; I sup-
posed it a wildcat or a raccoon. I crossed small streams, get-
ting my feet wet, and my wet shoes caused increased difficulty
in walking. My progress became slower ; I rested frequently.
At last temptation was too great. I had found some loose
matches in one of my pockets, the only possessions remaining
to me except my garments. In a thickly wooded hollow I
raked together some leaves and dry sticks and lighted a quick

THE RETURN FROM THE WILDERNESS 71

fire ; before it had burnt out I added just a little more fuel,
and thus I kept the fire from going entirely out for an hour,
perhaps, and until I had managed to almost dry my feet.
When I determined to leave this spot I could hardly stand;
my joints were stiff, and my whole body was in pain, and it
was only the fear that worse would come that enabled me to
walk. I staggered on in anguish, recovering slowly; I saw
that I must not stop again, lest I stop forever; yet I had
gained by resting, for my progress now was better than before,
and I soon knew that the river was not far.

Flat Run was almost a mile behind me. I was passing near
a garden where a little new grave had been made. I kept
on down the road; it was now but two miles to Germanna.
Through the woods it could be only a mile to the bend in the
river. One mile more, and then the fearful repetition — no,
not repetition, but multiplication — of the torture I had gone
through twenty-four hours ago! Yesterday morning I was
strong and well and unwearied — now what am I ? I am,
worn out with fatigue and watching and anxiety and fear and
hunger. Can I bear it ? Shall I not sink in the effort, and
find my last resting-place beneath the cold water of this barrier
impassable? No matter. I am little more than dead even
now. I cannot lose by keeping on. In a tent far away — not
far in distance, but unattainable — Lydia is now quietly sleep-
ing, while I, a wanderer, groping in this wilderness, fear for
very life which yet seems worthless if to be prolonged through
the certain terrors that I must endure. Those who sleep upon
their safe beds this night know not the immense good they
enjoy; even a soldier's bivouac fire is paradise.

At last I came where a stretch of the Germanna road
allowed me to see a light. A long way off it was, and I knew
that the Confederate pickets were there, but it acted hopefully
on me ; a degree of courage revived.

I deflected to the left, and went slowly on, making for the
bend. And now a great fear came on me. I imagined I could

72 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

see daylight at my right hand ; certainly there was light there.
Had I rested so many times and so long that the night was
already spent, and must I reach the river too late ? To cross
by daylight would be impossible. I would not venture to
begin it, for the Confederate vedettes no doubt could see all
the surface of the river at every possible crossing-place. No ;
if this light betokened day I could do nothing more. I would
lie in the woods until another night, and starve and suffer —
and then my limit would be passed, and my report be made
too late. Yet I kept on, and the light in the east did not
grow, but overhead the sky was cleared as the northeast wind
swept the clouds away before the coming of the morning, and
I saw the stars come out, and knew that I yet had time, and
I wept for joy as I went, and wished for the river, and super-
natural strength came upon me, and unnatural courage, and I
made my way rapidly across the patrol road of the Confederate
pickets and reached the stream at the very spot where I had
forded; and without fear or haste or any thought I waded
boldly in and went on across — and best it was that I went
through the water in my clothing — and then I gathered all my
strength and ran, and ran, and fell before the bivouac fire where
Lieutenant Hassett was standing.

VII

WITH GENERAL WABBElf

" What tidings send our scouts ? I pr'y thee, speak." — SHAKESPEARE.

WHEN I came to myself I was lying in much comfort,
wrapped in blankets. The sun was shining. On forks stuck
in the ground, some clothing was hanging before a fire — gar-
ments that I did not recognize, so torn and soiled they were.
Soon I found that there was nothing but blankets upon my
body. I made a movement.

I heard a voice — Lieutenant Hassett's, I thought.

" Berwick, you are awake ? "

I started to sit up, but remembering my nakedness, re-
mained lying as I was.

" Yes, sir," said I.

" Thank God ! I feared you would never wake. How do
you feel ? "

" To tell you the truth, Lieutenant, I don't know yet."

" Can you eat something ? We have some soup."

" I believe I need food more than anything else, Lieutenant ;
where is my shirt ? "

* It was brought to me, and he helped me on with it. My
head hummed, and I felt very sore, but I was so hungry that
other troubles seemed small by comparison. My clothing
had fully dried, and I got it on quickly. My overcoat, which
I had worn at all times while south of the river, had protected
my blouse, but at great expense to itself ; I did not put it on,
for its tails were gone, and the rest of it was but little more

73

74 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

than rags ; my trousers from the knees down were scarcely
holding together.

" You've had a tough time," said Hassett, when the job was
finished, " but don't think about it or talk about it now. You
must eat."

I ate ravenously.

" Did I leave my haversack here ? "

" Yes. As soon as I discovered it I began to fear for you."

" How did I get here ? "

" You don't remember ? "

" I remember nothing but running, after I got to this side
of thjfc river."

" You were challenged by my picket, but you didn't stop a
moment ; you just ran on by him. He had been warned, how-
ever, and was afraid to fire. You ran by him and came on.
When he challenged I rose, for I was hoping it was you. When
I caught sight of you, you were not more than ten paces — there,
right yonder at that red place — and in a moment more you fell."

" I remember seeing the fire, and I remember falling."

" But you did not hear the challenge ? "

« Not at all."

" Nor see the sentinel ? "

"No."

" How in the name o' God did you get anything to eat ? "

" I found some corn."

"That all?"

" All except a few mouthfuls of johnny-cake at a camp just
abandoned by some cavalry."

" I thought you were gone up."

" So did I — more than once."

" Did you see any of the rebels ? n

" Only a small party — about twenty."

" Which way did they go ? "

" They came this way. I suppose they are over yonder now.
By the way — "

WITH GENERAL WARREN 76

" What is it ? "

"I picked up something/' said I, feeling in my pocket.
" Here it is."

" An envelope ! "

" Yes — part of one."

On the envelope were only the letters, Lieut. C. M. Cha —
the rest of the paper having been torn off.

I handed it to Hassett.

" What name would you make that ? " I asked.

" Oh, I don't know — Chatham, Charles, Chase, Chancellor —
anything. Do you know him ? "

" I saw him, I think."

"Tell me about it. No — you needn't. Eat on. How far
did you walk ? "

" Oh, about twenty miles, I suppose."

" Hard country over there — isn't it ? "

" Worst I ever saw."

" Well, if there's any secret about it, don't speak ; but I
hope you found out what was wanted."

" Yes. There was only one thing I was sent to see, and I
saw it."

" By God ! I'll bet my hat Meade's going to cross ! "

11 1 don't know, Lieutenant."

" Berwick, do you know it's a good thing you ran all the
way from the river ? If you hadn't you'd have frozen stiff."

" I stripped when I went across, and could hardly find
strength to put my clothes on."

" Of course. If we'd only thought of it, it would have been
best for you to have two suits, one to cross in, and the other
to put on afterward."

" But I didn't bring it, and it would have been difficult to
hide the wet clothing."

" True, yet it might have been done. To send a man into
that river on such a night is like sending him to death."

" The country is sending many of us to death. Is my horse
all r

76 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

" Yes ; I have had him looked after. But you are not think-
ing of trying to ride ? "

" Yes ; I must go, if I can."

I was soon mounted, and on the road, and although I was
giddy yet, and weak and sore, the work I was now doing
seemed delightful. It was about twelve o'clock. The sun
was shining on my back, and no cold wind was blowing. The
terrible Wilderness was behind me, and the more terrible
river. I began to rejoice that my sufferings had ended, and
that I could make a satisfactory report to General Warren.

Now that the fearful experience was past, it seemed small ;
I had been south of the river for only one day and night.
Any man can endure hunger and fatigue for twenty-four
hours. What are twenty-four hours ? How easily they may
be counted ! Why had I been so discouraged at the loss of
one day's food ? Why did I weaken at the discovery that for
a moment I was lost ? Anybody ought to know that by tak-
ing a straight course he would reach some side of that small
triangle in a few hours at most. The thing I had done was
nothing — the trials endured were mostly imaginary. If I
had it to do again, I could do vastly bet — No ! before God,
I would not do it again for all the money in the United States
Treasury ! You may talk of time's being a mere abstraction
— and you may believe it when trials are over and there is no
anxiety, but I would not repeat that one day's experience for
all the money in the United States Treasury !

At three o'clock I reached General Warren's headquarters
near Paoli Mills ; he was in his tent, I was told. Word was
sent in that I had arrived, and I was ordered to come in.

The general looked at me, and his countenance fell.

" You did not succeed ? "

" I succeeded, General."

His expression changed at once.

" You don't look like success," he said, smiling.

" True, General. I have suffered."

WITH GENERAL WARREN 77

" Tell me the result, Berwick."

" There is a passable road, sir, that cuts off the angle."

" You saw it with your own eyes ? No mere hearsay ? "

" I saw the whole length of it, going and coming."

" Passable for artillery ? "

" Easily, General."

" Where does it leave the Germanna road ? "

"Just beyond the Spotswood place; about a mile on the
other side of Flat Run."

" Where does it enter the turnpike ? "

" I cannot say how far from Wilderness Tavern, General.
When I came in sight of the turnpike I began to return. All
I desired then was to get back to you as quickly as possible."

"Right. Here, take this map, and mark the road on it.
You are sure you saw the pike ? "

" I saw a wide road running straight almost due west — a
little south of west."

I made an almost straight line connecting the Germanna
road and the Orange and Fredericksburg turnpike.

The general seemed greatly pleased. " At least two hours
saved," he said.

I computed. My work of forty-eight hours would save two
hours to each of twelve thousand men — forty-eight hours
against twenty-four thousand ; I was content. Even if there
should be no other result, the success was great.

" Tell me the nature of the country, Berwick."

" It is The Wilderness, General."

" As bad as it is reported ? "

"Impassable for troops, sir, except upon the roads."

" Do you know how far it extends westward ? "

" No, sir."

The general seemed to meditate.

" You saw no enemy ? "

" Only a few men, sir."

"Cavalry only?"

78 A FKIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

" Yes, sir."

" Nothing to indicate a movement ? "

"No, sir."

" You have ruined your clothing. Give me your height and
weight ; I'll replace it. Infantry could not march through
The Wilderness ? "

"It would be always disorganized, sir. Even skirmishers
would frequently lose their ranks."

"Berwick, I wish you had seen whether that road crosses
the turnpike."

" I had no orders to do so, General."

" Yes, I know ; and you did right to return at once. How
is the ford ? "

" At Germanna, sir ? "

"Yes."

" I do not know, General. I crossed above Germanna."

" Above Germanna ? At Jacobs's ? "

" No, sir ; in the woods between the two."

" And you found a fordable place ? "

« Yes, sir."

" Could troops be thrown over where you crossed ? "

"Not easily, sir ; roads are lacking."

" What do you know about fording Germanna ? Can it be
done ? "

" I think it would be hazardous, sir."

" On what account ? "

"Because of the depth of the water, sir, and its temper-
ature."

" Very cold ? "

" Yes, sir ; a weak man could not stand it."

"That will do, Berwick."

VIII

WITH THE DOCTOB

" She cast her wit in sondry wise —
How she him mighte so desguise,
That no man shulde his body knowe." — GOWER.

I RODE on to Dr. Khayme's. Lydia was at the door of
the tent, with a wan smile on her white face. My wretched
appearance gave rise to anxiety ; even the Doctor appeared to
be alarmed, for he ordered me to go to bed at once, and gave
me something to swallow. I slept the whole night.

On the next morning I was ordered to report to General
Warren, at 5 o'clock A.M. of the 23d.

Dr. Khayme, as well as I, believed that a great move-
ment would begin on the morrow. What was wanted of me
was not clear, but we supposed that I should be required to
guide the head of Warren's column from the ford to the turn-
pike by the road which I had examined.

" Afterward more will be wanted," said the Doctor.

He went out for a moment, and returned with some clothing
on his arm.

" Here is the thing for you," said he ; " it is Lydia's thought
and work."

There were three garments — coat, overcoat, and trousers;
each was gray on one side and blue on the other. Simply
by turning the sleeves, a blue garment became a gray one.
The coat was a half blouse, or pea-jacket, a little longer than
the Confederate garment, and not quite so long as the Union
blouse. The gray overlapped the blue at the collar and else-

79

80 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

where. The overcoat was made in much the same way. The
buttons — alternate sets — were secured with rings.

" I hardly think there will come many times when a gray
overcoat is needed, Doctor," I said. " Every Confederate al-
ready wears a blue one, if he can get it. You and Lydia over-
whelm me ; this changeable uniform is just what I may need
to-morrow. Now, if you could only tell me where I could
safely keep General Meade's authority to pass our pickets, I
should want for nothing."

" In good time you shall have what you wish," he replied.

"Doctor," said I, "if I should ever be compelled to stay
a long time in the Confederate lines, it would require very
careful conduct to avoid showing the inside of this coat."

" Yes," he said. " but the two sides can be separated. You
could manage at night to throw away the blue uniform. Feel
these knots. Take this one and pull it."

The knot seemed to be the end of a cord which extended
round one of the sleeves at the wrist. There was a small hole
in the cloth through which the knot was showing ; my pulling
the cord brought the sleeve together, forming a bag.

" Now, if you cut this other knot the two sleeves will come
apart," said the Doctor, suiting the action to the word. The
two sleeves were now separate. Inside each wrist the hem
had been doubled under, and in each were small eyelets through
which the cord had passed.

" I should not advise you to take the garments apart unless
under great necessity. To restore this sleeve I must now do
this."

He pulled a cord from the tail of the coat, thrust his hand
between the two parts, and turned the sleeve. Then he rapidly
ran a cord through the eyelets at the wrist, tied the knots,
turned the sleeve again, and put back the cord at the skirt.

"It will be a peculiar condition that compels you to go
through this performance," said the Doctor. " Wear a thick
woollen scarf round your neck, and nobody can tell where thf

WITH THE DOCTOR 81

blue and gray meet. You see the blue garment is really
smaller than the gray. The purpose of the gray is disguise,
but the purpose of the blue is only etiquette. If a Union
soldier happens to see gray overlapping blue he can do you
no harm."

The Doctor knew my extreme aversion to being gazed upon.

" Doctor, I shall take the old Enfield," said I.

He seemed surprised at this speech, and I added hastily —
" Only for display. Where is the gun ? "

" In my supply tent," said he.

I soon had brought it, with the cartridge-box and canteen
and haversack.

" Here, Doctor, see what I mean to do," said I.

I tore a cartridge, threw the powder away, and rammed the
bullet down, and continued ramming until I knew that the
chamber was tightly rilled with beaten lead.

" Now," said I ; " I can pop as many caps as anybody."

" But would not some one detect the truth ? "

" If so, I could at once begin to get the gun into proper
shape ; men frequently clean their guns ; I've seen them do
it while a skirmish was going on."

" Well," said he ; " you know that I dislike any part of a
fire-arm — or any weapon."

Lydia's fears for me had been very noticeable. I had not
thought it best to give my friends the details of my experience
south of the river, but my exhaustion and evident suffering
could not have escaped her, and I was sure she was prevented
from expressing her anxiety by the consideration of the futility
of doing so. She was a woman of strong reason and great
balance; the future oppressed her, no doubt, yet she knew
that my honour as a soldier and as a man was at stake, and
that to show weakness would not tend to give me strength ;
she knew that I had gone through many dangers and trials,
and that before me were many more, perhaps greater dangers,
and it would have been no cause for wonder on my part if she

82 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

had broken down and given utterance to her feelings. I knew
that she suffered far more than she showed by manner or word,
for although she tried to be cheerful her nervousness at times
betrayed her. On this night she was greatly depressed.
*******
The movement for the 23d was postponed in consequence of
bad weather; I was ordered to be ready to attend General
Warren's advance for Thursday, the 26th of November.

IX

TO MINE KUN

*' We'll meet these Southron bravely hand to hand,
And eye to eye, and weapon against weapon." — SCOTT.

THE camps were astir ; the general's aides were hurrying to
and fro, amidst the bustle of an army preparing to march. I
was clad in my double garments ; on my lap lay the Enfield,
and I was fully accoutred ; a blanket folded lengthwise and
tied into a loop was hanging at my saddle ; in my haversack
was the field-glass which General Morell had given me in
May, '61.

It was not until half-past six that the march began. The
advance was led by a hundred New York cavalrymen under
Captain Schwartz, at whose left I was ordered to ride. Behind
the cavalry came a long train of wagons, laden with pontoons
and timbers for bridges. Down hill and up hill on the Ger-
manna road we went ; and after us, from one hill to another,
we could see marching the long infantry lines of the Second
corps, — Hancock's corps, now temporarily under command of
Warren, considered by many the military genius of the Army
of the Potomac.

It was after nine o'clock when the head of the column
reached the high ground overlooking the ford at Germanna.
The pioneer corps at once set to work; a road was cut
through the timber and a battery planted right and left of
the road. The corps was massing in our rear.

At about eleven o'clock, General Meade rode up and held a
short consultation with Warren ; then orders came to Captain

83

84 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

Schwartz to cross the stream. The water came halfway up
my stirrup straps. The crossing of the cavalry was quickly
made, and the foremost files galloped up the hill, which the
Confederate pickets abandoned without attempting resistance.
Captain Schwartz's command now advanced in column slowly
into The Wilderness. At times, on the road before us, the
Confederate pickets could be seen retiring.

After advancing two miles, the captain halted his men and
sent me back for further orders. When I reached the river
the pontoons were being laid. A few regiments of infantry
had forded ; the men of these regiments were huddled around
fires, drying their clothing and bitterly complaining of the cold,
and of the fact that their cartridges were wet. The artillery
were crossing at the ford ; the divisions of the corps were on
the north bank waiting for the completion of the bridge.

I reported to General Warren and asked for orders.

" Where is Captain Schwartz now ? " he asked.

" A little more than two miles in front, sir."

" How far from Flat Run ? "

" About one mile, General."

"Tell him to cross Flat Run, and to advance to the road
you were on. Then he must throw out strong pickets on both
roads and must hold the junction."

I galloped back to Captain Schwartz, and the cavalry moved
slowly forward. After crossing Flat Run our advance was
very cautious until we reached the junction; there we could
see small parties of the enemy's cavalry on both roads. Evi-
dently the Confederate pickets were in doubt as to which of
the roads we should take, and would not finally retire from
either until they should learn our intention.

" What will the weather do for us to-night, Berwick ? "

" I think it will be fair, Captain."

" General Warren wants both roads picketed ? "

" Yes, sir ; I think he does not wish to show his intentions
to th« enemy."

TO MINE RUN 85

" You see those fellows yonder ? They are lingering only
for the purpose of learning what we intend. I'll keep most
of my men on the main road."

I thought the captain's plan very good, and told him so.

By nightfall the infantry were in bivouac in the woods bor-
dering Flat Run, the artillery occupying the road itself; we
could see the glow of the many camp-fires in our rear, and
knew that the Confederate pickets, also, could see it. At nine
o'clock Captain Schwartz received sealed orders from General
Warren. The night passed without alarm ; I slept soundly.

At daylight on the 27th the pickets on the Germanna road
were withdrawn, and the column advanced on the road to the
right. I was yet with Captain Schwartz. Nowhere on this
road did we see an enemy, but at nine o'clock, as we debouched
into the Orange turnpike, a squad of cavalry was seen retiring
toward the west.

My work as guide had now ended ; the roads and country
further to the west were unknown to me. I rode back to the
head of the infantry column, and reported to General Warren ;
he ordered me to remain near him. The column continued to
march up the Orange pike, Hays's division leading the infantry.

At eleven o'clock, as we were nearing Robertson's Tavern,
or Locust Grove, as the Confederates called it, the column
came to a dead halt, the cavalry before us sitting motionless
on their horses. Captain Schwartz reported that a line of
skirmishers, infantry or dismounted cavalry, could be seen
drawn across the road a quarter of a mile in front — that they
had been advancing, but were now halted.

Immediately two regiments of infantry were moved forward,
and when at the head of the cavalry, were deployed in a double
skirmish-line — then the whole corps moved on with skirmishers
in front and on both flanks. In half an hour the fire of rifles
broke out in the woods in our front ; the column continued to
move; evidently the Confederate skirmishers were being
driven. A few prisoners had been captured ; one of General

86 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

Warren's aides questioned them, and gathered from their
replies that Ewell's corps was in our front, and moving to our
right.

It had been expected by General Warren that the Third
corps would by this time connect with his right ; it had crossed
at Jacobs's Ford with great difficulty and delay, and for lack of
a guide, had taken the wrong road ; the movement reported to
our right, therefore, became a source of great uneasiness, and
the general ordered me to go into the woods on our right and
bring him a report of the condition there.

Leaving my horse in the care of an orderly, I went forward
through the woods until I struck our skirmishers. There was
no enemy visible. I moved along the rear of the skirmishers
toward our right. An officer stopped me and demanded my
business there, but was convinced without trouble that I was
on service for General Warren. I found our right refused ; at
the end of the line firing could be heard far to the northeast,
almost in front of our flank. There had been a movement of
the enemy's skirmishers to our right, and this movement had
caused the formation of our flank as I now saw it, but the Con-
federates were already falling back ; I hastily returned to the
general.

Now the whole skirmish-line was ordered to continue its
advance. Brisk firing was heard in front, and a short move-
ment forward was made by the column on the turnpike. Soon
the firing ceased, and everything was at a halt. Some pris-
oners had been taken from Gordon's brigade of Early 's divi-
sion — Lawton's old Georgia brigade.

General Warren was perplexed. Ewell's corps was doubt-
less in his front, and would dispute every inch of our advance.
The general feared that a successful attack at this time could
not be made. He had hoped to march entirely through The
Wilderness into the more open ground of Orange County before
he should find his advance resisted by the enemy's infantry ;
this was the consideration which made him value so highly

TO MINE RUN 87

the knowledge of the road by which he was enabled to save
two hours' time. The firing of cannon had been heard at our
left, coming, no doubt, from the Plank road, which we knew to
be some two miles to the south ; but we did not then know that
our cavalry under Gregg was there. It was now about four
o'clock.

Again General Warren ordered me to go to the skirmish-line
and bring him word as to the situation. The skirmishers could
tell me nothing except that an advance of fifty yards would find
the enemy in force. I made that advance, and found no enemy,
but crawling on a few yards farther I came in sight of a line
of Confederates in the woods, not a line of great force — only
a mere skirmish-line behind trees, the men squatted down,
alert, with faces to the front. They looked as ready for a
scrimmage as ever Confederates had looked ; I saw from their
contented attitudes that they had no disposition to retire fur-
ther, and guessed that their battle line was close in their rear.

I reported to General Warren. Another advance was ordered.
The wood in our front was noisy with rifles ; our skirmishers
did not push the enemy, and another line was ordered to their
support. This help enabled the men to drive the Confederates ;
the sound of firing receded a little, and then everything became
quiet. An officer from the front reported to General Warren
that the enemy's skirmishers had retired to their main lines,
which could now be seen strongly intrenched in the woods.
The divisions of the corps formed line of battle, and lay on
their arms throughout the night.

On the morning of the 28th rain began. The line of battle
went forward and passed over the breastworks of the enemy,
who had abandoned the position. The advance of the skir-
mishers continued until they again found the enemy in force
behind a crooked stream running through the woods. The
rain continued to fall, and with few intervals fell all day —
cold and thick. At nine o'clock General Warren in person led
a reconnaissance in front of the enemy's works ; the result was

88 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

a number of men killed and wounded, and nothing discovered
to change the view already entertained that Lee's army was
before us in a position too strong to be carried.

In the afternoon General Meade and General Warren had
a long interview.

At night General Warren called for me ; he said, " Berwick,
I want you to get all the rest you can now; you will be
required to do hard work to-morrow."

" Very well, General."

" You know nothing of the country at our left ? "

" All that I know, General, is that the Plank road is out there
somewhere, and that the country is very much like this."

" No cross roads ? "

" I cannot say that there are none, sir; but I judge there are
no very important ones. Of course there is that road we saw
at Robertson's Tavern."

" Come here," said he, and led the way until we stood under
a thick cedar. The rain kept up, and from the boughs big
drops were falling ; it was getting colder, and I feared that the
morning would find the land covered with ice.

The general took from his pocket a piece of paper and un-
folded it ; it was a sketch of the country. Night was setting
in dark and stormy ; I had difficulty in making out the lines
on the paper.

" Get back here," he said, putting his finger on Robertson's
Tavern; "get back here to-morrow at daylight. Take this
road and get into the Plank road ; then follow the Plank road
until you are near the enemy ; then move to your left and find
where their right rests ; it is somewhere near the Plank road
but beyond it perhaps."

" Start at daylight, General ?"

" Yes ; the corps will move behind you."

" How shall I report ? How often ? "

" I don't catch your idea, Berwick."

" If I go alone, General, I can report only once, perhaps."

TO MINE RUN 89

'* Take as many men as you wish."

« Six will do, sir."

"They will report to you in half an hour. Caralry you

want?"
« Yes, sir."

" Now tell me what you propose."

"I shall keep them together, General, until I have some-
thing to report, and send them back to you one at a time as
fast as I find out anything. You will meet five men bringing
you information of conditions in your front."

" Good ! But the sixth — and the seventh ? "

" You will not see the sixth until you are in position on the
left. I shall keep the last man to make an emergency report,
before I find it necessary to go alone."

" A good plan, Berwick ; I understand. But since the men
are to return one by one, I must see to it that they are good
men. I'll send them to you myself — or get Colonel Walker l to
do it. Now, look out for yourself, Berwick."

Before I slept, everything had been arranged. The six men
reported, and were ordered to remain together at a bivouac fire
in rear of Webb's division. On Sunday morning, just before
dawn, we began the march. Robertson's Tavern was soon
reached, and we turned to the south, — a little west of south,
making for the Orange and Fredericksburg Plank road at New
Hope Church, where we found pickets of Gregg's cavalry
division.

We turned west toward Orange. Knowing that the corps
behind us could not be making more than half as great speed
as ours, I took pains, as we went, to examine every available
position, but lost time unnecessarily by doing so, as nowhere
for a long distance did we find much more than woods. On
the day and night preceding, there had been a cavalry engage-
ment on the road, but now both parties had retired or had

1 Francis A. Walker, Assistant Adjutant-General of the Second corps. [Ed.]

90 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

moved off farther upon the flank. At ten o'clock we could see
at our left the grading of a railroad running parallel with the
Plank road. I placed a man near the edge of the railroad
grade, and directed him to advance as we advanced, and keep
a sharp watch toward his left. Soon the railroad grade
diverged to the south, and I recalled the man, whom I sent
back to General Warren, to report that we had advanced two
miles beyond New Hope Church, and especially to report the
existence of the railroad grade. A mile farther and we came
to the crest of a hill from which we could see a small stream
before us. I supposed it was one of the branches of Mine Run.
We were yet going forward, and descending the hill, when the
whistle of a bullet was heard, and the crack of a carbine, and a
cavalryman galloped off and up the hill beyond. At the report
of the gun I had ordered my men to run back in a disorderly
way, but when we were out of sight we returned through the
woods to the hill. Now I sent back word to General Warren
that we had struck the enemy's cavalry pickets.

A man was left in the woods near the top of the hill to guard
the horses; another was sent forward through the woods a
hundred yards down the hill, and was ordered to remain there
on watch until recalled; with the two others I plunged into
the woods on the left, and went in a southerly direction, cross-
ing the railroad and keeping on beyond it for three hundred
yards. At this point I sent another man back to General
Warren. With the other man, Ramsey, I turned square to the
west, and soon reached the top of the hill ; beyond it was a
wooded hollow which I believed a continuation of the valley
we had seen from the road when we were fired on. Here I
halted and remained, while Ramsey went back to bring up the
two men and the horses.

Knowing that Ramsey would be gone long, as the woods
were thick and progress with horses must be slow, I looked
about for a high tree, and was soon in its branches ; but I could
see nothing in front except unbroken forest. Far to the south

TO MINE RUN 91

was an open space which I supposed a farm, and to my right
oblique I could see a roof, perhaps half a mile away. I judged
that this roof was at Reynolds's tan-yard, laid down on the map.

Ramsey returned with the two other men. One of them was
directed to note carefully this spot ; I pointed out to him the
tall tree and other peculiarities of the ground, and impressed
upon him the importance of being able to guide our men to
this place if General Warren should decide to occupy it. He
was then ordered to ride to General Warren.

Now I was left with Ramsey and one other man — Kemp.
I stole forward, directing Ramsey to follow me at the greatest
distance at which he could keep me in sight, leading his horse,
and Kemp to follow Ramsey, leading two horses. Ramsey was
perhaps never more than fifty yards behind me ; he had ample
time to make his way, as my progress at the front was exceed-
ingly slow. In places there was little undergrowth for very
short distances, and here I paused long and looked well. At
the bottom of the hill ran a brook over which I easily passed.
I fancied that on the next hill I should be able to hear the
Confederates, if not to see them, but I went on and reached the
crest, and could see or hear nothing. I waited till Ramsey
could be clearly seen, and waved my hand to him to halt.
Then I went back to him, and motioned to Kemp to come up,
and directed the two to remain where they were until further
orders.

In order to make better progress, for I knew that I should
soon be compelled to crawl on my hands and knees, I now left
the Enfield with Ramsey. I went up the hill again ; at its top
I paused and considered. I was certainly on the flank of the
Confederate army unless it had been thrown back here ; in
that case my further progress toward the west would be along
its southern front. I went forward fifty yards, saw nothing,
and returned to the spot I had just left ; then I went a hun-
dred yards to the south and saw nothing ; then I went a hun-
dred yards to the north, found nothing, and returned rapidly

92 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

to Kemp and Ramsey, whom I brought up to the top of the
hill.

Kemp was stationed with the three horses, and Ramsey was
directed to follow me at thirty yards' distance. I made my
way toward the northwest, creeping half-bent sometimes, at
other times standing behind a tree and listening, and at times
almost crawling. I judged that I had come two hundred yards
from Kemp, and was wondering when the thing would end,
when I saw more light between the branches of the trees,
and I guessed that there was a clearing or a valley before me.
I kept on and soon saw what caused the greater light ; it was
the opening at the railroad grade; in the woods beyond all
seemed as quiet as though there were not a Confederate this
side of Orange Court-House. I waited for Ramsey to come
up, and ordered him to go back to Kemp and bring everything
to this point.

Now I looked long up and down the railroad, and then ven-
tured across and kept on through the woods. In five minutes
I came to an opening. I was on the brow of a hill ; before me
was a valley through which was running a road that I supposed
was the Plank road. Northeast from me some hundreds of
yards was a cluster of buildings which I supposed were at the
tan-yard. A few horses were near the buildings, and I knew
they must belong to the Confederates. I returned to the men,
and together we all came up to the spot. Then I talked seri-
ously to Kemp, and the good fellow responded earnestly, show-
ing that he was alert. He could, he asserted, guide any of our
men to this place, even by the circuitous route which we had
followed. He left us ; now we were but two.

At my left the cleared land extended but a short distance.
The slope of the valley reached its highest point where the
field touched the forest, which in a semicircle shut in this
space on the southwest. By moving along the edge of the
woods I could soon reach the road and be at the rear of the
tan-yard ; at the road I would pause and listen and look. I

TO MINE BUN 98

went on, bidding Ramsey to remain with the horses. With
little difficulty I reached the road ; I was about to cross it,
when I heard in front the sound of many axes. I knew at
once what the sound meant ; the enemy were felling trees and
fortifying their flank. I returned to Ramsey.

" Can you find your way back here, if you leave me now,
Ramsey ? "

" I am sure of it," said he, " unless it is in the night."

" But you may have to do it in the night."

"Then I'll do my best. If Kemp can get back where he
was, I can get here."

" Take my horse with you ; it won't do to leave him here.
Take my overcoat, too. Give me the gun."

" You'll be very cold, sir."

" I think not. I'll take the blanket. At any rate I don't
want the overcoat. Ride to General Warren and tell him that
the enemy are hard at work felling timber near the tan-yard.
Bring my horse back with you to this spot, and if our men
take position here, tie my horse to this tree in case you are
compelled to go off on other duty."

" All right, sir. But what are you going to do ? "

"Tell General Warren that I hope to have complete infor-
mation for him some time in the night. You go ahead ; never
mind about me. Go slow till you get back to the road where
we first left it, then go as fast as you wish."

He was gone, and I was alone again in The Wilderness, with
the Confederate infantry not far distant, and with Warren's
flanking column somewhere in my rear.

I had sent six messengers to General Warren ; in sending
five I had had doubts that any would reach him, for it would
have been no wonder if they all had been cut off by Confeder-
ate cavalry advancing or scouting on the road, but when I sent
Ramsey I believed that none of the six would fail to reach the
head of our column, because I now had unquestionable evidence
that the Confederates were awaiting our attack. They were

94 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

extending their intrenched lines to provide against our move-
ment ; they would not advance.

Lee had blocked the way through The Wilderness. Meade's
purpose to march through this dismal region and reach more
open ground where he might handle his army to advantage had
been frustrated ; Warren would get here undoubtedly, but he
would find the enemy prepared.

Perhaps there is no man better fitted than I to decide the
relative advantages of the Union and Confederate armies in the
Virginia campaigns. In Jackson's flank march against Hooker,
ten miles below this spot, the Confederates had thorough
knowledge of the ground, and the benefit of generalship on the
opposite side which now seems nothing more than fatuity, for
it is known that the Union skirmishers and scouts on Hooker's
western flank detected Jackson's movement and were unable
to make their generals believe their reports. On this ground
of Mine Run, Lee was ready ; his lines extended in confronta-
tion of the Union army for many miles, and to make assurance
doubly sure he fortified his flanks. The generalship in the war
in Virginia was undoubtedly on the side of the Confederates,
and victory had been won so often under such generalship
that Lee's men honestly believed their army unconquerable.
Whether these preponderances were sufficient to offset the
numerical superiority of the Union army, I cannot say. As
for fighting qualities inherent in the men of the respective
armies, I think superiority can be justly claimed by neither,
yet the prestige of success inspired the Confederates, confi-
dence in their leaders gave them assurance, and above all, the
deep belief that they were fighting for independence nerved
them to every sacrifice ; while to the contrary the Union
troops had learned to question the ability of those who led
them, to doubt the loyalty of some, and to despise many. Thus
much I can say : the Confederates did not expect the Yankees
to fight as well as Southerners did, and the Federals knew that
the rebels would fight terribly. The Confederates, in going

TO MINE RUN 95

into battle, expected to win; the Federals doubted — yet the
doubt applied only to the one fight before them ; they expected
to succeed in the end. Be it remembered that I am speaking
of my own countrymen ; I have been, and I am, both a Federal
and a Confederate. There was never, perhaps, a better body
of troops on earth than the Army of Northern Virginia — and
I am proud of the great deeds of the Army of the Potomac,
that army organized under McClellan, and defeated under
McClellan, and defeated under Pope, and under Burnside, and
under Hooker, and time and again — by piecemeal — under
Grant. Had the Confederate army been defeated at Gaines's
Mill, it might never have recovered its morale. It was in de-
feat that the Army of the Potomac was hardened into the
hammer that Grant wielded so relentlessly; through succes-
sive defeats it preserved its integrity, and met again and again
its old victorious enemy. For the fighting qualities of this
army to be disparaged because of the blunders of its generals
is coarsely unjust ; the men knew it, and fought again. Nei-
ther is glorification over the final success of Grant in place, for
it was not Grant that overcame Lee. A brigade charges and is
repulsed ; another comes to the attack and leaves the ground
littered with dead ; a third advances and fails ; the fourth,
fresh and strong, marches over the enemy now exhausted by
success ; and the fourth shouts and waves its plumes and says,
" We are the men ! " So it was with Grant. The campaigns
of his predecessors are component and necessary parts of the
great struggle which the Confederates by skill and courage
were able to prolong, and it is injustice to every other com-
mander to attribute the success of Appomattox to Grant alone
— as unjust as it would be to say that because Colonel Pritch-
ard captured Mr. Davis, therefore Colonel Pritchard over-
came the Confederacy.

Again I went forward along the inside edge of the curving
woods until I could see the road. The noise of the chopping
continued; occasionally I could hear the fall of a tree. The

96 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

sounds came but a few hundred yards. Where was the Con-
federate skirmish-line ? I could not pass that road.

Seeing that a further advance was impracticable at this point,
I climbed a tree, a tall and dense cedar, and in doing so did
something which I cannot account for. It was neither instinct
nor reason that directed me; I don't know what it was. It
may have been that, on former occasions having had to take my
place in a tree top while sharp-shooting, the past influenced me ;
at any rate, when I found myself securely sitting on a branch,
some twenty feet above the ground and with thick boughs
all around me, I saw my spiked Enfield yet in my hand. I
have spoken before of my skill in climbing. I had merely for-
gotten to disencumber myself of the worthless piece. I won-
dered then why I had not left the gun at the foot of the tree,
and I suppose I shall continue to wonder until somebody ex-
plains my act.

From the tree I had no good view ; it was heavily branched
in every direction. I tried to part the branches northward so
that I could see better, but instantly ceased for fear of the
sharp eye of some Confederate vedette, who, if posted just
beyond the road, might see the branches shake. I decided to
come down and make my way to the left and try to find some
better point for observation. I had placed my right foot on
the branch below me when I heard a noise in front, a noise
like that made by a man's feet in leaping, and looking again,
I saw the road full of Confederate skirmishers advancing.
At this place the road was sunken, and some of the men had
indeed leaped into it.

My right foot involuntarily came back, and I huddled up on
that branch into as compact a mass as I could force. In a
moment the line of men was lost to view ; a moment more, and
I saw some of them ; they were continuing to advance in line,
and now were not more than forty yards away, coming slowly.

I was hoping that I could see but little, for if I could see
them they might see me, losing for the instant the right knowl-

TO MINE RUN 97

edge that in our relative positions my view was better than
theirs. In the next moment I saw five of them at once, still
coming. These men had their guns at the ready. They were
bending over as they advanced. They were alert, looking ahead
into the bushes — God be thanked — not up at the sky. Evi-
dently they thought that at any instant they were likely to
strike the Union skirmishers ; they were ready, at the crack
of the first rifle to jump behind trees and go to pegging away.
I blessed my stars that I had not left the Enfield on the ground
for them to see.

The next ten seconds passed at length, and I saw two men
very near me. One was George Mackay ; I could have sworn
it. One was Wallace Williams ; I could have sworn it.
Mackay was just west of the tree; Williams just east of it —
the two, five paces apart. The line passed on.

Who were these men ? They were McGowan's skirmishers.
They were the orderly-sergeant and the tallest file-leader in
Company H.

IN THE MINE BUN LINES

" Drummer, strike up, and let us march away."

— SHAKESPEARE.

GEORGE MACKAY, the orderly-sergeant of old Company H,
was a man of great courage and a thorough soldier. It was
impossible for me not to recognize him, because he was only
about five feet two inches in height. Williams was perhaps
the tallest man in the company, and would be on the right
next to Mackay. I had last seen these men on the morning of
the 12th of October, when I left Company H forever. This
day, on which I now saw them again, was the 29th of Novem-
ber, only seven weeks later. Yes, Mackay had passed under
the tree on one side, and Williams had passed under the tree
on the other side ; with a long fishing-pole I might almost have
touched either. My eyes turned east, toward the left of the
advancing line ; I wanted to see others of my old comrades,
but the bushes were so thick that I saw only two more,
Owens and Stokes.

The line had gone on ; I now could see no man. My first
sensation after the thrill of nervous curiosity subsided concern-
ing my old friends was fear — horrible fear. I was in the
thick tree; the skirmishers were between me and Warren's
corps ; I was between them and their line of battle. Doubt-
less the Confederate main line had very recently taken its
present position ; it was now intrenching ; on arriving it
had thrown out skirmishers, who were slowly advancing in
order to examine the ground ; perhaps they would occupy a

IN THE MINE RUN LINES 99

position in the woods here on the south of the road. I knew
that Company H and the other companies of the skirmish-Hue
might at this hour advance very far before they came in con-
tact with our men. If they should advance very far they
would be in danger of being cut off, however, for an enterpris-
ing enemy might get between them and their line of battle.
So I judged that they would not advance very far; they would
soon halt, and then they might construct rifle-pits on the hill
overlooking the valley behind me, — or they might content
themselves with the protection of the trees, as they were cer-
tain to be compelled to retire from such an advanced position,
and in that case they ought to have a line of rifle-pits to which
they could retire, and that line of pits ought to be made over
yonder just on the other side of the road ; there they would
be concealed by the forest, and the Federal skirmishers would
have a nasty time in crossing that road under the long Enfields
of old Company H.

What if this skirmish-line should withdraw now ? In retir-
ing^ the men would be much more likely to see me, for their
attention would be fixed no longer ; they would be simply
marching back over the ground, and be thinking of nothing
and of everything, and I should be in great peril. I must do
something. If my blue clothes should be seen in this tree by
any man in Company H, my fate was sealed. I had known
this from the very first ; indeed, it was a familiar thought, and
not less fearful because it was familiar ; from the moment
when General Meade detached me, I had known this danger
and feared it. To modify this danger I had spiked the old
Enfield. If captured I would show my captors the condition
of the rifle, which would prove that I had no intention of firing
on my former friends. Although this would give me no justi-
fication for serving the enemies of my former friends, yet it
might add corroboration to my true statement which in an
extremity I would make, and to fair-minded soldiers would be
a palliation at least. My statement would not be believed, —

100 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

I knew that very well, — but the worthless gun would help to
give strength to the honesty of my delusion, as it would be
thought.

I must act, and act quickly, yet I must act discreetly. My
first thought was to slip down from the tree and try to make
my way around the right flank of the skirmish-line. But this
undertaking would keep me just in rear of the First for a long
distance ; Company H was the left of the regiment. Of course
I could not know that the skirmish-line consisted of the entire
First, but I thought it quite likely.

My next thought was the possibility of slipping out by the
left flank ; that work seemed too great ; the left flank of this
line might be the left flank of Lee's army, which rested many
miles away.

Suddenly I began to take off my clothes — there in the tree.
I must reverse my uniform, and must be a changed man before
another Confederate should come my way. I worked fast and
the job was soon over. I did not take time to change the
buttons ; I would do that afterward. What I wanted was to
get down quickly, and be a Confederate when I reached the
ground. I did not know how soon the line, or any man of it,
might return. I did not know how soon some laggard from
the rear might come up, hunting for his place in the line.

The change was complete except the buttons ; my waist-belt
was on; my canteen and haversack were on, my twisted
blanket was over my shoulders. I arranged the blanket so
that it would hide the buttonless front of my coat, and came
quickly down the tree, descending on the north side of it. Now
what should I do ? I had effected a present purpose which
had been made regardless of any plan to follow. Now what
should I do ?

First I wanted to get farther from Company H, and wanted
to change my buttons. I moved off from the tree toward the
road, which was only some thirty yards distant. As I went I
began to unring the buttons from the inside of the coat. The

IN THE MINE RUN LINES 101

work was so difficult that I halted until I had finished, the top
button especially giving me great trouble. When at last I had
made the change I felt my greatest fear depart, for I knew that
it was possible to go through the Confederate main lines with-
out a question being asked. I might perhaps have been able
to go straight through the skirmish-line by merely saying,
" Man going to the front," and passing boldly on, for men
frequently went to the front of the skirmish-lines for purposes
of observation. But my returning courage suggested that I
ought to report to General Warren the condition of the Con-
federate intrenchments and forces here, and hope rose in me
now when I thought that it was in my power to learn accu-
rately by myself what a brigade could not learn even with
great sacrifice. It was about two o'clock ; by getting behind
the main lines I could learn all I wanted to know, and then, in
the night, I could go around the right flank and find General
Warren before another sunrise. I walked across the road
and into the woods beyond.

Before me was a wooded hollow of picturesque form, fan-
like, extending downward and upward — down to a depth of
sixty feet perhaps, and then up on the other side to an equally
great elevation, which was some three hundred yards from me,
as I could easily see, for the depression was sudden — the
tops of the trees being beneath me. I could hear the ringing
of axes on the other side of the hollow.

For perhaps thirty yards I hurried on, fearing that the skir-
mish-line would speedily return and take position here in rear
of the road ; here was an ideal position for skirmishers. It
would take a line of battle to cross this road, and even a line
of battle must suffer under the Confederate skirmishers who
would deliver their volleys at close range and be down the hill
and out of sight before the Federals could reach the timber,
and from the opposite side of the hollow, which I conjectured
was in full view from the Confederate intrenchments, the skir-
mishers could again give pause to a battle line disorganized on

102 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

this steep and wooded slope. The more I thought of it, the
less did it seem necessary that the Confederate line should
have any intrenchments at all.

Now I heard firing far behind me, and knew that Warren's
advance was reaching the ground. I looked back, and soon
saw the Confederate skirmishers retiring. I saw Mackay again,
and Williams, and Stokes, but Owens was not there. Had
Owens fallen, out there in the woods ? There had been but
a few shots and they were heard from a long distance. The
men were not running, — they were only withdrawing with
special purpose ; Owens, no doubt, had been left as a vedette
on the other side of the road ; the permanent position of the
line would be here where I was standing. Would they make
pits ? Yes ; no doubt they must have pits ; it would be
impossible for these men, thinly clad, and poorly fed, to live
in this cold weather without fires at night; they must have
pits, else the bullets of the Federal marksmen would find
targets around the fires.

I went down the hill and stopped in the hollow ; as I had
expected, the skirmishers behind me halted. I did not wait
to see what they were going to do; I stopped only long
enough to be convinced that they had halted; then I went
across the hollow and began to climb the next hill. The hill
was rugged and steep ; a line here could be defended by a few
men. The hill could be reached by a line of battle, but a line
already in disorder; the hill might be climbed by a line in
some shape, but not under fire. I expected to find a very
thinly guarded intrenchment ; Lee would man his weak places
well, but at such a point as this few men would be needed.
Trees were lying this way and that, already an obstruction
and yet to be organized into an entanglement. I saw men
before me, some of them at work, others at the fires cooking.
There was a line of logs, not yet finished at all points, with
earth thrown into the intervals ; where the work had reached
the height of about four feet it was supplemented with a good

IN THE MINE RUN LINES 103

head-log, raised by props some two or three inches above, so
that a space was left for the aim of the soldiers behind, whose
heads were thus protected. No man seemed to notice me.

I did not know the regiment into whose works I had come,
but I knew it was McGowan's ; I could see palmetto buttons.
I went to the left a little, and walked up to one of the fires.

" Where is the First ? " I asked.

" On the skirmish-line. Do you belong to it ? "

"No; what is this?"

" Fourteenth."

I kept going east ; I wanted to learn what force was occupy-
ing this whole southern front and where the salient was. The
boughs of the trees had been left to lie in front of the works ;
the logs had been used for building them. Darkness was
gathering and the troops were now at ease, clustered around
small fires of green wood, which later, when dry, would become
great fires, for wood was plentiful. The black smoke drifted
to the right ; the wind came from the east. I inferred that
much of the work on the line had been done before these men
reached it.

The line was not straight ; I could see that it had been laid
out according to some system; it ran irregularly along the
brow of the hill, showing angles. At some places the newly
cut boughs in front had been piled in a long row parallel with
the breastwork; no doubt the whole line would be treated
thus. The troops seemed to be suffering greatly from the
cold; otherwise, they were as ever. I could not doubt that
an attack on these lines would result in a bloody repulse ; as
for artillery, it could not be used here. At this part of the
line the Confederates had the strongest position I had ever
seen. Lee might be flanked out ; he could not be driven out
with ten times his numbers. This became so clear to me that I
felt impelled to get back at once to General Warren. He was
moving against this position; if I should fail to reach him
to-morrow morning and he should attack, in the belief that he

104 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

could carry this line, the loss would be terrible. I knew he
would not attack now ; he would wait until morning and attack
then, unless his mind should change ; I must change it ; ...
could this be the great work which the Doctor . . . ? no ; he
had not meant military work.

I had passed Scales's brigade and had reached Lane's, which
I had known without asking, for the stacked arms showed their
bayonets. I stopped at a fire where many men were huddled.

" Do you know what troops are on our left ? " I asked.

" Thomas's."

I knew now that at least all of Wilcox's brigades were here ;
what was at the left of Wilcox I would not ask ; very likely
these men would not know. It might be that McGowan's
brigade was on the extreme right of Lee's infantry ; if that
were the case I should not have far to go to get back to our
lines, and even if another division — say Heth's — was at the
right of Wilcox's, then I should have no great distance to
walk, for I judged that a division was not more than a mile
long when formed as these men were. Even if all of Hill's
corps was on this flank I should reach the end of the line in
three or four miles ; of course I must then look out for cavalry.

When I left this fire I sauntered back toward the right,
passed Lane's brigade again, and reached McGowan's, whose
arms, stacked at my left, showed few bayonets, the stacks
being made by using the heads of the rammers. I passed the
Fourteenth and reached the Twelfth.

" How are you, Sergeant ? " called a voice.

There are many sergeants ; I kept on.

" Sergeant Jones ! "

I stopped — it was Cyrus Ruff ; I had been with him in the
sharp-shooters, where I had served as a sergeant.

" Hello, Ruff ! It's good for sore eyes to see you again."

He and his mates had a pretty good fire, and I sat down by
it, and began cutting up some tobacco and filling my pipe.

" Been at the front ? " asked Ruff.

IN THE MINE RUN LINES 105

u Come from there little while ago."

" First is on skirmish-line ? "

" Yes."

"Anything goin' on out there ? "

"Not yet. Where's General McGowan, — do you know ? "

"I saw him ten minutes ago; he was going to the right.
Want to see him ? "

" Not specially. I hadn't seen him, and didn't know but he
might be away."

"No; he's here all right enough. Goin' to be in the bat-
talion again ? "

" The sharp-shooters, you mean ? "

" Yes."

" Can't tell yet that they will let me. Do you know who
will command it ? "

" Yes ; Captain Dunlop of this regiment — the Twelfth."

" Good man ? "

" Splendid ; he'll save his men. I didn't want to go back
into the battalion until I learned that Dunlop was to have it ;
now I want to be one of 'em."

" Where is the brigade commissary ? "

" In rear of the right of the brigade, not more than three
hundred yards or so."

" Well, I got to get on. Good-by, Ruff."

At last I reached the right of McGowan's brigade — yet the
breastworks continued ; but I could now see that the line de-
flected sharply to the northwest, and again after going a hun-
dred yards farther, there was another angle in the line, which
now ran almost due north. This part of the line was occupied
by Anderson's division.

When I saw at length the end of the works, I turned about ;
it would not be prudent to go past them, for my intentions
might be suspected ; although I knew that I could easily rush
through the bushes and be lost to sight in a moment, yet an
alarm given here might warn the skirmishers in front and the

106 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

cavalry to the right, if any were there, and thus my difficulty
be rendered great ; so, as I say, I turned about and went a
hundred yards toward the salient. My greatest anxiety now
was in regard to my ability to preserve directions when I
should be in darkness. It would be easy to lose my way;
there were no stars, and no vistas through the forest except this
one made by the Confederate line of works ; I must try to
take and keep my bearings, lest I go into the Confederate
pickets instead of our own.

Again I turned northwest; this course I would pursue for
two hundred yards, then turn southwest and go three hundred
yards, and should then be clear, I felt confident, of the Con-
federate main lines ; afterward I counted on going due south
until I should find something — men, or some elevation from
which I could determine my course. Beyond the difficulty
naturally incident to the forest at night I had no trouble. Of
course I did not know that I was perfectly pursuing my plan,
though in the rough I believed I was succeeding. When I had
gone two hundred yards, I turned to my left at an angle — as
near as I could make it — of forty-five degrees and went on
through the forest for half an hour, going very slowly on
account of the darkness. After floundering through a narrow
swamp, I stood again on firm ground. Now, thought I, if I go
south and do not strike the enemy's breastworks, I shall find
the Union skirmishers, or else go west of them and get lost
unless I find some of our cavalry. So I turned southward as
nearly as I could know and went on for about three hundred
yards, when I saw fires at my left oblique through the woods,
and, judging that I was too near the enemy, bent off toward the
west until I could no longer see the fires ; then I resumed my
southerly course. My progress was exceedingly slow ; at every
change in the ground I paused and listened. Once I heard
laughter at my left, coming seemingly from more than one
man. There ought to be Confederate vedettes and scouts in
the woods here on the flank, and cavalry farther away, if there

IN THE MINE RUN LINES 107

was any road on which they could move. My plan was to
keep near the Confederate line ; if I should get too far from it
I should almost surely be lost; yet I must not get too near for
fear of detection. There was as yet no need for haste; the
night was growing, but General Warren was not many miles
away ; to make these few miles with certainty was the task I
gave myself; better be six hours in doing it than to run any
unnecessary risk. So I was extremely careful ; each step
forward was made slowly, my foot coming down gradually
upon the leaves and being withdrawn before my weight was
upon it whenever I felt under it the impression of a twig that
might snap. The bushes before me were parted with care ; I
am sure that in one place I took ten minutes to go ten feet.

After a long time I felt my footing slope downward as I
went, and hoped that at the bottom of the hill Federal ground
would be reached ; yet caution did not leave me. Stones were
on the slope; an unguarded step might send one of them
rattling down the hill. Perhaps I had gone fifty yards down
hill, when I distinctly heard a low whistle coming directly
from my front.

To get behind a tree I had only to move my left foot, as my
right side was already behind it. The whistle was repeated —
one low brief note. I was on the boundary between the two
skirmish-lines; was this whistler a Confederate? I did not
know.

I must be careful ; I must fully know who this man was,
before I ventured forward.

It is astonishing to think how many notions may go through
the mind in a second. The man before me was signalling ; I
had no doubt as to that. He had a companion somewhere,
whom he thought now returning, for it was almost certain that
he had heard me. Yet this might be mere guesswork. The
man might be a deserter from one army to the other — from
which to which ? Where was I ? Was I going toward the
Confederates ? This hill which I was descending, and which

108 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

I had supposed a continuation of the range on which Wilcox's
division had formed — was it really that ? Perhaps it had no
connection with that range — how could I know whither I had
wandered in the darkness ? The man before me might be a
vedette far off on the flank. He might be one of our cavalry
or one of Stuart's cavalry. He had signalled twice, and was
now waiting ; perhaps he was beginning to suspect. If a com-
rade had been expected to return, the whistler now doubted
that what he had heard was his comrade returning — he cer-
tainly could not have seen me ! Yet I was above him, and it
was just possible that from his position he had seen an object
intervene between him and the dim light above the trees. The
sound I had heard was not the whistler's first call, perhaps ;
he was expecting the approach of his comrade, who in the
darkness might easily come from the front, even though his
position were on the flank.

Before and since that time I have had many occasions to
observe the merit of the old adage, " In doubt abstain." To
do any one thing, when any might bring ruin, is folly ; I did
nothing. If I should go forward, it would be at the risk of
capture ; if I should go to the left I should risk capture ; if I
should go to the right I should get lost ; if I should retreat I
should get lost. I waited and the man waited. I was think-
ing that we were about ten feet apart ; I heard again a low
whistle — a brief monotone. This sound clearly came from
my left, and from a greater distance. Possibly ten seconds
had passed between the last two notes.

The man in front of me responded. He uttered the same
note, but prolonged it. My attention now was divided, my
interest doubled. These vedettes or scouts, or whatever they
were, would get together. If the man in front of me should
remain, and the one on my left approach, I might hear what
should be said ; if they should move toward each other their
meeting point might be too far from me to hear them speak.

The one on the left approached. I could not see him, nor

IN THE MINE RUN LINES 109

could I hear him, yet I knew that he was approaching. There
was no mystery in this knowledge ; it came from hearing the
man in front make very low and repeated notes evidently
intended to guide his companion. In a short time these notes
ceased, and I knew that the two men were together before
me.

So far as I could yet positively know, the chances were
even as to the colour of their uniforms. No word had reached
my ear to betray by its intonation what I wanted to know. A
step forward, and I should be a prisoner or should be within
easy reach of General Warren. I stepped backward.

Slowly my left foot had been raised and placed some ten
inches back ; my right foot was in the air ; my hand had left
the tree ; in an instant more my feet would have been together,
when something came to me that caused me, in turn, to whistle
the same note the men had used as a signal.

Yet I had heard nothing, and had seen nothing. What had
come to me was the odour of alcohol.

I had been in the Confederate army for more than a year.
In all that time I had known but few rations of whiskey issued
— and never at the time of an expected battle. By far the
greatest quantity of whiskey drunk by the Southern troops
was captured from the Federals. But the Confederate army
had certainly not had any such good luck recently. Not since
the invasion of Pennsylvania, four months previously, had
they captured anything. On the other hand, whiskey was
frequently issued to the Union troops, and sometimes just
before a battle; besides, the Union soldiers could purchase
it ; their money was valuable ; the Confederate soldiers were
destitute. Of course this reasoning was not conclusive, but it
was so strong that I thought there were ninety-nine chances
in a hundred that the men before me were Federals, and I
whistled, not with the purpose of risking everything immedi-
ately and without more precaution, but as a preliminary to
further action.

110 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

There was another cause for my belief that the men were
Federals. The wind was from the east. The scent of a little
whiskey in the open air could hardly be detected except from
the direction whence the wind was coming. These men were
eastward from me, and east or southeast was the direction to
the left flank of Meade's army. It was true that if I was
behind a Confederate, he also might be east, but I had strong
reason for believing that the men fronted me, whereas, if they
were Confederates, I was in their rear.

What was it that made me believe the men fronted me?
It was the whistling. My advance had been too prudent to
be heard. The first man had whistled when he knew I was
near, believing that I was his comrade.

How did he know I was near ? Only by happening to see
a black object obstruct his vision. If that were true he was
fronting me ; he was down the hill and looking up the hill.

These reasons appeared to me so convincing that I was
ready for a parley.

There was one fact, however, sufficiently important to make
me heedful. I fancied that the smell of whiskey had come
from the act of these men in drinking. Would they have
paused to drink if the first man had seen me ? I thought
not.

At any rate, the whiskey ought to be Federal whiskey. The
Confederate who had whiskey in his canteen at this time, after
having for two days faced the enemy in such cold weather,
was a rare bird, indeed. I had made up my mind to make the
men talk; I should know them by their voices. I was not
afraid that they would rush forward; they would fear they
should be rushing into a trap. I was not afraid that they
would fire; everything about them indicated a desire for
secrecy.

There was no response to my whistle. There was no sound
whatever. Perhaps, after all, they were Confederates. Why
could I not in that case claim to be one also? When they

IN THE MINE RUN LINES 111

should take me to a light, they would see one of their own
men before them. But I must not be delayed ; all this would
require much time, and I might afterward be watched.

In a tone that I intended should reach them and go no
farther, I said, " You men get back into the line."

I heard the men whispering.

Then one replied, "We are in our places, now, sir," and I
knew the man was a Yankee, and walked forward. They
could not see the colour of my uniform, but one of them saw
the gun, and knew at once that I was not an officer. He said
in a low tone, but sternly : —

" What were you doing out there ? "

" I have been in the enemy's lines," said I. " What regi-
ment is on picket here ? "

" Sixty-ninth."

" Sixty-ninth New York ? "

" Yes. Say, I'm not going to answer any more of your
questions. You come along with me."

" With great pleasure. Take me at once to your officers."

The man ordered me to get before him. I did so.

" Throw down that gun," said he.

"Here," said I, "I'll lean it against this tree. Bring it
along, or I'll have you sent back for it."

He took up the gun, and I suppose he saw that it was an
Enfield.

" I'll be damned if I don't believe you are a rebel," he said.

" Very well," said I ; " you'll find out shortly."

We were at the bottom of the hill. We heard a challenge.

" It's me — Peters — with a prisoner," said my man.

There were no picket fires, and I learned that the Confeder-
ates had none ; how the men stood the duty that night is a
wonder. It was current next day that men had frozen at their
posts.

We reached the picket-line, and a sergeant was called.

" Who are you ? "

112 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

" Take me to the officer in command here," said I.

" Pass word down the line to Lieutenant O'Neil he's wanted,"
said the sergeant.

The lieutenant came ; the sergeant told him I had been found
in front, and that I had acted suspiciously; the man Peters
added that I was trying to get into their lines.

I asked the lieutenant to let me speak to him privately for a
moment, and he stepped a little to the rear of his line. Then I
told him that I was sent to the front by order of General Warren,
whom I had served as guide in the march to this point.

" If that is true," said he, " you will be set right at once."

" Have you a match, Lieutenant ? "

"Yes."

" Light it, if you please."

He led the way again until we were behind a large tree.
Then he struck a match, and I showed him the blue coat.

He seemed surprised, but was not willing to let me go on
except under guard.

" Lieutenant," said I, " of course I don't expect you to let
me go ; all I ask is to be sent to General Warren. I know that
he is anxious to hear my report ; it is important."

He saw that what I asked was reasonable, but said, " I can't
do that ; all I can do is to send you back to the brigade. What
are the rebels doing ? What is their force ? Are they expect-
ing an attack ? What corps is in our front ?" — and would have
kept on, I suppose, but I interrupted him by saying that I was
sorry that my report must be made to General Warren.

He chose two men, and sent me back to the brigade —
Kelly's brigade. The commander asked me many questions
before he would consent to let me go on, but I satisfied him at
length, and he furnished me a guide to corps headquarters, which
I succeeded in reaching just before sunrise. General Warren
was asleep, but had left orders to be waked in case I should
return.

" Well, Berwick ; you are a Confederate ? "

IN THE MINE RUN LINES 113

UI was for a while, General."

* You've done good work. We'll smash Lee's flank at eight
o'clock."

I said nothing in reply. I was standing at the fire, leaning
on my rifle. Officers were near ; I did not wish to say any-
thing before them.

" You have a private report ? "

" Yes, General." The officers moved to another fire.

" What is it, Berwick ? You look serious."

" General, the position of the enemy is impregnable."

His countenance fell. I never saw a man more disappointed
in appearance, yet he had nerve enough to make no exclamation.

" I have been in their lines, General. They have two good
ranks behind log works with head-pieces. The ground in front
is steep and it is obstructed with felled timber ; the line cannot
be carried."

" What troops are they ? "

" Hill's. I went along the line from the salient to the end
of it ; it curves back to a swamp which I had difficulty in get-
ting through. They had orders to begin work again at daylight,
to further strengthen their position."

" Could you tell the spirit of the troops ? "

" They seemed to care nothing for anything except the cold
weather. They are wishing for us to attack."

" Berwick, say no more. Don't speak of this to any one."

I tried to sleep, but could not.

The sun rose clear. On part of the line, at our left, the Con-
federate intrenchments could be seen where they ran at the
other side of a field. Our men were very serious ; they had
the feeling that an assault would prove a slaughter. General
Warren became convinced that it would be disastrous. Al-
though positive orders had been issued for an advance, he took
the responsibility of refusing, and General Meade — after ex-
amining the ground — approved of General Warren's refusal.

The army marched back to the north side of the Rapidan.

XI

HOLLOW BUTTONS

" What noise is this ? What traitors have we here ? "

— SHAKESPEARE.

MORE than once Captain Scranton had been upon the point
of confiding to me some project which he had devised, — some-
thing, I thought, that regarded his personal interests, and in
which, therefore, I refrained from showing a great curiosity ;
perhaps his never unburdening was due to my refusal to en-
courage him.

Lydia did not like Scranton. His way of addressing her with
a Shakespearian line more or less inapplicable, was unpleas-
ant to her ; she thought him wanting in respect to both her-
self and the poet.

One morning she drove me away ; a critical experiment was
to be made, in order to see if Colonel Paull's life could not be
saved, and I was classed as a nuisance. I went to see Scranton.

When I entered his tent, he rose in haste — almost in con-
fusion ; — he had been bending over his cot, looking at some
papers which he now folded and put into his pocket. He got
out his pipe, and we sat together, smoking in silence.

After a while, he said : " Meade is ' slow in making good
his boisterous late appeal.' I'm getting tired of this thing,
Berwick."

" We'll be compelled to wait until the roads are dry, Cap-
tain."

" I suppose so," he sighed ; " dam this wet country. Yet, as
you say, Berwick, ' There is no virtue like necessity.' "

114

HOLLOW BUTTONS 115

" We tried it at Mine Run," I replied ; " and had to march
back. We couldn't stay over there all the winter."

" Yes. Wonder how it happened that I did not see you on
that frolic ! "

" I was with General Warren," said I.

"And I with that fellow French. Berwick, your blessed
republic is not very republican. I tell you that this young
shoot of old England is but an experiment after all. Confess
now, that you are more absolute than we are."

I had never believed Scranton an Englishman, and his un-
necessary challenge now made me suspect that he was leading
me purposely. I gave no reply.

" You will not last a hundred years," he continued ; " even if
this war does not break you up, the influence of Europe will
tell on you in the end. Look how your southern neighbours
are going."

" The Confederacy ? "

" Lord, man ! No. I'm not speaking of the Confederacy.
I'm talking about — " he stopped, and rose, and began stamp-
ing, as though he needed exercise. I continued to smoke, saying
nothing ; I would give him no invitation to tell me anything ;
he might do as he chose. Of course, I knew now that he had
referred to Mexico, and I was puzzled — yet, after all, this part
of his talk might have been mere padding, so to speak.

After a little, I rose. I would go back and learn how Colo-
nel Paull had stood the crisis. At this instant a man's voice
was heard outside : " Captain, the coast is clear, and I should
be pleased to see you a moment ! "

Scranton turned red and rushed out.

There could be no mistake — the voice and accent were
Scherzer's, though the words were not.

I was yet standing still ; I knew not what to do ; but now
I heard footsteps, the sounds receding. When, throwing off
my embarrassment, I had gone out, no one was visible.

Scherzer's self-betrayal of deceit had been full ; but what

116 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

was the purpose of this deceit ? Some persistent scheme was
working, — some scheme of rare importance, for it was forcing
Scherzer, knowing good English, to feign constantly.

Back at the Sanitary Camp, Lydia met me with a smile.
Colonel Paull had shown great fortitude ; the operation had
been successful. There were high hopes of his recovery.

It was now January. But for Lydia's dear presence I
should have become restless long ago, and should have wel-
comed change. It may appear strange that this girl should
remain here through the cold season, but she was not the only
devoted nurse who did so ; there were many others in atten-
dance at the great hospitals far in the rear, at Washington,
and elsewhere, and there were a few who like Lydia Khayme
chose to be near the scene of action, especially those who had
some natural protector. Ever since daughter and father had
begun their duties with the army, they had had no home
except the Sanitary Camp and the hospital. Their work was
not light, and it was not pleasant, but they felt it to be duty.
Lydia was relieved of much by her father's skill and tact ;
she had the utmost confidence in his known and unknown
ability, and knew or felt how and where she could apply her
work to advantage and when and where she might abstain. It
is said that a woman is endowed with intuitive power greater
than man's, and I attributed to this faculty the dislike Lydia
had for Scranton. This dislike had never been such as to
oppress her, or if such, she had known how to be silent ; yet
I was aware that it was strong enough to prevent her having
any pleasure in hearing his name.

*******

One evening we were in the Doctor's tent, busy all of us : I,
writing out an account of my experience ; he, engaged at tinker-
ing at something in a corner ; Lydia, sewing.

" Come here, Jones," said the Doctor.

I rose and went to him. Before him, on a camp-table, were
some coat buttons.

HOLLOW BUTTONS 117

" You know that I told you I would provide a safe place for
your pass ; I am going to take off the lid of this button," he
said, taking one of them, and holding it before me.

" The lid of the button ! "

"Yes."

" I did not know that a button had a lid."

"Neither did I, but this one has. It requires a peculiar
instrument to get into it. Shall I open it ? "

" If you please, Doctor."

"Jones," he said, with something like uneasiness, "please
go out and see if there is not some one near. I think I heard
footsteps."

Outside I saw a man's back some thirty yards away.
The man was walking very hastily; I shouted at him; he
ran.

I returned to the Doctor and reported.

" I thought so," said he ; " now keep the door open ; let the
eavesdropper come in, if he wishes."

He took from his pocket a peculiar instrument, indeed ; it
looked like a spoon. He placed the bowl of the spoon on the
surface of the button, held the eye of the button firmly between
his left forefinger and thumb, and began to turn the spoon.
Slowly round and round it went, and I could now understand
that the lid of the button had been cut on its edge with threads,
and fitted on as a tap fits a screw. When the lid was off, a
small hollow was seen — a hollow that might contain a half-
ounce ball. I examined the spoon ; its bowl showed an inden-
tation— a reverse of the eagle of the button, over which it
fitted exactly.

"And I must take that monkey-wrench with me ? "

"Oh, no; if necessary to produce the writing, smash the
button."

" I see ; and then use another."

" Exactly. They are not made of brass, but of a composition
less malleable."

118 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

" Doctor, who made them for you ? "

"I made them. No one knows of them except ourseives,
Jones. Let me have General Meade's order."

I brought it. The Doctor carefully cut away every particle
of the sheet from around the written lines.

" It is not small enough yet," said he ; " but it will be before
we sleep."

He spread the paper, writing down, on an open book ; then
with a rough eraser he began to work on the blank surface,
patiently thinning the sheet.

" Why did you make ten buttons, Doctor ? "

" I did not make ten ; I made seven."

" Seven ? "

" Yes ; three of them are ordinary buttons. See if you can
pick them out."

I examined and compared, but saw no difference.

The Doctor took three buttons in his hand. " When I heard
that footstep," he whispered, " I added these three."

"Why did you make just seven?" I asked.

" Only to have one or two in reserve ; some of them might
be lost, or broken," said he, putting the three buttons back
with the others.

" Do you think any one else could be interested in our talk ?"
I asked.

Without giving any reply to my question, he said, " Now, let
us try your order."

He folded the paper, and continued to fold it until it was
very compact and small, and then placed it into the hollow
of the button, and screwed on the lid.

"Now, observe," said Dr. Khayme, "that this button has
your private mark upon it, which is nothing but a cross
scratched on the under side."

"I see," said I; "but the scratch is very slight. It may
wear out."

" Hardly. If you are compelled to break this button, Jones,

HOLLOW BUTTONS 119

you must be careful ; a heavy blow may destroy the paper, or
at least render the writing illegible."

A noise was heard outside. Scranton entered.

" Good evening, Doctor. Your servant, Miss Khayme."

The captain and I saluted with concise nods.

" ' What dost thou with thy best apparel on ? ' "

"A present from General Warren, Captain. I spoiled my
clothes in his service."

" ' Wherefore breaks that sigh,' Miss Khayme ? "

The Doctor seemed about to reply.

" Yes ; you are right, Doctor ; invariably accurate in thought
and word. I called merely to pay my respects. I was passing
and saw your door open. Good night, all ; ' I'll go sleep ; if
not I'll rail against all the first-born of Egypt/ Good night,
Miss Khayme ; I merely stopped to pay my respects."
*******

"'He doth protest too much, methinks,'" quoted Dr.
Khayme.

" Doctor," I asked, " has this button and has that man any
relation to the work I am to do ? "

" Yes," said he ; " but I cannot tell you yet what the relation
is. Be patient, my boy ; things are clearing up a little before
my eyes ; all will come right in good time."

And I had to be content, or at least silent ; and I found com-
fort in knowing that my work in The Wilderness and at Mine
Run had been kept from Scranton's knowledge.

XII

MYSTEBY

" Macbeth. Ride you this afternoon ?
Banquo. Ay, my good lord."

— SHAKESPEABI.

A DAY or two later Captain Scranton rode up to the Doctor's
tent and, without dismounting, called me.

" Come, ride."

" Where, Captain, and why ? "

My horse needed exercise, but somehow I did not wish to
go; I had observed that the man's eyes wandered; he was
looking curiously into the tents. Lydia's antipathy to the
captain suddenly became alarming to me. I remembered that
when he had come into the tent on the night when the buttons
were shown me, Lydia had been present, and had not spoken
to him once.

Yet I knew that the man was a melancholy being, and
I had pity for him. He was attracted by Lydia, but there
certainly was no fear that he could acquire any standing
before her. Although I was never in the least degree
diplomatic, yet I now thought that I should better see
to it that Lydia did not suffer from the man's attentions,
and I decided to go with him. I felt that I was his superior
in everything except rank and age, and had no fear that I
should be unable to cope with him in any way, mentally or
physically.

" I'll go with you, Captain."

120

MYSTERY 121

We cantered down the road toward Madison. How it
happened that this road had been chosen, I did not know,
and just because I did not know I wondered. I had been
down this road, or rather up it, under A. P. Hill, when
the Third corps of the Army of Northern Virginia was
trying to get into Meade's rear, and even before that time;
this road had nothing of special interest, yet it was fair
to presume, I thought, that the captain did as well to select
this road, as he would have done in selecting any other; all
roads are to be ridden upon, and some road must have been
chosen.

Contrary to his habit, Mr. Scrapton said little as we rode
on down toward Madison, passing and meeting soldiers, in-
fantry single and in squads, cavalry more numerous, returning
doubtless from picket duty on the river higher up. It was
evident that something was disturbing him to-day. From time
to time, as the varied speed of our horses gave me opportunity,
I could see his face without my being observed ; he looked
anxious and alert. What could he be expecting ? What could
he intend ?

We reached a high hill and halted. Far southward were
the hills of Orange where we knew Lee was encamped, to the
west the foothills of the mountains, and farther away the Blue
Ridge with its winter coat of snow melting — almost gone.
The mountains near Gordonsville could be seen, and at our
left, Slaughter Mountain, where Banks and Stonewall Jack-
son had fought in August, '62. Here and there was the
Robertson, and beyond it the thinly spread smoke of many
camps.

" Pity to fight those people," said Scranton.

" Why should they fight us ? " I asked.

" Who began it ? "

" Both, I think, Captain."

" D the whole business, I say."

Four mounted men were approaching. I saw that the

122 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

captain was observing them. " Tough-looking set/' he
said.

Indeed they were a tough-looking set, especially tough the
one who was riding in front. They were well mounted, and
well armed — a party, I guessed, returning to camp after some
duty done at the front. The sun had set, but there was light
sufficient for seeing the features of the men, who passed near
us, saluting the captain as they passed. My perception was
keen, and I kept close watch of Scranton. In returning the
salute I thought that his hand went through a motion unneces-
sary— a sort of semicircle before it fell to his side. There
might be nothing in it, yet I determined to be careful Scran-
ton still sat his horse with his face to the south, saying very
little. I looked quickly to the rear, and saw that the leader
of the party had turned in his saddle and was looking back.
Immediately they broke into a gallop and disappeared at a
bend of the road.

I turned to Scranton. He seemed absorbed in revery.

It was high time that we should start back ; we were seven
or eight miles from camp and night was falling ; neither of us
was armed.

" Captain, let's go back," said I.

" All right," said he, and turned his horse ; but he started
at a slow walk.

" ' Fall somewhat into a slower method,' " he quoted.

I was ahead of him, and I feared him, though for what
reason I could not have told ; I brought my horse also to a
walk, and we rode on side by side.

" The guerillas are very enterprising," said he.

" What have they been doing lately ? " I asked.

" Came in an ace of getting Major Cole the other night."

"What Major Cole?"

" Maryland cavalry. Then, they've captured many men from
the Fifth New York cavalry on duty between Germ anna and
the Rappahannock. They come up disguised and catch our

MYSTERY 123

people without a fight sometimes. General Pleasonton gave
orders weeks ago to hang every one caught in blue uniform.
How far off are Lee's men ? " he asked.1

" Only a few miles ; three miles or so," I said.

" All this western flank ought to be picketed," said he.

"Too hard on the men, Captain."

" I'd hate to be caught ! "

I felt that the captain's talk was purposely devised, but
could not understand his motive. What connection could our
mysterious ride have with guerillas ? I continued to keep my
eyes and ears open.

We had come only about two miles of the way returning,
when I became aware of the fact that just in our rear, follow-
ing us at about fifty yards or so, were two mounted men ; they
were keeping their horses at a speed to correspond with ours.
Their horses' hoofs on flinty earth had first attracted my notice,
we being at the time on soft ground. Scranton did not seem
to hear the noise ; he sat in his saddle heedless of the near
presence of the men ; I thought best not to let him know that
I observed his lack of interest.

The road ran through a hollow. Darkness had come. Just
as we reached the foot of the hill, two horsemen came down

* " GENERAL ORDERS, HEADQUARTERS CAVALRY CORPS,

No. 6. ARMY OF THE POTOMAC, January, 15, 1864.

"... Every guerilla or other rebel wearing the uniform of a United States
soldier caught in the act of making war against any of the forces of this com-
mand will be hung on the spot.

" III. Division commanders will cause this order to be carefully read to each
of the regiments of their command, that the men and officers may fully under-
stand it. A report will be made to these headquarters to that effect after
these instructions have been read out in each division.
" By command of

" MAJOR GENERAL PLEASONTON,

"E. B. PARSONS,

"Acting Assistant Adjutant-General."

[ED.]

124 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

the opposite hill to meet us. They presented carbines — one
at Scranton and one at rne, and commanded us to surrender,
using oaths and words that sounded unnatural.

"God! Guerillas, just as I expected," said Scranton; then,
" Don't shoot, men ; we are unarmed. Berwick, I suppose we
can do nothing else."

Now I knew very well that these men were not Southerners.
They were too profane ; at least their profanity was not that
of an agricultural development ; it was like that of the slums.
Their voices were not Southern voices. Even if there was
nothing else to betray them, I knew by their voices that they
were not Southern.

At the call of Scranton the men had lowered their carbines ;
as they did so I struck my spurs into my horse and darted
between the men and on up the hill. Shots were fired, and
then I heard hoofs in pursuit. Soon I knew that but one man
was following ; I looked around and saw Scranton. I pulled up.

" A narrow escape, Berwick, by , it was ! "

I was sure that he had not been fired on. I did not know
how to answer the man. To let him know that I suspected
would be folly. I was glad that night hid my face from him.
I must answer.

"Was your horse hit?"

"No."

" Mine was, I think."

Perhaps the words were indiscreet. A moment afterward
I heard horses — more than one or two — galloping hard.

But now the captain cried, " I'll stand by you, Berwick.
Come," and dashed on toward our camp. How badly my horse
had been shot I could not tell. For a time he kept abreast of
Scranton's; at last he began to fail. Scranton lessened his
speed.

" Mount behind me," he said, " and we may save your horse."

" No, Captain ! " I cried, " we should both be caught ; you
ride on as fast as you can."

MYSTERY 125

But he would not leave me. The hoofs were loud behind
us ; no doubt four pursuers were near. I could not understand
Scranton. I had suspected that he had led me into a trap;
now he was trying to get me out of it ; yet his intention might
be to avert suspicion.

I sprang from my horse, gave Scranton the bridle, and darted
across the road. Scranton seemed to understand, and galloped
on toward the north, leading my horse.

I did not go far from the road. Soon I saw four men riding
fast after Scranton.

It was yet three miles to the Doctor's camp, but I thought
nothing of a walk of three miles. I saw no more of these
riders or of Scranton.

Lydia was in the tent. She showed anxiety, and at once
great relief.

" Where is the Doctor ? " I asked.

" He is attending to your horse. Oh, I was so frightened ;
he returned alone, and bleeding ! "

" Scranton has not been here ? "

"Scranton? No; why?"

I told her of the night's encounter. She was moved, but
showed no great surprise. I went out and found the Doctor
hard at work extracting a ball from the haunch of poor Reb.

" It is not at all dangerous," said he, " but it is difficult to
get at ; however, I've found it, and I'll get it."

He did get it soon, and said that the horse would get
well.

" He has lost much blood," said he ; " but for that he might
carry you at once. How did it happen ? "

As we walked to the tent I told him, and added, " I cannot
understand Scranton at all. For a time I was sure he was
playing me false, and now I don't know about it."

" You know that those men were not guerillas ? "

" They were not Southern men. If they are guerillas, they
are renegades. I wonder why Scranton has not appeared."

126 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

" Is it not possible he is a prisoner ? "

" Yes ; unless lie was fooling me."

" Is it not possible that remorse overtook him while in the
act of betraying you ? "

" I have thought of that, Doctor. It is possible, but Scran-
ton is a hard man, and I don't think it likely that your sug-
gestion is the right one. You know that he is attracted by
Lydia?"

" Many men are," said he.

When we entered the tent we found Lydia getting my supper
ready. The Doctor asked her whether she had seen anything
of Scranton.

" No, Father. I have not seen him. Why should you ask
me?"

" Jones suspects him of treachery," said he.

" I know that I should not trust him," said Lydia.

" But why ? " I asked.

" I don't know, Jones."

While I was eating, the Doctor and Lydia conversed in low
tones. I knew that Captain Scranton was the subject of their
talk.

Steps were heard outside. The Doctor went out and returned,
followed by Scranton. The captain's condition was deplor-
able ; he was too exhausted to talk ; his clothing was torn ; his
face was bleeding. Lydia left the tent. The Doctor, to my
astonishment, made no approach to Scranton in order to relieve
him. For my part I did not know what to do, but I rose and
offered Scranton a chair at the table and asked him to eat.
He shook his head, but afterward sat down and began to eat,
swallowing first a great draught of water.

" They got me," he said ; " they plundered me of my watch
and money, and took my horse, and yours, too, Berwick." This
was said by jerks.

The Doctor's attitude was indifferent. For my part, the
story might be true, I thought. Was it not very absurd to

MYSTERY 127

imagine that Captain Scranton, an aide in some sort to the com-
mander-in-chief of the Army of the Potomac, should be in
league with ruffians to do away with so humble a person as my-
self— not only in league with them, but their suborner even ?
And for what ? For the purpose of freeing Lydia ? For the
purpose of winning a woman who, he might easily see, con-
temned him ? Was it not more simple to believe that he had
fallen a victim, just as I had, to a few bold bushwhackers of
Mosby, who were known to infest the mountains within a day's
ride of us ? Only forty -eight hours ago Lieutenant Ward, of
the Third Pennsylvania cavalry, had been surprised near War-
renton, far in our rear, and had lost many men. Yet I knew
that the men who had stopped us were not Southerners. It
was possible that there were renegades in Mosby's command,
or in some other of the partisan bands which were giving our
outposts and trains so much trouble ; there were many such
bodies, more or less reputable. How easy it would be for ruf-
fians to organize in Maryland and prey upon stragglers and
upon citizens — pretending to be soldiers of one army or the
other, to suit contingencies. I also knew the possibility that
Scranton was at this moment playing for the great stake of his
reputation with General Meade. In order to avert suspicion
he might easily be willing to lose horse, watch, money, and to
tear his clothes, and scratch his face a little. Yet as he sat
there, woebegone and silent, it required imagination to suspect
that he was only acting a part. But, was he not an actor ?
Had not his training been such that he could have no difficulty
in deceit ?

The Doctor rose, and said in his usual tones : —

" Captain Scranton, I propose a parley."

The man started, but recovered instantly, saying, " Speak
on, Doctor."

" I propose that you request General Meade to obtain for you
a position west of the Mississippi."

" And suppose that I do not consent ? "

128 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

" Then I shall propose to General Meade that he obtain for
you a position west of the Mississippi."

The captain hesitated an instant before he spoke again.

" And suppose General Meade does not consent ? "

" General Meade will consent."

" Why am I to be banished, Doctor ? "

" I do not discuss with you ; I parley."

" When must I answer ? "

" Before you leave this tent, sir."

" Do you insist on the transfer being made at once ? n

" Yes, sir."

" Then I refuse."

Dr. Khayme approached Captain Scranton and brought
the candle nearer to the edge of the table where the man was
sitting ; then he drew a folded paper from his breast-pocket,
and spread it on the table before Scran ton's eyes.

" What is this ? " asked the captain.

" Read it," said the Doctor.

The captain looked down, and in an instant tried to seize the
paper, but Dr. Khayme was too quick for him.

" I yield to your demand, sir," said the captain.

"Then oblige me by waiting one moment."

The Doctor went to his desk and wrote ; then he brought
what he had written, and put it before Scranton.

" Sign," said the Doctor.

Evidently Scranton did not like it, but he signed.

XIII

WITH MEADE IN THE WILDERNESS

" We go to ope again
The purple testament of bleeding war." — SHAKESPEARE.

THE movement of the Army of the Potomac to the south of
the Rapidan in the preceding winter had shown the Union
generals the perils of The Wilderness, and had convinced them
that battle in its depths might easily prove disastrous. It has
been noted that in that movement, Meade's army had advanced
by parallel roads against Lee's right flank, and had met no
serious opposition until the fortified position of Mine Run was
reached. If Meade, instead of turning to his right after cross-
ing the river, had marched rapidly past Chancellorsville, and
on toward the south, in all probability he would have passed
through the dangerous thickets before Lee's army, then
stretched in winter quarters along the river for many miles,
could have concentrated. With the purpose of profiting by his
experience General Meade now, in the beginning of May, re-
solved to march through the forest southward and get beyond
The Wilderness before bringing on a battle. His hopes, how-
ever, took little account of the fact that Lee, to whom also the
Mine Run campaign had given added experience, was now in
constant expectation of such a movement on the part of his
enemy. The Army of Northern Virginia, it is true, was yet
in winter quarters from Orange Court-House down to Morton's
Ford, but the full opening of spring was a menace which its
general could not disregard ; he watched more closely the
lower fords, and held his forces ready to march upon the point
K 129

130 A. FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

that should be threatened. In the latter part of April Gen-
eral Longstreet with two divisions of infantry had reached
Gordonsville, and Lee now had an army which for relative
numbers was as able to meet Grant as had been his two corps
to cope with Meade in November.

*******

Dr. Khayme, in preparation for his own unhindered atten-
dance upon the army in its advance, was sending Lydia to
Washington for a short while, whence she would come at need
to serve in the general hospitals wherever the contingencies of
the campaign might determine their locations.

Colonel Paull, though speech was difficult, had sufficiently
recovered from his wound to justify his removal, and had been
so fortunate as to be exchanged, by special arrangement which
he attributed to Dr. Khayme's influence, for a distinguished
Federal officer confined in Libby prison. When the colonel
left us he had shed tears in trying to express his gratitude to
both the Doctor and Lydia.

For this campaign, which, from the reputation of the com-
mander-in-chief, and the immense preparation made, was
expected by all to be conclusive of the war, and therefore of
unexampled severity, my own preparation had been small. My
duplicate uniform was yet worn, although I knew that warm
weather would soon force me to abandon it. I rode practically
unarmed, carrying the Enfield and accoutrements; I served
with the Second corps.

On the morning of May 4, Hancock's corps crossed the Rap-
idan without opposition and took the road from Ely's Ford to
Chancellorsville. The three other infantry corps crossed at
the fords above Ely's; our right flank, therefore, was well
guarded. The position of Chancellorsville is important from
its proximity to the point where the two great roads from
Orange to Fredericksburg meet. At Chancellorsville, Han-
cock was between Lee and Fredericksburg, and the open coun-
try to the south was within a day's march by good roads to

WITH MEADE IN THE WILDERNESS 131

Todd's Tavern, and to Spottsylvania, on the southern border of
The Wilderness. To have marched on at once would seem to
have been the correct movement, but General Meade, fearing
for his immense wagon-trains now crossing at Ely's behind the
Second corps, had ordered Hancock to bivouac at Chancellors-
ville. The divisions reached their positions promptly, skir-
mishers were deployed in front and flank, and the corps rested
for the remainder of the fourth.

At daybreak of the 5th we moved out on the road to Todd's
Tavern, passing by the Welford furnaces. Todd's was reached
at eight o'clock. At nine, the head of column having halted
some two miles west of Todd's, General Hancock received
orders from General Meade to march at once by the Brock
road and connect with Warren's left.

Meantime, General Lee had been informed by his signal
corps that the Federal army was in motion, and he began to
put into execution a project formed long previously — he would
shut Meade up in The Wilderness. Writers upon the military
art have almost universally commended this decision of the
great Confederate ; he could hope to equal Meade in the thick-
ets, where the powerful artillery of the Federals could be used
to little advantage, and where his own men could avail them-
selves of bush and tree, and by greater celerity baffle masses
which could not move in orderly deployment through the jun-
gles. Evidence that he was correct in this decision is furnished
in the fact that in the battles of the 5th and 6th of May the
Confederate troops expended their cartridges and had their
boxes replenished, while the Federals fired but eleven rounds
to the man. l

At the moment when General Meade ordered the Second
corps to countermarch by the Brock road, that corps, but for
the character of the terrain on which Lee so wisely relied, had

1 " As a somewhat interesting fact, bearing upon the character of the con-
flict, it may be mentioned that eleven rounds of ammunition per man were used
by the army during the three days' fight, as stated by the chief ordinance
officer." — Report of Surgeon McParlin, Medical Director U. S. Army. [Ed.]

132 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

the power to crush the right flank of the Confederate army.
Lee had advanced two columns into The Wilderness — Ewell's
corps by the turnpike, and two divisions of Hill's by the
Plank road — and both of them were now in the immediate
front of Sedgwick and Warren respectively, who were com-
pelled to halt their southward march and accept at once the
challenge to battle on the ground chosen by their enemy.
Hancock was south of A. P. Hill's right flank. Had he
marched against that flank, and reached it while it was attack-
ing Warren, the history of the war might have been shortened
by a year; but neither Meade nor Hancock, nor even Lee,
knew the situation. Battles and campaigns are lost from lack
of knowledge when and where to strike. The countermarch
was made and a great opportunity lost, the road to Parker's
Store, and to A. P. Hill's flank, being unobstructed at the
time.

General Hancock ordered me to ride up the Brock road until
I should find Warren's corps ; then I was to return at once and
guide the Second corps to the position. The general himself,
leaving the head of his column, rode not far behind me, with
some of his staff. It is six miles from Todd's Tavern to the
intersection of the Brock road with the Plank road to Orange.
After riding hard for fifteen minutes I came to the unfinished
railroad ; now I could hear musketry in front, and a little to
my left. A little further on and I could see smoke rising, not
slowly as from a battlefield, but as from a burning forest. I
reached the Plank road ; the sound of heavy fighting had died
away, but skirmishers were yet at work. Our men held the
intersection. I asked the first man I saw, what troops were
here; they were of Sedgwick's corps, — of Getty's division, —
which had been sent from the far right to extend Warren's
line, and to get possession of the crossing of the two roads ;
they were intrenching.

I galloped back, and met General Hancock in less than a
mile. He ordered an aide to ride to the corps coming behind

WITH MEADE IN THE WILDERNESS 133

and urge it on, while ihe continued up the Brock road. I fell
in with his escort. The head of our column reached the inter-
section at two o'clock and formed at once on Getty's left in the
road ; the troops, as they came up, were deployed in two lines
of double ranks, — from right to left : Birney, Mott, Gibbon,
Barlow. Both lines at once began to make breastworks of
logs and earth.

Here I was ordered by General Hancock to go north through
the woods until I should find the left of Warren's line.

" General, shall I return to you ? " I asked.

"You must act according to circumstances. If you find
Warren, tell him that I am advancing and that he ought to
advance ; then, if you can do so, find General Meade and
report to him our position," he replied.

As I started, Hancock's troops began to move toward the
enemy, and as I rode I could hear loud musketry behind me.
The Brock road, which I followed for some distance, was
familiar ; I had marched here under Stonewall Jackson' on
May 2, '62, in his great turning movement against Hooker. But
soon I left the Brock road, and made to the right through the
woods. It was now about three o'clock. Everywhere was
the roar of musketry deadened by the thick forest. A little to
the left of my front I could hear skirmish firing, and I knew
that the Confederates were here on the east side of the Brock
road, and were practically between Hancock and Warren. Yet
they seemed to be skirmishers only. I deflected further to my
right, in order, if possible, to pass them mounted, for my orders
required haste, and I succeeded in doing so, and at last in
reaching General Wadsworth's division of Warren's corps,
which here faced almost south. I delivered my message, and
saw Wadsworth's division begin its advance, the Confederate
skirmishers promptly falling back before it.

General Wadsworth had informed me that General Meade's
headquarters were at the Lacy house, about a mile in the rear,
and I rode toward the place. Before I had crossed Wilderness

134 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

Run I met General Meade, attended by a few of his staff. I
reported that Hancock had effected a junction with Getty at
the Brock and Plank roads, and that I had communicated
General Hancock's orders to General Wadsworth.

"And General Wadsworth has advanced?" asked the
commander.

" Yes, sir ; I saw his men going forward before I left."

" What troops had Hancock found in his front ? "

"Hill's corps, sir."

" Did General Hancock order you to return to him ? "

" Not definitely, sir."

"Then, Berwick, I can give you something to do. Go for-
ward on the left of Wadsworth. It is certain to my mind that
Hill and Ewell do not connect. Get into the gap if you can,
and bring me word what sort of gap it is. We must march
through there in the morning."

" General, lend me one of your orderlies, please."

" What for ? "

"To bring back my horse."

"Oh, let the horse go; he'll come up all right — if not, it
won't matter. Watson, go with Berwick, and save his horse ;
be back in fifteen minutes."

Watson and I dashed forward on the road ; the sounds of
heavy skirmishing were at our front and left as we reached
the woods. We went on, but soon our progress became so
difficult that I decided to take it afoot. I dismounted and
turned my horse over to Watson, who at once started back.

My course was southwest until I reached the rear of our
troops, who were standing still ; their skirmishers were at
work in their front. Just at my left was a small field, toward
which I moved, keeping behind the lines. As I reached the
middle of the field, the troops began again to advance. An
officer was riding about, waving his sword, and giving orders.
A few bullets were whistling over our heads. I asked a man
who the officer was.

WITH MEADE IN THE WILDERNESS 135

" Colonel Stone," he replied.

I went to the left ; the men continued to advance across the
field. Now I saw the officer's horse rear and plunge, and then
fall, and then I saw the whole line break and run scattering
back toward the woods.1 I supposed that this stampede was
caused by the accident to the commander, and that the brigade,
or regiment, would re-form. But I was now left alone on the
flank of Warren's corps, and I knew not how soon the Confed-
erates would advance at this point, so I went hastily on in
the thickets, diverging at first southward, until I could tell
by the sound of firing that I had left the dangerous point far
enough behind.

Now I reversed my uniform, and went forward southwest
with great caution, frequently stopping to look and to listen,
and whenever I came to an opening in the woods which I could
not easily turn, I would begin my progress across it backward,
hoping that if an enemy was on the other side, he would think
me a Confederate vedette retiring.

After going three hundred yards, the sound of heavy fight-
ing began toward the south, and I feared that Ewell would
send troops to Hill's support, and fill the gap before I could
get through, and, as it was pretty clear that at this moment
I had in my front no extension of Ewell's line or of Hill's,
I made my way as rapidly as I could, but not less carefully,
until I reached a slight elevation from which I could see
toward the north for a furlong or more. I climbed a tree for
a better view. Nowhere could I see troops, but smoke was
rising from the battle, and from burning woods in almost
every direction. It was almost sunset.

When I came down from the tree I started to go to my
left, but hearing a noise behind me, that is to say in the

1 Report of Captain F. B. Cowdrey, Assistant Adjutant-General, U. S. Army,
of operations of the Fourth Division, Fifth Corps, May 5, 6. " In the affair
Colonel Stone was disabled by his horse falling on him, as I am told, and did
not again appear on the field ; his brigade broke. . . ." [Eo.]

136 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

direction of the ground over which I had just passed, I
crouched low in the bushes. Soon the noise increased greatly ;
I heard the rustling of leaves and the snapping of sticks, and
knew that men were marching near my hiding-place. The
sounds continued long. I knew by the distance I had come
that they were Confederates. I knew that a line was march-
ing by flank in the woods, for men marching in line of battle,
or as a skirmish-line, would pass over me or recede from me,
but these men continued to march and the sounds continued to
come. Had the gap been closed ?

The sounds at last ceased. They had been made by men
moving northward, by men of Hill's corps — not Ewell's —
and from their nature I conjectured that skirmishers were
between our troops and my position ; if that were the case
I was now, in all likelihood, between Hill's skirmishers and
his line of battle. Yet I was not sure. The noises might
have come a greater distance than I had supposed; they
might have been made by a line of battle. I rose and walked
toward the line, endeavouring to suppress all appearance of
nervousness, for evident secrecy of intention might cause
suspicion. I was approaching the line in its rear ; if it was
but thirty or forty yards from me I should see a skirmish-line,
with the men kneeling behind trees five paces apart, and their
backs toward me ; if it was farther away I should see a thick
line of battle standing upright, and should see it very soon.
Yet, although I must not show secrecy, I must, if possible,
see the line without being seen, lest some officer order me into
the ranks conformably with the usage in regard to straggling
soldiers in battle.

The thicket was quite dense and gloomy, the sun having
just set. The men toward whom I was walking were making
no sound that reached my ears, and I inferred from the silence
that before me was a line of skirmishers on extreme duty. To
the south and southeast the rattle of firearms continued.
At the north, toward Ewell's corps, all sounds had ceased.

WITH MEADE IN THE WILDERNESS 137

Behind me was nothing — Lee's army, or a gap, or I knew
not what — except woods. It would be very difficult, I knew,
to get back into our lines; everything would be alert; to go
round the flank, either right or left, would be a hard and
perilous undertaking. Yet I must try to make a report to
General Meade. There was a little clump of pine bushes just
six paces in front.

" Here ! Come here, sir ! " said a voice from the bushes.

I walked on, trying my best to seem unconcerned, in which
effort I was greatly helped by the knowledge that many sol-
diers get separated from their commands and fight with what-
ever regiment comes handiest.

Now I could see a man's head above the bushes; on the
man's head was a black felt hat ; around the hat was the gilt
cord of an officer. I walked to him.

" Where is McGowan's brigade, Captain ? " I asked, seeing
the three bars on his collar.

" Here's part of it. Fall in here. Lieutenant Brunson,
take this man into your ranks, and see that he doesn't give
you the slip."

Lieutenant Brunson was a small, dark, sprightly man, of
about twenty-four or twenty-five. He simply pointed to a
space forward and said, " There, sir ! " This space which I
was thus directed to take proved to be between two skirmish-
ers, who were squatted behind trees some ten or twelve paces
apart. I took position, kneeling like the others. The men were
silent and ready. I saw a sprig of pine in the hats of the men
on my right and left, and wondered what was intended, but I
feared to ask, and no man spoke to me. Was this a detail
of skirmishers from the old brigade ? I did not think so, for
the organization seemed too good for a detail. These men
were here for business. The officers whom I had seen were
unknown to me; I was sure that neither was from the First
regiment. The green branches in the men's hats meant an
organization — not a detail. Which of the regiments was

138 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

this ? I was confident it was not the First, and I was equally
confident that the officer in command was not a field-officer
of any regiment in the brigade, though of coUrse he might be
serving as a field-officer. Suddenly the truth came to me —
came with such overwhelming force that for a moment I was
unnerved, and yet was conscious of feeling a small sense of
relief from the thought that I was not erect, for my head swam,
and I should have reeled and perhaps should have fallen had I
been standing. These men were McGowan's sharp-shooters.1

I felt pretty sure that I was not in Company A, for I saw
no man whom I knew ; yet I could see only four men in all
here in the thicket. I wanted to ask the man on my right
some questions, but the silence of the line seemed to forbid ;
no doubt the men were under orders to make no noise.

All at once the man on my right rose and faced to the left.
I looked toward the north ; the man on my left had risen to
his feet, and had faced; I rose and faced to the left. I had
heard no order.

The man ahead of me began to march ; I followed him
silently ; I could hear the next man marching behind me.
After moving forty yards I saw just in the rear of the line
the commander of the battalion moving also to the left, and
saw a sergeant. We halted and faced the front. Vedettes
were thrown forward, but only a short distance ; the one just
in front was indistinctly visible in the bushes. Now the men
placed their guns against trees and began to construct rifle-
pits, and there was low talking along the line. The man at
my left said that I was to be his partner, and I made no ob-
jection, but at once began to assist him. We searched the
ground, rear and front, for fallen timber of any size or condi-
tion. Neither of us had a bayonet. At the biggest tree

1 " The battalion of sharp-shooters was directed to form on the left of
McGowan's brigade — which was the left of Wilcoi's division — and . . .
cover as far as possible the gap between Hill's left and E well's right."
— Dunlop's Lee's Sharp-shooters, page 29. [ED.]

WITH MEADE IN THE WILDERNESS 139

between us we laid broken sticks, pieces of logs, stones,
brush, everything we could get, flanking the tree on either
side with a low angle ; we raked up leaves and earth with our
hands ; from the inside of the pit we scraped the soft earth
and threw it on the heaps. Meanwhile my comrade proved
communicative and inquisitive.

" How'd you git here ? " he asked.

" Come through the woods," said I.

" Tell me sump'm. Reckon you did."

" Where is the First ? "

" Way over yonder with the brigade."

" How far ? "

" Dunno. We was ordered here, and left the brigade to
take keer of itself."

" What company is this ? "

"B."

" Lieutenant Brunson's ? "

« Yes."

I would not risk asking who commanded the battalion. I
must get the information without showing such ignorance.
I remembered well enough that at Mine Run Cyrus Ruff had
told me that Captain Dunlop of the Twelfth regiment was to
be the commander of the new battalion, but I would not risk
delivering such knowledge — Ruff's prophecy might have been
wrong.

" I was in the battalion last year," said I.

« That was Haskell's," said he.

" Yes. I was in Company A."

"Reckin so; all the men from the First was in Company A
then, and so they is now."

"Word down the line for Lieutenant Hasell that Captain
Dunlop wants to see him on the left ! "

These words were repeated by one to another of the men.
They gave me the name of the commander of the reorganized
battalion, and the name of the officer in command of Company

140 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

A, for I knew that Lieutenant Hasell was of Company L, of
the First.

" Ingraham Hasell commands Company A ? " I asked.

" Yes."

" Who commands Company C ? "

" Watson."

"Who is your orderly-sergeant ?"

" Dougherty." The man pronounced it Dorrity.

" You know any men from the First, in the battalion ? "

" No ; I'm from the Fourteenth."

" I don't believe there is a line of battle behind us," said I.

" Not unless it's jest come," said he.

It was dark. I wanted to get away from these men before
I should run upon some man who might recognize me.

" How'd you git here ? " asked my partner.

" Hunting my place," said I.

" Know how the thing went on the right ? "

" No ; I could hear our men cheering."

a We're gwine to be relieved by Longstreet."

"When?"

" When they git here, I reckon ; say they're way back on
the road yit."

My companion began to eat. He had wheat cake and boiled
beef. In my haversack was nothing but hardtack and pork ;
it would not do for me to eat, and the thought showed me the
imprudence of having such food — yet reflection told me that
no great suspicion could attach to me on that account, for no
doubt many Union soldiers' haversacks had this day fallen
into the hands of hungry Confederates.

" Who's in the battalion from your company ? " he asked.

The question was hard.

"I don't know," said I. "The battalion's been made up
•while I was at home. I've just now got back."

" I had a furlough, too, but I got back a month ago."

" Reckon we'll stay here all night ? "

WITH MEADE IN THE WILDERNESS 141

" Bound to, unless Longstreet comes up."

" Who is on our left ? "

" Dunno. Nobody, I reckon."

I wanted to leave. It would have been easy enough to walk
back to the rear through the woods, but such a course might
cause an outcry at least.

" My name's Powell," said my partner.

" Mine's Jones."

" Like to swap guns ? " asked my partner.

"What's yours?"

"Short Enfield. Good gun."

" Handier, but I believe the long one shoots truer."

"Duuno. Wonder why they mark a short Enfield eleven
hundred, and a long un only nine ? "

" I've often wondered at that myself," said I.

" It's funny," said he.

" I'd like to find the brigade," said I.

" Ask Cap'n Dunlop to let you go."

" Where can I find him ? "

" Reckon he's back in rear of the centre."

" Believe I'll try him," said I.

" Better ask Sergeant Dorrity first," he said.

"All right," said I, picking up my gun. I walked toward
the right of the company — the position of the orderly-ser-
geant. Before I had gone twenty steps along the rear of the
line, I bent off to the west. My partner would think that the
sergeant had sent me to the captain and that the captain had
let me go, for there was little probability of an attack by either
side in the night, and I might well be dismissed to seek my
command.

After going several hundred yards, I came to an opening on
rising ground where I could see artillery. I went on and soon
saw an officer ; he spoke to me.

" You come from the skirmish-line ? "

" Yes, sir ; I want to find McGowan's brigade."

142 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

"It is far to the right, beyond the Plank road," said he.
" What troops are on the skirmish-line out here ? "

" McGowan's sharp-shooters," I replied.

" Long way from their brigade," he said.

"Yes, sir; we were sent off here this afternoon. What
battery is this?"

" Poague's battalion."

I could easily see that many guns were here. I went on for
a short distance until I was out of sight. I was almost ex-
hausted with fatigue and nervousness, and had given up all
hope of being able to return to General Meade before the mor-
row. To get through the Confederate lines seemed impossible,
and to go around either flank of Lee's army was beyond my
strength; I must have rest. So, when I had reached the
woods a quarter of a mile or less in rear of the artillery, I
hunted for a good place, and after eating, quickly fell asleep.

XIV

WITH LEE IN THE WILDERNESS

"There's courage, wisdom,
And skill enough, live in one leader here,
As, flung into the balance, might avail
To counterpoise the odds. . . . " — SCOTT.

AT daybreak I awoke refreshed. The morning promised to
be fair. My purpose now was to strike southward across the
Plank road, and work my way around Hill's corps, and into
Hancock's. I must keep far from the front lest I be ordered
into ranks again, and I must avoid the cavalry which I knew
swarmed on the flank of Lee's army. I ate my last food and
started. The sun would soon be up.

At first I went directly south in order to get at once across
the Plank road, lest columns of moving troops should block it.
I wondered whether Longstreet had come up in the night. If
Meade could attack Hill in the absence of Longstreet, the Con-
federates could make but feeble resistance.

A mounted officer told me that I was only half a mile from
the Plank road, and I hurried on, passing again around Poague's
artillery. Just as the sun was rising I heard at my right great
volumes of musketry extending far to the north and to the
south ; Meade was attacking, and from the loudening sounds I
knew that the Union troops were constantly advancing. I
got near the Plank road ; it was full of straggling men ; far-
ther down the road to the east I could see a dense mass of
heads moving toward me. Hancock's charge had broken Hill's
lines. Men were running up the road, and into the road from
the woods on either side, swelling the surging crowd. Should

143

144 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

I cross the road ? Could I cross that road ? No ; I should be
borne far to the rear.

Now the artillery in the field opened, firing rapidly all
twelve guns over the heads of the retreating men, who began
at once to show signs of a disposition to halt and re-form.

"Where's McGowan's?" "Where's Lane's?" "Where's
Cooke's?"

Everybody was shouting, but everybody was running. I
was running along with a party of four men who held to-
gether. An officer rode by, shouting at the top of a very
small voice — " You cowards, rally ! "

" Cowards, HELL ! " said the tallest, and yet the youngest of
the four ; " if we hadn't run when we did, every man would be
a prisoner at this minute ! Rally behind the hill yonder !
Dam that jackanapes who wants us to rally here right in the
way of our own artillery fire ! "

The man who spoke attracted me. I thought I had seen
him before. The group had run across the road from the
woods at the south, and were now slowly ascending the rise.
In almost every direction, men were streaming toward the
flanks of Poague's artillery battalion. In the west, there was
a dense column of dust above the trees. The Union troops
were not yet visible, but shots were coming, and shots were
being fired by retreating men in our rear. Officers were rid-
ing over the field amidst the smoke of cannon. " Hurrah ! "
shouted the man who seemed the prominent figure of the
group, " Hurrah, boys ! Yonder's Traveller ! "

In the very thick of the hurly-burly, on his iron-gray horse,
sat the commander of the Army of Northern Virginia. Our
way led us very near him.

"What troops are these ? " I heard him ask.

" Part of McGowan's ! " answered the tall man.

" I am sorry to see this gallant brigade run like a parcel
of geese ! " cried the general, turning his bridle and heading
toward the road.

WITH LEE IN THE WILDERNESS 145

" He'll take it all back," said the tall man.

Then I heard the general speak again.

"But it is not the fault of the men; they will fight as
bravely as ever ; it is the fault of the officers, and especially
the fault of the file-closers."

The general was not yet out of our sight, when down the
road came two columns — one on either side — at the double
quick, pushing aside the straggling men, and urging forward
with all the resolution of needed men belated; and the cry
rose on all parts of the little field, " Longstreet ! Longstreet ! "

And now from the woods advanced a gray line of battle ;
slowly at first, opening their ranks for the fugitives to press
through, and closing again as the march continued. I had
paused, wondering what next I should do. The line came on,
and I slipped through it. At that moment I saw General Lee
again. He had ridden to the front of the line, and had drawn
his sword, and was waving it toward the east. At once there
rose a great cry along the line of advancing men.

" General Lee to the rear ! General Lee to the rear ! "

But he yet held firm. I could not hear what he said;
officers were around him, apparently endeavouring to turn him
back. Then I saw a man from the ranks rush up to Traveller
and seize the bridle, and begin to lead him away ; . . . and
the rebel cheer rose loud and strong as the line went forward
at the charge.

Longstreet's corps had spent part of the night in bivouac
near Richards's Shop, eight miles to the rear of A. P. Hill, on
the road from Gordonsville ; half an hpur after midnight the
corps resumed its march ; the head of its column had reached
Parker's Store on the Plank road at daybreak. At 5 A.M.
Hancock had attacked directly in his front, and with his
powerful corps of four divisions, strengthened by Getty's
division of Sedgwick's corps, had obtained a very brilliant
success over Hill's two divisions, unprepared for the attack,
and momentarily expecting to be relieved. Heth and Wilcox

146 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

had been swept back in disorder toward Parker's Store where
Longstreet was forming. Now the First corps of the Confed-
erate army advanced against Hancock's troops victorious but
disorganized by victory, and snatched from them the complete
triumph to which they were pressing on.

Our group had been reduced to three; possibly the other
men had found their commands. I wanted to get away, and
go round the right into the Union left, but the turmoil had
been so great that my proper course was not clear to me. I
did not know what was best to do, and I waited.

" Say," said the tall man, " aren't you from the First ? "

" Yes, he is ; I know him," said the other man.

" What ! Who are you ? " I asked ; " oh, yes, I know you
now."

It was Powell.

" You must have a mighty poor memory. Don't you re-
member helping me make that pit last night? " he asked.

" Don't know where the First is ? " asked the tall man.

« No."

" I was sure I'd seen you before. What company ? "

" H."

" I'm in the Twelfth. Chappell's my name."

" Mine's Jones — Berwick Jones."

" Jones is not much of a name. I'm goin' to call you Ber-
wick."

« I'm willin'."

" Let's go to the front. Will you go, Powell ? "

Powell said he'd go. I argued that we ought to go to the
right.

" Anywhere," said Chappell, " so we do something. I can't
stand doing nothing while Longstreet's men are hard at it.
Come on ! "

The roar of the battle was loud all along the line in front.
The artillery had hushed. I was very willing to have com-
pany for the time; I would leave these men at the right

WITH LEE IN THE WILDERNESS 147

moment. Until the right moment should come it would be
best to keep with them, for if I should fail in my purposes,
and be compelled to remain a time with the Confederates,
these companions of mine would bear witness to my service
on this day. Then, too, I knew that it was impossible to tell
the place of greatest danger now. Longstreet was clearly
driving Hancock. The fighting might soon be over.

So we went to the right and front, crossing the Plank road
and keeping in the edge of the woods. Soon we saw at our
left a brigade in the road ; the men were moving, filing to the
right of the road.

" Let's join that brigade," said Chappell.

" That you will," said an officer near us ; " get into ranks
quick ! "

" What brigade is this ? "

" Wofford's," was the reply.

The men were weary, evidently. They said they had
marched nearly all night, guarding wagon-trains until half an
hour ago ; they were Longstreet's men, of Kershaw's division.

The roar in the woods at the front continued. Straggling
men were being forced into ranks. Wounded went by limp-
ing, or holding an arm up with the other hand. We were yet
marching by the flank. I hoped this brigade would get on the
extreme right. Bullets were tapping the trees overhead —
bullets fired too high by Hancock's men. We halted and faced
the front. I stuck by Osborn Chappell. I knew not the
company or the regiment — only Wofford's brigade. A little
time for alignment ; then we were ordered forward.

" Yonder's another man of our regiment," said Chappell.

I supposed that many straggling men from Wilcox's broken
ranks had joined this advance.

We went forward some three hundred yards through the
forest, then halted. I saw that we had extended the line to
the right, and I now determined to get away as soon as pos-
sible. Just how I was to do so I did not see, but I thought

148 A FKIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

that in the excitement of a charge or of a retreat, it would be
easy to drop out and make my way alone toward the south.
But we did not charge, nor did we retreat. We were faced to
the right, and again we marched through the woods until we
reached the railroad grade, and then turned down it to the
east. Stretching behind us, after we had advanced some hun-
dreds of yards, I could see a long column of infantry ; there
was a greater force here than one brigade. We marched on
east.

" Chappell," said I, " what are we driving at ? "

" Flankin' the dam Yankees," he said.

I had thought so, myself, before I spoke. We were getting
around Hancock's left. I must make an effort to get away in
time to warn our men before the blow should be struck. But
a halt was ordered, and the line faced north ; the file-closers
were persistent and energetic in keeping the ranks in order ;
1 was compelled to advance with the line.

Our brigade was from Georgia. The march was a steady
advance, but it was impossible to prevent scattering. Men
were here and there — they were trying to preserve distance
from front to rear rather than from right to left. A file-leader
would see a good course by which thickets could be avoided,
and twenty men would follow at his heels. I wanted to fall to
the rear, but feared to show such inclination. Chappell was
urging forward in the front and speaking words of encourage-
ment to me and Powell. In mortal suspense the men held
their guns at the ready. A wild turkey sprang up before
Chappell. Some excited man fired at it, and it rose and flew
directly from us. In twenty seconds we heard two shots in
front. No doubt the bird had run another gantlet ; at any
rate, Chappell said, " There they are ! Come now, men ; be
steady, and rush all together ! " He had taken command of
our part of the line.

Another awful moment of suspense and then just at our left,
the Confederate yell rose high, and the forest sounded like a

WITH LEE IN THE WILDEKNESS 149

cane-brake on fire. And now we too were running forward,
and yelling like beasts. I yelled with the rest. I saw Chap-
pel pause and fire ; as he paused I passed him, and as he
passed ine, reloading as he ran, I aimed long, and pulled the
trigger. The woods roared as though a storm was tearing
through. Thus far I had seen nothing in front except trees,
but now I saw, running through a small open glade, a confused
mass of blue soldiers ; some of them were turning and firing.

We reached the spot where their line had stood. We had
struck its flank, and it had crumbled.

" Where's Powell ? " cried Chappell.

" I thought he was here," said I, stopping where he stood.
Some of the line had gone on ; other men were standing about
in the front, reloading ; still others were running up from
the rear, having stopped to load.

" I must find Powell," said Chappell ; " I'm afraid he's
hurt."

There were many dead and wounded of the Union troops,
but I could here see no injured Confederate; neither had I
seen a man drop, nor heard a bullet in the charge.

" Here, Berwick ! Come here ! " shouted Chappell.

I went to where he was — some twenty-five yards in front.
Powell was stretched on the ground, with a ball through his
body. He was yet alive.

" Water, Chappell ; for God's sake give me water," he
groaned.

" Have you any, Berwick ? "

I had a very little ; I put my canteen to Powell's mouth ; he
swallowed the contents at a gulp, and was not satisfied. He
still called for water.

" Stay here, Berwick. I'll run and find some."

Now Chappell was gone.

I fanned Powell's face. I thought my time to run for it
had come, but I could not make up my mind to leave Powell
here to die alone. Clearly he was dying. I called him by

150 A FKIEND WITH THE COUNTEKSIGN

name, and he made no sound. Should I go ? Chappell would
be back in a moment, perhaps, and my opportunity would be
lost; yet another would come, no doubt. But the man was
dying, if not already dead. Why yield to sentiment at such a
time when duty called me elsewhere ? I put my ear to his
face ; not the slightest noise. I rose. I would go. At that
moment Chappell returned.

" He's gone," I said.

Chappell looked on his dead friend. Then he stooped and
thrust his hand into Powell's pocket with a look of compas-
sion which instantly recalled to mind the lieutenant who had
held me captive in The Wilderness ; the look was the same
look that the lieutenant had had when he was thinking pity-
ingly of my condition and wondering what to do with me.

" I must send his things to his mother," said Chappell.

But he found nothing except a cheap knife, and a Confeder-
ate fifty-cent shinplaster.

Then Chappell put the dead man's hat over his face, took
his cartridges, and broke halfway a small sapling near by.

" I must mark the place, so I'll know it when I come back,"
said he. " Come on, Berwick ! "

And Chappell advanced at the run.

" Further to the right, Chappell ! " I shouted ; and waved my
hand. He looked back and understood ; he deflected a little,
I following. We crossed the Plank road to the north.

Now in our front the world was full of horrible sights and
sounds. The cracking of thousands of rifles; the smoke of
burning woods ; the yell of the Confederates ; the wounded
and the dead — some of them burning. We ran on, but failed
to find Wofford's men. A line of Confederates were advanc-
ing at our right. We joined it and went on with the men, who
got more and more mixed at every step. Chappell was ahead.
I saw my chance and allowed many men to rush between us.
I leaned to the right, and went on, following the line, but
keeping more and more to the right until I saw its flank. I

WITH LEE IN THE WILDERNESS 151

\et it go on, and then I ran with all my might for a hundred
yards toward the east.

I sat down exhausted. At the northwest, still the battle
raged furiously. I judged that a fresh body of Union troops
were standing up against Longstreet's men. The noise did not
go from me or get nearer. The place where I was hidden was
very peaceful. I wanted to stay. But I must not stay ; I
must rise and go. With pain I got to my feet and went on
east, looking for Union men. I came near the Brock road
almost at the point where I had ridden out of it on the pre-
ceding day when I was hunting for Warren's left. The breast-
works were burning; up the road the smoke was thick — I
knew not whether from battle or from burning woods. I
rested again, and now thought it was time to change my
clothing, but was too weary to do more than reverse the coat.
I kept on, northeast; and at length I saw men through the
woods — a skirmish-line.

I shouted to them, and they ordered me to come in. They
belonged to the brigade of Colonel Miles of the Second corps.1
I was taken to the colonel, and with but little trouble con-
vinced him that I was a Union man.

1 Now Major-General Miles — Commander-in-chief of the armies of the
United States. [ED.]

XV

THE HORSESHOE SALIENT

" Serv. — Where dwellest thou ?
Cor. — Under the canopy." — SHAKESPEARE.

GENERAL MEADE gave me a good rest. There was little
fighting for two or three days. I saw Dr. Khayine again.
He told me that the hospital was being established at Fred-
ericksburg, and that Lydia would soon be there.

On the 8th, I saw Sheridan at Meade's headquarters. Gen-
eral Grant was present also. The three kept apart from others.
We were now near Spottsylvania.

On that night I learned that the cavalry corps would cut
loose from the army and march toward Richmond.

At eleven o'clock on the morning of the 9th, General Meade
sent for me.

" I have some hard work for you, Berwick," he said, when I
stood before him.

" Sorry to hear it, General."

" Kather go back into the ranks ? "

"No, sir; but I take my life in my hands every time I go
out."

" So do all of us. But I don't think they can prove any-
thing against you even if they catch you, after you have served
them so well in The Wilderness. Don't do that again, Ber-
wick. If you hadn't helped Longstreet the other day, we
should have driven Hill to Mine Run."

" It's no laughing matter with me, General. I hate even to
pop a cap at a Yankee."

162

THE HORSESHOE SALIENT 153

" Well ; I advise you to drop that double-barrelled uniform,
and wear plain rebel clothing. Then you will be as safe as
General Grant is."

" Not from our men," I said.

" Strange that Longstreet was shot," said he.

It was strange. I think the circumstance had much influ-
ence in raising the spirit of the Union soldiers. It was talked
of by everybody. On the 6th, just after Wofford's and the
other brigades had rolled up Hancock's left, Longstreet had
ridden down the railroad grade, and was getting his lines
ready to move on, before the routed Federals could recover.
A charge of his whole corps at this time might have proved
disastrous to the Union cause ; God willed it otherwise. There,
on the railroad, Longstreet fell severely wounded by his own
men, and delay followed, so that the later attack found Meade
ready, and was repulsed. These Wilderness woods — while
securing great advantage to the Southern troops — had twice
saved the Union army. Jackson fell on the 2d of May, 1863,
shot by his own men ; Longstreet fell on the 6th of May, 1864,
under very similar conditions ; they fell here in this forest at
places not five miles apart. It seems as though God intended
that the Union should be saved. Dr. Khayme was right
when he had said that a wholesome reunion of the sections
could not be, unless the South were completely crushed —
that her honour must be preserved, and that her military
power must be subdued only by irresistible force, so that she
could retain self-respect and the admiration of an enemy who,
in sober truth, must ascribe success to a power mightier than
armies. What the result would have been had not Jackson
fallen no man can know; what it would have been had not
Longstreet fallen no man can know, yet it is easy to believe
that the destruction of Hooker's army at Chancellorsville
might have caused the country to remain divided forever, and
that a great disaster in The Wilderness might have convinced
the North that Lee was always invincible. But for God, who

154 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

chooses His own instruments, the South would have over-
thrown the Union; He chose the South itself to defeat the
purposes of the South.

General Meade showed me a sketch of the country, with the
Confederate intrenchments laid down.

" Here," said he, " you see this salient. It is opposite the
Sixth corps: I want you to go down there and go along our
skirmish-line, and nearer, if possible, and see what you can see
from our side."

" All right, General," I responded very cheerfully, " I can
start at once."

" Yes, but hold on. When you have seen it from our side, I
want you to see it from their side."

No doubt my countenance fell ; but I answered that I should
obey orders.

" You may go now," said the general ; " try to get back by
two or three o'clock, for I shall be here then, and will show you
what I want further."

The first work was not very difficult. I rode down to the
skirmishers of the Sixth corps. There I learned that General
Sedgwick had been killed but a short time before by a sharp-
shooter. General Wright had succeeded to the command of
the corps, and General Russell now commanded Wright's
division, along whose picket-line I made my way.

The enemy could be seen busily intrenching upon high open
ground some hundreds of yards in front of General Eustis's
men. The line here ran northeast. I followed on; opposite
the left of Wheaton's brigade I saw that the Confederate lines
trended toward the east and kept this course for a quarter of a
mile, and then turned southwest. Our left was Grant's bri-
gade. The men of Grant's skirmishers — the Fourth Vermont,
if I remember aright — could not tell me whether any Union
troops were farther on to the south. When I found the end of
our line, the enemy could not be seen, and I supposed it was
because our line had not curved in such a degree as to face the

THE HORSESHOE SALIENT 155

southeast side of the salient. I went on forward then, and
soon came again within sight of the intrenchments, at which
men were yet at work.

I returned to General Meade, and reported that there was
an immense salient on the Confederate lines, but that it was
perhaps too early now to decide that the point was to be per-
manently held, for the intrenchments were not yet completed.

" You must try to get into that salient, Berwick."

" We have no troops at all on the left of the Vermont brigade,
General ? "

" Not yet, but General Burnside will form there to-morrow.
Are you thinking of trying to enter that front ? "

"Yes, sir."

"Hill's corps is there now. Better try our right, I think.
If you get into your old crowd, you may be recognized."

" But the cavalry, General. If I try the right, won't I find
the cavalry too thick ? "

" Stuart's whole business will be drawn away toward Rich-
mond. Sheridan started this morning."

" All of the cavalry corps ? "

" We have three regiments scattered along from Chancellors-
ville east and west."

" Which three, General ? "

" Fifth New York, Third New Jersey, and Second Ohio."

"According to this sketch, General, the Confederate left
rests on the Po."

" Yes, just as our right does."

"_When must I report, General ? "

" Do your work well ; I cannot limit you, yet lose no time,
and get back quickly when your work is done."

My preparations and plans were soon made. Two mounted
men were to accompany me. The point I was to examine was
only a few hundred yards from our pickets, and was to be
reached by a detour of twenty miles or more, and contingencies
might add enormously to this distance. The examination of

156 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

the salient would require but a few hours perhaps, but the
going and returning would require days. General Meade had
told me that A. P. Hill's corps had just formed on the right of
the Spottsylvania lines ; it had marched from The Wilderness
no doubt by Parker's Store, thence south to the Catharpin road,
and by that road eastward into position on Lee's right. How-
ever that might be in regard to Hill, there must yet be many
wounded and many stragglers, as well as much of the materiel
of war left by the Confederates all along these roads from their
present lines back to The Wilderness. I would go to The
Wilderness, and become a rebel straggler trying to catch up
with his command.

The three of us took the road to Todd's Tavern — Long, John
Kingsbury, and I. It was about four o'clock, and we rode rap-
idly, reaching Todd's before six. Stragglers and parties of our
men were met all along the road — sometimes even regiments.
Past Todd's we went, still on the Brock road. The ground
was familiar here ; I had been on it for Hancock. At eight
o'clock we were almost at the Orange Plank road. I feared
that the junction was held by the Confederates, so I turned my
clothing and walked forward alone, but at the intersection
there was no one, and I went back to the two men ; then we
rode to the intersection, and turned west toward Parker's
Store. Here was the ground where Hill and Longstreet had
fought on the 5th and 6th ; many dead yet lay unburied.

I wondered why there had been no Confederate post at the
cross-roads behind me. Probably the point was yet debatable
ground ; the enemy's pickets would be found at their old line
of battle or in the rear of it, at Parker's.

When we had gone a few hundred yards up the road, I dis-
mounted, and crept forward until I reached the old breast-
works of the Confederates. They were entirely abandoned,
but farther up I could see the light of a fire, and I supposed
that very near me, between me and the fire, there was a picket,
if not a line of pickets. I now determined to use the railroad

THE HORSESHOE SALIENT 157

grade at my left as my line of approach. I returned to the
men, and we went back to the Brock road, and then south
until we struck the embankment, and there turned west again.

It was about eleven o'clock ; the moon had just gone down ;
on the grade was a good pathway. Again we reached the Con-
federate intrenchments. I believed that by following the rail-
road I could get into the road leading south from Parker's
Store without running any risk at that place. Where it crosses
the Brock road the railroad grade is perhaps three miles from
the Plank road ; where it crosses the Parker's Store road, it is
hardly a mile from the Plank road. The distance from the
Brock road to the Parker's Store road, along the grading, is
about four miles. Shortly after passing the Confederate
intrenchments I saw, running south, an opening through the
woods which I had not seen there when I had served under
Wofford on the 6th. I dismounted and went into the opening.
It was a narrow road, full yet of stumps — a road cut by the
Confederates for some purpose ; the ruts were deep and fresh.
I supposed that the Confederates had made it for transferring
artillery from one point to another on the 7th.1

For about three miles we rode on carefully in single file,
alternately passing one another, and each alternately becoming
the advance, the centre, and the rear, so that one man was con-
tinually on watch in every direction, and one always advanc-
ing. After an hour's ride in this manner we came to a great
washout on the railroad grade, where a small stream ran
across it ; here I dismounted and went forward afoot, the men
following me at a very short distance. In somewhat less than
a mile I found myself near a cross-road, which I supposed the
Parker's Store road, as I call it; that is, the road running
southward from Parker's to the Catharpiu road. Here I

1 This road was cut in order to march Lee's infantry into the Catharpin road
south, and thence to Spottsylvania Court-House. If Mr. Berwick had fol-
lowed this new road, he would have gone back into Hancock's lines on the Po.
[ED.]

258 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

halted the men, and went into the road alone, and turned to
my right in order to be sure, before I followed it south, that I
was not taking a wrong road. It was not long until I was con-
vinced ; I saw ground which I had seen before. I returned to
the men, and rode with them back to the stream which we had
just crossed. On the south of the railroad we selected a close
thicket, where I directed the men to await my return. Long
and John Kingsbury were to maintain strict watch from their
hiding-place ; both should not sleep at once, and they were to
remain there three days in case I should not return before the
expiration of that time. I left my horse in their charge, took
two days' food, and set out, armed and equipped as a Confed-
erate infantryman. When I reached the road again, I turned
south, and tramped for a mile or more ; then I lay down in the
bushes to snatch a few hours' sleep ; I did not want to run
upon Confederate stragglers or on a body of the troops in the
night, for I might be subjected to serious questioning.

At daylight I again took up my tramp, and it was not long
until I saw, ahead of me in the road, three wagons standing
still. I kept on, and when I came up with them I saw the fire
of some teamsters by the roadside. I halted.

" Right, road to Spottsylvania Court-House ? " I shouted.

" Turn to your left when you strike the big road ! "

" How far from here ? "

" Four miles, I reckon. You'll see plenty more a-goin'."

I crossed two streams, where I found more wagons, and went
on and came to the big road. It was running east and west ;
I went east. Somewhere, about four or five miles ahead, I
could hear the firing of cannon in quick succession. I knew
that a battle was going on ; this was no mere siege firing. In
the road, here and there, were men going east and coming west ;
single soldiers mainly, bent on this and that affair, or straggling.
I asked those I met where McGowan's brigade was. None
could tell me, but some of them knew that Hill's corps — now
under Early, they said, because General Hill was sick — held

159

the right of the line. After I had learned this I began to ask
where Ewell was, and where Longstreet's corps was, and I
found that I was now near the First corps, which was holding
the left of the Confederate lines, and that General Anderson
was in command in consequence of Longstreet's wound. After
a little further advance, I found the road blocked with wagons.
A teamster told me that there was a fight going on ahead ; that
the Yankees had crossed the Po in the night, on the Confed-
erate left, and had gained possession of the road to the bridge.
It was now about eleven o'clock, and the bridge was about
three miles away. I thought it prudent to await developments.

" Goin' to stay here all day, you reckon ? " I asked.

" Dunno," replied the teamster ; " got to stay here tell them
fellers git through."

" Wonder who it is."

« Heth." l

" Whole division ? "

" I dV know ; don't you hear 'em holler ? "

" How can you tell Heth's men by their holler ? "

" Can't ; but I know they is Heth, all the same."

" Know where Wilcox is ? "

" No."

" How do you know Heth so well, then ? "

" Be'n told. You belong to Wilcox ? "

« Yes."

" Go on and jine Heth ; they kin tell you."

" Much obliged, but I think too much of myself."

The teamster laughed. "I 'xpect we'll turn back and try
another road," said he.

" What you loaded with ? "

" Guns."

" Guns ? What sort o' guns ? "

" All sorts o' guns ; picked up back yonder wher' the big
fight was last week."

1 Pronounced Heath.

160 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

" Where you takin' 'em to ? "

" Dam 'f I know ; I'm a f ollerin' that waggin ; that's all I
got to do. Say, here they come back, by George ! "

A column of infantry was coming west, marching on both
sides of the road — the middle of it having been taken up by
the wagon-train.

I asked no permission of the teamster, but got at once into
his wagon from the rear ; I did not wish to be ordered into the
ranks of any of Heth's regiments. The wagon had a canvas
top through which I made a small hole and watched the men
go by. It was not a long column, yet I counted five battle-
flags. What brigade it was I could not tell. The men were
marching rapidly, and but few of them spoke; they went by
me with the old familiar swing of Jackson's foot cavalry, and
showed every sign of being bent on mischief ; yet this move-
ment was neither a retreat nor an advance ; I did not know
what it meant.1

After the brigade had disappeared by filing to the right some
distance at the west, I crawled out of the wagon.

" I owe you one for that," said I to the teamster.

" Why n't you jine 'em ? " he asked, grinning.

" I think a heap o' Mahs Robert," * said I ; " but them folks
that went by just now can git along mighty well without me.
What you reckon they're up to ? "

" You'll hear from 'em direckly, I 'xpect."

Now the wagons ahead of us were in commotion. The team-
ster nearest us shouted to my friend to turn round and drive
back. The turning was attended with some difficulty, the road
at this point being very steep ; I helped to pull and back the
mules until we were headed west, the teamster shouting all the
while at the top of his voice, cursing the mules from habit, and

1 Hancock had thrown troops to the south side of the Po River on the after-
noon of the 9th. While withdrawing to the north side, these troops were
attacked by Heth's division on the 10th. [Eo.]

2 General Lee. [Ei>.]

THE HORSESHOE SALIENT 161

flinging oaths at me for good measure. He made no objection
to my getting into the wagon, and we started down the road at
as fast a trot as the lean mules could be urged to make.

Meanwhile, on our right was heard the crackle of skirmish-
ing ; artillery soon joined in and roared in the west and in the
north. What was going on nobody seemed to know ; the few
straggling men whom I had seen on the road an hour before
had all vanished ; only the wagons were seen, and it was clear
that they were being moved to a place of safety, or were going
by a more circuitous route to Spottsylvania. I held my place
in the wagon, having crawled up to the front so that I could
see ahead and talk to the teamster, who was a-straddle the
rear mule at the left, and was driving his team with one line
attached to the lead mule. In a quarter of an hour we came
to a narrow road leading south. A mounted man here passed
us from the rear and went down the narrow road, shouting to
the teamster to follow. The noise of battle was now behind
us, and was dying away through the distance.

I went to sleep; when I awoke the wagon was crossing a
bridge. I saw many troops, of all arms of the service, and
many scattered camps, and wagons parked in the fields. The
road was running north. I judged that we had crossed the Po,
and that we were now within the stronghold of the Confeder-
ate army. The sound of cannon was heard in many directions,
particularly toward the north.

The wagons came to a stand. I got out ; my teamster was busy
with his mules ; I helped him unhitch, and bade him good-by.

I went north, inquiring for McGowan's brigade, or for
Wilcox's division, or for Hill's corps, but always bent on going
to the works at the salient which I knew to be at Hill's left.
I could talk about my old regiment, and about all the organiza-
tion which included it, and could prove to anybody of a differ-
ent command that I was a private in Company H, but Company
H and the First regiment I would leave far to my right
When I reached the intrenchments it was after sunset.

162 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

"Where is Hill's corps?" I asked of an infantry officer.
" On the right. Why are you not with your command ? "
" Just getting up from the rear, sir. How far to the right ? "
" Around the lines it must be two miles, nearly ; across
here," pointing almost south, " not more than half a mile."

From this reply I judged that I had reached the west flank
of the salient. I started then south, but as soon as I was out
of the officer's sight I turned and went along the lines. The
troops had been in battle that day. In fact I had heard loud
musketry to my right as I was approaching the intrenchments.
Dead and wounded lay about in the woods, men of both armies.
A Union column had stormed the works and carried them, but
had afterward been driven out. There were straggling Con-
federates along the lines, and in the woods at the rear ; I was
one of many, and had no hesitation in making inquiries.

The first command I struck was Ramseur's — a North
Carolina brigade. I went on up the line toward the right, and
next found Daniel's — also a North Carolina brigade. Then
came Doles's Georgia brigade; it had lost heavily in the fight
which had just ended. Here, too, I found many of Gordon's
troops intermixed with Doles's. A man told me that Gordon
had been on a second line at the rear of the outer works, and
had come up to help drive out the Yankees. Farther to the
right I found the old Stonewall brigade, named for its original
commander, or, as he was wont to insist, the brigade to which
he owed the name by which he was almost universally known
in print — his men, however, always spoke of him not as Stone-
wall, but as Uncle Jack. The Virginians occupied the apex
of the salient, which was strengthened with many guns —
Nelson's and Page's artillery battalions, seven batteries. The
apex of the salient was easy to distinguish ; the line suddenly
trended, at an angle of about eighty degrees, toward the south-
west. I went on. Here there had been no infantry fighting,
but I learned that a column — " dead oodles of 'em," to use my
informant's language — of blue infantry had attempted to

THE HORSESHOE SALIENT 163

advance about five o'clock, and had broken under the fire of
the batteries. The next command was Hays's — Louisiana
men — a very small brigade. After Hays's came Stafford's, also
from Louisiana ; then Jones's Virginia brigade, and on Jones's
right Steuart's regiments of tar-heels and Virginians.

I had gone through the lines of the salient, and must now
think of returning. In the Twenty-seventh Virginia regiment,
I talked with a man who told me that Lane's brigade connected
on the right ; I wanted nothing to do with Lane's brigade, or
any other brigade in my old division. What I wanted now
was to get back to General Meade.

The night was dark, but not for lack of a moon ; the clouds
betokened rain. I had far to go, but as yet I was not weary ;
my ride in the wagon had been great help. In going along the
lines I had tried to impress on my mind the character of the
intrenchments, and the strength of the forces, particularly
the artillery. My report would be valuable. I believed that
the salient could be taken, with the most of the troops within
it, by a simultaneous attack on the east and west faces. The
apex itself was too strong to be successfully assaulted, unless,
by ingenuity, a surprise could be effected.

To get out of these lines would be more difficult than had
been my getting in. I should be questioned, perhaps, before I
reached the river ; and at the river, especially at the bridge, I
should be stopped. My purpose was to cross the river above
the bridge, not the lower bridge on the Louisa Court-House
road over which I had ridden in the wagon, but the Block-
house bridge, as it was called, some two miles higher up the
stream, the bridge for which the wagons had been making
when stopped in consequence of Heth's battle. I had learned
in the lines that this battle had resulted in the withdrawal of
the Union forces on that wing from the south bank of the Po,
and I judged that the Confederates now felt secure on that
part of the line, and that I could make my way along, or near,
the Shady Grove, or Catharpin, road, and by hard walking

164 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

could reach Long and Kingsbury by daybreak. My route at
first, therefore, led me in rear of the breastworks of Long-
street's corps. But I soon struck a road running southwest,
and I left the lines and walked boldly down the road. No
man had yet accosted me. On this road small bodies of troops
were moving; some coming, others going. Ambulances and
wagons blocked the road in places, and I could hear groans of
wounded men.

A man behind me slapped me on the shoulder.

" Whar you gwine, Bud ? "

"To Heth's division," I answered, by inspiration.

" Me too, Pete. What brigade ? "

"Don't belong to any brigade in that division. Goin' on
business for my general."

"What about, Bud?"

"Mustn't tell."

" Bet you don't know, yourself."

" Maybe you're right. What brigade is yours ? "

" Davis's."

" You're from Mississippi, then ? "

" No, Bud, I belong to the bloody Fifty-fifth No'th Ca'lina."

"What! I didn't know there were any tar-heels in that
brigade."

" None but our'n. All Mississip' excusin' the Fifty-fifth."

"I remember your brigade. General Davis commanded
Heth's division after Gettysburg ? "

"You're right, Bud."

" And General Davis is Jeff Davis's nephew ? "

" You're right agin. Ain't caught you in a lie yit."

" But your regiment was not with us before the Gettysburg
campaign."

" How the hell you know that ? "

" Where were you before ? "

" We jined Longstreet at Suffolk, and come on to you uns
after you fit the Chancellor's fight. Say, you a private ? "

THE HORSESHOE SALIENT 165

« Yes."

" Well, sir I You shorely do beat my times for rememberin'.
You know Joe Davis ? "

" No ; not at all."

" My name's Saddler ; what's your'n ? n

" Jones."

" What state ? "

" South Carolina."

" Thought so. You got the lingo o' them sea-island folks."

" You know where Heth's division is ? "

" I know whar it ought to be ef it hain't moved."

" When did you leave it ? "

" 'Bout two o'clock."

" But it's been fighting since then."

" I know that better'n you — dam 'f I don't ; that's one thing
I know better'n you ; dam 'f it ain't. I lef ' 'em while they
was fightin'."

" Sent back on an errand ? "

" You're right, Bud — sent back on a errand."

"Well, Saddler, I tell you what — I'm mighty glad to strike
up with you. How far is it yet, you think ? "

" Must be two or three miles. Got any papers ? "

" What sort of papers ? "

" To cross the bridge."

" I think I can get across. You got papers ? "

"I didn't have none when I come, but I got 'em now."

" Did you have any trouble in coming ? "

" Lots of it ; hadn't been for a officer that knowed me hap-
penin' along, they'd ha' turned me back."

" I reckon they'll stop us a long time anyhow."

" Yes, they're mighty slow about it."

" Can't you add my name to your pass ? "

"No; I wouldn't resk it, Bud; but I'll tell 'em you're all
right."

I doubted that my friend Saddler's word would be taken for

166 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

a guaranty of my character — doubted it so strongly that I
began to wish I could get rid of him, for I believed that alone
I could make my way across the river, at the bridge, perhaps ;
or, if not there, then by fording in the darkness.

We had reached a cross-road ; Saddler, without a moment's
hesitation, filed right.

" A leetle inore'n a mile to the bridge, now," he said.

Troops were marching west — an infantry regiment ; per-
haps more than a regiment, for the losses of the Confederates
had been so great that brigades seemed regiments. I saw my
chance.

« Saddler."

« What's the matter, Bud ? "

" Let's get in with these folks, and go across with 'em with-
out having to wait."

"You're right, by ganniesl" said he; "we'll save lots o'
time."

" Mind, now," said I ; " don't say a word to 'em ; get in at
the end of a company if we can, and we'll be all right ; they
won't know any better."

We did it. The troops crossed without halting. No man
had said a word to me ; the men were tired and sleepy and did
not talk. I have never known what troops they were ; asking
would have betrayed my intrusion. We continued to march
for a mile in the ranks ; then I felt Saddler pull my sleeve ; I
stepped out with him to the left, and the column went on by.
The night was yet cloudy and dark.

Saddler soon left me, to make his way to Davis's brigade.
The kindhearted fellow bade me good-by with words of regret.

XVI

THE BLOODY ANGLE

"The mailed Mars shall on his altar sit,
Up to the ears in blood." — SHAKESPEARB.

THE sun had not risen on the llth of May when, still clad as
a Confederate, I approached the rendezvous. My feet were
weary, and my head ached with loss of sleep and from long
suppressed excitement.

Yet on debatable ground, I was making my way through
the woods within sight of the railroad grade, hoping soon to
reach the end of my labours. Half a mile more, and I should
find my own — my friends of the Union cause, and my horse
— to relieve me before I should be completely exhausted. I
had accomplished the work undertaken. There remained now
nothing to do but report.

My weariness was very great. A quarter of a mile more
and I rested, and now thinking that perhaps it would be better
to send Long to General Meade, I wrote a note as follows : —

" GENERAL : — I beg to report that the salient can be carried if both sideg
of the angle are attacked simultaneously with heavy forces.

"Respectfully,

" JONES BERWICK."

I folded this paper and put it into my pocket, intending to
despatch it by Long, whose horse was the best of the three, as
soon as I should reach the men.

I rose to go on, when suddenly I heard the noise of tramp-
ing hoofs ; I stepped behind a tree ; the horses were coming
west up the railroad grade. Clearly the party in my front

167

168 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

must be Federals, yet I would be cautious, and observe without
being seen.

The sounds grew louder, and soon I saw from my hiding-
place a sight which destroyed all my hopes for speedy rest.
Four Confederate cavalrymen led the squad. Behind these
four men rode Long and John Kingsbury, prisoners. Three
other Confederates brought up the rear, one of them leading my
captured horse.

How could these fellows have been so careless as to allow
themselves to be taken ! I had given them strict orders to
remain in hiding within the thicket, and that one should
always be on the watch. Now I was alone and without help,
and with miles and miles yet to go before I could get help, for I
could not expect to find Union men much this side of Todd's
Tavern, and in my excited state this knowledge so unnerved
me that I confess I stood there and blubbered like a boy.

The sounds of the horses' hoofs died away in the west. I
rose and staggered on. The little rest I had just taken had
increased my stiffness. I went straight to the place where I
had left Long and Kingsbury. I wanted to see, if possible,
what they had been doing to allow themselves to be captured.
At the spot the ground showed no evidence of any struggle,
but the remains of a camp-fire gave me at once the clew which
had guided the Confederates to the place. No doubt the light
of the fire had been seen in the early morning by Confederates
from the railroad, and they had silently surrounded my two
comrades. Everything was gone.

I sat down a while, and tried to eat, but my stomach was
sick, and refused food. My face and body were in a clammy
sweat; I felt necessity for air, and hastily laid aside my
accoutrements, and snatched off my coat.

After a little my strength and spirits returned. I considered
whether this were the time and place for me to change my
clothing and become a Union soldier. I remember that I
turned the coat with this purpose, and afterward reflected that

THE BLOODY ANGLE 169

I was yet on doubtful ground and turned it back again to the
Confederate side.

I succeeded in eating a little and rose to go, but I had not
taken a step before the bushes rustled at my front, and three
Union cavalrymen — one of them a corporal — advanced upon
me.

" Throw down that gun," said the corporal.

I threw down my gun very willingly.

Said I, " Boys, I am glad to see you."

I was laughing, for the transition from sorrow to joy had
been very sudden. I now felt relieved of all my fears. With
the help of these men I should succeed in reaching General
Meade in a few hours, and then I could rest with a mind free
from care.

" You are laughing, eh ? " said the corporal. " You will
soon laugh on the wrong side of your mouth."

"Take me to General Meade," said I, "or to your com-
mander, who can send me to the general."

"I don't propose to carry you quite that far," said he,
glowering.

"I have an important report to make to General Meade,"
said I, " and if you delay me he will be greatly chagrined."

" Still keeping it up ? " said he, scowling horribly.

" Yes, still keeping it up," said I. " What do you take me
for?"

" Oh ! " said he, " I want no more of this dam sheenanagin.
I saw you there in the thicket turn your coat, dam you."

I laughed at this, though I was, I confess, beginning to be a
little alarmed. These men were of the rougher sort.

" I am in General Meade's official employ," said I.

" Jim, go git me that rope from my saddle," said the corporal.

The thing began to look ugly. We were now on the edge
of the opening near the railroad grade. Just at our left,
toward the west, there was a sudden turn of the railroad so
that we could not see very far in that direction, but down the

170 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

vista toward the Brock road the way was open for a long
distance.

" Corporal," said I, " if you seriously question my character,
I can speedily prove to you that I am a Union soldier."

"You are a dam rebel trying to get into our lines in dis-
guise," said he, " and we are ordered by General Pleasonton to
hang you."

The man called Jim now came up with a rope.

" What is your regiment, Corporal ? " I asked.

" Well, it's none of your business," said he ; " but I don't
mind telling you; it's the Fifth New York."

I noticed that the men were armed with new Spencer car-
bines — seven-shooters.

" You might as well say your prayers," said the corporal ;
"your time has come, and you have got very little to spare."

I thrust my hand into my haversack.

"Drop that," said he.

" Corporal," said I, " I am simply going to give you General
Meade's own handwriting. I am not armed. There is nothing
in my haversack to hurt you."

" Well, fetch her out," said he ; " let's see what she is."

I rummaged in the bottom of my haversack, and brought
out all five buttons, but they had become so greasy that I was
unable to distinguish the marked button which contained
General Meade's order. However, after diligent search, I be-
lieved that I had found the right button, and handed it to
the corporal, saying, " Take the butt of your carbine, please,
and break that."

He laughed scornfully. " The hell you say ! How can any-
thing be in this button ? " Yet he handed it to Jim and told
him to smash it. Jim placed the button on a stone, and brought
the butt of his carbine down upon it.

There was nothing in it.

I suppose I looked very blank. The men — at least two of
them — seemed angry, thinking that I was merely consuming

THE BLOODY ANGLE 171

time with a shallow device. The other man, however, I could
tell by the motion of his head, was in doubt as to my character,
although he had as yet said nothing — perhaps the fact that
the button had shivered, was puzzling him.

" Corporal ! " I exclaimed tremulously, " an order from Gen-
eral Meade detaching me is in one of these buttons. I want
them all smashed until the right one is found."

The corporal said, "No, by God; I will fool with you no
longer. I will string you up."

And now the mild man broke in. " Corporal," said he, " I
would not do that; let's give him a chance. Let's break all
of the buttons," and he took them from me, and began to work
on them, but in not one of those buttons was anything found,
the fifth and last bending and flattening on the stone.

Even the mild man now turned against me. " String him
up," said he.

Of course it would be impossible for me to tell my thoughts,
if I had any at the time. My own testimony had fallen upon
me with fatal force.

Jim began to untwist the rope. I did not give up entirely ;
I took out the note I had written to General Meade, and
handed it to the corporal.

" Read that," I said.

He read it and said, " Well, what is this ? "

" It is a report to General Meade," said I.

" How do I know that ? You are writing here to some gen-
eral, or somebody is writing to some general, but how in the
hell do I know what general, or who it is that's writing?
This is some more of your tomfoolery ! "

Nevertheless, he put the paper into his pocket, and looked a
little staggered. I began to believe that I had succeeded in get-
ting a respite at least, and that my complete success was assured,
and I said with all the boldness that I could muster, " Corporal,
whatever you do with me makes very little difference, but I beg
that you send this note to General Meade without delay."

172 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

Evidently this staggered him a little more. He bent his
head in reflection, and said, " Say, Jim, tie this man."

I put my hands out before me.

" No," said he, " behind your back."

I obeyed, and my hands were bound tightly with the rope.
The men led me away to their horses; the old Enfield was
left behind in the thicket.

The corporal mounted ; then he ordered the men to mount,
and commanded me to march before him.

At this moment, up the railroad grade, from the turning,
not more than three hundred yards away, there came the
sound of a rifle-shot, and in a moment more a dozen cavalry-
men charged upon us full tilt.

The corporal put spurs to his horse. The men who were yet
on foot mounted hastily, and all three rode as fast as their
horses could carry them, hotly pursued by the enemy.

I had been left alone standing with my arms bound behind
me. The Confederates passed me without pausing, but their
lean steeds were no match for the better-fed horses of the
New York cavalry, and the pursuit was quickly given up.

But for extreme enervation resulting from mental torture in
the succession of rapid events just narrated, I should have had
the presence of mind to crawl into the thicket before the
enemy returned. But the truth is that I had sunk down in
the spot where I stood, without power to move, or perhaps
even to speak. I was soon surrounded by the squad of
Confederates.

" What-in-the-name-of-sense ! " said one of them — a ser-
geant. " Is this the way the Yankees treat the prisoners they
take from us ? "

I did not reply.

" What brigade do you belong to ? " he asked.

" McGowan's," I stammered.

" McGowan's ! " said he ; " McGowan's is ten miles from here."

" Yes, sir," said I.

THE BLOODY ANGLE 173

" Then why are you here ? "
" Wait a minute," said I.

The men looked very compassionate. They understood that
I needed time for recovery from emotion. I knew not what to
say. To explain my emotion by telling these men that the
Yankees had been about to hang me seemed unwise, for I
should then have had to give the reasons that had moved
them to hang me, and this I must not do. Yet, how could I
give any reason for their binding me ? I decided to remain
silent.

"Give him some water," said the sergeant to one of the
men. Another tried to untie the rope which bound my hands,
but finding the knot very difficult, he used his knife. I felt
that I was in great danger; an unguarded word might now
betray my character as a Union spy.

" Sergeant," said I, " can't you send me to McGowan's bri-
gade ? "

" That is owing to where it is," said he. " I can send you to
our nearest infantry, and then you can make your way."

" That will do very well," said I, " and I shall be very greatly
obliged to you."

The men, seeing my weakness, kindly helped me to mount
behind one of the squad.

" How is it ? " asked the sergeant ; " how is it that you have
your cartridge-box and no gun ? "

" I had forgotten the gun, sir ; it is just back yonder where
the Yankees took me," and I pointed to the spot.

One of the men soon found the old Enfield and gave it to me.
The man behind whom I was mounted kindly relieved me of its
burden.

The party now turned westward along the railroad grade,
the sergeant riding near me, and asking me questions concern-
ing the predicament in which he had found me. I told him
that I had been in the battle of The Wilderness, and had
become separated from my command, and had served with

174 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

Wofford's brigade ; that I had suffered greatly from exhaus.
tion, and had not yet found McGowan, who had marched away,
I supposed. He seemed satisfied with this, remarking that
there were many stragglers yet absent from their commands ;
that they were daily swelling Lee's army by their return to it.
" We were on the march," said he, " to Louisa Court-House, and
came across a squad of our men, who had captured two Yan-
kees somewhere near this spot, and they advised me to look
down the railroad some distance before going on, and see if
there was not more game in sight, for they had three captured
horses and only two men. I am glad that we did, for I much
prefer releasing one of our own men to capturing one of theirs.
Our road leads us to the rear of the army, and I will turn you
over to the first infantry I find."

These men were Virginians — Fourth Virginia. Soon we
reached the Parker's Store road, and turned south — always
in a trot, which perhaps relieved me a little, or at least trans-
ferred my weariness to different muscles. It had begun to
rain, and it continued raining for a greater part of the day.
Before it was quite noon we crossed the Po, and halted on the
Shady Grove, or Catharpin, road — the same road on which I
had advanced toward the Confederate lines on the preceding
day. Here Sergeant Crump ordered Bays, the man behind
whom I was riding, to take me east toward Shady Grove until
he should find any infantry command, to which he was to
hand me over, and then return. " We will wait here for you,"
said he.

I thanked Crump as well as I knew how. I was very doubt-
ful concerning the good he had done me, for I was now back
in the Confederate army, instead of with my own people as I
believed I should have been at this time. Yet my regrets were
not very great. The men who had bound me might have
repented of their hesitation.

It was not long before we found infantry in bivouac on the
left of the road ; we advanced at once into their midst.

THE BLOODY ANGLE 175

" Say," shouted a young fellow, " here comes a man a-ridin'
twice."

Nobody laughed at this. I supposed it was a common remark
on seeing a horse carrying double.

" Whose brigade is this ? " Bays asked.

" Harris's," said one.

" Where is your captain ? "

" Lieutenant Mixon ! " somebody called out.

Lieutenant Mixon came up. " What is it ? " he asked.

Bays told him the circumstances. Here was a released pris-
oner he had had the good fortune to set free from the Yan-
kees ; all that he could do was to turn him over to Lieutenant
Mixon, and then go back to his place.

I scrambled down and stood in the midst of a crowd of curi-
ous men. Bays handed me my gun and rode off.

" What is your regiment ? " asked Lieutenant Mixon.

" First South Carolina, sir."

" Brigade ? "

" McGowan's."

" Hill's corps ? "

" Yes, sir."

" On the other side three miles from here, or more," said he.
" How did you get caught ? "

" Straggling, sir."

" As usual," said he.

" Lieutenant," said I, " I am too tired to go on, or to do any-
thing but lie down."

" Well, my man, lie down and stay — that is, until you can
do better. What's your name ? "

" Jones."

There seemed to be no fighting whatever along the lines, or
at least on this part of the lines, on the llth of May. Har-
ris's brigade was composed of Mississippians entirely. The
regiment in which I now found myself was the Sixteenth,
commanded by Colonel Baker, a very gallant officer, as I after-

176 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

ward had cause to know. My intentions were to remain witk.
these men until nightfall, and then slip away. I yet had a
little food, and it was well that I had, for not one of the Con-
federates offered to divide with me. Perhaps they were hun-
grier than I.

The day massed with nothing to do, the brigade remaining
in its position without movement. I could not sleep, although
I was very sleepy. I had no great fears for the future ; I
would wait until darkness should come, and then steal quietly
away into the woods ; but the experience of the past few days,
and especially of this day, had wrought in me such a condition
of nervous tension that I could not rest long in any posture ;
I could not even think clearly.

Some of the men talked to me, and got from me a true
account — with a few exceptions — of my capture and my
rescue. The brigade was of Anderson's division, now under
Mahone, in consequence of Anderson's taking temporary com-
mand of Longstreet's corps. So far as I could learn, there
was no other Confederate infantry, and no Federals at all, on
the south side of the Po. There was a picket-line in our
front and on our left flank.

Just at sunset I fell asleep, and slept like a log. Loud
sounds woke me. When I opened my eyes it was broad day ;
the long roll was beating, and men were falling into ranks.
Lieutenant Mixon called out, " Here, you man; fall in quickly."
There was nothing for me but to obey. The regiment marched
by the right flank toward Spottsylvania Court-House. From
the north, two miles away, came the sounds of a great engage-
ment. Rain was still falling. The brigade struck the road,
and was urged forward at a double quick. Up hill, and down
hill, and across the bridge, and on to the road toward Spottsyl-
vania Court-House, and then to the left on the northward road
we went at a double quick, the file-closers constantly urging
the men, and the men responding with a will — for every man
knew the urgent necessity for reenforcing the Confederate

THE BLOODY ANGLE 177

troops already engaged at the front. The noise of the artil-
lery, mingled with volumes of musketry fire, constantly reached
my ears, growing louder and louder as we approached the point
of conflict, which I soon knew was the salient itself.

Within the angle conflicting thunders reverberated from
cloud to forest. From dense, low-hanging smoke, great crowds
of bleeding Confederates, great crowds of straggling Confed-
erates, great crowds of Union prisoners in many directions
pressed hasty steps to the rear, while, meeting them and cross-
ing them, regiments and brigades at the run were going for-
ward to the fight. The crashing of branches, the howling of
shells, the near whiz of the Mini£ ball, commingled, while the
shout of officers and the yell of charging hosts on both sides
told us that the front lines had interlocked in an unheard-of
struggle.

Mounted officers in the woods strove ineffectually to rally
fugitives who rushed headlong through ranks of troops ad-
vancing. I saw a fleeing soldier fall dead; I saw a caisson
burst and throw death and disorder for fifty yards around;
I saw a horse ploughed through and through by a shell which
exploded immediately afterward and killed three men ; I saw
a red battle-flag go down and rise again; then I heard the
voice of Colonel Baker, — " Forward Sixteenth, and hold your
fire ! " and then I saw Colonel Baker fall.

What could a man not see ? Within a radius of a hundred
yards no horror was lacking. But what could a man see ?
Shut in by the woods, misty with falling rain and rising
vapours, and smoky with battle, no man could see how the
fight was going.

Colonel Baker is dead. The regiment is running forward
by the flank, the men at trailed arms, every man panting for
breath, going we know not where — only forward to the breast-
works. I know the ground. We are now in rear of Kamseur
— the right of Kamseur, and the left of Doles. But where is
Ramseur now, and where is Doles ? Have we met their routed

178 A FKIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

men ? Are the Union troops in possession of the works once
held by these brigades ? Then why are we advancing by the
flank?

The rage of strife increases. Even more does death abound,
and in every inconceivable form; still the cannon roar, and
the branches fall, and the echoes of the forest are silenced by
mightier sounds. If the Federals are in the trenches, the
Sixteenth will be slaughtered by a fire from many directions
poured on its flanks and its head. Lieutenant Mixon falls.

Still the regiment holds its fire, although vacant intrench-
ments are near at hand, with spouts of smoke bursting from
their farther side, where the Federals lie ensconced.

And now from our right a gray line of battle advances,
cheering.

The Sixteenth keeps on by the flank, up the breastworks
toward the angle, marching across the course of the advancing
line, which later we found to be Gordon's. Behind the breast-
works on the Confederate side, men are lying, — the dead and
wounded, — and a few strong men are yet there, most of them
hiding behind cover, but others loading and firing. Bullets
are coming from the right, where our Union men hold the
east face of the angle; our Mississippians are dropping fast,
but those who live work their way along the line, firing now,
and moving slowly.

A terrific sheet of fire comes, and I see and feel the column
stagger and then halt. Every man lies down. The Yankees
are just across the works. They lie there afraid to rise; we
lie here afraid to rise.

In all the scramble I had yet not even pretended to fight.
Some of the men's rifles failed to fire in the rain. Men rose,
aimed at a Federal's head at the right, fired, and began to load,
the water dripping from their ramrods. The right of our
column rested on a short traverse, and was protected. The
line farther from the traverse was exposed to enfilade fire.
Now I aimed and pulled the trigger, noises in our midst

THE BLOODY ANGLE 179

making the act a safe one. The men were huddled in the
trench ; the trench was running bloody water. Again I aimed
and pulled. The man next to me said, "Look out; don't put
another cartridge in that gun ; it didn't go off ! "

"No," said I; "it's wet."

I picked up another rifle; rifles were plentiful. Without
loading it I pulled again, aiming high. The noise was so
great that, this time, I did not know whether I had fired;
yet I thought I felt the rebound. I began to load, spilling
most of the powder, and getting the rest wet. I aimed and
pulled.

Oh, for the power to make our men rise and take the whole
business of us ! It could have been done. Either side could
have taken the other, but it would have required an inspiration
from God.

Again I picked up my own gun. A great clamour arises be-
hind us, and another Confederate line struggles from the rear,
and reaches our position. They, too, have worked their way
along the intrenchments by the flank ; they wish to extend the
line, but there is no extension ; they begin to lie down in our
ranks.

And now I see Captain Shooter fall, with death in his face,
and I know that the new line is the old First.1

Men of the First and Sixteenth were now intermingled.
My face was bearded — my face was covered with gunpowder
— I had little fear of being recognized ; if I should be recog-
nized, might it not be for my good ? Men of the old company
would thereafter say that crazy Jones had turned up by
magic in the great fight of May 12th, had suddenly appeared
in the midst of his old company, coming no one knew whence,

1 Inadvertently Mr. Berwick errs in the title given to this gallant officer.
Mr. Berwick had been one of McGowan's sharp-shooters ; Captain Shooter had
commanded that battalion after the death of Captain Haskell at Gettysburg,
and had since risen in rank. Lieutenant-Colonel W. P. Shooter of the First
South Carolina Regiment fell at Spottsylvania on the 12th of May. [En.]

180 A FEIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

but coming. ... A straggler returning to his command at
such a time would be counted true — grandly true ; if appear-
ances had been against him before, now all would be atoned
for.

Should I declare myself? Should I regard this an oppor-
tunity ?

" Jones, that's your regiment," said a Mississippi sergeant.

" I thought so," said I, and crawled to my left a little, and
on down toward the left of the First.

The South Carolina men kept coming from the left. I saw
General McGowan, commanding the brigade, suddenly sit
with one hand holding the other which was full of blood from
a wound in the arm. He was taken out.

I reached Company H.

" Sergeant Mackay," said I, " I report for duty."

" Who are you ? " he asked.

The company was busy, loading and firing. I saw Wallace
Williams.

" Jones," said I.

Mackay looked almost frightened ; then he smiled and held
out his hand, and started to speak, but he never spoke, for a
bullet cut the thread of his life and he fell almost in my lap,
dying with the smile on his lips.

I saw Lieutenant Miller, and crawled to speak to him;
before I reached him I saw him hit ; he at once went to the
rear.

Wallace Williams was near me. I saw him rise from his
knees and take long aim ; but he did not fire. Backward he
fell in the muddy trench, and added another to the slain.

Old John Wilson took the vacant place on the right.1 He
was smoking — no, not smoking, for the rain had drowned his
pipe, but he yet held a cob in his mouth. This man was a
silent man ; rarely did he use words ; the boys in Company H

3 The place of orderly-sergeant just made vacant by Mackay 's death. [ED.]

THE BLOODY ANGLE 181

used to say that he smoked to keep from talking. I went to
him. He put out his hand with a gesture that meant: Get
back to your place.

Captain Barnwell was there, but I did not speak to him, nor
did I once see that he observed me.

In the trenches were troops of the First, the Twelfth, the
Fourteenth, and Harris's Mississippians, all mixed together.
They fought alongside as if they were of the same command,
yet each man did as he chose. Colonel Brown, of the Four-
teenth regiment, was now in command of McGowan's brigade.
I saw him more than once. The officers gave few orders;
most of them kept their heads down; the men loaded and
fired, but there were timid ones who lay full length in the
mud and never fired a shot. Nobody knew me ; neither should
I have recognized one of these men had I not with difficulty
unriddled them, for they were muddy and begrimed ; yet I
knew them by their voices.

In a lull of the fight, Madison Scott raised himself on his
toes — he was a small man — and looked over the breastwork.
He had his gun at the ready, and seemed about to fire, but he
did not fire — through astonishment.

" Great God A'mighty, — JUST . . . LOOK ... AT ... 'EM!"
he cried, and dodged back unhurt.

I saw a man rise and fire many times — a man I did not
know. "While others huddled in the trenches, this man, grim
with determination, deliberately worked destruction. He did
everything slowly and carefully. He protected his powder
with the sleeve of his coat; he rammed the cartridges home;
he did not return rammer, but stuck it in the mud, to save
time; he stood at his full height and leaned over the works,
took long aim, pulled, and stepped back to reload; then he
wasted no time, but at once took good aim and fired. Many
times he fired point-blank into the masses crowded together
on the reverse side of the intrenchment. At last he, too, fell.

Men on both sides would kneel behind the works, raise their

182 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

guns, depress the muzzles as far as possible, and fire by pull-
ing the triggers above their heads. Sometimes there was a
tussle for the possession of a rifle being thus used. A man
on the other side would seize a gun-barrel and try to pull it
away from its owner; sometimes, just as the gun was being
fired, a strong, unseen hand would raise it so that the bullet
would go toward the clouds. Many voices were heard on the
Union side ; our men said little. Demands for surrender fre-
quently came, and were retorted to with equal demands.

The thing went on. It was a question of endurance. Bul-
lets swept all approaches, and maniac shells screamed through
the woods overhead — almost always fired too high. The trees
around began to lose their bark — a raw girdle showing at the
height of a man.1 The dead and wounded lay in the trench
where they had fallen.

Rifles were plentiful. Some of the officers picked up guns and
fired away like the men in the ranks. I continued to feign.

"Say, my man," said a voice at my rear, "can't you see
that your gun is foul?"

I turned and saw Colonel Brown. He looked amused ; his
tones had not been angry.

"Let me see that gun!"

I passed it to him ; there was nothing else that I could do.
But I did not wait ; I picked up another rifle, loaded and fired
high ; he was watching me, no doubt.

" See here, sir ! " said he.

He was showing me the rammer, protruding many inches.

" Yes, sir ; it's leaded," said I.

" What do you mean by that ? "

"The chamber is foul with lead, sir, formed around the
barrel near the breech ; it's hard to get a cartridge down."

1 From Report of General S. McGowan. " To give some idea of the inten-
sity of the fire, an oak tree twenty-two inches in diameter . . . was cut down
by constant scaling of musket balls . . . injuring by its fall several soldiers
in the First South Carolina Regiment." [ED.]

THE BLOODY ANGLE 183

« Why do you hold to it, then ? What is your company ? "

" Company H, of the First, Colonel."

" Your name ? "

"Jones, sir."

" That's no name at all. Give me your full name. I want
it."

"Berwick Jones, sir."

He went off after a little, carrying the spiked Enfield.

Although he had seemed amused, thinking no doubt that
in the excitement of battle I had rammed several cartridges
into my rifle unaware, yet he was right in demanding my
name ; I should get a scolding from my captain if I remained
with the company.

On our right the enfilade fire continued. There the Union
troops held the breastworks with no one opposite them ; but
for the traverse, to hold our line would have been impossible.
Cartridge-boxes were replenished by men who stole along the
works from the left. They told us that troops in the rear
were hard at work on a new line of defence.

At last, besides the dead and the wounded, I failed to see
any of Company H, except one boy. The survivors had
become intermixed with men of other commands, or perhaps
had moved to the right or the left.

The boy I saw was Promptly. This was, of course, a nick-
name. Mackay had been accustomed to cry out, " Fall in,
men ! Fall in promptly ! " Some wags of the company said
that the first order was addressed to the men, and the last to
the boy, who became known in the regiment by the name of
Promptly. His true name was Rothwell. To my great sur-
prise, Promptly knew me.

Where were the sharp-shooters ? Perhaps they too were
fighting somewhere on the line.

Suddenly a man hailed me. "Hey! Berwick! You all
right ? "

"Yes," said L

184 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

It was Chappell.

" How'd I lose you the other day ? "

" Got mixed," said I ; then seeing blood on his hand, " are
you much hurt ? "

" No — only a scratch. Ain't this a hell of a time ? I tell
you, old man, it's just a matter of time with the last of us ;
but she'll give 'em the best she's got in her shop."

I was glad to see Chappell again.

" You got through the other day unhurt ? "

" All right ; yes, and found poor Powell and covered him."

" Wonder where the sharp-shooters are," said I.

" Don't know ; in the line somewhere. I'm going to get
into that battalion first chance. Look at that oak."

The tree, almost cut in two by bullets, seemed ready to fall.
I pretended to fire, saying, " This old thing won't shoot half
the time."

But Chappell was busier than I, and had not heard me. He
had gone on to the right a few yards. The desultory firing
never ceased ; occasionally from the other side came volleys
of musketry. I saw heaps of dead.

In the night a great cry rose in our midst.

" Look out ! The big tree is falling ! "

But it was too late for me, and it was too late for Promptly.
As I write I see the boy raising his hands as though his feeble
strength could ward the blow. I see now the branches strike
him first as they fall on me.

XVII

LYDIA COMES AND GOES

" A messenger

Unknown to all has been despatched this night.
But forecast must be used, a plan devised,
Ready for service when my scout returns."

— GEORGE ELIOT.

WHEN I recovered consciousness all was dark and silent.
At first I did not know where I was, but gradually knowledge
returned ; I knew that I had been knocked down by the tree.
Then I remembered Promptly and called his name aloud;
there was no response. My left temple was throbbing from
pain. I put my hand on it but found no blood.

Where had everybody gone ? There was not a sound, except
that made by the falling rain. I began to understand that
the Confederates had retired. Perhaps the Union troops like-
wise had withdrawn ; perhaps they were unwilling to advance
in the night ; they were silent, possibly asleep.

I moved my limbs and felt my body, and found that I was
injured only in the head.

The branches of the tree yet pressed upon me. By great
exertion I crawled out, and sat up, but at once lay down again.
In a sitting posture the pain was too great to bear.

I wanted day to come; then the Union troops would find
me; but could I prove to them that I was one of them?
Doubtless they would attend first to their own wounded.

How badly hurt I was I could not know. Possibly I should
get strength before the night passed away ; possibly I should
not need to be sent to the hospital.

185

186 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

I think I slept, for the night had passed very quickly. When
I awoke, Dr. Khayme was bending over me.

" Poor boy," he said, " are you suffering much ? "

" Oh, Doctor ! How did you get here ? "

"I have hunted you. I thought you would be here. Be
patient a little while."

He went off. It was full daylight. Behind me, as I lay
there, a rattle of musketry broke out, and I heard the Union
troops cheering — giving three times three.

Dr. Khayme returned, accompanied by four men with a
stretcher.

" Doctor," I said, " I think I can walk."

" I know you can ; but it is best for you to ride ; you must
not hold up your head."

" Don't forget my gun, Doctor."

« Where is it ? "

" It ought to be near me. No, it isn't ; Colonel Brown took
it."

Dr. Khayme looked at me with attention, as though he
feared I was light-headed.

" Any other Enfield will do, Doctor. Please have one brought
along."

Soon his ambulance was reached, and I was driven to the
Sanitary Camp and put to bed.

"I have sent for Lydia," said the Doctor.

" Where is she, Doctor ? "

" She is at Fredericksburg. The ambulance will bring her
before night. Now, be as quiet as possible. You are in no
danger at all but you must be quiet."

Off to the west I heard cannon.

" Are they still fighting, Doctor ? "

"A little."

"We had another line to retire to."

" We ? Oh, you mean the Confederates ? *

"Yes, sir,"

LYDIA COMES AND GOES 187

" Don't bother your head now ; wait till I order you to talk."

" But everything is going well ? "

« Yes."

" Did General Meade get my report ? "

" Yes. Now, do you be quiet. I shall not answer another
question."

He washed me, handling iny head with great care ; the touch
of his fingers was unspeakable pleasure. Then he applied some
sort of poultice and left me. I sank to sleep.

Lydia came. The tent was heaven after hell. I learned that
when General Meade had received my report, he decided to
attack the salient.

" Doctor, there was nothing in the button."

Lydia rose, and went out.

" Then you failed to put the right one on your coat at the
very first," said he ; " where are the others ? "

"I thought you kept them, Doctor."

" No ; I put them in your haversack ; where is it ? "

"Was it not brought here with me ? "

Dr. Khayme hunted for the haversack, but failed to find
it. He looked very serious, so serious that I forbore pressing
the matter; moreover, I knew that there had been only five
buttons in my haversack on the llth, and that the men of the
Fifth New York cavalry had broken all five.

By degrees I told my friends what I had gone through.

" Remember Chappell," said Dr. Khayme.

My strength returned rapidly. My condition being reported
to General Meade, he sent word by Watson that I must rest.
A few days of great happiness went by.

On the night of the 17th I was sent for by General Meade.

" How are you getting on, Lieutenant ? " he asked, smiling.

" I am stronger than I was, sir ; but why — ? "

" Oh, it's a fact," said he ; " here is your commission, and I've
had it dated back, so that you can get all you lost by deserting
to the rebels last year."

188 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

I thanked the general, and asked for orders.

He said that the rebels were getting round our right in force,
and that their cavalry were playing the wild with our commu-
nications on the Telegraph road — the main road from Rich-
mond to Fredericksburg.

" But you are pale yet, Berwick ; you must rest a day or two
longer, and I'll try to get along without you." >

" General, I am ready to serve."

" No," said he ; " this thing is not very important. Go back
and rest. I'll need you worse in a few days."

" General, you got my note on the eleventh ? "

" Yes, and I know the whole story through Dr. Khayme. I
wish we had attacked as you suggested. In fact we did, but
our left column did not succeed. You may go. I don't want
you to get killed by these bushwhackers behind us ; I have
more important work for you."

I returned to the Sanitary Camp and told the Doctor that I
could rest a little longer.

"The army will advance toward Richmond," said he; "I
hardly think it will move before the twentieth. Lydia will be
sent back to Fredericksburg as soon as the advance begins.
Lee will keep you busy a long time."

"Doctor, what is it that compels me to run up against old
Company H ? Every time I go out I find my old comrades.
I found them at Mine Run, and in The Wilderness — at least
the sharp-shooters — and at the salient I was right in their
midst."

"There is nothing surprising in it," said he. "At Mine
Run you saw all of Lee's right ; your old command happened
to be in that wing. At The Wilderness you saw Hill's corps
and Longstreet's as well, and the other day you went almost
all over Lee's lines. Why should you not see your old regi-
ment when you see everybody else ? "

" And there is another thing, Doctor, that troubles me worse.
I seem to fail in everything I undertake. At Mine Run, per-

LYDIA COMES AND GOES 189

haps, my work was valuable, but in The Wilderness I was a
failure, and here at Spottsylvania I did no good. I was hoping
to do something that would help to end the war, but instead, I
bring on a big battle — a drawn battle in which thousands fall
and no good is done."

" But you are wrong. Did you not know that nearly the
whole of Johnson's division fell into Hancock's hands ? "

" Yes, Doctor ; I know that. But even this capture does not
make up for our losses."

" I think, Jones, you will see that the morale of Lee's army
will weaken. The taking of that division will make a great
impression."

"And you believe then that I have done some good already ? "

"To your cause, as you see it, yes; of course, you don't
expect me to countenance war."

General Meade sent for me again on the afternoon of the
19th. He ordered me to report to General Hancock, who had
need of my services. About five o'clock I found the head-
quarters of the old Second back behind the Ny.

" I am ordered to report to you, General."

" Who are you ? "

" Berwick."

" Berwick ? What Berwick ? "

" I served you, sir, on the fifth."

" I remember. General Meade has told me of your doings
since then. You were in the salient ? "

" Yes, sir."

" While the fight was going on ? "

"Part of the time, General. Johnson's division had been
broken before I got there."

" I can't understand at all why our success was not complete."

" The Confederates sent ree'nf orcements, sir."

" Oh, yes ; I know that, of course ; but why — well ; never
mind. I'll show you what I want you to do. By the bye, you
have been hurt, I hear."

190 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

" Yes, sir ; but I'm strong enough to work now."

" Were you ever at Guiney's Station ? "

" Frequently, sir."

" At Bowling Green ? "

" Yes, sir ; once only."

" How far is it from Guiney's ? "

" Six miles, sir."

" Do you know Milford ? "

" Not well, General. I have passed by it on trains several
times, but I've never stopped there."

" How far is it below Guiney's ? "

" I think, sir, about nine or ten miles."

The general called an aide, and asked for a map.

" I don't need the map, General, so far as Guiney's is con-
cerned."

"Well; I want to look at it myself. Go to our left, Ber-
wick, and go as far as you can in the direction of the river."

" The Mattapony ? "

" Yes. Get to Milford if you can. This corps must be at
Milford to-morrow noon. Before we reach the river I shall
want to know what is there."

" You march to-night, then, General ? "

" Yes ; we march at eleven to-night, but you can precede us
by five or six hours, and can gain more on us, for we shall not
move so rapidly as you, or by such short cuts perhaps."

" Will there be any need for me to go near Guiney's, Gen-
eral ? "

"No; choose your own route. But we will march by
Guiney's, and when you return you may know that I am on the
road from Guiney's to Milford. What help will you want ? "

" One man, General, mounted ; the best man you have."

" You shall have him. Will you start at once ? "

" Yes, sir ; I think I can get to Milford by midnight, and get
out, perhaps, before day."

" That will do very well. All you need to learn is whether

LYDIA COMES AND GOES 191

Lee's army, or any strong part of it — say a division — has out-
stripped us and blocked our way. Be particular about this,
Berwick, if — you — please. If you find only a regiment or two of
cavalry, you need not trouble yourself to learn what troops
they are — but you must learn, if you can, whether Lee has
got wind of our movement."

An officer rode up in haste, very excited. " General Han-
cock ! " he cried.

The general looked up. He had been sitting on a camp-stool
in the open air.

" Swell's whole corps is across the Ny, and is attacking our
flank!"

The general called for his horse, and mounted, saying,
" Postpone your work, Berwick, till further orders."

I did not follow him, but rode back to the Sanitary Camp.
There seemed to be a sort of stampede for a time, but by
night everything had quieted down.

Early the next morning a man rode up with an order to
begin the work General Hancock had outlined.

" Do you accompany me ? "

" Yes, sir."

Lydia was to start for Fredericksburg by the Telegraph
road, as it seemed more secure than the road at the west.
When I should see the dear girl again God alone could know.
Dr. Khayme said that in all probability the base of supplies
would be transferred to Port Royal, and afterward to White
House, and the headquarters of the medical department would
move almost at once from Fredericksburg. Lydia would not
rejoin her father for weeks, perhaps. The Army of the
Potomac had yet many hard marches and much hard fighting
before it. The movement to the left, which Hancock's corps
was to begin, would doubtless cause Lee to put the North
Anna between his army and Meade's, and then, nearer to
Richmond, he would deliver his strongest battle. It was
rumoured that reinforcements were arriving for Lee. We

192 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

had learned of Butler's repulse before Petersburg, and of
Sherman's march into Georgia, where Joe Johnston was re-
treating. Everything indicated a combined campaign of all
the armies under Grant, a campaign that ought to end the
war, a campaign without a breathing spell, in order that the
Confederates should be pressed hard on all their points of
defence and have no interval of time in which one hand might
help the other. The Doctor believed that the summer would
be spent, and winter would come before all that was hoped
for should be accomplished.

Lydia was to start for Fredericksburg at four o'clock. The
distance was barely ten miles ; her father's ambulance could
easily make it in three hours, even over the horrible road,
unless the road should be found blocked with wagon-trains
or by marching troops. But I felt some fear — very little,
however — of the Confederates. On the day before, Ewell
had come out of his intrenchments, and by a detour which
placed his corps northwest from our lines had attacked
Hancock's right. A Confederate signal station was at
Guiney's, and cavalry had been reported on our left, on the
north of the Ny. The Richmond and Fredericksburg railroad
was yet in Lee's possession as far as Guiney's Station, and
from Milford, the next place below Guiney's, he drew his
supplies. An army like Meade's, in its present position, is
always subject to the depredations of an enterprising cavalry.
On the night of the 16th, one of Hampton's brigades was
reported in our rear.1 Of course I had no fear that Lydia
would be maltreated by Confederate soldiers. Even if her
ambulance should run into one of their brigades, its sacred
character would protect her, but I knew that in the low coun-
try to the east there were many bands of plunderers, who
sought to enrich themselves on booty taken from either army.

1 Meade to Hancock, May 19. " The main road from Spottsylvania Court-
House to Fredericksburg is not considered safe. All messengers should be
sent by way of Massapouaz Church."

LYDIA COMES AND GOES 193

Bobberies were frequent, and worse than robbery was some-
times done under the guise of war. I bade Lydia good-by
with misgiving.

The Doctor had somehow procured for me a short Enfield,
into which I had rammed some cold lead. Sentiment caused
me to regret the loss of my old gun, which, as a Confederate,
I had carried in the Gettysburg campaign, yet I am bound to
confess that I found the short gun much handier, and just as
serviceable.

Jeeter and I rode almost due east, on a line parallel with
Burnside's corps, the left of which rested on the Po.

Two courses were considered: First, to go down the Po
for a few miles and cross to the south of the Mattapony,
leaving Jeeter on this side with the horses ; second, to cross
the Telegraph road above Bowling Green and ford the river
below Milford Bridge, to the left of any force which might be
in that quarter. I chose the first of these courses, for the
reason that the distance was not nearly so great, and the
additional reason that the Telegraph road was a much used
thoroughfare. The country near and far to the east was
watched by Lee, who had in operation a marvellous system
of getting information, and who had already divined the next
movement of his opponent. Then, too, Sheridan's cavalry
were now known to be coming up to us between the Matta-
pony and the Pamunkey,1 and would no doubt draw Hampton's
cavalry toward Milford, and thus make entrance into the
Confederate lines in that quarter very difficult. So it seemed
best to cross the Mattapony above Milford, and reach the
road from that place to Spottsylvania ; then I could play the
straggler without hindrance or suspicion.

At the Massaponax road we were stopped by our outposts.
Jeeter was armed with an order from General Hancock, and
no objection was made to our going on.

1 Grant to Ferrero, May 20. "Sheridan is now on his fourth day from
Richmond, and may be looked for to-day or to-morrow." [E».]
o

194 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

" But," said the sergeant of the picket ; " how do you expect
to get through the swamp ? "

"The swamp?"

" Yes ; the swamp between the two rivers."

" Is it much of a swamp ? "

"It's perfectly impassable. Go forward and see."

I found that he was right. Between the Po and the Ny was
a great marsh where a man could do nothing but flounder. So
we were compelled to change our plan, and thought at first of
following the north bank of the Ny until it united with the
Po, and then crossing, but feared that a second failure in con-
sequence of some unforeseen contingency would cause such a
loss of time that a third attempt would be too late.

And now, hard riding was before us ; we must make Milford
by going round to the east. North on the Telegraph road we
went, until we struck the road to Guiney's ; then southeast
toward the railroad. Until we reached the railroad I put
Jeeter in advance ; then I dressed as a Confederate and took
the lead, for at any moment we might run upon the enemy.
We avoided Guiney's, going to the north of that station, and
not daring to be seen on the Richmond road, we crossed it and
went on east. It was about two o'clock, and we were ten miles
or more from Milford, by the roundabout way we must take.
Thus far we had found no difficulty ; we had met a few strag-
glers, and a scouting party of our own cavalry, who demanded
our passes, and who warned us of the danger we should con-
stantly incur farther to the south, but as for the enemy we had
not seen one, except at the signal station near Guiney's, which
we had discreetly flanked. Now we must avoid all roads except
mere bridle-paths, and be always on the watch, and take time
to examine ground in front before we should venture over it.
Had I been afoot I could have gone on without great fear ; as
it was, I knew that I ought to get as near as possible to the
enemy and select a spot for Jeeter's night station, before ven-
turing forward alone.

THE PO

SCALE OF MILES

• Guiney's „ , ,

Station ° - 1 * 8 *

Lebanon Church.

BOWLisa QREEN

Milfprd

LYDIA COMES AND GOES 195

About four o'clock we had, just ahead of us, a small country
road crossing our line of advance. Jeeter was halted, and I
crept up, and looked south and saw something ; then I looked
north and saw that there was nothing in that direction. What
I saw toward the south was a group of four persons — two men,
a woman, and a girl. They were coming. At first, they puz-
zled me. The men and the woman were burdened with many
things. The woman had a great bundle of bed-clothing, seem-
ingly. One of the men had an axe, and a frying-pan, and
many other things; the other man, somewhat similarly loaded,
was wearing a Federal overcoat even in this warm weather.
The mystery was soon cleared up. I saw that these people
were black.

When they were very near I called to them to come into the
woods where I was. At first they were startled, but I assured
them that they had nothing to fear, and they approached.
My gray clothing must have given them an additional scare ;
they halted as soon as they saw me, and showed alarm. To
relieve them I called Jeeter, and asked the men which they
preferred.

One of them said, " Dat's de man we wants," pointing to
Jeeter.

" Where are you from ? " I asked.

" Fum Cunnle Donner's plantation down on Pole Cat Creek."

" And where is Pole Cat Creek ? "

" Runs into de Mat'ny."

" Which side of the Mattapony ? "

" De yutheh side, sah."

" Below Milford ? "

" Yassah."

" How far below Milford ? "

" 'Bout six mile, sah."

" Did you come by Milford ? "

"No, no, sah ; didn't come by Milford. We had to go roun*
Milford."

196 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

"Why?"

" Gaze yo' folks is dah."

" My folks ? You mustn't think I'm a Confederate."

« You no 'federate ? "

" No," and I showed him the blue under the gray.

He was greatly relieved. The men told us that there was
an infantry force at Milford, a regiment or two, but they did
not know what command, and that a large body of infantry
were getting off the cars at Penola, the station below.

"Had the troops at Milford been at Spottsylvania in the
battles ? "

" No, sah ; dey is come to he'p 'em out."

" Did you see them ? "

The other man now spoke up, and said that he saw some of
them that were out foraging ; that he knew they were infantry,
and that they had reached Milford from Richmond very re-
cently. In answer to my many questions I learned that on
this side of the river there was a regiment in rifle-pits, protect-
ing the bridge, and that the bridge was to be destroyed in case
of an advance of Union troops.

" What crossings are below Milford ? "

" Cross de ribeh ? "

"Yes."

" Foad down dah, 'bout half a mile, but ribeh is up ; can't
git across."

" How did you get across ? "

"Heap furdeh down. Our own colour he he'p'd us wid a
skift."

" How can I get to the ford below Milford ? "

" Git in de big road, an' you'll see de road to de foad. Dat
road, hit goes down on Pole Cat."

" Is it a small road ? "

" No, sah ; good road ; but it ain't druv oveh now no mo'
gence de ribeh is up."

" How far this side of the rifle-pits does the road fork ? "

LYDIA COMES AND GOES 197

" Not mo 'n a quauteh ; it's right whah de big road tuhng
roun' de cawndeh o' de fiel'."

We were now only some two miles from Bowling Green, at
the east of that place, and some four miles from Milford. We
let the refugees go on, Jeeter and I helping them to a few
coins which they received with great joy.

Now I began to hope that I could accomplish my purpose
without crossing the Mattapony. If I could succeed in getting
within the picket-line on the north side of the river my work
would be much lessened, and I determined to go forward in
that direction instead of continuing our course eastward, so we
diverged to our right, still keeping in the woods, and moving
with more caution than ever. I had no intention of trying to
enter the lines before nightfall, and we yet had three good
hours of daylight. Jeeter fully coincided with my change of
policy; perhaps one reason that influenced the good fellow
without his knowledge was the fact that our work would be
much lessened, and then there was the additional fact that he
was little of a woodman, and found creeping through the
thickets not at all to his taste.

Just at nightfall we could see before us a few camp-fires.
We were now on the main Richmond road, having gone around
Bowling Green on the east. We kept creeping forward in the
woods skirting the road on its left, I ahead and afoot, and
Jeeter following with the horses. Beyond the road was a con-
siderable field, extending southward, and I hoped that at the
corner of this field would be found a branch road leading to the
lower ford, in confirmation of the negro's words. We reached
the end of the field : a road was running southeast — a well-
used road, ordinarily, but now showing no recent wear. I
stationed Jeeter near the spot with strict orders to be on his
guard. The place chosen was off in the woods, perhaps two
hundred yards from the junction of the two roads.

As soon as it was completely dark I went afoot down the
branch road, intending to get to the river, and then come up

198 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

its bank, and get into the Confederate lines from the rear, if
possible.

With little trouble I succeeded in reaching the river. I
could see nothing on the farther side. The river was swift
and full. At my right I could hear cars rolling. I stood for
a while and listened to the rushing waters. Somewhere in the
south a dog was barking. Noises came from my right rear,
where no doubt Confederates were busy around their camp-fires.
By this time Lydia must have reached Fredericksburg.

I wondered why the branch road had not been picketed;
yet, of course, the enemy had no reason to fear an attack from
this direction. Their cavalry were in their front on the main
road as far as Guiney's Station, if not farther, hovering around
the flank of Meade's army, and continually giving us trouble.
These troops had reached Milford but yesterday. They were
defending the bridge; that was their business, and nothing
else. I went on up the river bank very slowly, knowing that
I had all night before me, and that on the next morning I should
have but a short distance to ride before I should meet Han-
cock's corps advancing. I was glad that I had not been com-
pelled to cross the river. On the river bank the walking
was very muddy, as the water was now slowly falling ; I
diverged a little to my right, and soon reached a hill, from
which, by climbing a tree, I had as good a view of my sur-
roundings as the darkness would allow. A little to the north-
west were a few camp-fires. Directly west, and beyond the
river I supposed, were many. Between the two lights there
was a great gap of darkness. By continuing up the river I
should reach the rear of the regiment in the rifle-pits ; pickets
might have been posted merely on the paths and road, and I
might slip between them. So I continued to creep on, and
found no pickets whatever ; at last I stood by the side of the
road — the main road from Bowling Green to Milford — half
a mile in the rear of the rifle-pits, and had yet seen no one.
In the road, however, there was movement. I saw a few men

LYDIA COMES AND GOES 199

walking toward the bridge, and a few walking up the hill
toward the rifle-pits. I waited until they had disappeared in
the darkness, and then walked into the road and up the hill,
with my rifle on my shoulder, whistling, and walking fast in
order to overtake the man ahead of me. I passed him without
speaking ; I soon overtook the next one.

" Did you see that fellow back yonder ? " I asked.

"No," said he.

" You must have passed him," I said.

" Why ? "

" Because he is limping."

" I didn't notice it ; he's got a sore foot, I reckon."

" What's your company ? " I asked.

" G," said he ; " what's your'n ? "

« H," said I.

"That's Cap'n Johnson's company — from Appomattox, ain't
it?"

I understood from this that the regiment was from Virginia.

I made no reply ; I needed no stronger testimony that the
aforesaid company was under the said captain; yet that dis-
tinguished officer might nevertheless be absent from his com-
mand, and Lieutenant John Doe, or words to that effect,
might now be in charge.1

" Wasn't that a hell of a time we had down at Walthall ?"
asked the man.

" You are right," said I, without the least knowledge of the
locality mentioned.

" Lee's had to call for help," said he.

"Yes," said I.

" But we licked 'em," he said.

" Do you know how many regiments there are on the other
side ? " I asked.

1 Mr. Berwick's prudence was not wasted. Captain Johnson was a pris-
oner at the time, and the company was under the command of Lieutenant

Elam. [En.]

200 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

"None but the Eleventh," said he; "but more's coming.
The whole of Kemper's brigade will be here to-night, they say ;
and Hoke's whole division's down the road a piece."

There were some questions I wanted to ask of others that
I could not ask of this man. They would have sounded
strange to him, coming from a member of his own regiment;
I was now willing to get rid of him, but he made an effort to
keep up.

" Do you know how far it is to Spottsylvania ? " he asked.

"Oh, about twelve miles, I reckon," said I; "twelve or
fifteen."

" I expect we will have to march there to-morrow," said he.

"Why?" Tasked.

" Because Lee is needing help so bad."

"Well," said I, "I reckon the Yankees are needing help
about as bad as he is. You reckon Beauregard will come ? "

"Not him," said my friend. "We didn't whip 'em bad
enough for that, but didn't we give 'em scissors while it
lasted ? Didn't we though ? "

" I doubt very much if we have to march to Spottsylvania,"
said I.

"Why not?" he asked.

" Because some say that Lee's falling back now, or getting
ready to fall back."

" Wonder where he'll stop, then ? " he asked.

" Wish I could tell you," said I.

We were now at the top of the hill, and very near the rifle-
pits. The man diverged a little in order to go in the direction
of Company G. I went on alone, but soon halted.

Just what to do now I did not know. A man walking about
in these lines with his gun on his shoulder might be wondered
at. The force was too small to justify such a proceeding as
a natural one. Had it been a long line of battle, composed
of brigades and divisions, my course would have been simple ;
I could have mixed with any of the men, and inquired for any

LYDIA COMES AND GOES 201

brigade or regiment that I should have selected as mine for
the time being, but to inquire for Company H of this one regi-
ment and not start for it at once would be peculiar. I stood
for a short while in the darkness, trying to think what step
would be best to take next. I had already found that but one
Virginia regiment was here; that there was another one —
the Eleventh Virginia probably, on the other side of the river,
and that these two regiments were part of Kemper's brigade,
and that they had come from Beauregard's army very recently
to reenforce Lee.

It seemed to me that I had enough information already.
What was the need of knowing the name of this particular
regiment? I must rather find, if possible, how strong it was.
So I decided that I should simply walk along its rear, and
endeavour to estimate its force. But while I was thus think-
ing I saw a man approaching; I turned and walked slowly
down the hill. When he overtook me, I asked, "What's
your company ? "

" H," said he.

" How many men you got ? "

" Forty-five."

" That must be the smallest company in the regiment."

" No," said he ; " there is one somewhat smaller ; Company
B is smaller."

" We must have about five hundred men," said I.

" Well, I reckon we have ; maybe more than that. Let's
see ; we lost about fifty down there between Petersburg and
Richmond, at Walthall Junction, and we have got some re-
cruits since; yes, I reckon about five hundred. Where are
you going ? "

"I thought I would go across the bridge, if the guards will
let me."

" What you carrying your gun for ? "

" Oh, I don't like to leave it behind. The company might
get out on picket, or something, and leave it there."

202 A. FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

" I don't think you can get across the bridge," said he.

" Where are you going ? " I asked.

" To the commissary's."

"Where's that?"

" This side of the bridge."

" Brigade commissary ? "

" No, only the Eighteenth."

He had given me the name of the regiment ; I let him go on.

It was nearly eleven o'clock ; my work was practically done.
It is true that in getting back to Jeeter I must use as great
caution as I had employed in coming, for it would not do at
all to be detected in going out of these lines. It was not to be
supposed that the right flank by which I had penetrated to the
rear of the rifle-pits was not watched by pickets. If any were
there, however, they must have been very far apart, for I had
crept between them without their seeing me, and without my
seeing them. I hoped to have as good luck in getting out, but
I admitted to myself that such luck would be rare. I suppose
I was two hours in creeping down the river bank half a mile,
for this time I chose the muddy edge of the water itself,
believing that under the overhanging trees I should certainly
find no man on post looking southward across his own river ;
whether this were the case or not I did not learn, but I suc-
ceeded at last in reaching Jeeter. We took our horses a little
farther into the woods, and had alternate snatches of sleep.

XVIII

AN AMBULANCE

"He is composed and framed of treachery : —
And fled be is upon this villany." — SHAKESPEABE.

IT must have been about an hour before day when we
started to return. We had gone about a mile, when I heard
a noise ; it seemed to come from our side of the road, and from
our front — horses, I thought. Jeeter also had heard it, and
had stopped short.

" What is it, Jeeter ? " I whispered.

" Horses," he replied.

" Marching ? "

"No, I think not. Seemed to be kicking. Guess they are
feeding."

I was very tired and very sleepy, and thought it was get-
ting time for Jeeter to do something, so I asked him to creep
cautiously on and try to learn what kind of party we had
stumbled upon.

If these people were Confederates, we could easily get
around them and go on north. But suppose there was a
brigade or two, with pickets thrown out. We must be care-
ful. Stuart was dead, but Hampton was no less enterprising
than Stuart. Mosby had been recently reported north of
Fredericksburg ; these people were not Mosby's. An attack
on Fredericksburg, even, had been feared. I hoped that Lydia
would soon be in a place more secure.

Jeeter returned.

" Well ? " I said.

204 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

" I can't make 'em out," said he.

" Big crowd ? "

"No; only five, I think, but there were seven horses. I
don't know what to make of 'em."

" Got a fire ? "

" No ; but I got near enough to see a little. I think there
is an ambulance, or something like it."

An ambulance I

Yet there are many ambulances — many in either army.

" Were the men on guard ? "

"I couldn't tell. I counted seven horses, and supposed
there must be five men besides the driver."

" Did you hear any talk ? "

"Yes; bu, I couldn't understand what was said."

" Ambulance in the woods, or in the road ? "

" In the woods. Everything in the woods, but there is a
way out to the big road."

" How do you know ? "

" I got into it. It turns about, so that they can't be seen
from the road."

" Jeeter, those people are Confederates."

" I give it up," he said.

"What would a Federal ambulance be doing here? Are
you sure it is an ambulance ? "

" It looked like it. What bothers me is that any ambulance,
Union or rebel, should be here in the woods."

" Maybe it's not an ambulance."

" What else could it be ? " asked Jeeter.

" Sure it's not a wagon ? "

" It's not any common wagon. It has a black top, with cur-
tains all down."

" How near to it did you get ? "

" Ten steps, I guess."

" Is it between us and the men ? H

"Yes."

AN AMBULANCE 205

" You could not see the men ? "

"No."

" And where are the horses ? "

"All around the ambulance."

" Jeeter, I must see into this thing."

" See into the ambulance ? "

" I didn't mean that exactly ; I mean the whole affair."

" We'd better let those fellows alone, and get back !"

" Who do you think they are ? "

" I think they are bushwhackers," said he.

" And the wagon is for carrying off plunder ? "

"I think they have captured one of our ambulances," he
replied gloomily.

Jeeter had but given utterance to my own fears. It seemed
a strange proceeding, for a few men with a single ambulance
or a single wagon to halt in these woods at night. It was
clear to me that they were not Federals ; our men would be in
close quarters here, and would hide far from the road ; they
would not be encumbered with a vehicle. Yet, if these men
were Confederates, why had they not gone on, and entered
their own picket-line, only a mile or two away, instead of risk-
ing themselves out here ?

" They may be outposts," said I.

" What would they want with an ambulance ? "

This ambulance, ambulance, ambulance, irritated me.

" Can't we take the whole party, Jeeter ? "

" What would General Hancock say ? "

" You are right. We must make our report. But we have
plenty of time yet. I'm going forward."

" For what ? "

" To find out something. But I'm going to try them from
the north."

We led our horses in a semicircle through the woods until
Jeeter said he was sure the party was now south of us. If we
must run we should be running in the right direction.

206 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

" Now, Jeeter, you must look and listen toward the north,"
said I.

" Think there is danger there ? " he asked.

" I don't know, but these men think there is safety there.
For people outside their own lines they are very careless.
Look out to the north."

I left everything, gun, accoutrements, and all, in his charge,
and crept south, along the roadside. It would soon be day.
These men before me would perhaps be awake now, and be
getting ready to leave. If they were alert, as men in such
danger should be, they would leave before I could see their
camp — and see the ambulance; yet everything thus far had
indicated a sense of perfect security on their part ; no doubt
they considered themselves already within the Confederate
lines ; possibly there was a Confederate force of cavalry even
now between them and Bowling Green; this would explain
their seeming lack of caution.

Before I had gone three hundred yards I heard again the
noises made by restless horses, seemingly very near me, and
suddenly ceasing. I got on my hands and knees, and con-
tinued to advance. The night was not very dark; I could
see the trees distinctly, and choose my line of approach.
Jeeter had said that the men were near the road, and that
the horses were near the ..." ambulance." I deflected
so that I should go to the left of the men. On hands
and knees, and even almost prostrate, I went forward inch
by inch.

Now my head was almost touching the ground. Some fallen
and rotting timber lay scattered here and there ; the standing
trees were not so close together as to prevent vision, but there
were a few scraggy bushes not more than two feet tall. I saw
black objects among the trees before me.

A little farther, and I knew that the largest of the objects
was an ambulance. But what ambulance ? I knew that it
was Dr. Khayme's ambulance.

AN AMBULANCE 207

My swimming head went round and round through fear.
Had these men taken only the ambulance? Where was
Lydia ?

And now I heard the heavy footfalls of a galloping horse
behind me up the road. Had Jeeter gone ? No ; the sounds
grew and grew, and kept coming nearer, and a man rode up
and shouted, " Captain ! "

" Come ! " answered a voice near me.

" Cavalry and infantry are advancing ! "

" Then look to see a troublous world ! "

Do you know that my first impulse was to rise and go for-
ward ? Yet fear had sickened me, and I hesitated. More-
over, I knew that the first speaker was a Southerner.

"A whole corps. Our signal station at Guiney's is in
danger."

Telling this to Scranton ? What was Scranton ?

" ' Who hath descried the number of the foe ? ' "

"What's that?"

" Who says there is a whole corps ? "

" I say so ; I saw ;em myself. Nobody between us now."

I was slipping away. I must act quickly ; I must get away
quickly, or I should not be able to act ; in a few minutes there
would be light too dangerous. Yet, as I was going, I heard
Scranton say, " How far away is this horde ? " and the courier
replied, " Five miles yet."

As soon as I felt safe, I rose and ran as hard as I could go
back to Jeeter.

" Jeeter," I panted ; " get on your horse and ride as fast as
he can go up the road. You will meet our cavalry. Make
them understand that they can capture this party easily, if
they will ; your coming up the road and showing them that it
is clear will make them ride hard."

" But suppose I get caught."

" Didn't you hear that man ride by ? "

"Yes."

208 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

"I heard him tell those men that there was nobody out
between them and the corps coming on the road."

This speech gave Jeeter wings. He was mounting.

" I may not be just in this spot when you get back," I said
to him ; " I'll look round to see what can be seen."

He looked at me as one looks at what he thinks is peculiar ;
it was now between dawn and sunrise.

" Don't make any noise at first ; go slow till you're out of
hearing, and then go like the wind. I'll give you a hundred
dollars if we catch those men. Keep in the woods till you
strike a bend in the road."

Jeeter left me; I led my horse farther into the forest.
Would the men leave at once ? I thought not. Five miles is
a long distance in a hostile country for cavalry to feel their way.

Would Scranton put out no outpost ? With this question I
stopped, and tied my horse ; then I crept back to the road and
watched. There was no need for haste ; possibly the runner
who had brought the news would be sent back on the road, but
not until he should have fed his horse and got his breakfast.

The sun was rising. Where would Jeeter meet our men ?
How long would they be in coming ? Did the runner's five
miles mean five miles ? If our men were five miles from this
spot when he last saw them, they were less than that now.
Jeeter might meet them in four miles — in three. How long
would it take picked men to ride four miles ? Half an hour.
Less. In half an hour after Jeeter reached them our men
might be here on the spot.

A horseman comes slowly up the road. I watch him. Dis-
tinctly he is a rebel — no ; he is not a Confederate. He puzzles
me. He is dressed partly as a Confederate, but he looks like
a — ah ! I know now ; he is one of those very men who tried
to stop me — with Scranton — near Culpeper. I see the
whole thing ! Scranton is a renegade, and was then in collu-
sion with these men. He wanted to put me out of his way —
on Lydia's account. Is Lydia now in his power ?

AN AMBULANCE 209

The man slowly rode on by. I judged that he was going
forward as a vedette. I followed, keeping in the bushes, but
I did not follow far ; I saw him stop, and take his stand at the
bend in the road, sitting on his horse and facing north.

I went back to my horse ; then I moved slowly around to
the east, south, and southeast, until I thought the ambulance
was toward the north. I reached a large tree some eighty
yards from the camp-fire ; there was cooking going on, and I
could hear the voices of the men at their work. The space
was too open for me to get nearer than this tree. The ambu-
lance now was at a little greater distance from the men, and its
front was toward me, but I could not see into it. The horses
were feeding. There were seven horses, all feeding. One of
the horses was a handsome long-limbed sorrel — a superb animal.
I saw Scherzer ; he was reclining at the root of a tree — doing
nothing. His clothing was not that of a soldier. I saw Scran-
ton'; his clothing was of no regular fashion — half civilian's,
half uniform. I saw him take food and carry it to the ambu-
lance, and come away with it again.

And now I did a thing which you will say was impossible.
I was sure that Lydia was in the ambulance. Never before or
since have I had such restlessness. I would have given every-
thing on earth to be able to tell Lydia that help was near. I
felt it beyond my power to leave the spot, yet I left it. I
backed away from the place, and went to my horse again.
I had determined to capture the outpost.

I felt sure that before Scranton moved from this place he
would call in this man. Therefore, until I should see a relief,
or a messenger coming for this vedette, I had little fear that
the renegades would leave. The sun was an hour high. If
my hopes were to be met, our cavalry would soon be here. I
would get in rear of the outpost, and frighten him into sur-
rendering ; then all the men behind me might be easily taken.
I mounted, and with the Enfield in my lap I started northward
on the road. I could see the man sitting on his horse some

210 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTEKSIGN

three hundred yards before me. Now the thought came to me,
that perhaps it would be better to let him alone; I would
simply take my stand in his rear and wait until he should be
alarmed in his front; then as he was riding back he would
find himself caught between two fires, and would surrender ;
if I should go forward and endeavour to take him I might be
too early. It would be hard to keep him long ; our cavalry
might be delayed. So when I was within two hundred yards
I halted ; I was in his rear, sitting on my horse just as he was,
and looking north just as he was looking north. Something,
however, caused him to turn, and he saw me. He waved his
hand, beckoning to me to come up. Perhaps at the distance
he could not tell me from one of his comrades. I moved on a
few yards, as if in compliance with his wish, and halted again.
He now shouted to me to come on, but I did not move. He
made violent gestures, meaning to say I know not what — per-
haps anger, or disgust at my apparent lack of common sense,
and turned again and looked north. A minute was precious.
Horsemen can ride far in a minute. Perhaps Scranton's party
were now saddling their horses. Perhaps Jeeter with help
was now within a mile — within half a mile. The minutes
were long ; but minutes pass.

I heard a noise behind me. I turned my head ; a horseman
was coming — doubtless the relief, or a man sent to call in the
outpost. I turned again and looked north. I saw the outpost
riding hurriedly back. I was caught between the two.

What had made the sentinel turn and flee ? He had not
waited to be relieved; he had not waited to be told to leave his
post. He was leaving his post because he saw the Federal
cavalry. He was riding hard. His hand was in the air, and
he was shouting to me and to the man in my rear to turn. I
rode forward.

Again I halted. I raised my rifle to my shoulder and took
aim at the man advancing toward me, and called to him to halt.
He did not stop ; he came right on. I could see behind him a

AN AMBULANCE 211

group of horsemen spurring hard. The man swerved and passed
me, bending low on the neck of his horse. I turned to pursue.
The momentum of the horses behind me placed them at my
side ; Jeeter was at the front. Down the road we went, pur-
suers and pursued, the two fugitives shouting at the top of
their voices, doubtless telling their comrades to run ; and now
Scranton and his men appeared in the road, and at once gal-
loped south, the long sorrel leading, with Scherzer on his back,
the ambulance rocking from side to side in its headlong flight.

From this spot to the post of the Eighteenth Virginia, it was
about a mile and a half. Would the scoundrels escape ? I
was now ahead of Jeeter, the men having ridden hard while
my horse was fresh. Half a mile of the road was passed over.
I was gaining. The field to the right was reached. I was
gaining rapidly for the horsemen ahead abated their speed be-
cause of the ambulance. The sun was two hours high. We
were in sight of the intrenchments. A few minutes more and
Scranton would be safe, and Lydia would be lost. I urged my
horse to his greatest speed. It was death or worse. I was
within a hundred and fifty yards of the ambulance. Another
hundred yards, and it would be in range of the rifles of the
Eighteenth Virginia. But at the corner of the field I was
amazed to see it turn to the left, and as it turned I could see
the horses that drew it galloping madly down the hill. At the
bottom of the hill was the impassable water. Did Scranton
know it ? I shouted " Scranton ! Scranton ! " but there was no
pause, no hesitation ; always the wheels turned, and the horses
galloped, and the ambulance went down the hill toward the
water.

But the renegades — beginning with Scherzer — began to
scatter ; first one, then another left the road, and darted into
the bushes, until Scranton alone was left, but the ambulance
rolled on, and Scranton held by it. Now our whole party was
gaining ground, and some of them began to fire regardless of
my cries. The water was before us, and I felt already the

212 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

joy of success. No man would be so insane as to attempt to
drive into that rushing torrent ; yet on went the ambulance,
and on went Scranton, and on went his pursuers, shouting to
him to stop and surrender. Once he turned and shook his fist
in scorn.

Would he dare plunge in ? It was his only chance. Was
he so desperate as to urge the teamster on? He could not.
No man would obey such an order.

The fire of small arms was heard at our right rear. One of
Torbert's regiments had kept upon the main road, and was
under fire from the Eighteenth Virginia. Now I saw that
the driver was doing his utmost to stop before the water should
be reached, for there was a steep slope before him. I was
within fifty yards of the ambulance.

The ambulance stopped, and I was by its side, and a dozen
horsemen. I tore a curtain and looked in.

Lydia was safe and unharmed.

We were on the brink of the river. A horse was buffeting
the waters. The rider was bending low. A shot was fired,
and a dozen shots. Scranton slipped from his horse ; he held
on with one hand to his saddle, with only his head above the
water. The men loaded and fired. The horse turned over.

The river swept on uncumbered.

***#*##

Jeeter claimed his hundred dollars. Dr. Khayme made
it a thousand.

XIX

JERICHO

" He treads painfully with stillest step
And beady brow, pressed 'neath the weight of arms."

— GEORGE ELIOT.

LTDIA had been delayed by the bad road, and by many
wagons stalled in the mud. As night approached, three miles
only from the outskirts of Fredericksburg, the ambulance was
halted by mounted men, and turned southward. The driver's
escape was, no doubt, connived at. Lydia had recognized
Scranton almost at once, but it was hours before she knew that
he had purposely waylaid her. Yet she had suffered no insult ;
Scranton had given orders in her hearing that no man should
speak a word to her. It was not until morning that she saw
that the men were seeming Confederates; then she feared
injury. There was talk of booty among the men, which
opened her eyes to the fact that this was a party of bush-
whackers. She soon learned that Scranton's motive was not
mercenary; his conduct had been respectful, yet she had
feared the future. She said ever after that Scranton was a
man not wholly bad — yielding to impulse, only to repent, and
to yield again.

And now, Scranton dead, the mystery of Dr. Khayme's
words weighed upon me more than ever. The great work
which I was to do ... had it already been done in the destruc-
tion of this man ? I could not believe it. Of what importance
could Scranton have been ? . . . Yet Scherzer had escaped !

213

214 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

What if Scherzer himself was important ? His unguarded use
of good English meant not only deceit, but also education —
perhaps prominence.

Hardly had I heard my Lydia's story, and seen that she was
furnished with a strong escort back to Fredericksburg, before
I was ordered to report to General Warren. It was afternoon
when I found him.

" Do you know the North Anna ? "

"Yes, sir; a little."

" Where ? At what points ? "

" I have crossed it, General, near Hanover Junction and
above that point."

" How far above ? "

" At Anderson's Bridge, sir, and at Jericho."

" Jericho Bridge ? "

" No, sir ; Jericho Mills."

" Look here at this map. This has Jericho Bridge."

" Yes, sir, I see ; but the map is wrong."

" There is no bridge there ? "

" Not unless it has been built since I was there, sir."

" Is the river f ordable there ? "

" Yes, sir."

"Well, Berwick, I shall want to know what force of the
enemy will be in my front when I reach the North Anna at
Jericho Mills."

" When will that be, General ? "

"My head of column will be near the river by midday of
the twenty-third — day after to-morrow."

" I must start at once, General."

" Very well ; the sooner the better. I shall expect you to
report to me before I reach the ford."

"It might be better, sir, to give me a little discretion. Sup-
pose the ford is not defended ; in that case, would there be any
need to report ? "

"Why not?"

JERICHO 215

" Ought I not to follow the enemy and see where they make
a stand?"

"Berwick, you are right, undoubtedly. Go ahead, and do
the thing as you see fit. Do you want help ? "

" Yes, General ; I want a dozen cavalrymen — good men."

" By what roads will you go ? "

"I suppose, General, that the movement of our army is
expected to cause a corresponding movement on Mahs Robert's
part ? "

General Warren laughed: "That 'Mahs Robert' of yours
is good, Berwick. You would deceive the very elect. Yes ;
of course ; Lee will retire, unfortunately."

"You expect him to fall back behind the North Anna? "

" Certainly."

" His most direct way is by the Telegraph road, sir ; I must
go to the west of that road, and get through Chilesburg, and
cross the river, if need be, above Jericho."

"I think you are right," said General Warren; "if you
move on the Telegraph road, you will be always bothered with
marching troops, and you might not be able to get away from
them when you wanted to go up to Jericho."

" General," I replied, " I shall send you reports of what I
learn, but you must not be surprised if you don't see me for
some days. If possible, after I send back the men whom you
give me, I shall go into Lee's new lines."

" All right, Berwick ; a good idea ; in fact, but for fear of
( riding a free horse to death/ I should have asked you to do
that."

From Guiney's Bridge, where I had found General Warren,
the squad rode to Lebanon Church, some seven or eight miles
to the southwest. At this place there was an outpost of Union
cavalry. It was now night. Less than a mile to the west was
the Telegraph road, running south to Hanover Junction. The
noise of marching troops had been plainly heard, going south
on the Telegraph road.

216 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

At ten o'clock we rode on forward, and when within a few
hundred yards of the Telegraph road, we dismounted, and led
our horses through the woods. Shouts of teamsters came from
the road.

I wanted to go on to Bethany Church. There we should
find the road which runs southwest through Chilesburg, and on
to the North Anna at Anderson's Bridge. The shouts of the
teamsters caused me to believe that there would be little risk
in riding boldly on across the Telegraph road, for evidently
there was a wagon-train now on that road, and it would be
no point of duty on the part of any teamster to inquire con-
cerning me ; besides, my condition nearly approached indiffer-
ence when in the midst of the enemy ; I felt more at home with
Confederate infantry than with our own — I had marched in the
ranks of the Eleventh Massachusetts not fifty miles ; with the
Carolinians a thousand.

Again we mounted, and made straight for the road. I found
it blocked with wagons. There was a full moon. As far as
I could see up and down the road, there was nothing but
wagons, all at a dead halt, waiting for movement ahead. Just
where my road crossed, a team was pressed close to the wagon
next in front, so that I saw no way to pass.

I halted the party and spoke to the men in low tones.

" Get into groups of four. Make three groups, front, centre,
and rear."

The men obeyed.

" Now, men, remain here five minutes ; when I return, the
first group will ride to General Warren ; the others will follow
me."

I went southward, along the edge of the road, rapidly passing
the wagons. After a minute I shouted to a teamster, " What
troops are ahead ? "

" Ewell's corps," he replied.

I rode on two hundred yards.

" What troops are ahead ? "

JERICHO 217

" Ewell's," came the reply.

I rode back.

" Front group, come here. . . . Now go. Say that Ewell's
corps has passed, marching southward on the Telegraph road ;
that a long wagon-train is behind Ewell, and that we shall
soon find out more." This order was given in a whisper.

The four men rode east.

With eight men I turned northward and kept by the side of
the road for half a mile until a passage was found between two
teams.

Now I shouted boldly and loud to a teamster : —

" What troops are behind your train ? "

" Longstreet's corps," was the reply.

The centre group was at once ordered by signal to return to
General Warren. Five of us crossed the road.

On the west side of the road was a field ; we continued north
and turned west into a wood. Beyond the field I led toward
the south, and soon struck my road to Bethany Church. After
going half a mile, sounds came from the front. The noise
increased, and I led the men aside, into the woods. A party
of cavalry — Confederates, I knew very well — rode by, going
east. Now I had little fear of being molested, or even ques-
tioned ; without counting the wagon-train this party of cavalry
had put us within the Confederate lines. So we rode on un-
troubled to Bethany Church, some two miles farther westward,
and at the cross-roads turned south.

It was now about midnight, and I was yet some fifteen miles
from Jericho Mills, for the road before me made an angle at
Chilesburg ; so we went into a wood near the roadside, tied our
bridles to the limbs of trees, and lay down to snatch a few
hours' sleep, leaving one man on watch. But I did not sleep.
Lying on the earth I could hear the sounds of great movements,
evidently coming from the north. I rose and hastily went into
the road, where I again lay flat, putting my ear to the solid
ground. The rumour was now distinct ; clearly a great body

218 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

of troops was marching southward, and would soon be at hand.
I was about to rise, in order to get my men and pursue my
southward course before the column should reach us, when the
noises ceased. I waited awhile, but the silence remained
unbroken ; I judged that the troops had halted for the night.

It was best, I thought, to put a mile or two more between us
and the Confederate column, so we moved southward again,
and about one o'clock found a good spot in a thicket east of
the road and halted ; this time I slept.

When I awoke the sun had risen. Noises came from the
road some two hundred yards from us. I crept up until I
could see the road; it was full of cavalry marching slowly
southward, so slowly that I thought this body of troops merely
a squadron or two in advance of an infantry column ; I waited
and soon saw that my conjecture was right, for the cavalry
passed, and after an interval of a few hundred yards — which
was not indeed an interval, but a space occupied by a full bat-
tery of six brass pieces with their caissons — there came into
view a group of horsemen, which I readily saw was the staff
of some general officer, and a long infantry column behind,
marching at the route step.

My glass was in my haversack ; I took it out, and saw, in
the midst of the group of horsemen, a face and a figure that I
could not fail to recognize. General A. P. Hill was riding at
the head of his corps, his brown beard touching his breast, as
with head bent, he slowly moved forward. Traces of his re-
cent illness were clearly discernible ; ordinarily alert, he now
seemed different, and I felt sympathy for this proud spirit who
for more than ten days had chafed under the restraint of illness
while his great troops endured, with another leader, the storm
of many battles. I had not seen the general in seven months
— but whoever had once seen Hill could never forget him.

The lieutenant-general and his staff had passed, and the regi-
ments of the corps were filing on. I rose and went back to
my men.

JERICHO 219

I took the Enfield, and a rolled blanket ; my cartridge-box,
haversack, and canteen completed my equipment ; I was al-
ready dressed as a Confederate.

The four men were ordered to return to General Warren
with the report that the head of the Light corps had passed
Bethany Church two miles and was marching southward —
that A. P. Hill himself was in command. The men were
instructed to ride rapidly, for I judged that on the Telegraph
road our own cavalry were now following Longstreet. The
four men rode east, one of them leading my horse ; I walked
south.

By the side of the road I could see a few stragglers — men
not broken down, but permitted to walk out of ranks because
of slight indisposition. I went toward the road at an angle —
approaching it very gradually, so that when I reached its edge
I should not appear to come suddenly from the depths of the
forest. The morning sun was hot, and the dust was thick in
the road ; the long column was scattered wide, the middle of
the way being rejected wherever the sides presented ground
less dusty. The men were marching stolidly on — saying
little, their heads hanging, their backs bent, their rifles on their
shoulders, squirrel-hunting fashion. Occasionally a sergeant
would call out, "Close up ! "

The rule on a march was to make two miles in fifty minutes
— then to rest ten minutes. While the troops were marching
I went more slowly than they, preserving the honourable char-
acter of a straggler ; when they rested I kept on, for I knew
that Wilcox's division was behind me, and I did not wish to
be overtaken by McGowan's brigade.

About ten o'clock I followed a straggling line of men — about
a dozen or so — off to a house on the right where at the well
in the yard an eager crowd were busy. A man passed me
loaded with six or seven canteens ; he was walking very rap-
idly. I saw that he would be ahead of me, for in filling can-
teens at a well it is " first come first served."

220 A FKIEND WITH THE COUNTEKSIGN

" Say, pardner, take my canteen too, and I'll draw the
water."

"That's talkin', " says he ; " hand it here."

We walked on.

" Got any tobacco ? " he asks.

I cut off a big chew and handed it to him.

" What you belong ? "

" McGowan's."

" I knowed you didn't belong to the Fifty-fifth."

"What fifty-fifth?"

"No'th Ca'lina."

" Is that your regiment ? "

« Yes."

" Davis's brigade ?"

"Yes."

" I used to know a man in your regiment."

" Which 'un?"

" A man named Saddler."

" Poor Bill ! He was as good a man as ever trod shoe-
leather."

" You don't mean to say he's dead ? "

" Killed on the twelfth ! You say you knowed him ? "

" I was with him on the tenth at Spottsylvania. We stuck
together a good part of the night. I'm mighty sorry to hear
he's gone."

" How come you so fur ahead o' your regiment ? "

" Got permission to march out o' ranks. I don't want 'em
to ketch up wi' me till night."

We had reached the well and were waiting our turn.

" Was you in that battle on the twelfth ? "

" Yes ; see this mark ? " I took off my hat and showed him
a blue spot on my forehead.

"What done that?"

"Tree fell on me."

" What's your name ?"

JERICHO 221

" Jones — First South Carolina."

" Mine's Carroll ; say — now's our time."

I took the rope, at either end of which was a bucket, and we
soon had the canteens filled.

" I'll tote half of 'em," said I.

"All right," says Carroll; "much obleeged. Come ahead."

And now Carroll, with his long legs, set out to catch the
"Fifty-fifth No'th Ca'lina," which by this time was half a mile
ahead, and my strength was taxed to keep with him. You all
know what exasperating work it is to overtake a column in
march. Burdened, already tired, the road full of men so that
you must pick your way on the outside where frequent obstruc-
tions turn you and make your work greater, it is no wonder
that sometimes hours go by before your task is done. So it
was on this day. Some new order must have been given, for
when we reached the road the troops were going forward at a
faster gait, and the file-closers were urging yet greater speed.
Carroll swore broadly and much, but never relaxed ; he kept
on, gaining little by little on the men ahead, passing one com-
pany after another, one regiment after another, and at last I
heard him say, "By God, they've halted."

When we stood over his company — I say over, because every
man of the company was lying full length on the ground, the
arms stacked by the side of the road — there wasn't a dry
thread on me ; I threw myself down alongside Carroll.

" Who's that you picked up ? " I heard a man ask.

" Name's Jones. He knowed Bill," Carroll replied.

The short rest was ended. I marched near the company of
Saddler and Carroll — as yet I knew not what company of the
Fifty-fifth North Carolina. By degrees the men made advances
to me— I had "knowed Bill Saddler."

Even Captain Fender seemed to regard me with some degree
of favour, for he looked at me repeatedly, and asked me ques-
tions concerning my acquaintanceship with poor Saddler.
Carroll had explained to his captain that I was permitted to

222 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

march out of ranks in consequence of an injury, and that 1
preferred to be ahead rather than at the rear.

About noon the firing of cannon was heard off to our left —
perhaps two miles away. The Fifty-fifth was thrown out as
skirmishers on the east of the road, and advanced perhaps half
a mile. The sound of small arms was now heard, and it was
clear that the men around me were expecting action. I kept
my place in the ranks. After a quarter of an hour the noise
died away, and the regiment marched on south.

We approached the North Anna. My suffering became
unfeigned. You will remember that on the night of the 12th
— only ten days previously — I had been stunned in the battle
at the Bloody Angle ; from this blow I had scarcely recovered
when General Hancock sent me to Milford, where I had worked
the whole night, and had endured a mental strain such as even
soldiers seldom experience — can it be, I asked, as I trudged
along, that the terrible, yet fortunate encounter with Scranton's
gang, was only yesterday morning? Last night I had little
rest ; this day had been spent in heat and dust and toil ; I was
beginning to weaken. Yet I could not show to my comrades
that I needed help ; they would tell me to lie down and rest
and wait for my own company. I must stay with the Fifty-
fifth.

We crossed the river at Anderson's Bridge, and went into
bivouac. I was so nearly exhausted that I found it impossible
to strain my attention so far as to learn the organizations of
the troops marching by. Yet I saw that all the men in biv-
ouac were allowed to rest — no duty being required except from
details to picket the river. After crossing at the bridge we
had turned southeastward, and were now, I supposed, almost
opposite Jericho. So far as I could see, none of the troops
were intrenching.

Ewell and Longstreet had marched southward by the Tele-
graph road, and before this time would have crossed the river
near Hanover Junction ; the movement of Hill's corps down

JEKICHO 223

the river on the right bank would, therefore, unite Lee's army.
Whether the crossings would be disputed I could not know, but
I fancied that General Lee would allow a corps of Federals to
reach the south side in order that he might crush them before
they could be reenforced.

Night came on, and I yet lay with the Fifty-fifth. Beyond
the fact that my weariness prevented me from attempting to
get away at once, there were two considerations which held me
back : First, I greatly desired to see and report the new posi-
tion which should be intrenched by the Confederates ; Second,
if our troops should cross the river, my return would be ren-
dered easier. I would wait and see.

On Sunday morning, the 23d, Davis's brigade was ordered
to fall into ranks, and the march toward Hanover Junction
was begun. Having no longer an excuse for remaining with
these troops I told Captain Fender that with his permission I
should now seek my own command, and asked him for a paper
showing that I had marched with his company on the preced-
ing day. He willingly signed what I wrote.

Having bidden good-by to the captain, to Carroll, and to
others, I bent my steps toward Jericho Ford, hoping to learn
what Confederate strength disputed the passage of the river at
that point ; then I flattered myself that I could easily slip to
right or left, and get across the river. My way led near the
Virginia Central railroad, on which were a few stragglers going
southeast toward Hanover Junction ; I inferred that the wagon
road, which I could not see, was full of marching troops. I
kept going parallel to the railroad — between it and the river.

A little before noon, I observed that all the stragglers had
disappeared, as if by order. Wondering what was meant, I
approached the railroad embankment, climbed it, and saw on
the other side a Confederate line of battle, standing there in
the hot sun.

" Down from there ! " shouted an officer ; " come down, and
fall in!"

224 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

I obeyed. The men about me were of McGowan's brigade;
I saw Colonel Brown. I learned that I was in the ranks of
Orr's Rifle regiment — the First Rifles, as the command was
called.

Almost at once we were ordered to face to the right. The
regiment marched by flank down the railroad, halted, fronted,
and was ordered to deploy as skirmishers. When this had
been done I found myself about a third of the way from the
left of the line ; the line began to advance. There was a wood
in front, some five hundred yards away. We advanced through
a wheat-field, and reached the wood. Now, I thought, if this
line advances into the wood, it will be comparatively easy for
me to get away ; but there was no farther advance. Vedettes
were thrown out in front — some fifty yards into the wood.

Orders were given to the men that in case a line of battle
came upon us, we were to retire quickly in order to avoid loss
— a very wise order, for skirmishers fighting a line of battle at
close range in open ground will be caught or killed.

About three o'clock the vedettes hastily ran back, and re-
ported that a full line of battle was approaching. The regi-
ment at once ran — each man for himself — and none too soon,
for before we were out of range a volley burst from our rear
and we had some losses. In this affair not many shots were
fired by the retreating Confederates, and my conduct escaped
notice.

The Federals advanced down the hill but a short distance ;
then they went back to the edge of the woods, and seemed to
be intrenching. Orr's Rifles, in retiring, formed again on the
right of McGowan's brigade. Trains and artillery continued
to pass in our rear, making for Hanover Junction. After the
trains, the brigade filed into the road, and marched for an
hour.

Confusion must have reigned that day in the councils of the
Confederates. At five o'clock the brigade countermarched and
soon reached the scene of the late skirmish.

JERICHO 225

We were ordered again to advance. Skirmishers in our front
were said to be the sharp-shooters ; I did not want to get with
them. Thomas's brigade was said to be on our left, and Scales's
on our right, but I did not see either. Again we advanced
through the wheat.

The woods approached our line in such a way that our left
entered the forest while yet the right had three hundred yards
of open ground in front. Firing began. The left regiments
of the brigade entered the woods; they seemed to press the
Federals back ; the firing receded toward the river, and at the
woods there was now a gap in the line, for the right failed to
drive the enemy. Off at the left oblique, artillery was roar-
ing ; we could hear McGowan's left yelling as it continued to go
forward. I was loading and firing — firing into the ground before
me ; I had been compelled to pick up a gun dropped by a wounded
man. Men were lying down in the green wheat — kneeling
down in the wheat — standing in the wheat — all loading and
firing. Looking along our line to the right I could see its end
— in the open wheat. If Scales's brigade was anywhere, it
certainly had no connection with our right ; it would have been
folly for us to charge ; we remained stationary, loading and fir-
ing. The Yankees could have cut us off, but doubtless feared
to advance because the left of our brigade had reached their
flank.

Now seemed my time. I determined to get away. Little
by little I edged off toward the woods. The line was busy •
every man was attending to his own work, firing at will. Little
by little I gained ground ; I passed the Thirteenth, and reached
the Fourteenth regiment. At this point, which was only some
eighty yards from my former position, for the regiments were
very small, the fire from the enemy was not quite so severe, a
swell of the ground affording a slight protection. I saw Cap-
tain Boatwright. He was in command of the Fourteenth and
was talking to an officer whom I did not know. I passed near
them, and heard disconnected words.
Q

226 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

" Driving . . . you say ? "

"Yes . . . woods . . . left!"

"How far?"

"... half a mile . . . hail Columbia!"

I turned to look back, and saw the officer pointing north-
west — left oblique, the captain giving close attention. North-
west was the way I wanted to go to reach our lines through
the gap in McGowan's brigade, but I suspected that the officer
was pointing toward the left of the brigade, which, from the
scrap of conversation I had heard, I judged had swung round
to the flank of the Federals, and I now decided that when I
reached the woods I should turn more toward the north.

The left of the Fourteenth rested just within the timber; it
was difficult to prevent the men in the open field from crowd-
ing to their left for shelter; in fact this crowding process
was now going on, men darting behind trees to load, and re-
maining there until forced out by the officers. I continued
to make my way into the forest until I reached the end of
the line.

" Get out of that ! " cried a voice, and I saw an officer driv-
ing a man away from his tree ; both men were very near me.

" And you, too, sir ! Get out and into the line ! "

These words were addressed to me.

" I belong to the First, Captain," I replied, and went on into
the woods.

The sound of the firing through the woods had turned still
more to the north. I soon saw before me the end of a line of
men, and thought at first that these men were Federals, but
almost as soon saw my mistake, for I ran into Company C, of
the First, whose officers' faces were not unfamiliar. I saw
Colonel Brown, also, who commanded the brigade, and who
was peering into the woods in the direction from which I had
come.

" Where did you come from, sir ? " he shouted, above the din.

" From the Fourteenth, Colonel ! " I shouted back.

JEKICHO 227

" Where is it ? I want to find it ! Lead me back to it at
once ! "

" I think you'd better go by the rear, Colonel ! "

" Why so ? What ! Didn't I see you at Spottsylvania ? "

" Yes, sir ; Berwick Jones, of Company H."

"How long since you saw the Fourteenth? Where is it
now ? "

" It has not been ten minutes, Colonel. The regiment is not
more than two hundred yards across here," pointing southeast,
from which direction yet came the noise of battle.

" Lead me to it, Jones ! Come ! "

I felt that I was in a close place ; there was no intention on
my part to lead Colonel Brown wrong ; I hesitated. He saw
my hesitation and sprang forward. I followed him. He began
to run. I saw that he was going wrong — going where I wanted
to go ; where he should have shunned to go. He was ten steps
ahead. I shouted : —

"Colonel, turn more to your right! To your right! To
your right ! "

Yet for myself I would keep straight north.

Suddenly I saw Colonel Brown in the midst of men — blue
men ; one of them — a corporal — had his hand on the colonel.

A moment more, and " Throw down that gun ! " came from
my left, and I raised my hands. We were surrounded.1

The men were Pennsylvanians. A detail took us to the rear.

Colonel Brown said, " I wish I had listened to you, Jones ;
we ought to have gone more to the right."

I was truly sorry. In my work for General Meade it was
clearly understood that my efforts should be directed only to
large ends ; the killing or the taking of a man or two could be

1 "Corporal Lewis Corbin, of Company B, here captured Colonel Brown
commanding a brigade of the enemy." Report of Lieutenant-Colonel D. C.
McCoy, commanding Eighty-third Pennsylvania. " Colonel Brown, our brig-
ade commander, was captured in attempting to cross the woods from the First
regiment to the Fourteenth." — Cald well's McGowan's Brigade, p. 155. [ED.]

228 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

but waste of time ; even the capture of a colonel could have no
appreciable influence on the war.

We were soon separated. Not until Colonel Brown had been
taken very far from me, and the detail which had guarded us
had gone back to the. front, did I claim to be other than I
seemed. Then I demanded to be taken to General Warren.

I had to get another Enfield.

XX

SHOWALTER

'« Hence, horrible shadow !

Unreal mockery, hence ! — Why, so ; — being gone,
I am a man again.1' — SHAKESPEARE.

THE army had crossed the North Anna in two places ; Lee
had skilfully thrust his force like a wedge between its wings ;
Meade was withdrawing, but only to advance again, farther
to the left.

By General Meade's order I rode to Hanovertown on the
morning of the 27th, arriving just as Russell's division of the
Sixth corps was crossing the Pamunkey. My duty was to
inform General Russell, so far as I could, of the nature of the
ground in his front; I had scouted over it more than once
under McClellan, and had marched over it under Lee, and my
memory served me, as to its details, with accuracy and vivid-
ness not less than phenomenal.

The division of infantry under General Russell remained
near the pontoon bridge ; cavalry were thrown out right and
left and front, and before nightfall reported the enemy on the
march for the Totopotomoy. Early on the 28th, the Fifth
corps, Warren's, began crossing to the south side, and before
noon line of battle was formed, the right resting on the road
to Richmond, halfway between the river and Hawes's Shop,
the left near the Totopotomoy where it is crossed by the road
leading south to Old Church, and almost at the very spot
where Black-Horse Jones and I had forded the creek on the
23d of May, 1862. I was with General Warren, giving him

229

230 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

quick responses to his intelligent assertions concerning the
character of the country, and the courses of the roads, which
he knew almost as well as I did, when a courier came up with
an order for me to report at once to General Grant. I had
never before had a word addressed to me by this distinguished
man, though I had frequently been very near his person, and
I must avow that it was with some trepidation that I followed
the courier.

General Grant asked me first whether I knew anything of
the country below.

"Not below Old Church, General; that is, for a long dis-
tance."

" How far ? "

"I have never been between Old Church and Eltham's
Landing, sir."

" He'll do it, all the same," said General Meade, standing
near.

" I want you to reach White House," said General Grant.

I bowed.

" Can you do it ? "

" I don't know, General."

General Grant's look was neither pleasing nor the reverse.
He was probing me, and I was very willing that he should.

" True. There are such things as impossibilities ; this may
be one. I shall trust General Meade's opinion of you."

" General, I can only promise to do my best."

" I am sending three messengers to General Smith, who will
land his corps, perhaps to-morrow, at White House. You see
I count on two being captured. Will you risk it ? "

"Yes, General."

" Then, take this despatch and deliver it."

" Am I to choose my own route, sir ? "

" Which is the best route ? "

" Down the river on this side, sir, is the nearest way, and
so far as I know, as safe as any other."

SHOWALTER 231

" Both of the other men go by roads on this side. You may
do so if you wish."

" I think, sir, that chances for one of the three will be
greater if we go separately and by different roads."

" So do I."

" I shall go north of the river, General."

" It is longer and just as dangerous."

" But it increases our chances, sir."

" You are right. I hope you will succeed. Here," said he
to the courier ; " go with Lieutenant Berwick to Colonel
Sharpe, and tell him for me to help all he can."

Colonel Sharpe's duty was to be omniscient ; that is to say,
he was the provost-marshal. I was not entirely unknown to
him. He was north of the river.

" What is it you want to do now, Berwick ? " he asked, after
the courier had delivered the message and ridden away.

" I want to get to White House by going on this side, sir."

" Better try the other side."

"Why so, Colonel?"

" Shorter and safer."

" Two men have already gone on the south side."

" Settles it. Come here. Study this map a minute."

I did so. The roads were zigzagging all over it. To reach
White House many angles must be made.

" How is the country away from the roads, Colonel ? "

" Passable, so far as the ground is concerned."

" But as to other things ? "

" Ah ! there's the rub. Hostile. Those people down there
trust nobody ; home-guards. Throw heads or tails to go as a
rebel or a Union man, and if you win you lose."

" Are there no negroes ? "

" A few left. Many have been sent into the interior by their
owners ; many others have come in."

" How would you advise me to go, Colonel ? "

" How dressed, you mean ? "

232 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

« Yes, sir."

" Six of one and half a dozen of the other ; go as you are j
Jess trouble ; spies in there frequently ; dressed any way."

" Why not go as a citizen ? "

" Nobody would know you ; a strange citizen would be sus-
pected by everybody."

" You can give me no help, Colonel ? "

"Yes, I can give you a little; not much probably, yet it
may prove to be worth something. About halfway down to
White House we have a friend. If you reach him safely, he
can tell you how to go on."

" Yes, sir ; how can I find him ? "

" I'll send you part of the way. See Brandy wine here ? "

"Yes, sir."

" I'll send you two miles beyond Brandy wine — to the south
of Brandy wine ; a narrow road leaves this one a mile this side
of Brandywine and runs almost south. I'll send a squad of
cavalry with you that far."

"And then?"

" Then you will find your way southeast for eight miles, or
such a matter j I can't be exact. You will find somewhere a
deserted house — it looks like one at least ; there are lots of
deserted houses, but this one has dormer windows, and the
chimney on the west end has fallen down."

"Yes, sir."

" It is not on any road exactly ; it is north of the road an
eighth of a mile, and has a carriageway out to the road, but
the way is grown up with weeds and bushes ; in the night one
would pass by and see nothing."

"Yes, sir."

" In the house lives a friend of ours ; I will go so far as to
say that he is as good a friend as if he was one of us."

" How can I find him if I get there ? "

" Whistle ' Bonnie Blue Flag.' "

« Yes, sir."

10
THE JAMES

SCALE OF MILES
018346

SHOWALTEE 233

" If he hears you he will cough. Then, when you see him,
you must ask, < Is anything stirring in these parts 9 ' "

" Yes, sir ; is anything stirring in these parts. "

" And he will reply, ' Not even a mouse,' that is, he will make
that reply if the coast is clear, but if there is danger, he will say,
'Nothing but rats and mice.' Then you ask if Showalter is well."

"Showalter. Yes, sir."

"He is Showalter, himself. Don't ask, 'Are you well?'
Say, ' 7s Showalter well ? ' He is Showalter, and his house is
Showalter. He will ask you no questions about your pur-
poses, but will reply to your inquiries, and will give you what
help he can. He will take care of you, if you need to remain,
and will receive pay or not, just as you choose."

" Shall I find nobody else in the house ? "

" That depends. He has one servant, a negro man. It may
be that other persons are in the house, for he turns no one
away. There may be Confederates in the house ; they think
he is their friend."

" How can I trust such a man ? "

Colonel Sharpe looked into a portfolio and handed me a
paper. It was part of an alphabetical list of the provost-
marshal's official help for 1862. On it he pointed to the name
of Captain Walter S. Howe.

"Captain Howe is Showalter," said the colonel; "if you
can only find him you need have no fears ; he is compelled to
keep up appearances with all his neighbours ; he is regarded
as neutral by some, and as a man perfectly indifferent to the
war. He is past the age for active service — or, at least,
appears to be. He is an officer of the old army — was in the
Mexican war. He has lived in Virginia for a good many
years. He served us well in McClellan's time."

"I'm afraid I can't find him, Colonel. Southeast eight
miles ? "

"Southeast eight miles. Ask for Showalter if you meet
anybody — especially if you meet a negro."

234 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

" But I am hoping to meet no one."

" In that case you will not be molested," said he, laughing,
" and you will hardly need Showalter. Of course you won't
try to find him unless you need help."

" Well, sir, I am ready."

The colonel ordered a sergeant to take a squad of cavalry
and escort me.

" Colonel," I begged, " do one more thing for me."

"What is it, Berwick?"

" Let a man go with me to bring back my horse. I have
decided to go afoot when I find myself alone."

He reflected a little; then said, "All right; but I must
limit you to three miles more. I need every man I've got.
Good luck to you, Berwick."

I left almost all my possessions, few enough, in the care of
the provost-marshal. I went dressed as a private in the Union
army, with a little hardtack in my pockets, and a little money
in my purse. The weather had become too warm for wearing
the double clothing, and it had been left with Dr. Khayme's
supplies, to be renovated for next winter's wear.

No incident happened while I was under the protection of
the sergeant's escort. We reached the road referred to by
Colonel Sharpe, and turned short to the right. It was now
about half-past three. Two miles more, and the sergeant left
me with one man. He and I continued south — a little east
of south. The region generally was flat — interspersed with
low hills and many small brooks. Water-oaks and gum trees
intermingled on the banks of the streams while the higher
ground, sandy and infertile, abounded with the low and
scraggy second-growth pine, common to the southern states.
There were but few birds. In the fields there was no ploughing.
We saw some inhabitants, but did not fear them for we were
near the rear of the army as yet, and knew that the people
were expecting worse desolation than had already come upon
them.

SHOWALTER 235

At length my companion said that his limit was reached.
I dismounted and gave him my bridle. He looked at me
compassionately — then turned, and went up the road, without
saying a word.

I was now a few miles nearer White House than I had
been when I started, and my course was comparatively straight,
if I could but find it. There would yet be some hours of day-
light, and I resolved to make the most of them. According to
Colonel Sharpe's information I was not more than five miles
from Showalter. I knew not whether I was on the right road,
but I knew the general direction, and knew that I could keep
it unless hindered by water or by men. Yet I did not intend
calling upon Showalter. I would go beyond him if strength
and good luck would let me, and rest in the woods. No doubt
the messengers sent out by the southern routes would reach
General Smith early to-morrow. I did not fret on that ac-
count. I knew that I was being used only as a reserve. If
I should reach White House at all, I should be doing all that
was required of me.

I soon came to a fork of the road. The two branches were
as nearly equal as possible. Neither branch showed signs of
recent travel, either being littered yet with the leaves of last
winter.

It was Hobson's choice. I had previously decided to take
the right in every case of extreme doubt, simply because the
river was at my right; General Smith would come up the
river. But just as I was about to go forward to the right, I
saw in the left-hand road a green pine bough, and stepped to
it, and picked it up, and examined it. It was very small ;
it would have weighed an ounce, perhaps. I turned it one
way and another, and found that it had not been broken from
the limb, but had been cut. The sap had thickened on the
surface left by the blade, showing the work of some days ago.
That the thing was a token I had no doubt. But of what ?
You may think it strange, but I now changed my mind;

236 A FKIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

I put back the pine in the place where I had found it, and
began to go forward on the left-hand road. Perhaps curiosity
had some share in the matter, yet reason also had some, for
a signal from a Confederate to a Confederate in these parts
did not seem necessary. The pine bough had been lying
there three or four days, no doubt. The Confederates knew
the region; they would need no signal. Possibly the sign
had been given to a Southerner closely following, but in that
case it had already served its purpose. Yet I confess that
I went on now more cautiously, keeping out of the road for
the greater part of the time, and looking carefully about me
before venturing into open spaces.

In about half a mile the road forked again, and here, in the
rightrhand branch, there was a pine sprig similar to the first.
After closely looking at it, and seeing that it also had been
cut, I threw it by momentary impulse to the side of the road
amongst the leaves; then, thinking that I had acted impru-
dently, I stepped to it to replace it, and saw lying near it a
similar sprig, but older. Now came the conclusion that these
pine branches, placed and removed at intervals, were intended
as more or less permanent signs of something — guides per-
haps to direct the doubting to some place they were seeking.
The older sprig was changing colour ; had the wind blown it
away ? No matter ; whether its removal had been owing
to accident or to purpose, its having been succeeded was proof
of intention and of persistence.

Had Showalter placed these signs? Two mysteries were
before me — Showalter and these signals — was there not some
relation ?

Now in the distance I saw a horseman — he was approaching ;
where he was, the ground was open ; where I was, there were
trees; I hid and waited for him to pass. He was riding
slowly, his horse at a gentle pace. I saw that he was armed
and, nearer, knew that a shot-gun was across his lap. He was
a man under middle age, a common countryman. He passed

SHOWALTER 237

me with his head bent down, looking neither to the right nor
to the left. Why was this man armed? Was he a home-
guard ?

I went on. Night was coming. I was getting weary. I
had found that I was not now so used to marching as I had
been when under Stonewall Jackson. Besides I had been
awake almost the whole of the preceding night. I must soon
have sleep and rest. Showalter and the pines interested and
mystified me. Showalter — Showalter — Show-all-to Showalter !
But this was fanciful ; the similarity of sound in the surname
and the three words was only coincidence ; what did the
pine sprigs mean ? Yet, having once started, my mind kept
calling Showalter, and kept trying to fill the word with mean-
ing. Showalter — Show all to — Showalter — Show alter! —
Show another ! Could there be anything in that ? I could
not believe it, yet it was possible. Whatever else was true,
it was certain that my mind refused to attribute the signals
to any other than Showalter.

At my left the forest became denser. I thought that I had
come far enough to be near the deserted house, and at every
step I took I kept watching the ground for signs of an old
road leading north. At last I saw it.

Years of travel had worn the soil where the two ways met,
and the leaves of many winters had failed to cover entirely
the ruts now polished by time. But for these ancient traces
one might have looked long and in vain for what I had sought

— there was no vista ; the disused carriageway was circuitous
and had been overgrown by the invading forest. At the spot
I paused and hesitated. My curiosity in regard to Showalter

— man and place — did not grow. To keep on seemed best.
I could yet make a mile — perhaps two — and every mile
counts. I turned away from Showalter and went on.

The light was dying, and I knew the night would be dark,
for the moon would not rise until past midnight. If the road
should fork again, my further progress would be all guesswork ;

238 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

I might never see the fork. But I went on, and in a little
while saw a light through the woods, and came to a wide road
running directly across my path. The light, I thought, came
from a camp-fire ; perhaps the woods were burning, but I had
seen no burning woods on that day, and saw no reason why
the woods here should burn. The fire was on the other side
of the wide road, and I was afraid to venture across it, for
fear of being seen, or to take down it or up it, for fear of going
wrong. At any rate I could not go much farther ; I must soon
stop for the night ; my strength must not be trifled away in
plunging through bushes without purpose ; my strength must
be saved for the day to come. I sat down and thought awhile.
Voices came to me from the other side of the road, but I could
not tell the words. This was a camp — what camp ? A camp
of bushwhackers ?

After a little time had passed — a time of nervousness — I
saw that to remain where I was would be merely to keep my
interest excited, so that I could not sleep, and I decided to go
back to Showalter. At Showalter could be found rest, and
food, and perhaps greater help. Why had I not accepted
these before ? I could have saved toil and trouble. I went
back.

I went up the carriageway, tracing it by the thicker under-
growth which the more open ground had developed. Three
hundred yards from the road stood an old building. I could
dimly make out the lack of a chimney on the west end. There
were no lights. There were no barking dogs. There was no
sign of life. I began whistling.

I continued to whistle, sometimes loudly. At length I
heard a footfall on the porch, and presently a man stood before
me. He coughed.

" Anything stirring in these parts t "

" Nothing but rats and mice."

" Is Showalter well ?"

He came nearer.

SHOWALTER 239

" You need help ? Come."

He led the way into the house, and put up an iron bar
against the door. I followed him in the dark hall to a rear
room. I could hear him turn a key, and take it then from the
lock. He opened the door quickly, letting light from a candle
stream into the passage, and motioned me to go in. He
followed, and at once locked the door from the inside.

I found myself in a comfortable apartment. There was a
carpet; there were books; there were easy chairs.

He was a tall, thin man, about fifty years old. His gray
hair and beard showed neglect. He stood before me without
his coat, looking an average farmer.

" Tell me your wants," said he.

" Rest, food, and guidance."

He went to a closet and brought food. I ate, he silent, yet
looking at me closely. When I had eaten, he said: —

" We are safe here."

" Is there nobody in the house ? "

" We are safe."

"I must get to White House."

" When ? "

" I must rest to-night, and get there to-morrow."

" You cannot get there to-morrow."

" Why ? "

" The country is watched ; you must go at night."

" How can I find the way at night ? "

" I will send a man with you."

" Could not your man make his way by day ? "

" Yes."

" Then I beg that he go with me to-morrow."

" Your wish is granted. I suppose you are on a matter of
importance, or you would wait. When will you start ? "

" Before daylight."

" I will send a man to the road. There he will join you.
Call York and he will understand."

240 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

" Thank you, Captain."

He threw up his hand warningly.

" None of that here. We are safe now, but how long ? Con-
federates may be upon us at any moment."

The man had never smiled once ; as to that, neither had I.

" There are men at a camp-fire half a mile from here," said I.

" Yes ; at the road. I know who they are."

" I can tell you news."

" Not at my request," said he.

" Meade has crossed the Pamunkey."

" You are tired and sleepy," said he.

"Yes."

" Do as I am doing."

He began pulling off his shoes.

" Take them in your hand," said he, " and come with me."

He took an object, a dark lantern, from the mantel, lighted
it, then turned the slide so that none could see. He blew out
the candle, in darkness opened the door, and went into the
passage.

I groped after him up a flight of stairs. We made two turns
and I knew that he was standing still. I heard him close a
door. Then he showed a light, and I saw a bed in a corner of
the room.

" Look about you quickly," said he, in a whisper — out went
the light.

Again he whispered : " You will not see me in the morning.
The door will be unbarred. Good night."

I felt his hand searching for mine, and grasped it warmly.

The night was very warm, yet I was afraid to take off more
than my coat. For a long time I had no sleep. I thought of
many things. The gloomy house oppressed me. This Show-
alter confused me. The stillness was utter. I was resting,
but not sleeping. Do you know that this house was the first I
had slept in for almost three years ? Of course I had slept in
hospitals and in tents, and in huts — winter quarters, both Con-

SHOWALTER 241

federate and Federal, but in no citizen's dwelling. And this
did not seem a dwelling. And Showalter — what a life ! No
doubt of his loyalty obtruded. I had full faith in his helping
me. To-morrow I should find York waiting for me, and should
be guided on my way. I should reach General Smith and
deliver my message. Where were the other messengers ?
Had they found difficulty ? Had either failed ? Had either
succeeded ? Where was Lydia ? The base for the army would
now be White House. Yet I had no hope that I should find
her there ; it was too early for that. I hoped Lydia would
never come near the lines again ; yet Scranton was dead, and I
could have no proper fear of any enterprise against her. Poor
Scranton !

After a long time I sank into troubled slumber. Showalter
had not promised to wake me, nor had I asked it; for, like
many other men, I always awake — most frequently too early,
and lie and lose sleep through fear of not awaking.

But I was awakened.

The late-risen moon showed a recess at my right ; as soon as
I got my wits together I knew that I was looking through a
dormer window.

Something had disturbed my sleep. I could remember no
noise, yet perhaps there had been a noise ; perhaps Showalter
was coming up the stairs to wake me ; perhaps he had already
opened the door.

I got up and put on my coat. It was time to start.

Carrying my shoes I approached the door. It was yet closed.
I put my hand on the knob and gently turned, so gradually
turned it, that it made no slightest sound.

Showalter had said that we were safe; when I asked if
nobody was in the house, he had seemed to evade ; he had
repeated that we were safe. Perhaps I was not the only friend
to the Union cause harbouring here this night.

I began to open the door. Deserted houses have creaking
doors. My door did not creak. I opened it very slowly, lis-

242 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

tening for it to creak. It was opening. A space of a foot was
between its outer edge and the door-facing. I could see into
the passage. I could see the dormer window just before me
at the end of the passage. I say I could see the window, but
that is not entirely true ; I could see that there was a window.
There was something that kept me from seeing it; in the
window stood a form.

The pale moonlight fell upon a draped figure leaning on the
window-sill. Its face was from me. I had not power to move
or breathe. Level with the window a branch of some green
tree was waving in the wind ; flickering shade and light fell
upon the bending shape before me. I could not be deceived ;
something was there.

Never had I seen aught of the supernatural ; Dr. Khayme,
even, was more than incredulous concerning such ; science was
his guide, and natural law his study, and in no degree did he
share the superstitions of the past age. Yet here was a thing
that I would not name ; here, before my eyes, in six feet of my
hand, a thing that caused my hair to stand on end and my
breath to stop. It was not hideous; even in imagination it
was not, yet fear had come upon me at seeing it, and fear held
me standing. It was motionless ; it gave no sound ; yet there
seemed to emanate something greater than sound or motion.
I felt that mind was there — that if the form were that of the
dead, yet thought remained, and I expected it to move and
vanish. I had read and heard stories of such things, and had
rejected them as imaginary, deliberately or involuntarily false.
Now, here before my eyes — no optical delusion, but a fact —
was this thing that I would not name, this occurrence unique in
my experience, this thing of fearful omen.

How long I stood there nerveless, my eyes fixed on its head,
which seemed that of a man, I do not know. Often have I
wondered since that my heavy shoes did not drop from my
trembling fingers and wake the house ; perhaps my hands were
inflexible through fear. Often have I wondered siL.3e that I

SHOWALTER 243

did not at once shut myself away from the unearthly vision ;
doubtless my strength had so utterly departed that I could not.
Yet I know that I thought. There would soon be necessity
for me to act. Daylight must not find me in this house. Could
I slip by, and go down the stairs and out at the door, and on
down the carriageway, without being heard or seen ? Would
it allow me to do so ?

I knew that my courage would return ; the recognition of
such knowledge gave me returning courage. What harm could
it do me ? What harm would it wish to do ? Trembling yet,
I opened the door a little greater space. The door creaked.
The figure stood erect and turned.

I could not see above the shoulders. And now a hollow
sound, like the voice of the dying : —

"Mortal! be gone, 'lest thou increase the number of the
dead.' "

The shape turned away. Dimly I saw it glide along the
passage until swallowed in the gloom.

A second more, and I heard the click of a door-catch, and a
repetition, and my fears fled, for I knew that living eyes had
tried to pierce the darkness in which I stood, and that a living
man had disappeared into an adjoining chamber.

XXI

YORK

" O sir, fly this place :
Intelligence is given where you are hid ;
You have now the good advantage of the night."

— SHAKESPEARE.

THE front door was found unbarred. Noiselessly I stole out,
and on down the carriageway, pausing there only to put on my
shoes. At the road I saw no one, and called York in a low
tone. The bushes rustled at my right, and a man came for-
ward.

"Is that York?"

" Yes, suh."

" You know what you are to do for me ? "

" Not puffeckly, suh ; yo' awdeh's ah to be strickly obeyed."

" Can we talk freely here ? "

" No, suh ; we must go f 'om this place ; which way ? "

" White House."

" Follow me, if you please, suh."

The language surprised me. This negro was very black, I
thought; yet he spoke like a man accustomed to hear good
speech, though a little pretentious and fond of an imperfect
big word.

We went east on the road until we were near the crossing
where I had turned back. Here York led south through the
woods, and kept this direction for almost half a mile ; then he
turned east again, and we crossed the wide road, and stopped
in the forest beyond.

" Now, suh, you ah in secu'ity."

244

YORK 245

« How far is it to White House ? "

" About ten miles, suh, by the most direck way."

" Is the direct way safe ? "

"No, suh; no way is entiahly safe fo' you."

" Is there a safer way than the direct way ? "

"Oh, yes, suh; we can make crooks and tuhns, and get
th'ough, I hope."

" What sort of country is it ? "

"Like this, suh; we have wateh to cross, and woods and
swamps."

" You know the woods ? No danger of getting lost ? "

" No dangeh at all, suh, of that."

" How do you guide yourself ? "

" I know the country, suh."

" York, I saw some guide-posts yesterday."

" I thought they had all been destroyed, suh."

" They were pine branches, at the forks of the roads."

"Oh, yes, suh. I know what you mean now. I put 'em
theah myself, suh."

" To guide people to Showalter ? "

" No, no, suh ; to guide Mahs Walteh back home, suh. He
wandehs about sometimes, suh, and takes no notice of wheah
he is going. I've put the pine branches on all the roads, suh,
so that he can find his way back."

" Is any Confederate force in here anywhere ? "

" None of their enlisted fo'ces, suh, but many othehs who ah
just as dange'ous."

" Bushwhackers ? "

" Yes, suh, and home-gyuahds."

" And Captain Howe — ? "

" You know his name and title, suh ? n

" Yes."

" He is friendly with ev'ybody, suh."

" Perhaps he is deceived sometimes."

" No doubt of it, suh ; he is deceived many times, but he

246 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

thinks that he could not have any success at all unless he
seemed to comp'omise — to belong to no side, suh."

It was sunrise now, and York had brought out some of the
contents of a sack which he had on his shoulder ; there were
two small packages of cooked food, one of which he gave me.

" We'd betteh eat now, suh," said he.

"Yes; I'm ready to eat. Do you know Captain Scran-
ton?"

" No, suh. Is he f o' the South ? "

York's question embarrassed me. I had recognized Scran-
ton in the false spirit of the early morning; recognized his
manner and tone, and way of quoting. Not until I had heard
the door open and shut was I sure that Scranton was yet alive ;
then at once I knew the truth. He had been badly hurt, yet
had escaped, and was now here, a refugee, a dependant upon
the kindness of Showalter until he should recover. I trusted
that he had not seen me. I was sure that he had not been
able to distinguish me when he spoke, but was by no means
certain that he had not watched from his window and recog-
nized me as I crossed the yard in the moonlight. He was at
my mercy ; a few cavalrymen could seize him at any time.
Was Showalter deceived in Scranton? Showalter had said
that we were safe; doubtless he was thinking of Scranton's
wound. The renegade could easily play the Union officer.
York's question implied that Scranton was not known as Scran-
ton at Showalter. Scranton had had Lydia in his power, and
had not abused his power; was it for me to tell York and
Showalter that Scranton was a renegade ? What good would
it do ? Showalter cared for nothing ostensibly, and took care
of all that he might appear to care not. My telling Showalter
could cause no change in the recluse's methods. But should
I not divulge Scranton's hiding-place to General Meade, or to
Colonel Sharpe ? I would wait ; I would decide later ; I
would confer with Dr. Khayme. I had once supposed that
Scranton — in fact had known it, for the Doctor had said it

YORK 247

plainly — was related to the great work which I was to do ;
afterward, when I had believed Scranton dead, my mind had
gone to Scherzer ; had invested the foreigner with imaginary
powers and far-reaching influence ; my fancies had been wild.
Now Scherzer fell back into his natural and subordinate place,
and Scranton, yet in life, became by his wonderful escape a
most potential factor in the unknown equation given to me to
solve. What was Scranton ? A mere soldier ? A renegade
only ? Could he be allied in any way with high Confederate
authority ? And my work — my great work, yet to be done,
what was it ? I was now working for General Grant, carrying
an important order . . . could this present work be what I
am to do ? No, no ; this is small, I think, compared with my
work when I left the service of the Confederates.

York had asked me if Scranton served the South. The ques-
tion was pertinent ; Scranton had served the North ; he had
abandoned the Federal army, and now seemed to serve him-
self. And only for spoil ? That was hard to believe.

"He was on General Meade's staff last year," said I,
evading.

York was a very black negro, about thirty years old, and in
every respect, except his language, was like any other negro.
He caused me great wonder.

" What has your master ordered you to do for me ? " I
asked.

" I am not a slave, suh," said he. " Mahs Walteh manu-
mitted me ten yeahs ago. He awdehed me to obey you in all
respecks, even to the giving of any info'mation."

This speech gave me great relief, for I could not have gone
so far as to question York concerning Sho waiter without the
knowledge of his master.

" Who is the man now sheltered at Showalter ? "

" I do not know, suh. Theah is a wounded man theah, but
I do not know which cause he adheahs to. He was brought
theah last Friday."

248 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

"Who brought him?"

" Five men, suh ; Confederates they seemed to be, but you
can't always tell. One of them is a faheigneh, suh."

" Where did the men go ? "

" They ah not f ah off, suh ; they ah camping in the woods ;
we have gone round them."

" Do they come to see the wounded man ? "

"Yes, suh; one of them comes eve'y mo'ning and eve'y
night."

" Early in the morning ? "

" Yes, suh ; he helps to dress the wounded man's shouldeh
as soon as he wakes."

" Is it the foreigner ? "

" Yes, suh ; the othehs don't come to the house."

" They are waiting for their comrade to recover ? "

" I think so, suh."

" He must be an officer."

" Ve'y likely, suh. I have felt some interest in the affaih ;
so has Mahs Walteh."

"The wounded man and the foreigner must be great
friends."

" They ah so, suh ; ve'y great friends."

" Does the foreigner sleep in the house ? "

"No, suh; neveh. Mahs Walteh gives help only to dis-
tressed pehsons, suh."

"But the foreigner might be admitted, since he helps to
dress his friend's wound."

" He has not asked to stay, suh. He is a ve'y strange man,
suh. I don't think he belongs to the ahmy, suh."

" Does he speak our language well ? "

" Oh, yes, suh ! ve'y well indeed."

" Did Showalter teach you to read, York ? "

" Yes, suh ; he has been ve'y good to me. You see, suh, I
had the good luck to be of great sehvice to him once ; in fact
I saved him from drowning."

YORK 249

" Ten years ago ? "

" Yes, suh."

"Who serves the wounded man?"

" I, suh, and sometimes my old masteh."

" Is he shot badly ? "

"In the shouldeh. A flesh wound, suh."

" Did he say how it happened ? "

" In a skihmish neah Milford, suh."

" How far is it to Milford ? "

" It must be mo'e than thihty miles, suh."

" Is it not singular that he should come way down here for
help ? "

" Yes, suh ; the distance seems great, but I suppose he did
not know of any neaher help. He may have been heah befo'e,
suh. Did you see him last night ? "

" Yes, or this morning rather. He was leaning at the
window in the passage."

" He is ve'y impatient, suh. Shall we go on ? "

I had finished eating. York led the way through the
woods. In half an hour he struck an old path — it could
scarcely be seen, it was so old — and took it, going south-
east. Half a mile farther we came to a straight road
running across our course. It was an old road, but a wide
one; it ran straight for a long distance north and south.
York looked, and so did I, both ways before we ran across it.
We soon came to a small stream ; beyond it there seemed no
path at all, yet York went on without hesitation. We came
to the edge of the swamp, and saw a large field in front. It
extended right and left for a quarter of a mile or more.
Here York paused and seemed to consider.

" Have you no choice, suh ? " he asked.

" I know nothing about it," said I ; " what's the matter ? "

" Well, suh, if I was alone, I'd go right on across ; it would
make no diff'ence fo' me to be seen, but fo' you — "

" I must not be seen," said I.

250 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

" On the right of the field is a pond," said he, " and on the
left is a public road."

" We cannot go between the field and the pond ? "

"Not safely, suh; the strip of woods theah is ve'y narrow,
and is exposed."

" We cannot go round the pond ? "

" Yes, suh ; we could do so, but we'd have to go a great
distance."

"How far?"

" At least three miles, suh, and then we'd still be compelled
to cross Jack's creek, which flows f'om the pond into the
riveh."

" We ought to cross the road at the left, then," said I. " Is
the ground beyond it open or in woods ? "

"In woods, suh. I think we'd betteh get back into the
swamp and cross the road wheah the creek crosses."

We went up the creek ; before we caine in sight of the road,
York asked me to stop ; he would go on alone, and see if the
road was safe. He left his sack with me.

It was now about nine o'clock ; the day would be very warm.
I heard cannon firing in the west, — no doubt Lee and Meade
were now fighting on the Totopotomoy. The army was very
near the position of McClellan in '62. To reach this posi-
tion had cost Grant ten times as much as McClellan had
paid ; yet the Confederates also had lost, and it was only by
killing the Confederates that the cause could be gained. The
regnforcement of the Eighteenth corps — General Smith's,
which was landing now at White House — would once more
make Meade's army twice as great as Lee's. McClellan had
thought Lee's army greater than it was; he had thought it
greater than his own. Indeed Lee's army, in June, 1862, was
a fine one — a great one. Company H had marched to the
battlefield more than sixty strong ; the other day at Spottsyl-
vania it had, perhaps, twenty men. Certainly Grant had
greater preponderance over Lee than McClellan had had. In

YORK 261

the Gaines's Mill battle — the greatest battle of those in front
of Richmond in '62 — there is no doubt the Confederates
had the greater force. Now Grant is twice as strong as Lee ;
Grant ought to walk over the enemy, and go on into Richmond.
I hoped that the war would soon end.

York returned ; he was shaking his head.

" The road is watched, suh," he whispered.

" Did you see them ? "

"Yes, suh; three."

"Where are they?"

" Along the road on theah hosses ; they ah sev'al hund'ed
yahds apaht, and ah watching in this direction."

" What sort of men are they ? "

" They ah three of the men camped neah Showalteh, suh."

That Scranton had seen me, and had set his men after me,
was almost a certainty. What his purpose was, unless it was
to have my life, I could not imagine. Possibly he attributed
his recent misfortunes to my work ; could he have recognized
me or my voice as I shouted to him in his race for life near
Milf ord ? Could he have heard any part of the conversation
with Showalter last night ? He knew that I was in General
Meade's service, and might easily suspect that I was now on
some secret mission of great importance.

" York, we must go round the pond."

" I f eah that we cannot do so now, suh."

"And why?"

" Well, suh, you see theah ah but three men on the road ;
theah wuh five men in the camp, and I'm afraid the two
othehs are oveh theah now," said York, pointing to the right.

" Then let us go back a mile or so, and cross the road."

" I'm afraid, suh, the old road is watched also."

"What old road?"

" The straight road which we ran across, suh ; I think the
last of the three men, up the road, is just wheah he could see
us if we should cross the old road again."

252 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

" Then we are in a trap ! "

"I think, suh, that the wuhst consequence will be delay.
We can hide in the swamp until night, and then we can slip
th'ough or go on across the field."

" You think those men will stand there all day ? "

"No, suh; I think they will soon begin to beat the woods,
at least some of them."

" How long is that old road ? "

" About half a mile, suh."

" Then we have a big place to hide in, if it's square."

" It is not squaih, suh ; it is triangulah."

" Where could we hide ? "

" In the tree tops, suh."

" And you think they would not look up ? "

" They could not look well into all the trees, suh."

" But they would select the thickest, and look carefully into
those. No, I won't stay here, York. You may go back if you
will, and I think I can make my way alone."

"I shall be grieved, suh, if you make me do that, for I
am expected to obey you, and I'm afraid I should be com-
pelled to become insubawdinate."

"Well, then, York, get a better plan than hiding in the
trees. They might not find us, it is true, but I do not want
to risk it, and besides, I don't want to lose the day. I must
go on, if possible."

" I shall stand by you, suh, but I cannot see puffeckly how
we can get out."

" Wait here till I come back," I said. " I'll go up to the
road and take a look at those fellows myself."

XXII

FIEE

" This murderous shaft that's shot,
Hath not yet lighted ; and our safest way
Is, to avoid the aim." — SHAKESPEARE.

I HAD been thinking that but for York I could easily make
a dash across the road between two of the renegades and get
into the woods beyond, before they could recover from their
surprise sufficiently to take anything like accurate aim. The
negro, however, must have been deserted, and his wish to
obey Showalter fully had prevented me from deciding to go
alone.

I got near the road, and could see the three men. The
woods on the other side were open, and at once I abandoned
any former hope of escape through them, for I should soon
be ridden down. Just as I was about to start back to York
one of the men cried out, " Say, let's smoke him out ! "

" All right ! " was the reply ; " bully for you.''

The two men began to dismount. I ran back to York at
once.

" They are setting fire to the woods, York."

" Lawd-a-mussy ! " he said, lapsing completely.

There was a dead calm. I knew that the leaves would
burn rapidly, and if the fire should be started all round us
the smoke would force us out, for it could not drift away.

" We must try the creek, York," said I j " there is only that
chance, now."

He didn't make me speak twice; he started. The creek

253

254 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

would prove too shallow if the fire should reach its banks, but
I hoped that by creeping down it toward the pond we should
reach safety. Soon we could smell the smoke and see it, not
only toward the road, but in every direction; no doubt we
were engirdled with fire. The sun shone hot ; the woods were
like tinder. I had no fear of the fire itself, but I felt the
danger of being forced to run out and into the clutches of the
renegades.

A light breeze sprang up, coming from the northeast. But
few sounds were heard. Not yet could we hear the flames,
but birds and rabbits went by, fleeing from the terror. The
smoke lay low to the ground. The creek had worn no deep
channel ; its banks were nowhere more than three feet high,
and the water was not waist-deep in any place. York took
the lead. We were wading cautiously down the creek, our
heads bent below the banks. The enemy would not ride into
the burning woods, yet we knew not what was in front of us ;
suddenly we saw fire in front of us. A great dead pine had
caught, and the flames were climbing high. We could see
that the smoke had begun to drift away in the direction we
were taking, but we went on until on both sides of us were
burning leaves, and trees on fire, and smoke from a thousand
smouldering heaps. Already the sun was obscured ; the smoke
and flames were unbearable. To right of us was a long line
of fire advancing slowly against the wind ; at our left, a line
of fire advancing rapidly, the blackened forest beyond mark-
ing the devastation already done there; and behind us now
was the roar of the coming flames, fanned into vigour by the
rising wind. I was already muddy and wet to the skin. I
lay down for a moment in a shallow pool, then rose and fol-
lowed York, who was fast making for the outlet. The smoke
of many acres was upon us ; we lay down in the water repeat-
edly, keeping our mouths as low as possible. On the very
surface of the water the air was almost pure of smoke, but
the heat was very great. My eyes smarted ; my skin seemed

FIRE 265

to parch. A great burning tree fell across the creek; we
crept under it, almost touching the fire. I looked for some
secret hollow in the bank of the stream where we might hide
until the worst should pass, but found none. Smoke and fire
continued to oppress us; smoke and fire were everywhere.
In this triangle of some sixty acres, almost every spot was
now burning or smouldering in heat. There was no sun ; the
light was green and red. Burning branches and twigs fell on
the surface of the water, and ashes fell on us like rain. A huge
moccasin let me pass within three feet and did not move.

Was the outlet guarded? No doubt it was, but by how
many men ? We hoped by only one ; three for the main road,
one for the cross-road, and one for the mouth of the creek. I
ordered York to halt.

" How far are we from the pond now ? "

" A hund'ed yahds or a little mo', suh."

" Is the cross-road near the mouth ? "

" Yes, suh."

" Then a man at the cross-road can see us ? "

" Yes, suh, unless the smoke hides us."

"We must make the smoke hide us. We must go to the
left."

" We can't stand the smoke, suh."

" We've got to stand it ! "

"All right, suh; I'll stand by you."

" How near can we get to the mouth of the creek without
being seen from the road ? "

" Only a few yahds f u'theh, suh."

" Lead on, then, and stop when you must."

But a few yards, indeed, when York again came to a halt.

" We can go no fu'theh, suh."

"York," said I, "we are going to run for it. Show me
the direction to the corner of the field where it strikes the
pond."

He pointed southeast.

" How far is it to the corner of the field ? "

" A hund'ed and fifty yahds, suh, I think."

" York, we must run it in half a minute. Are there bushes
in the fence corners ? "

" I think the fence is afiah, suh."

" Then we must go beyond the fence, and as soon as we
reach good air we must lie flat. Understand?"

" Yes, suh."

" They have blocked their own game, York. They cannot
stand in that smoke all the time and keep watch."

" I see, suh ; we will put the wuhst smoke between us and
them. I think I'd better lead, suh, for I know the ground a
little."

" All right. Now let's wet our faces and hands, and take a
big breath. When I give the signal, go ! "

Expanding my lungs fully, I waved my hand, and York was
off like a deer, right through the smoke, over burning logs,
going straight southeast, leading me by ten yards and always
gaining ground. I followed as best I could, but the smoke
blinded me so that I could hardly see. My breath held good,
however, and I kept on, guessing rather than knowing the
way. But I was staggering and blundering forward or back-
ward, I could not tell, when I felt York grasp my hand ; then
together we ran on, and in a few moments the negro sank to
the earth, pulling me down beside him.

My nose near the ground filled my lungs with air and smoke
— but some good air. We had run the gantlet. A great blue-
black cloud was floating slowly over the pond ; through it we
could see nothing.

" We must crawl on, York," said I.

In a few minutes we were on the very edge of the pond
amongst sweet-gum bushes, and in pure air.

" Now," said I ; "we must go on and put distance behind
us. They may take a notion to come down this way. Did we
cross a road ? "

FIRE 257

"Yes, suh; the road down the pon'. We ah only thihty
yahds fom it now, suh."

Still bending low, we went on through bushes, sometimes in
shallow water, keeping at the edge of the road, which I feared
to cross. At every moment I expected to hear the sound of
horsemen pursuing. We were in a strip of bushes on the
border of the pond, and soon the bushes had their limit. We
saw before us a narrow open space, extending for nearly a
furlong between the water on the right and the road on the
left, beyond which was the forest; we had passed the field,
but we were in a worse place than ever if the pursuers should
come. I looked behind us. The woods were yet dim with
smoke.

" York, is the fire dying out ? " I asked.

" Yes, suh ; the smoke is not so great."

" Then we must act quickly. Can we cross the pond?"

" No, suh ; not without great dangeh."

" Then we must cross the road."

" We can do so, I think, suh."

" Go up to it and look about you."

I was as black as York. My hair and beard were singed.
Blisters were on my hands and face ; my clothing was heavy
with water. In the hot May sun little relief had yet come.
I longed to lie in the pond.

York was back. He said that behind us nothing could yet
be seen on the road for the smoke. A run of a few seconds
would put us in the forest. I did not pause to ask the nature
of the ground farther on ; we were in imminent danger ; any
temporary relief must be accepted. We made the run and lay
down in the woods far from the road.

For a long time neither spoke. The sun was in midheaven ;
the place was cool ; we rested. York had clung to his sack
through all the scramble; we ate a little but had no water.

" How far have we come from Showalter, York ? "

" Only about two miles, suh."

258 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

" I ought to have waited for night."

" Yes, suh ; that would have been betteh."

I was not quite sure of it, however. If Scranton had seen
me, the game would have been lost by the day's delay.

" How far is it to White House ? "

"White House itself is on the otheh side of the riveh;
perhaps ten miles from heah, suh."

" How far to the river on this side ? "

" About nine miles, suh."

" How far do these woods extend ? "

"A long distance, suh; neahly to the riveh."

" Have we been going toward the river ? "

" Not direckly, suh ; we ah going down it"

" How far to our right is it ? "

"Three miles, suh, about."

" Don't you think we ought to get near the river ? "

" Hahdly, suh ; the riveh is so crooked that we'd lose time
by following it."

" But we'd be safer ? "

"I can't say, suh; the Confederates cross it when they
wish."

I was for going on ; York argued for remaining where we
were till night. While we were debating this matter, a shot was
heard at our rear and left, seemingly a quarter of a mile away.

" What do you suppose that means, York ? "

He did not reply at once ; he was listening. Now he stood
up, looking and hearkening toward the big road at the left, in
which we had seen the renegades. He waved his hand at me
to keep quiet, and disappeared in the bushes, going toward the
road.

What the shot had meant I could not think. Was it a sig-
nal ? A signal of what ? Perhaps our escape had been learned,
and the force was gathering for a new effort to surround us. I
was wishing we had not stopped. I wished York had not left
me. We ought to go on.

FIRE 259

I heard footsteps, and York stood before me. The rascal
was grinning. " They've got Bahton, suh," he said.

" Who is Barton ? "

" One of the men who set the woods afiah, suh."

" And who's got him ? "

" The home-gyuahds, suh. Got him and his hoss. I reckon
they'll hang him."

" And what has become of the others ? "

" I don't know, suh ; they've run away, I suppose."

"You seem very glad that a man is in danger of being
hanged, York."

" Yes, suh ; I wish they'd hang eve'y one of 'em."

Although I did not wish that any man should be hanged,
yet I felt immense relief.

" We can go on now, York ? "

" Oh, yes, suh ; theah is no longeh any dangeh, at least f 'om
those men."

" But from other men ? "

" Yes, suh ; the home-gyuahds ah yo' enemies."

" We must risk them," said I, rising.

York led the way rapidly straight through the woods, his
course guided by nothing whatever, so far as I could see. An
almost sleepless night had been followed by a forenoon of
intense anxiety and of actual suffering, and I was compelled
to ask York to lessen his speed; but even a slower progress
was hard on me, and before a great while I demanded rest.
The negro encouraged me to keep on going for a short distance
more ; we should soon reach good water, and then we might
rest till dark, if I wished — a good spring, he said.

" Near anybody's house ? " I asked, with some fear.

" No, suh, at de ole chu'ch ; chu'ch done gone, but spring dah
yit," he said, in the affectionate manner of a negro giving comfort.

" Public place, York ? "

" No, suh ; theah is a cross-road and an old graveyahd, but
the spring is on this side. We'll be all right."

260 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

A few hundred yards farther on York stopped.

" Stay heah, suh, till I go and see," he said. " The spring
is right theah," pointing to a little hollow not more than fifty
feet away, surrounded by undergrowth. I told him to be care-
ful and not go in sight of road or house. He went on, and I
at once found the spring and drank and drank ; then I stripped
off my coat and bathed my hands and face, and took off my shoes
and put my feet in the cold stream below, and let them sink
in the wet sand and stay and soak. You know what a delight
it is to wade in the water, and to feel your feet make connec-
tion with Mother Earth ; it does you good through and through.

When York returned, he found me lying flat on my back, with
my legs in the water and my feet on the sand at its bottom.

"Nothing to feah up theah, suh," he said.

It was now three o'clock, and I was sure that a few hours'
rest would be well spent.

We found a hiding-place some two hundred yards farther
down the branch ; then I tried to sleep, and at last did sleep,
York promising to remain awake.

About sunset I awoke. York had been faithful to his
promise ; he was sitting on the ground, some ten steps away,
watching toward the road. We set out again, making for the
river, where York thought he could find a boat. We were
soon on the edge of an opening. York halted, and pointed
to an object pendent over the public road. Just where the
roads crossed, a great oak spread its limbs far and wide.
From one of these limbs dangled the Milford outpost, hatless,
coatless, and shoeless. It was not twenty yards from the spot
where I was standing.

" I tole you they got Bahton, suh ! " said York.

I said nothing.

On the bole of the tree a board had been nailed, and with a
piece of charcoal had been rudely lettered : —

WORNING TO TRATORS

XXIII

WATER

" The posts come tiring on,
And not a man of them brings other news."

— SHAKESPEARE.

YORK'S hope of finding a boat at the river was realized.
Concealed by some negro above the mouth of a small creek, it
might have remained unnoticed indefinitely, but my companion
had used it on a former occasion by the consent of the owner,
and now took liberties which he professed to be easily able to
settle for. The bateau was full of water; York used his hat
and emptied it. He left me awhile to fetch a paddle, knowing
where it had been hidden. We got in and pushed into the
edge of the Pamunkey, and on down the stream under the
trees curving overhead. The night was very dark, and our
progress was slow ; through fear of enemies on the south bank
we would not venture into the open current, and the overhang-
ing trees gave us much trouble. I sat in front, and moved the
branches that obstructed us ; York was using the paddle. The
night was yet young, and there would be no moon before two
o'clock; by that time we were hoping to be in wide water
below, and near the Federal fleet. We talked but little, and
in low whispers.

" How far is it yet, York ? "

" About eight miles, suh."

" You mean by the river ? "

" Yes, suh."

" How far by land ? "

261

262 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

" About five miles, suh."

" How fast are we going ? "

" Ve'y slowly, suh; I feah the bateau is getting full of wateh,
suh. It leaks badly, suh."

We landed and again bailed the water from the boat, but
darkness prevented us from even trying to stop the leaks. We
had come not more than a dozen rods. A fresh start was made,
and again we were compelled to stop.

" York, what sort of a country is it below ? " I asked.

" Good country, suh."

" Many people ? "

" Not many now, suh ; big plantations, suh."

" Do you think we'd better try it by land ? "

"I think we'll have it to do, suh, unless we make a light
and stop the leaks."

" Are you not afraid to risk that ? " I asked.

" I don't think theah would be much dangeh, suh. We are
undeh the riveh bank, and nobody could see us, suh, unless
from the otheh side."

" But the rebels may be on the other side now."

"Yes, suh."

"We must make a light. We must lose no more time."

" Yes, suh ; I had some matches, but they ah ruined."

" I have some in my case. Get some dry wood."

The negro soon had a small heap of sticks and leaves. We
knelt on the ground, our backs toward the river, in order to
shut off the light from the eyes of any scout or picket on
the opposite shore.

My case contained but two matches. Yet they were good
ones, to all seeming, and there was no wind. I took out one
and drew it deliberately across the rough surface of the match-
case.

The match lighted. The leaves kindled, and soon the boat
could be seen, lying half sunk in the river's edge. York began
to bail, while I kept up the fire. No sound came from beyond

WATER 263

the river — there was no sound anywhere except those made by
the crackling twigs and the water pouring from York's hat ;
in my anxious eyes he seemed to make slow progress.

I stepped to him, and ordered him to get out. Then we
both seized the chain and dragged the boat out upon the shelv-
ing bank.

Even at the instant of pulling, a flash broke the darkness
south of the river, a rap was heard on a tree behind us, and
the report of a rifle rang out.

I sprang to the fire and stamped on the flame. For an
instant the night was pitchy black, except in one small spot
where the embers yet glowed.

" We'd betteh wait a little, suh," said York.

He knelt again before the fire, his back to the river; he
added a little fuel to the heap. His conduct amazed me.

" Why don't you let that fire go out ? " I whispered ; " you
will draw another shot ! "

"No, suh; we must save yo' last match, suh."

" But we can't hope for anything now, York. What are you
going to do ? "

" I'll show you direckly, suh ; we must wait till the boat is
'ficiently dry ; then we'll put it on the fiah."

" Put it on the fire ! "

" Yes, suh ; if we put it on the fiah now, suh, it would put
out the fiah."

" What in the world are you driving at, York ? "

" I'll show you, suh ; that man oveh theah will think
we've run away ; then we can patch up the boat ve'y easily,
suh."

" By putting it on the fire ? "

" Yes, suh ; upside down, suh ; then we can see the cracks."

" York, you're a genius ! "

There was no other shot. We waited. Half an hour later
we turned the boat, which had ceased to drip water, upside
down over a low flame and then thrust more fuel under. The

264 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

holes were now distinct. York sacrificed his shirt sleeve, and
soon pronounced the craft workable.

*******

When the moon rose we abandoned the river, and took it
afoot down the left bank — some hundreds of yards from the
shore. We went slowly and cautiously.

At sunrise we crossed the Nicatawan Creek, and again ap-
proached the river, which here was a wider stream flowing
eastward for a long distance. York said that just beyond the
next bend, which seemed three miles away, was the railroad
bridge at White House Station. I had expected that by this
time we should see signs of the Federal fleet in the water
below us, but no smoke from steamers was visible. I was en-
couraged, however, to believe that General Smith was even
now landing beyond my vision, around the bend below.

At last we could see the railroad bridge around the bend.
There were no boats on the river. What had become of Gen-
eral Smith's corps? Was it possible that General Grant's
orders had been countermanded, and that my labour had been
in vain ? Was it possible that the corps had landed and
marched away to the lines of Meade's army ?

We were afraid to go near the bridge. I knew that it could
be crossed on foot, for, although after the 23d, Sheridan's cav-
alry had destroyed the flooring, yet the sleepers remained.
But if Smith's corps had not yet landed, the Confederate pick-
ets held the station, and it would have been folly for me to
venture across the river.

York was lying in the sun, gloomy, and seemingly asleep.
All at once he rose to a sitting posture, looking toward the
north. Now in the distance I could see a troop of cavalry, so
far away, however, that it was impossible for me to tell their
uniforms. They were going northwest on the road which
York said led to King William Court-House. I believed they
were our men, but they rode rapidly, and were soon out of
sight, so that even if I had wished to communicate with them

WATER 265

I could not have done so.1 I asked York if there was any way
to procure food. He shook his head, and said that he did not
think it possible without returning on our tracks for several
miles. It would not do, I thought, to decide to return. I must
wait here until I should become sure that General Smith's
command had outstripped me and gone on, or else had been
delayed and was still coming. How I was to arrive at definite
knowledge in this respect I could not know, but it was clear to
me that I must wait.

At about two o'clock we went forward again, and on reach-
ing a bend from which we could see the wide river below the
bridge, to my great joy the stream far beyond was crowded
with vessels.

York fell heir to all the money in my pockets, and I wrote
a note to Showalter, thanking him for his kindness, and giv-
ing due credit to his servant's loyalty. I think that York
was very sorry to leave me, for we had been together nearly
two days and nights, sharing toils and dangers.

The landing of the troops on the south side took many hours,
and it was night before I had succeeded in crossing the bridge,
and almost midnight before I could deliver my message.

This time, good fortune had befriended me ; of the three
messengers I had been the first to reach White House, though
I had not much to boast of, Captain Hudson reporting only two
hours later.2

1 General Smith to Rawlins, Chief of Staff, May 31, 1864: "I left City
Point with 16,000 infantry, 16 pieces of artillery, and a company of cavalry,
the latter having been sent yesterday A.M. early from West Point to com-
municate with your headquarters, via the north side of the Pamunkey
River." [ED.]

2 From report of General W. F. Smith : " During the night of the 30th, and
morning of the 31st, I received three copies of the following order :

" ' HEADQUARTERS OF THE UNITED STATES,
" ' HANOVERTOWN, VA., May 28, 1864, 1 P.M.

" ' MAJ. GEN. W. F. SMITH, Commanding Eighteenth Army Corps :
" ' GENERAL : The Army of the Potomac is now crossing to the south side of
the Pamunkey River and massing at this place ; the most of it has already

266 A FKIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

On the next day General Smith had me called before him.

" Do you know the road to Newcastle Ferry ? " he asked.

" No, sir ; I've been near it ; I've been at Old Church, but
reached it from Cold Harbor."

"You know Cold Harbor ?"

"Yes, sir."

" When were you there ? "

" In May and June, sixty-two — just two years ago, sir."

" Do you know the country around it well ? "

" I've been along the road from Cold Harbor to Old Church
both ways more than once, General."

" What were General Grant's orders ? Did he tell you to
return to him at once ? "

" No, sir ; but my place is with General Meade, and I must
get back as soon as possible."

"We march for Newcastle at three o'clock," said he ; "and
you can get back safely by accompanying our march."

" I shall be very glad, General."

And so I marched back with Smith's column, utterly igno-
rant of the fact that when we started Lydia was on a vessel at
the landing, medical headquarters arriving on this day at
White House.

crossed. You will leave a garrison at the White House until it is relieved by
General Abercrombie's command from Port Royal, and with the remainder of
your command move direct to Newcastle, on the south side of the Pamunkey,
and there await further orders. Order the garrison left by you at White
House, on being relieved, to follow after and join you.

" ' By command of LIEUTENANT-GENERAL GRANT:

" ' JNO. A. RAWLINS,
" ' Brigadier-General and Chief of Staff.' " [ED.]

XXIV

SERVING CAVALRY

*' Bid our commanders lead their charges off
A little from this ground." — SHAKESPEARE.

DOCTOR KHAYME did not seem greatly astonished to hear
of Scranton, whose base attempts upon me had put an end to
my reluctance to inform our authorities of his hiding-place ; he
said he would talk to General Meade at the first opportunity.
Whether the general already knew that Scranton had engaged
in a disreputable life I was uncertain, but I knew that the
Doctor would be able to give strong reasons for his own previ-
ous conduct toward the renegade, and could explain, more
appropriately than I, our personal interest in the whole matter.

The battles of the Totopotomoy and Cold Harbor had been
fought. In these engagements, which included many partial
combats undignified with separate names, success was almost
uniformly with the Confederates ; protected by strong intrench-
ments, their infantry coolly shot down our men who were forced
time and again to advance without hope. I had not been
entirely idle, my knowledge of the country being frequently
called into requisition. On the 10th of June I was for a short
time within the Confederate lines, and learned that Brecken-
ridge with his division had left Lee's army, and had gone,
according to all report, to face Hunter at Lynchburg.

On the night of the llth I was ordered by General Meade to
report to Colonel Chapman, commanding one of the brigades of
Wilson's cavalry division. Not knowing what was wanted I tied
my Confederate uniform in a gum-blanket to my saddle, took

267

268 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

the Enfield and accoutrements, put my field-glass in my haver-
sack, and rode down toward Bottom's Bridge. That the work
required of me had some connection with the contemplated
movement of the army to the south side of the James, I had
little doubt. I was being sent to the extreme left ; the army
would move down the Chickahominy ; one column of it would
no doubt take the road I was on now. I had not been at Bot-
tom's Bridge since Hooker's division had reached it in May,
1862, and below that point the country was as strange to me
as it was to any other man who had never been in it. I was
therefore greatly puzzled about what General Meade wanted
done ; he had simply given me a sealed despatch, saying, " Find
Colonel Chapman at Bottom's Bridge ; give him this, and await
his orders." The general's headquarters had been so crowded
upon by orderlies, couriers, aides, and even high generals, that
I did not dare to ask him one question ; I had simply bowed
and retired.

My way lighted by the growing moon, I rode along tow-
ard Dispatch Station, imagining things. What could be
wanted ? Why should I be sent to Colonel Chapman rather
than to General Wilson ? Why not to General Warren, only
a mile or two in rear of Bottom's Bridge ? This mixing me
up with cavalry was an innovation. I certainly could not
guide the cavalry anywhere, except, perhaps, toward Williams-
burg, and for that they would need no guide ; there was no
enemy in that direction, and the turnpike was broad. Lydia
was yet at White House. The base of the army would be
changed to City Point, and I was hoping to see her soon.
Could my presently required services have any relation to
City Point ? Certainly not. I had never been at that place.
Perhaps, after all, I had nothing to do but to deliver the de-
spatch and bring back an answer to General Meade ; his saying
" Await Colonel Chapman's orders," might mean nothing more
than if he had bidden me to wait for a reply. So, although
yet somewhat uneasy, I tried to be content, and interested

SERVING CAVALRY 269

myself in remarking, even in the night, the changes which had
taken place along the road since the last time, which indeed
was the only time, I had been over it. On this road I had
passed in the morning of May 22, 1862, in order to reach Dr.
Khayme's camp near New Bridge. I had bidden good-by then
to the Eleventh Massachusetts; I thought that I should re-
turn to it in a few days, but Providence willed otherwise, and
set me to work for Fitz John Porter, and afterward for Stone-
wall Jackson. In '62 as well as in '64, this road had
been trodden by armies in battle and in flight. Over it —
a part of it at least — Porter's routed corps had withdrawn to
the west side of the Chickahominy after the disaster of Gaines's
Mill. The country had been desolated by three years of war.
Graves were everywhere, and no doubt the moon was now look-
ing down on living thousands who should soon fill other graves.

I crossed the York River railroad, turned to my right at
Eppes's house, soon found the First Vermont cavalry, and was
directed to the headquarters of the brigade.

Colonel Chapman read the message ; then he said : —

" You are accustomed to such work ? "

" What work, Colonel ? "

" What did General Meade tell you ? "

" Only that I was to report to you, sir."

" Strange," said he ; " one would certainly think from what
he says that you know all about it."

" The general was very busy when he gave me the despatch,"
said I.

"And you positively know nothing about it ? " he asked.

" Not a word, sir," I replied, with some wonder, and a little
annoyance at being compelled to reassert the truth.

The colonel seemed to be thinking very seriously. At length
he said : " I presume that General Meade intended to instruct
you, and that in the press of business he forgot. Have you
had experience in the enemy's lines ? "

" Yes, Colonel."

270 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

" Are you ready for more work of that sort ? "

" Yes, sir ; that is my unhappy trade."

An orderly had lighted a twisted paper, but had extinguished
it as soon as the colonel had read the despatch. We were now
in darkness. Colonel Chapman moved off a few yards, hinting
to me to follow him. When we were alone, he said in a low
voice : " I feel compelled to tell you something of the contents
of this despatch, especially as I am confident that General
Meade believes that you are already informed. Have you
heard rumours of a contemplated movement of the army?"

"Yes, Colonel; it is well known at headquarters that the
army is going to move by the left and cross the James."

" The movement begins to-morrow night," said he. " We
here are on the left of the army's present position. We are
to move farther to the left, and make a feint of advancing in
order to deceive Lee. While we do this the army behind us
will cross the lower bridges on the Chickahominy and march
to the James ; understand ? "

" Yes, Colonel," said I ; " but I don't see how that affects me
individually."

" I am coming to that," said he ; " you are to precede this
brigade in order to let us know how far we may advance without
danger of being cut off."

I could not reply to this speech. A very strange duty was
imposed. I did not see why a few mounted men, sent out
ahead and on the flanks of Chapman's brigade, could not do
such work better than I could. The colonel observed my
hesitation.

" What's the matter ? " he asked.

"Nothing, Colonel," I replied, realizing at once the utter
uselessness of words.

" Then you are ready ? "

" Yes, sir."

" Do you know the country between Long Bridge and Rich-
mond ? "

SERVING CAVALRY 271

" Not at all, Colonel. I never was at Long Bridge, and was
never on the road from Long Bridge to Richmond."

" This brigade will march to Long Bridge to-inorrow, perhaps
not before night. Long Bridge is the point from which we
will advance on the Richmond road. I could tell you these
things to-morrow, and show you maps, but I am informing you
now, in order that you may determine whether you will en-
deavour to get into the rebel lines directly in front of us here,
or on the contrary go forward from Long Bridge. If you want
to cross here I will show you my map."

" What infantry force of the enemy is posted beyond here,
Colonel ? " I asked.

" None at all," said he, " unless it has taken position since
dark. The river across here is picketed only by cavalry, so
far as I know. Hill's corps is the nearest infantry, and it is
still on this side of the Chickahominy, with perhaps only a
regiment or two on the other side."

" Please show me the map, sir."

The colonel called his orderly and bade him get a torch.
Some little delay occurred, but soon we had a light and saw
the lines on the map.

" Long Bridge, you see," said the colonel, " is at least five
miles from here. The point to which we must advance is here
at Riddell's Shop, five miles southwest of Long Bridge. While
we march to Riddell's Shop the infantry will cross at Long
Bridge, and at Jones's Bridge, still farther below, and march
down between the Chickahominy and the James. As you see by
the intersection of all these main roads at the shop, we shall
be in a position to prevent the enemy from learning of the
movement ; but it may be that we shall advance farther than
Riddell's Shop unless we learn from you that Hill's troops, or
any other infantry troops, are advancing against us."

"I understand, Colonel," said I, "and I think I'd better cross
the river here if possible, and save myself the long detour
below."

272 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

" Just as you wish ; can I help you in any way ? "

" I shall be glad, sir, for you to take care of my horse and
to get me two days' rations."

The orderly soon brought me some hardtack and raw pork.

" Now," said the colonel, " how are you going to get across ? "

" I suppose I shall have to wade the river, sir."

" I can help you in that," said he, "by sending a man to show
you the way. There are some places in the swamp that are
very deep."

I accepted this help very gladly and gratefully.

" After you get across, what will be your plan ? " asked the
colonel.

" I am not sure yet, sir, but I am inclined to believe that
I ought to find the nearest infantry and stay with them,
or near them, in order to report to you if they begin to
move."

" But, if they begin to move, you will hardly have time,"
said Colonel Chapman.

" I think one man, sir, can outstrip a column very easily."

" Then you expect to go up the river instead of down it
after you get across ? "

" Yes, sir, if I determine on the plan I mentioned."

" But suppose infantry advances from the direction of Rich-
mond straight upon us on the Long Bridge road ? "

" I was hoping, Colonel, that you would take care of that
with your vedettes and pickets."

" Of course," said he, " I shall employ all means at my com-
mand, but I think you'd better look first to the Long Bridge
road beyond Riddell's Shop."

"Colonel," said I, "I am going to dress as a Confederate
infantryman ; anybody who should see me on the Long Bridge
road, where you say there is no Confederate infantry, would
naturally suspect, and might give me trouble ; but I can go up
the river and mingle with Hill's corps without suspicion."

" Well," said he, " do as you wish ; on6 man can't do every-

SERVING CAVALRY 273

thing ; yet I should be very glad if you would examine the
Long Bridge road beyond Riddell's Shop."

" General Meade placed me under your orders, Colonel, and
I shall do as you say. Shall I return and report after I exam-
ine the road beyond Riddell's Shop ? "

" No, don't take time for that unless you find an infantry
force. If I do not see you by to-morrow midnight I shall sup-
pose that you have found nothing but cavalry west of us, and
that you have gone on north."

I changed my clothing, left my horse, and set out with the
detailed man, whom the colonel commanded to obey my
orders, and by whose advice I decided to attempt a crossing
between Bottom's Bridge and the railroad. This man — Rey-
nolds was his name, he said — proved to be loquacious. He
kept up a jabber, jabber, jabber, as we went on, that made me
nervous. I was trying to think, and the fellow's noisy volu-
bility distracted me. Yet I stood it, for I wanted him not
only to show me the fording-place, but to go across it with me.
I had no fear that beyond the river he would continue his
noise. In the edge of the swamp we found a vedette who
told us that nothing had occurred to alarm him. No sounds
came from the west of the river. The ground was low, and in
some places miry, but Reynolds seemed to understand his
business pretty well, and led forward without hesitation.
Soon we were on the bank of the stream. I asked him in a
whisper if the Confederate vedettes were in the swamp itself.
He replied that in the daytime they were not, and he did not
know where they were at night. I asked if they were numer-
ous. He could not tell, he said, how thick they were, but he
did not believe there were any either in the swamp or on the
edge of it, except near the main thoroughfares.

" It would take a dam sight more cavalry than Lee's got,"
said he, " to picket this river as it ought to be picketed, espe-
cially since Hampton has gone after Sheridan. You know," he
continued, " that Sheridan's gone off again, except our division."

274 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

" Gone where ? "

" Towards Gordonsville."

I was hoping that I should find no Confederate pickets at
all.

" Is this the place ? " I asked.

" No," said he ; " little lower down."

He led the way through the bushes for forty yards or more,
and stopped again.

" Here it is," said he.

" Have you been across it ? *

« Yes."

« How deep is it ? "

" About waist-deep."

" I bet it's over your head."

"What'llyoubet?"

" Bet you a dollar."

" Done ; hand me the money."

" Who is to decide it ? " I asked.

" I give you my word that I have been across there and the
water did not come above my waist."

" But it may be deeper now ; come, go across with me, and if
the water is as you say I will give you a dollar."

He now saw what I meant, and replied : —

"An easy dollar to earn. You won't make me go any
farther ? "

" Well," said I, " I will let you off when we get through the
swamp."

" All right," said he, and began to strip.

The water was no deeper than he had declared it to be, and
we had no trouble whatever in crossing. The mud, however,
was very difficult, and on the farther bank clung to my feet,
and caused annoyance in dressing; it was clear that horses
could not ford at this place. Reynolds was mute, replying to
my whispers in lower tones than my own. A narrow path
wound through the bushes southward. It was very difficult

SERVING CAVALRY 275

to follow, but after much groping about, we stood on the edge
of the swamp, and saw open ground beyond. Parallel with
the swamp, and at its edge, I could see a narrow road, and on
the ground what seemed the remains of a camp-fire, one or two
small sparks yet glowing in the darkness.

" What do you think that is ? " I whispered.

" I think it's fox-fire,1 " he replied.

I thought it was fire and told him so.

"Well," said he ; "let's blow it; that will show."

We got down on our knees, and Reynolds gave a big blow,
and at the very moment when it became evident that he was
right in his conjecture, the shrill neigh of a horse sounded in
the road within two rods of us, and at once the clank of a
sabre was heard as a Confederate vedette turned and rode off
full tilt. At the noise, both of us had darted into the bushes,
where we lay for a long time, speechless and still. We heard
the horse galloping up the road. No doubt the " fox-fire " had
saved us from an actual encounter.

" Give me that dollar," said Reynolds, at last ; " I want to
get out o' here."

1 Phosphorus. [ED.]

XXV

ON LEE'S RIGHT FLANK

«' If this were played upon the stage now, I could condemn it as an im-
probable fiction." — SHAKKSFKA.HE.

SUNRISE found me three miles south of Bottom's Bridge. I
had taken a few hours' rest. White Oak Swamp was around
me, that swamp which had proved at once McClellan's annoy-
ance and safety while retreating before Lee and Jackson in
'62. Thus far I had not seen a Confederate, but I had
heard cavalry on the road at my right and was afraid of them,
for a straggling infantryman in this quarter would be at once
stopped and probably put under guard. I had passed houses
— leaving them at a distance. This part of the country had
been subjected to no general distress since '62; raiders
had gone over it, it is true, but no great army ; the fields were
green with young corn, and yellow with ripening wheat. Be-
hind me far away rumbled the guns of Lee and of Grant, still
facing each other in the lines of Cold Harbor. No doubt
Meade will make a big noise to-day, for to-night the march
begins.

My first purpose was to comply with Colonel Chapman's
wish. I would get to the Long Bridge road and advance some
miles toward Richmond. In the afternoon I would go north-
ward and cross the Charles City road ; if no infantry were on
these roads I would then continue north and find the right of
Lee's army. Chapman's brigade would not advance to Rid-
dell's Shop until the morrow. I had more than twenty-four
hours for the work.

276

ON LEE'S RIGHT FLANK 277

I went through White Oak Swamp. Beyond it there were
many farmhouses. To meet an aged countryman would not be
very risky, but I knew the probability of finding in one of
these farmers a maimed and discharged Confederate, so I
accepted all difficulties that would serve to keep me hidden.
But I lost time, and it was past eight o'clock when I crossed
the Long Bridge road. In the dust here I saw many hoofprints,
but no tracks made by the shoes of men. I was about four
miles from Long Bridge ; a mile or so to the west was Riddell's
Shop, hard by the junction of three main roads.

At nine o'clock I was nearing the junction. From the
bushes on the edge of the road I could see cavalry, not
on picket, but at rest as though in camp. I made a detour
and reached the Long Bridge road again — nearly a mile
beyond the junction — passing over an old battle-ground on
the way.1

Now I could have gone on, without hindrance, into Rich-
mond. This road had certainly not been trodden by infantry
for a long time past. I must cease to go west; I must go
north and find the right of Lee's infantry. I crossed to the
north side of the road ; there was a farmhouse plainly visible
in a field at my left, but I avoided it. I could hear distant
guns at the south ; no doubt Butler and Beauregard were at it
again, somewhere between me and Petersburg.

A narrow path ran from the house to the woods in its rear,
where I was standing. In the path I saw a man coming. He
was in his shirt-sleeves — apparently a farmer. Thinking
that he had already seen me, I waited, for I must not seem to
avoid him.

" Good morning," said he.

" Same to you, sir," I responded.

He looked at me a little curiously, I thought.

irThe battle-ground of Frayser's Farm, or Glendale, fought July 2d, 1862.
Mr. Berwick does not say how he could recognize a battle-ground ; probably
he saw trees that had been cut down by cannon shot. [ED.]

278 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

" Can you let me have something to eat ? " I asked, on the
spur of the moment converting myself into a straggling for-
ager far from the lines of his starving comrades.

" I reckon so," said he ; " but we're almost et out o' house
an' home already."

" I'm not a-beggin'," I said ; " I'll pay you."

" We don't take any pay from our soldiers ; come on to the
house. I'll see what we can do for you."

We walked up the path, he leading.

" You don't belong to the cavalry ? " he asked, assertively.

"No; I'm a long ways from my brigade."

u Come out a-foragin' ? "

"Yes, sir."

" Boys not getting much to eat now, I know. I sent a box
to camp last week for some of 'em."

We had reached the house. He led me into a clean room ;
in the middle was a small table with a few books on it. He
asked me to sit down, and went to the back door and called,
" Missis Darby ! "

Abstractedly I picked up a book — I don't know what book
it was ; perhaps I then did not see the title — and found, on
the fly leaf, the name Nathan Enroughty.1 Instantly my mem-
ory went back to the time when Gregg's brigade was in camp

1 " I testify that when ordered to conduct Major-General Magruder into the
Quaker road, on the morning of July 1, 1862, 1 did so conduct his forces, lead-
ing him into what I had always, and do still believe, to be the Quaker road,
being a road about two miles in length, leaving the Long Bridge road to the
right about three hundred yards above Mr. Nathan Enroughty's gate, and
entering the Charles City River road at Tilghman's gate, about one half-mile

below Sweeney's Tavern.

" S. B. SWEENEY."

R. S. Sweeney testified as follows : —

" . . . ; that this (Quaker) road connects the Long Bridge road with the
Charles City River road, leaving the former near Nathan Darby's (Enroughty's)
gate and entering the latter near the gate of Curl's Neck farm.

" A. G. DICKINSON,

"Assistant Adjutant-General*"
From " War Records ": Vol. XI, Part II, p. 676, and p. 684. [ED.]

ON LEE'S RIGHT FLANK 279

on the Chickahominy in June, '62, and far back of that time
— even to my childhood days. I had heard, two years before,
that there was a family in this county whose name was spelled
Enroughty and pronounced Darby, and I could clearly remem-
ber that when a boy at school in Charleston I had seen in
the humorous column of the Mercury a paragraph which gave
the same wonderful information. I had never believed the
story, but here was something that staggered me. I laid the
book back on the table.

When my host returned he brought some cold food — a
"pone" of corn-bread, a few biscuits, and a joint of cooked
bacon. I stuffed it into my haversack, which I feared showed
too great proportions already in the eyes of my friend.

" You must take pay," said I, offering Confederate money —
a dollar bill.

He refused. Then he said, "Did you come from Rich-
mond ? "

" I haven't been in Richmond since I was there in the hos-
pital," said I, rising.

" What hospital ? "

" I was first in Byrd Island."

"I know the place; an old tobacco factory. Were you
shot?" he asked.

" Yes, sir ; shot at Gaines's Mill, two years ago. Our lines
are almost in the same place now."

He was walking with me back to the path.

" Where are you from ? "

" South Carolina."

" What's your name ? "

" Berwick."

«B-e-r-w-i-c-k?"

" Yes, sir."

" My name's Darby ; now spell it."

" E-n-r-o-u-g-h-t-y."

" Yes ; you've seen it in print ! " he exclaimed ; " how many

280 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

men in a million do you reckon could spell my name if they
never saw it ? "

" Not one in a million million," said I.

He laughed heartily.

" How far is it to Richmond ? " I asked him.

" Thirteen miles," he replied.

"And how far to Cold Harbor ? "

" Never was there in my life. Reckon it's twelve or fifteen
miles. You ought to know better'n I do."

" Yes ; but I came in a roundabout way."

" Anything new up that way ? " he asked.

" They say Sheridan's gone on a raid toward Gordonsville,
and that Hampton's gone after him."

" Ain't Gary's brigade under Hampton ? "

« I think not."

"Well, he's got the Hampton Legion."

« Where is it ? "

" Right down the road. You must have seen some of 'em."

" Yes, I did ; but they didn't see me, I hope. I didn't want
to be stopped by any cavalry. Are there no infantry troops
about here?"

" Not till you get most to Richmond, and then they are the
reserves — the old men and boys."

" I haven't seen any infantry at all," said I.

Mr. Enroughty was very friendly, and wanted to talk more,
but I had to say good-by. He showed me a path through the
woods, leading, he said, to the Charles City road. This path
I took, and carefully made my way northward, pausing occa-
sionally to rest, for I was in no great haste. It seemed to me
now that there was no need to tire myself out by going far to
the north and waiting with Lee's infantry. It would be better
from every point of view to take some position where I could
watch both the Charles City road to Richmond, and the branch
of the Charles City road running south from Bottom's Bridge
through White Oak Swamp, for on one of these two roads

ON LEE'S RIGHT FLANK 281

Lee's infantry must move if it would reach Eiddell's Shop.
If I should go north twelve or fifteen miles, as Mr. Darby had
called it, and reach the right of Lee's infantry, then I should
have to come back twelve or fifteen miles more. Besides, if I
should go on up the Chickahominy toward Cold Harbor, a
column of infantry might reach Kiddell's Shop from the direc-
tion of Kichmond, without my knowing it. The path which
Mr. Enroughty had put me on, reached the Charles City road
in about two miles — very nearly at the place where that road
crosses the "White Oak Swamp. I supposed that directly east
down the swamp to the Bottom's Bridge road was about three
miles, and I wanted to get to some place between these two
roads, say a mile and a half from either, where I could watch
both. The weather was very hot, and the roads were dusty,
and I fully counted on being able to see, a mile and a half
away, a column of dust made by a great body of marching
troops. Moreover, I could use my glass.

It was about three o'clock in the afternoon when at length
I selected a position suitable to my purpose. On a hill in the
midst of the wood I found a tall tree and climbed it. I have
since learned that a man named Fisher lived in a house near
by. I sat in a thicket some distance from my tree, which I
climbed almost hourly and looked in every direction. I was
well provided with food and water, and really enjoyed the
rest. The afternoon passed away and night came, and I re-
mained in my position.

On the morning of the 13th I made my way to the Bottom's
Bridge road in order to see if any infantry had moved in the
night. All the tracks in the dust had been made by horses.
I returned to my lookout, and went on past it, and reached the
main Charles City road. There was no sign that any move-
ment had been made upon it, and I again returned to my
position near Fisher's. The day was wearing away. Doubt-
less by this time Colonel Chapman's brigade had advanced to
Riddell's, in a bee line two miles south from me, and the Army

282 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

of the Potomac was no doubt crossing at Jones's Bridge and
Long Bridge, and pursuing its way to the James, masked by
the cavalry near me.

About three o'clock in the afternoon I thought I heard
musketry in a southeast direction, but was not sure. I sup-
posed that a skirmish was going on between Chapman's bri-
gade and Gary's force. I hastily climbed the tree; I could
see nothing in the south or southeast, but to the northeast I
could easily distinguish dust rising above the trees. I watched
this dust a short time until I became sure it was getting
nearer. Cavalry or infantry, one or the other, was advancing.
I hastily came down from the tree. The skirmishing in the
southeast was louder. I made for the Bottom's Bridge road,
bending to the right so that I crossed the swamp diagonally,
and reached the road some half-mile only from its junction with
the road to Long Bridge. When I came in sight of it, it was
crowded with cavalry, retiring in disorder, and I hid myself
in the bushes to let them go by. The first men that I saw
were urging their horses to great speed, but the rear of the
scattered column was retiring very slowly, and I inferred that
there was no pursuit. The noise of fighting had ceased. And
now, but for that column of dust I had seen, I should have
gone at once to the Long Bridge road and reported to Colonel
Chapman, but I wanted to see first whether the column coming
was infantry, so I began to go north again, keeping some two
hundred yards from the road and following after the slowly
retreating groups of Confederate cavalry. I had gone perhaps
a quarter of a mile when 1 saw, between me and the road, the
flank of a line of skirmishers, and at once I knew that this
was no dismounted cavalry. Just here the bushes were thick,
and I had no fear of being seen, unless, indeed, the skirmish-
line should suddenly be ordered to flank to the right, in which
case my situation would become perilous. Yet even then, I
thought, if I should be seen, I should be taken for a straggler,
and be ordered into the ranks, or else passed by as a thing of

ON LEE'S RIGHT FLANK 283

no interest. While I was thus thinking I became aware that
there were a few other men off in the woods ; they had passed
around my position — some flankers thrown out to guard the
right of the line which continued to advance south with great
rapidity. I had not been near enough to see the faces of the
men, but I had seen long rifles, and cartridge-boxes, and haver-
sacks, and blankets rolled around their shoulders, and knew
that these men were of Lee's infantry. I regretted greatly
my previous decision, and wished that I had gone south and
reported to Colonel Chapman, for now it seemed impossible
for me to reach him before this line should strike his force,
which was no doubt in some degree disordered in consequence
of the action in which it had been recently engaged. I had to
act quickly. I rose and followed the skirmish-line. A few
yards farther south the woods were more open, and I now
saw the line distinctly, with its flankers closed up on its right
— a compact line of skirmishers, five paces apart, advancing
before me and cutting me off from our troops. I ran on for-
ward, for the skirmishers were now at the double quick. I
was hoping that the line would swing to its left, in which
case, by going straight forward, I could pass it in safety. But
the line swung to the right rather than to the left, and the
cracking of rifles was heard, and the line kept on, and now
I distinctly saw Lieutenant Brunson, whom I had seen on
the evening of the 5th of May in command of a company
of McGowan's sharp-shooters, and I knew that just before me
were old comrades, many of whom would perhaps recognize
me, and then I saw, also, Lieutenant Hasell in command of
Company A of the sharp-shooters. The men were advancing
so fast that I knew our cavalry had not been able to stand
before them. It was a running fight for a mile or more. I
could have stopped at any time, and let the battalion distance
me, but fear of recognition had now gone ; even if I should be
recognized, what harm could result ? Unless, indeed, some old
friend of Company H, now in the battalion, should see me,

284 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

and see me distinctly, no one would know that I was not a
member of some other company than his. The battalion
crossed the Long Bridge road perhaps half a mile east of
Riddell's Shop; then I heard Lieutenant Hasell order Com-
pany A to left wheel, and I saw some of his men running hard
through a small field in front to preserve the alignment. The
Federals were now pounding away with artillery, but the
skirmishers continued to advance. I saw no line of battle.
If McGowan's brigade and Wilcox's division were following,
they were not following with sufficient speed to keep within
supporting distance of the battalion.

It was past five o'clock. I saw a man before me drop his
gun and fall. The line went on. I reached the wounded
man and paused to look at him. It was Chappell. I bent
over him.

" Are you much hurt, Chappell ? " I asked.

" What ! Is it you, Berwick ? I didn't know you were in
the battalion."

" I'm not, and I didn't know you were in it," said I.

" You know I told you I was going to join it as soon as pos-
sible. No, I'm not hurt very badly," said he. " I have got a
shot in the leg that will lay me up a month or two possibly.
I know I can't walk. Where did you come from ? "

" Don't you know where the brigade is ? " I asked.

" Oh, yes ; it is in the rear somewhere ; but why are you not
with it ? "

I got him some water and offered to remain with him, but
he said that he did not need any help.

" But you might be left alone in the woods here," said I.

He consented to my helping him, and I lifted him to his
feet. He put his left arm around my neck, and together we
managed to hobble through the woods toward the rear, but
very slowly. Meantime, the battalion in front was still going
forward, and we could hear the men cheering as they advanced.

" I've not seen you since the twelfth of May, Chappell."

ON LEE'S RIGHT FLANK 285

" That was a hell of a time," said he. " Say, Berwick, I
believe I've got to lie down awhile."

I eased him to the ground and staid with him, for I knew
there would be no good in my trying at this time to get away.
No report of mine to Colonel Chapman could now change the
result of this day's business. I looked at Chappell's wound.
A bullet had passed through the fleshy part of his right thigh.
I bound it up the best I could with one of my shirt-sleeves.
He was not losing much blood.

"Chappell, you remind me strongly of a face I've seen
before. Have you a brother?"

" Yes ; two of 'em."

" Infantry or cavalry ? "

" Both in the cavalry : Ninth South Carolina. One's a lieu-
tenant."

" Think I've seen him," said I.

" You belong to the First, don't you ? " said he.

"Yes."

" That's on the right of the brigade, I think. I don't know
why you are not with your command."

" To tell you the truth, Chappell," said I, " I was out forag-
ing, and I'm going to divide with you."

Chappell's haversack was empty. I put into it the remain-
der of the supplies which Mr. Darby had intended for the
Confederacy; Chappell made no objection; I don't suppose
that in Lee's army there was a man high and mighty enough
to have protested against such an act in his favour. Chappell
began to eat.

" I think you'd better get back to your place, Berwick."

"No," said I; "I am going to stay with you until the
brigade reaches you, and then both of us will be all right."

"Our fellows did mighty well to-day," said Chappell.
"Them Yanks drove our cavalry at their sweet will, but
when the sharp-shooters struck 'em, they had to git up and
dust."

286 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

He did not know, and I have never yet found one of that bat-
talion who would admit, that the ease with which McGowan's
sharp-shooters drove Chapman's cavalry on that day was all
owing to peculiar circumstances, which I have hinted at
already. Chapman was withdrawing, after having defeated
Gary, and the sudden charge of the sharp-shooters upon his
disorganized troops caused somewhat of a panic. Indeed, one
or two of Warren's infantry regiments, which had advanced
from Long Bridge, were caught at sunset in the mixture, and
acted like sheep. But neither have I been able to convince a
man of Chapman's brigade that it had skedaddled manfully
before a thin line of skirmishers. Chapman's men swore, and
swear yet, that a solid line of battle came against them at
Riddell's Shop. The truth is, that the sharp-shooters lacked
very little of capturing Fitzhugh's battery — it had to be with-
drawn in great haste.

I staid with Chappell until the brigade came up, and turned
him over to the infirmary men. At dark I went to the rear of
the brigade, and tramped south for several miles. Then I
turned east, and before midnight reached our cavalry.

XXVI

KING WILLIAM

*' "Why should a man, whose blood is warm within,
Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster ? " — SHAKESPEARE.

A LITTLE after midnight of the 13th, or morning of the 14th,
I reached General Meade's headquarters near Cedar Grove,
some two miles east of Long Bridge, and on the direct road
from Long Bridge to White House. The army was in move-
ment; Hancock's corps was already at the James, and the
other corps were rapidly following Hancock, with the excep-
tion of Smith's, which had marched to White House and re-
turned to the James Kiver by water. I reported to General
Meade.

" What have you been doing, Berwick ? "

" I obeyed your orders, sir, in regard to Colonel Chapman."

" Did you see any infantry ? "

" Yes, sir ; Hill's corps, or part of it at least."

"Where?"

" Near Riddell's Shop, sir."

" Then I must hold Wilson where he is."

He called a courier and sent him off with a written order.
Then he said, " You know anything of the James Kiver ? "

" No, General," I replied.

" Nor south of it ? "

" No, sir."

" Then I think I'll let you stay on this side awhile, Berwick,
and give you some work you won't object to doing, if Doctor
Khayme is correct. Report to me again at sunrise."

I was punctual. General Meade directed an orderly to go

287

288 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

to General Williams and fetch the reports of General Aber-
crombie.

" That man Scranton is a scoundrel, Berwick."

" I am afraid so, sir."

" You must catch him."

The orderly returned with a small package. General Meade
selected a paper and handed it to me. It was a report of
General Abercrombie, commanding at White House, regarding
an effort to break up a gang of guerillas in King William
County.1

While I was reading this report General Meade gave his
attention to other things, busily sending despatches, examining
maps, and making replies to secretaries and aides. I waited
until he turned again toward me.

"You have read it?"

"Yes, sir; I see that General Abercrombie wants to try
the guerillas again, but doesn't know whether there is time."

" Yes ; he thinks White House is to be abandoned suddenly.
The depot will be broken up, but we shall keep a small force
there for some time yet. Now read this report from Captain
Capron."

He turned away again, and worked busily while I read an
account of a scout near King William Court-House by some

1 " HEADQUARTERS U. S. FORCES,
" WHITE HOUSE, VA., June 12, 1864.

" BRIG.-GEN. JOHN A. RAWLINS, Chief of Staff, Armies of the United States.
" SIR: Having received intelligence of the presence of a considerable force
of guerillas, say 60 or upwards, at or near King William Court-House, I
despatched about 100 of the First Rhode Island Cavalry, under Captain Capron,
to ascertain the facts in relation thereto. He returned last night, and makes
the accompanying report. Before sending out again, I have thought it proper
to ascertain first, whether there would be sufficient time to do so ; the distance
from here is between eight and nine miles.

" Very respectfully yours,

" J. J. ABERCROMBIE,
" Brigadier-General, Commanding."
—From War Records. [Eo.]

KING WILLIAM 289

of the First Rhode Island cavalry. Skirmishing had taken
place with guerillas, and men had been wounded on each
side. I remember that Captain Capron reported that the
bushwhackers had killed some of our men after capturing
them, and that there were others who were in danger of being
murdered.1

"Now, Berwick," said the general, at last, "I want that
thing torn out by the roots. I shall send another party
into King William, and if that doesn't answer, I'll keep on
at it."

He turned to an orderly and said, " Take these papers back
to General Williams, and ask him to write an order to General
Abercrombie to try the thing again." And to me he said: " You
will deliver the order, and you will go with the expedition, and
report to me when you come back whether proper effort has
been made. Upon my soul, I think some of our officers are
more afraid of these ruffians than they are of Lee's veterans."

" How long shall I be away, General ? "

" Take a week or ten days if need be. When you get through
this job, report to me south of the James."

1 " WHITE HOUSB LANDING, VA.

" June 11, 1864.

"CAPT. R. L. ORR, Acting Assistant Adjutant-General.
" SIR : I have the honor to report a scout made in the vicinity of King
William Court-House, Va. I marched to Lanesville, and there learned from
the negroes that a force of 40 to 70 rebel cavalry were lurking about the
country capturing what men were straggling about that vicinity. Three
miles from Lanesville my advance was fired on by dismounted men from the
field. The advance immediately charged ; they fled to the wood ; I was
unable to find them. I had one man badly wounded, and saw 11 mounted
some distance through a wood in a clearing. I also learned that 7 Federal
soldiers were prisoners near King William Court-House, 2 having been killed.
The rest will probably share the same fate if their captors cannot get them
to Richmond.

" I am, sir, very respectfully, your obedient servant,

" W. C. CAPRON,
" Captain, First Rhode Island Cavalry, Commanding."

— From War Records. [Eo.J
V

290 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

I was placing the order in my pocket, when he said, " Read
it to me, Berwick."
I read aloud as follows : —

" HEADQCABTBBS ARMY OF THE POTOMAC.

" June 14, 1864.
" COMMANDING OFFICER, White House, Va.

" SIR : I am directed by the Major-General commanding to acknowledge
the receipt of your letter of the 12th instant, enclosing the report of Captain
Capron, First Rhode Island Cavalry, of a scout made by him in the vicinity
of King William Court-House. The commanding general directs that you
send another party against the bands of guerillas supposed to be in the
vicinity of King William Court-House.

" I am, very respectfully, your obedient servant,

"S. WILLIAMS, Assistant Adjutant-General."

" Just like Seth," l said General Meade, when I had finished
reading ; " Berwick, tell General Abercrombie for me that that
order expresses very mildly what I want done. I want the
thing stamped out. Understand?"

" Yes, sir."

" Then you may go."

White House was hardly ten miles from headquarters, and
I had a good road, although much blocked with wagon-trains
and artillery as far as Emmaus Church. The air was fine, and
I gave my horse the spur. The work suited me. If possible,
I would get Scranton and his men. Had he not shown himself
relentless, I should have been far from doing him harm, and
even now I would not seek his life ; but my own safety, and
much more, Lydia's, seemed to require his capture. The course
was northeast, and easy to know. At nine o'clock the Pamun-
key was in sight, and twenty minutes later I drew rein at Gen-
eral Abercrombie's headquarters.

The general was a little blank when he had read the despatch.

" Are you to wait for a reply ? "

1 General Seth Williams, Assistant Adjutant-General, Army of the Poto-
mac. [En.]

KING WILLIAM 291

"No, sir; I am ordered to accompany the scouting party."

" In what capacity ? " he asked, frowning.

" Somewhat as guide, I think, sir," I replied, wishing to
soften him.

" Do you know the country ? Do you know what this order
is?"

" I know, sir, that General Meade ordered me to accompany
an expedition into King William ; I came through it about two
weeks ago, bringing a despatch from General Grant to General
Smith. I can't say that I know the country well, sir, but I
know one or two persons over there on whom we can depend,
and I know that there are parties of guerillas, or worse, over
there."

The general looked somewhat mollified.

" Worse than guerillas, you say ? "

"Eenegades from our army, sir; General Meade is particu-
larly interested in their capture. Their leader is not unknown
to him, and it was because I know him that the general chose
me to come to you, sir."

" Very well," said he, heartily ; " I'm glad to have you. You
wear no shoulder-straps, but I guess you are a commissioned
officer ? "

" A lieutenant. Lieutenant Berwick, sir, in General Meade's
official family. The general ordered me to tell you from him,
sir, that the letter written by General Williams does not, in its
perfunctory terms, convey his thought as strongly as he could
wish. He desires that the nest of guerillas and renegades over
yonder should be stamped out, sir; those were his words;
' stamped out.' "

" We'll do what we can, Lieutenant, and I'm glad to have
your help, but the trouble is that when we go there they run
away, and return again as soon as we are out of sight."

" We must practise guile, sir, if we would catch them."

"If you have any plan, let me hear it."

" I think, sir, that to ride straight through the country along

292 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

the roads simply gives them warning. We should secretly find
their rendezvous, and then surround it."

" Yes, but to find it ! I have no men whom I could thor-
oughly hope will succeed in that. Now, if you could do it for
me, I would answer for the rest," said he, banteringly.

" General, I accept at once," said I.

He turned me over to Captain Orr, his assistant adjutant-
general, telling the captain to arrange with me for a surprise
of the guerillas.

The adjutant entered heartily into the scheme.

" What force do you suggest ? " he asked.

" A very small force of the very best quality, Captain."

He smiled. " Hard to get," said he ; " you see this camp ?
We have here about five thousand men ; not one per cent of
them have ever seen active service. They are reserves, most
of them — Ohio National Guards, Veteran Reserves, and the
like. We have only about two hundred cavalry — one hundred
and ninety-eight to be exact."

" They have seen service ? "

"Yes. We are only a forwarding station. Troops come
through here and rest, and go on to the front. We serve here
just as we did at Port Royal. White House is to be broken
up at once, at least General Abercrombie's share in it. He is
already ordered to report to the Department at Washington,
and waits only for the arrival of General Getty, his successor.
You know the base of the army is already changed to City
Point."

" Has the medical department been removed, Captain ? "

" Yes, most of it. There are a few sick here yet, and a few
wounded, but almost everything went off yesterday to Wash-
ington and City Point, and medical headquarters are no longer
here."

I could not conceal my disappointment ; I had hoped to find
Lydia.

" But we'll do the best we can for you," he said, no doubt

KING WILLIAM 293

observing my chagrin, and attributing it to a wrong cause.
"The First Rhode Island can give us good men."

" The First Rhode Island ? "

"Yes; the cavalry I spoke about — Major Farrington."

By four o'clock the plan of the campaign had been made and
everything had been arranged. Two companies of cavalry
were to march north next morning at daylight; they would
establish a strong post at Lanesville, another at King William
Court-House, and a third at Brandywine, and form a cordon
through which the guerillas would have difficulty in breaking.
Ten picked men from the First Rhode Island, commanded by
Sergeant Throop, were to cross the river and proceed with
great secrecy, on bypaths, to the cross-roads where Scranton's
man, Barton, had met his death on the 29th of May, and there
wait for my orders. Meanwhile I was to go up the west side
of the Pamunkey, cross it above the mouth of Jack's Creek,
and make my way to Showalter's.

A man rode with me some six or eight miles for the purpose
of taking my horse back to Sergeant Throop. I did not know
how I was to cross the river, but was sure that I should cross.
It was night when I reached its bank, and I decided to lose no
time in hunting for a boat. I took off my clothing, rolled it
into a compact bundle, tied it on a raft improvised of fence
rails, and swam across, pushing my raft before me. I was
without even the burden of haversack or canteen, and was in
Confederate clothing, for I knew that the renegades had been
pretending at times to belong to the Southern army.

At ten o'clock I stood before the house of Showalter and
wondered. The house was lighted. The west front room on
the lower floor was open, — doors and windows, — for the night
was very warm, and the captain had company within. I did
not whistle. Sounds came from the house — sounds of merri-
ment, somewhat too boisterous, I thought, to please the host
What could it all mean? Had the passing of the armies to
the south left the country so free of fear that customs had

294 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

changed in a week ? I did not believe it. Instead of whis-
tling, I hid. Great fear had fallen on me. The revelry in the
house meant ill to Showalter. I heard oaths.

The truth, or something near it, was seen almost instantly.
The house was held by a party of men — but of which side
were they? I made a detour through the woods, and ap-
proached the house from the rear ; there everything was silent
and dark. I came back by the west end of the building; here
one of the windows was not entirely open ; the wind had risen,
and slammed an ill-fitting shutter which allowed a little light
to pass. The window was too high for me to see into the
room even on tiptoe, but the talk inside was loudj I could
hear almost every word. »

« I hit the high."

" I'm dam'd if you did. Pard had the king."

« Show it."

A short pause, and a new voice spoke.

"Hand me that bottle."

"You're welcome. Nothin' in it."

Now there were curses loud and deep.

" Say, there, none o' your tricks, now ; don't you deal before
I cut."

All of this speech, and more besides, was interlarded with
oaths and obscenity. I tried in vain to raise myself to the
height of the window. There was no tree or fence near
enough to serve me. I thought of getting a fence-rail and
leaning it against the house for a sort of ladder, but feared the
noise I might make if perched in such a cramped position. It
was not to be believed that these men had no scouts and senti-
nels. At any moment I might be detected. Where was York ?
What had become of Showalter ? I stole to the back of the
house again, but was afraid to venture entirely around it ; I
might stumble on a sentinel. These were Scranton's men, but
I had not heard their leader's voice. Probably he was yet
confined to his room. At the back steps I listened attentively ;

KING WILLIAM 295

there was no sound except a low murmur coming from the
front room. The notion came to me that I might find Scranton
and take him, but it was at once abandoned. He was armed,
and I was not. One cry from him would fetch his gang upon
me. Something better must be thought of. Sergeant Throop
would not be at the cross-roads before daylight ; it would be
broad day before his squad could reach Showalter, even if
some one could inform and guide them, and by that time there
was no telling where these scoundrels would be. What to do
puzzled me beyond measure.

But now I heard footsteps — some one was descending the
stairs from the second floor. I crept back to the side window
of the front room.

The men were talking more loudly than before, two. or three
of them at once — quarrelling. Suddenly they ceased, and
different sounds came to my ears.

"Out with these lights! "Tis odds beyond arithmetic'
they've been seen already!"

I heard^a scramble.

Again the voice : " Who relieves the guard ? "

«I, sir."

" Then ' bravely broach your boiling bloody breast ' to your
imperious duty ! Hie thee, man ! ' I would have it suddenly
performed ! ' And you others, get to your kennels. ' Pray
God, I prove a needless coward, but I fear this wood lacks not
for worlds of company.' Get you gone, I say ! "

Where would the relieving guard go ? Would he leave the
front or the rear of the house ? I hastily retired toward the
west, until I could see both yards at once. I heard feet coming
down the steps into the back yard, and then saw the glitter of
a gun-barrel as a man walked across the yard and down the
hill in the moonlight.

I followed him. A hundred yards at the rear of the old
dwelling was a square log hut; the guard went toward it.
Here the space was open, and I paused in the shadow, fearing

296 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

to go farther. The guard went on, and disappeared behind
the log hut. Almost at once he began to return — no, not
he, the man whom he had relieved. I stood stock still, and
waited until he had gone into the house. What was in that
hut? From my place I could see no door — the door must
be on the other side. The relief had been made so quickly
that I knew the guard was stationed at the door of the hut.
But what was he guarding ? I made a long circuit, and ap-
proached the hut from the east. The guard was sitting on
the doorsteps.

My position now was some fifty yards to the right of the
guard. He was sitting on the doorsteps, bent over, with his
gun between his legs ; I could see that the gun had no bayonet,
though it was a long gun — a rifle.

He would soon go to sleep if he retained his posture, but I
could not wait for him to sleep ; I must take that man and
take him at once. I crawled toward him, keeping the north-
east corner of the hut between us. I reached the building,
and took off my hat. Then I cautiously peered around the
corner, keeping my head low to the ground. The man yet sat
still, his head bent down. I drew back and rose.

The next moment I was standing before him, with my left
hand grasping his gun-barrel, and in my right hand my clasp-
knife lifted as if to strike.

" Make the slightest sound and you are gone ! "

He raised his hands. The rifle was now in mine. I stepped
back two long paces, levelled, and said, " Take off your belt."
He obeyed.

" Draw out your bayonet." He obeyed.

"Now go to that door and prize out the staple." He did as
I ordered. Voices were heard in the hut.

" Now put that bayonet carefully on the ground." He bent
over and rose again.

" Open the door and walk in. Make no noise."

Behind him I approached the open door.

KING WILLIAM 297

" 7s ShowdUer well f "

" God be thanked, yes ! "

" Speak low, sir ; is York here, too ? n

" Yes, suh ; that's Mahs Jones ? "

" York, don't you call me Mahs Jones ; go out and pick up
this man's belt and tie him with it. Mr. Showalter, please keep
as quiet as possible. We must stay here a while."

When York had securely bound the man, I handed Showalter
the rifle, and ordered York to come outside with me.

" York, where are your horses ? "

" Way out in the pastuhe, suh."

" Can you get one in half an hour ? "

" I don't know, suh. The pastuhe is ve'y lahge. I might
have trouble in finding them, suh."

" Where are the horses that belong to these men ? "

" They have them gyuahded, suh, down in the woods."

" How many men are guarding them ? "

" Only one, suh, besides that faheigneh."

" How far off are they ? "

" I don't know the spot exactly, suh ; it's somewheah neah
theah camp on the otheh side of the big road."

" York, can you run ? "

" Didn't you see me run, suh, when the woods weh afiah ? "

" Yes ; but you must run four miles."

" I can do it, suh."

" Are you hungry ? "

"No, suh."

" Go as hard as you can run to the cross-roads where we saw
the man hanging."

" Yes, suh ! "

"There you will find ten men — cavalry. If you do not find
them, wait till they come ; they are to get there at daybreak."

" Yes, suh."

"Tell Sergeant Throop to surround the big house. Guide
him here. Ride my horse back. Two or three men at the

298 A FKIEND WITH THE COUNTEKSIGN

front of the house ; two or three at the back ; the rest out in
the woods all around — a hundred yards apart ; understand ? "

"Yes, suh!"

" How many men are in the gang ? "

"Eight, suh, counting this one."

" They have been reenf orced ? "

" Yes, suh ; they picked up fouh men."

" Do you count Scherzer, the foreigner, as one ? n

" No, suh ; he makes nine, if you count him."

" There will be one less when you get back."

" You going to hang this one, suh ? "

" No ; I mean I'm going to catch another. Now, York, go
for your life."

XXVII

THE SIEGE OF SHOWALTEB

" Who can be wise, amazed, temperate and furious,
Loyal and neutral, in a moment ? " — SHAKESPEARE.

THE night was passing. I had little doubt, however, that
York would reach the cross-roads before Throop got there, and
be compelled to wait.

The prisoner begged to be allowed to speak, and I ordered
him to say in a whisper what he wanted to tell.

"Captain," — he called me captain, — "I don't belong to
these people ; they pressed me into their gang."

" How can you prove it ? "

"I'm a Union soldier, sir; these men are robbers."

" I know what these men are, but how am I to know you
are a Federal soldier ? "

" Well, sir, my gun ought to bear me out."

" What do you mean by that ? "

"I belong to the infantry; my gun is a Springfield rifle,
with a bayonet."

" Well," said I, " say no more, now ; if you are telling the
truth we shall not be hard on you."

" You are a Confederate ? " he asked.

" Wait and see," said I.

" I'd like to say one word more, sir."

" Say it."

" There is another man in the house who is just like I am,
sir, — not a thief, but a soldier."

" Then I hope he will not fight for them."

200

300 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

" He may be compelled to, sir."

Showalter was very quiet — saying nothing. I examined
the inside of the hut ; there was no window — no chimney —
no crack between the logs.

" How often is the guard relieved ? " I asked the prisoner.

" Every two hours, sir."

" Do you have a corporal ? "

"No, sir."

" What was your gang going to do with my friend here ? "

" Captain Owen was demanding ransom, sir."

So Scranton was now Owen.

" Where are your horses ? " I asked.

" About a mile off, sir, in the woods."

" Under guard ? "

" Yes, sir."

" How many men ? "

" Two men, sir ; only one is a member of the gang."

"Who is the other?"

" He's a Frenchman, I think, sir."

" And he is not a member of the gang ? "

" He may be, sir, but I don't think so. He is not made to
do duty like the rest."

« Is he armed ? "

" Yes, sir, with pistols."

I had taken the rifle from Showalter. Not able to see the
dwelling from the inside of the hut, I went out and walked up
and down before the door, watching and listening intently.
The moon had gone down ; it would soon be day.

A shuffling of feet was heard, and I looked round the
corner. A man was coming. He turned the corner of the hut,
found the muzzle of a rifle in his face, and collapsed. He was
almost scared to death. I marched him into the hut. Show-
alter took his carbine and accoutrements, and I securely bound
his hands behind his back.

We could expect no other godsend like this. We marched

THE SIEGE OF SHOWALTER 301

our captives into the wood in front, and tied them to trees,
beyond any view from the dwelling. Showalter heartily sup-
ported me.

" Berwick," said he, " we must not let those scoundrels get
away from my house. I'll burn it first."

I gave him choice of positions, and he took the front. I
went back and took post behind a tree in the rear. The house
with its garrison of five was now besieged by two men. I
hoped that the garrison would sleep late.

A man appeared at the back door. He was rubbing his
eyes. He came down the steps. I could have shot him dead.
What was he going to do ? It was not half time yet for the
relief. I had it; the garrison was alarmed because the last
guard had not returned. This man had been sent out to see
what was the matter. I let him approach the hut. I was
fighting myself hard; I could easily kill him; I could less
easily capture him. What should I do ? Yet, either act would
at once put the renegades thoroughly on their guard. They
would rush from the house, and make for their horses. Should
I shoot that man ? Should I take him ? Yes, I would take
him, but at the last moment. I must make no noise now. I
must let him get to the hut and examine it ; before he raised an
outcry I must take him. Every moment of delay was precious.

The man came on and turned the corner of the hut. His
back was toward me. I stole through the woods, and as he
entered the hut I was at the door and had him.

Now it was light, and I feared to retreat from the hut with
my prisoner. This man's failure to return would strike the
garrison with astonishment and terror. They would conjec-
ture many things — amongst them the truth. If they could
know the truth, would they not sally out and capture me in the
hut ? My prisoner was an encumbrance. I could not tie him.
I uncapped his gun, and threw his cartridge-box into a corner ;
I must stand guard over him until Throop should come.
There was no view of the dwelling. At any moment men

802 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

might come in on me. I wanted to work a peephole between
two logs, but in doing so should have been at the mercy of my
captive. I ordered him to remain in the hut ; I took my stand
outside, the hut between me and the dwelling ; but he was a
bold villain, — with a spring he had cleared the door and was
around the corner. I sprang to the corner, and fired at him
running. He fell, but picked himself up again, and staggered
into the house. I ran back into the hut and got his gun and
cartridges.

But it would not do to remain in the hut. I backed away,
keeping it between me and the dwelling, and it was well for
me that the ground sloped somewhat downward until the for-
est was reached ; only one bullet came at me.

It was between daybreak and sunrise. The house was astir.
I could hear the upper windows thrown open in front; then I
could see them thrown open in the rear. Five men were in
that house, but one of them was useless — worse than useless
— to the defenders. They counted but four. I had an extra
gun and was strongly tempted to go to Showalter's post and
release our first prisoner. Perhaps I ought to have done so,
but I feared treachery. I believed that success was sure, and
would not imperil it. I loaded.

Now I must watch in every direction. Would not the
sound of the firing cause Scherzer and his man to come to the
house ? I hoped not ; they were a mile away. Besides, if
they should hear the shots, their fears might keep them where
they were. Then, too, they must guard their horses.

No doubt the wounded man had told his comrades that there
was but one enemy in their rear. Would they believe it ?
He had seen but one, yet they knew that Sho waiter and York
were free, and that two of their own comrades were missing.
They would infer that both York and Showalter had armed
themselves with the captured rifles. I tried to put myself in
Scranton's place that I might reason what he ought to do. Of
course if he knew the conditions fully, the whole party would

THE SIEGE OF SHOWALTER 303

sally out through the rear door. But he would examine the
ground first. He might think that Showalter and York had
both gone off in haste for help. The gang had felt the ven-
geance of the home-guards in Barton's death. They would fear
to wait. They were in a trap and must get out, and get out
quick. The only question was whether they would try the
rear or the front. I kept my two guns ready.

Now I heard a shot from the woods in front of the house,
aud was almost overcome through momentary fear that Show-
alter's prisoners had been too loosely bound and would turn
the tables on him before he could reload. Three or four shots
were fired from the upper windows in the front. Now I knew
that a little more time had been gained, for the villains would
not issue out with unloaded guns in their hands.

And another thought : if Scranton knew the conditions,
could not he and his gang escape from the end windows, which
neither I nor Showalter could see ? I ran rapidly through the
woods until I could see the windows in the west end, and at
once fired a shot into one of them. Then I ran to the east end,
and fired another shot from that direction.

Showalter fired again, and I was greatly relieved on his
account. The sun had risen. If Throop had reached the
cross-roads at daybreak, he should have been here before this
time. Something must have delayed him. A shot was fired
from one of the rear windows. I heard the bullet strike a tree
near me, not so near, however, as to make me believe that I
had been seen. The garrison was firing almost at random.

And now I began to think that Scranton was reluctant to
leave his wounded man behind. My thought may have given
him too great credit, yet I knew that he was not entirely bad.
At least, the matter was serious enough for him to hesitate.
The house lapsed into silence. Some scheme was working.
Resistance by the garrison had evidently been given up, and
some method of flight was being devised. I went again
through the woods until I could see the west end of the house.

304 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

The windows there had been closed since I last saw them.
I went back rapidly until I found the east end. The windows
there had been closed.

Showalter was silent. The house was silent. I puzzled my
brains to think what Scranton was scheming. Could he expect
help ? Ah ! that was it. He had simply decided to remain
where he was until help should come. At any moment now I
might expect Scherzer with help for Scranton, or York with
help for Showalter. Which party would get here first?
Scranton was taking his chances, and I was taking mine.

Moreover, the besieged might well count on holding the
house until night. They would not fear that their enemies
would charge upon the house through the open ground immedi-
ately around it. Doubtless, they had barricaded the doors
below, and were holding both front and rear, ready to shoot
down any man who should try to reach the dwelling. They
would wait till night, and try to escape under cover of the
darkness. This thought made me comparatively easy. The
only thing that could save Scranton would be help from the
outside, for the force under Throop was sufficient to blockade
the house thoroughly, and hold it, at least until reinforcements
could be brought from Lanesville and King William.

And now I heard a sound in my rear, and turning hastily,
saw a mounted man. I raised my rifle, but immediately
dropped it for I recognized York. I went near him.

" Our cavalry here, York ? "

" Yes, suh ; they ah surrounding the house now, suh."

" Have you seen Mr. Showalter ? "

" Yes, suh ; he is all right, suh."

I gave York the carbine with its cartridges. Soon four men
of Throop's squad appeared at the rear of the house, and I
posted them behind trees. Then I went to find Throop. He
was for ending the thing by making a rush for the doors.
Showalter also was impatient, fearing reenforcements for the
garrison ; but I believed that the sacrifice which we must nee-

THE SIEGE OF SHOWALTER 305

essarily make in order to take the house by assault could be
avoided. Throop then proposed to go forward with a hand-
kerchief, and demand the surrender of the renegades. At this
proposition Showalter shook his head.

" You can't trust them," said he ; " they have violated hos-
pitality; they would shrink from nothing base. The man
who went forward as a herald would be shot down, or else,
if admitted, would be held as a hostage."

As for my part, I could neither give them terms, nor make
them promises.

There was nothing to do but make a close investment of the
place, and watch the windows. Throop and I went from post
to post stimulating the vigilance of the men; they were
thoroughly alert.

Throop proposed to fire volleys into the principal windows
from all sides of the house. I objected. I did not wish Scran-
ton to know that he was so thoroughly surrounded. I wanted
him to attempt an escape and run into the net.

Now I took York, and two men of Throop's squad, and
galloped to the big road, and charged at full speed on the
camp of the renegades. Scherzer, horses, and all, had gone.

When I returned to Throop and reported that the horses
were gone, he again urged an assault, and Showalter approved
it. I still resisted. As for the horses, I contended that the
disappearance of the men guarding them did not necessarily
mean that they had gone to seek help ; they had simply fled
on hearing the firing behind them.

Showalter again pressed the necessity for putting fire to the
house.

" Those men will get help ; there are many secessionists in
an hour's ride," said he; "we ought to act before they get
here. You won't give the order to assault; then give the
order to burn."

" My friend," I replied, " if we knew positively that Scherzer
can get help, we ought to do as you say ; but why should we

306 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

take such risks before we know we are in danger ? To burn
your house through fear seems cowardly."

" Scherzer is a man of great influence ! " he replied.

" What ! Scherzer ! "

" Yes, Scherzer ; that man is able to pay a regiment ! "

I looked at Showalter curiously.

" Mind what I tell you ! " he exclaimed ; " that man Scherzer
is not what he seems to be ! You'd better act quickly ! "

The old man's earnestness impressed me. He still urged the
use of the torch.

It was with great reluctance that I agreed at last to an
assault. Showalter continued to argue for fire. He said that
he and York could live just as well in the barn. The loss of
the house would make no difference, and the old man proposed
himself as the torch-bearer.

The men were ordered to open a rapid fire on the front and
wings of the house, while a strong party was formed behind
the hut ready to assault the rear. It was now about two
o'clock. York was sent to hunt for an axe, and speedily cut
a green log for a battering ram. The fire kept up in front.
The besieged did not reply. No doubt they were lying down
behind the barricaded windows seeking shelter from the bul-
lets. Throop himself was to lead the assaulting party. At
length, everything ready, the fire from the front ceased, and
four men began firing at the windows in the rear as rapidly as
they could. After three rounds the rear fire ceased, the men
ready to pick off any one who should show his face at a win-
dow; the front fire broke out afresh, and Throop and three
men raised the log from the ground and rushed forward
through the back yard, and up the steps. Not a shot was
fired at them. One mighty blow and the door fell open. The
fire in front continued.

In the hallway there was a great uproar. The log was
dropped on the floor with a crash that shook the house. All
windows being closed, there was no light except that which

THE SIEGE OF SHOWALTEE 307

now streamed through the back doorway, — the door itself
shattered on the floor, — and the sudden transition from the
glare without, made the men stop as if they had reached a
solid obstacle. For a moment everything before us was as
black as a cavern. But York rushed forward, and I followed,
and the men followed, climbing the stairs too hastily — crowd-
ing one upon another.

"Two of you look into the lower rooms!" I shouted —
then, "No, come back; they are up here," for I now saw
that the stairway was barricaded. Chairs, beds, bureaus, —
everything, piled up in a heap at the top gave evidence of
the presence of the renegades on the upper floor. Everything
beyond the obstruction was hidden ; it rested on the landing
at the turn of the stairs and reached almost to the ceiling;
beyond that barrier death awaited. And now heavy footsteps
were heard above stairs, and the rattling of window-panes.

"Fire through the floor!" shouted Throop; "two men to
each room ! "

The lower rooms rang loud with the repeated discharges of
carbines, and bullets came back, fired downward by the be-
sieged.

I failed to see Showalter, and hunted for him, suspecting.
He was found in a shed room, piling old papers upon a fire in
a corner. I jerked him away and stamped out the fire.

He exclaimed, "God Almighty, man! What else can we
do?"

" I know a better way," said I.

XXVIII

HIGH POLITICS

" And now I will unclasp a secret book,
And read you matter deep and dangerous."

— SHAKESPEARE.

UNLESS Owen had determined to sell his life at as great a
price as possible, it was clear that he was risking everything
for delay only. The torch would at once force a surrender,
and Sho waiter was eager to apply it, but I believed that when
the day of intense feeling nerving him to the sacrifice should
have passed, his suffering would be great.

I shouted for York. He came running from a front room.

" Can you get a ladder ? "

" Yes, suh ; one in the bahn ! "

I ordered Throop to continue firing through the floor into
the upper room on the west and to cease altogether on the
east. The ladder was raised on the west side. York, Lough-
lin and I were to scale it. Showalter was to remain at the
foot of the ladder and give Throop a signal as soon as I entered
the window. I had the Springfield in one hand, the bayonet
in the other. At the window-sill, I pushed the bayonet be-
tween the shutter and the facing ; the shutter sprang open —
too suddenly, for its one hinge broke and the thing swung
outward and fell, knocking Loughlin down from the ladder
below me and coming in an ace of hitting Showalter.

York and I were in the room, kneeling, with our guns lev-
elled upon the open doorway through which the enemy must
speedily be driven toward us. A man was lying dead on the

308

HIGH POLITICS 309

learth. A bullet came through the floor within a yard of my
knee, throwing splinters.

A volley burst in the lower room on the east, and at the next
instant a figure stood in the doorway. Perhaps he was blinded
by smoke, and by the glare from the now open window.

I shouted, " Surrender or you are a dead man ! "

But he did not surrender ; he turned and ran into the next
room, York and I following ; then he saw that the game was up,
and came into the hall.

" I surrender to Federal authority," said he ; " and I expect
the treatment due to an open enemy. Though 'but a slight
unmeritable man,' I yet am Captain Owen of the Confederate
army."

" You don't remember a certain Captain Scranton ? "

"Bemember ? 'Not more than an eight-year-old horse' ! "

" And you don't remember Jones Berwick ? "

" Ah ! ' I see a voice ' ; Berwick, I'm glad to see you.
'What fate and metaphysical aid' hath sent you hither to
my side?"

The hall was now filled with the troopers. Scranton's pride
still struggled, though he made ostentation of his wound not
yet healed ; even when he faced Showalter, his impudence did
not desert him.

" My worthy host ! I congratulate myself on having known
you, sir. Though 'things without all remedy should be with-
out regard,' yet I greatly grieve for having been the innocent
cause of this unseemly disturbance in your hospitable mansion,
sir."

Showalter gave him no reply.

" Sergeant, have you left any men below ? " I asked.

" Yes, the horses are well guarded."

" See that your men — most of them — are stationed properly.
We may have more work ahead ! Is Loughlin seriously hurt ? "

"Yes, and one more. What are we going to do with these?"
he asked, pointing to the wounded.

310 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

" You must decide ; we ought to take them with us, if they
are able to ride. Have you looked into the other room ? "

" Yes. I've already detailed men to bury him."

" I think, Throop, that you ought to send a man to White
House for an ambulance. We've got to wait here awhile, at
any rate, to put this house in order."

He detailed three men, and ordered them to take our two
uninjured prisoners, as well as Scranton, who was clearly able
to ride, to White House ; then they were to bring back an
ambulance. Meanwhile the sentinels below stood to their
posts, and all others were busy, trying to set Showalter's house
to rights. The wounded were removed, the dead was buried,
and the furniture, as far as possible, restored to its place.

In the afternoon a company of our cavalry rode up from
Lanesville ; they had taken twelve prisoners — guerillas, the
captain called them — each of whom claimed to be an innocent
non-combatant. This company was ordered to bivouac at
Showalter for the night, and our fears were gone ; no gang
of bushwhackers or home-guards would venture now to dis-
turb us.

Just before nightfall, Rice, one of the prisoners' guard,
walked up to the house. " Owen has escaped ! " he cried, even
before he had entered.

He told us that in a hollow, where the road ran through
dense woods, his party had been charged by six mounted men.
The escort had scattered in flight. The prisoners, one tied to
each horse, behind a guard, made escape difficult; the pur-
suers, however, had followed after Rice alone, who was guard-
ing Owen, and had overtaken him. They had released the
prisoner, had taken Rice's horse, and had ridden away. Rice
had received no ill treatment except through the loss of his
arms and his horse.

" What did they say to you ? " asked Throop.

" Only one man in the bunch had anything to say," responded
Rice ; " and I could hardly understand him."

HIGH POLITICS 311

" What was he like ? " — this from Showalter.

" He was a Frenchified sort of a chap ; had a mustache and
side whiskers. As near as I could make out, he wanted me to
tell you that he expected you to treat his men well because he
treated me well.

" Which way did they go ? " I asked.

" Straight south to the Pamunkey," replied Rice.

I had expected this reply. Had it been different, I should
have counselled immediate pursuit, but with the Pamunkey
behind them, Scranton and his gang could defy us ; they could
ride into the Confederate lines before we could cross the
river.

Owen's escape would cause General Meade to storm. I was
distressed for my own part ; I knew not with what great cause,
but I was soon to know.

At night Showalter asked me into his own room, and I spent
some hours with him. He let me know that Owen's houe for
ransom had not been ill-founded.

" I shall leave this country," said he.

" You surprise me, Captain."

"My willingness to burn this house was not remarkable.
The armies will not return to this district. I have no hope of
further usefulness here. I shall go North."

I expressed regret. Captain Howe's attitude toward me
was very friendly ; his tones seemed to invite sympathy. I
thought that more was coming.

" Owen's escape," said he, " is not important in itself, but it
enables a greater operator to play his part."

" I have thought sometimes, Captain, that Scranton pos-
sessed some secret, political or military, which General Meade
is afraid of."

" You are wrong as to that," he returned ; " yet not so very
far off the track, either. Owen is to be feared only as
Scherzer's tool. I will tell you all I know," he continued,
" for I think General Meade should be warned. From what

312 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

you have told me, I infer that he already has a strong reason
for running Owen to earth, but I doubt seriously that he knows
the whole case. York found those men out. He knew almost
at once, by some sort of instinct, I suppose, that Scherzer is no
servant. Did you never observe mystery in the relations of
Scherzer and Owen ? "

" Yes, sir ; I have. I was afraid of them from the first."
"As I say, York found them out. That boy is a sharp
customer. He came to me day by day telling me how they
were acting. Scherzer was playing a part. Whenever York
saw them alone, which he managed to do in his own way, their
positions were almost reversed. For my part, I never did have
any confidence in that Frenchman, or Austrian, or whatever
he is. You can easily see that he belongs to the upper class.
Well, one day York saw a letter. Now those men never had
any notion that York could read ; he always spoke dialect in
their presence. Nor, indeed, could York read this letter, for
it was written in a language he could not understand. But
there was an ornament, or vignette, on the letter head; York
described this ornament as 'almost a swarm of bees.' At
another time the boy overheard them talking about ' Max,' and
again about Mexico. My curiosity — no, not mere curiosity,
but interest, intense interest — had become aroused, and I or-
dered him to watch them closely. You know Owen was here
several weeks, and Scherzer was with him very frequently.
York began now to make himself very useful to Owen; he
went on errands for him; would go sometimes to the camp
down there in the woods, for Scherzer would never sleep here
in the house. Their confidence in York became very strong,
and one day Owen gave him a note to Scherzer. I have a
copy of it."

Captain Howe went to his library and brought back an old
book ; he turned to a certain page and took out a sheet of
paper and handed it to me. It contained some lines in French,
which I translate literally : —

V

HIGH POLITICS 313

"General L. per special messenger notifies your E. that you will be
protected, and your work furthered. I beg that you come up at once.
There is more news that I dare not write. But for my wound we could
go at once to R. The great object seems in sight. The South is for the
land of D. and L."

" Captain, what do you make out of these abbreviations ? " I
asked.

" That L. stands for Lee," he said ; " that E. is for Excel-
lency, and the E. for Eichmond. D. and L. stand for God and
Liberty."

" You think then that Scherzer — ? "

" I feel certain that he is an emissary of Napoleon. His
work is in the interest of Maximilian. The letter which York
saw bore the bees, the emblem of the Bonapartes. The land
of God and liberty is Mexico."

" But, Captain ! Scranton is a brutal renegade ! How can
you suppose that a man who lurks in the rear of Meade's army
for the purpose of robbery can be engaged in such high poli-
tics ? "

" Captain Owen has a valid commission in the Confederate
army," said Showalter, seriously.

" You have seen it ? "

" I have seen it. When he came here wounded, and begging
succour, my first demand was instantly met. I saw at once
that his men were a very motley crew, and at first I objected
to taking their leader in, for everybody around knows that
Showalter is no refuge for marauders. I saw Owen's commis-
sion as a captain in the Confederate cavalry. He did not pre-
tend to be a Federal, until he began to think my sympathies
were with the Union."

" But what can they expect to do in Lee's army ? "

"The Confederate States is approached; not Lee merely.
The French Empire will recognize the independence of the
South, provided the South in turn recognizes Maximilian's gov-
ernment ! "

314 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

The thing looked feasible, especially viewed under the influ-
ence of Sho waiter's earnest belief, and under the influence,
now redoubled, of Dr. Khayme's utterance in regard to my
work.

"And while Scranton was with General Meade, he was
a party to this plot ? "

" I don't know about that. I imagine not, at least at first.
No doubt Scherzer sought him and won him over."

" But why should not Scherzer go at once to the Confederate
government ? "

" That is a hard question. There is no telling how long or
through what devious train this thing has been going on."

" Did you see the date of Owen's commission ? "

" Yes ; some time in June, sixty-two."

" Then he was a spy while on our staff ! " I exclaimed.

"Beyond question," said Showalter; "and he had ample
opportunity. He showed me a button containing an order
from General Meade to pass him everywhere."

" Great God ! " I groaned. " Do you mean to say that you
saw the order ? "

" Oh, no ; I did not ask him to take it out."

" How, then, do you know he was telling the truth ? "

" I did doubt, at first," said Showalter ; " but he speedily
convinced me that the button had been made especially to hide
the order, and I saw that to get at it he would be compelled to
break the thing. He said he had lost an instrument made pur-
posely to open it."

" How did he convince you ? "

"He simply broke another button like it; it was not brass;
it was brittle."

It was useless, I thought, to tell Showalter all the story, for
I should then be compelled to say much more.

" Captain, how could Scranton hope to serve France and the
South on Meade's staff ? The thing looks absurd ! "

" I do not know," said Showalter ; " I acknowledge that some

HIGH POLITICS 315

of his conduct is a mystery only to be explained upon the
ground of his avarice. His detaining me in the hope of ransom
shows that he is willing to risk a great deal for the sake of
money."

" But why should Scherzer allow him to do such things ? "

" Scherzer was made to believe that Owen had seized me as
an enemy to the South. The question of ransom did not come
up until I was in the villain's power, and I doubt that Scherzer
ever knew anything about it ; he was filled with hostility to
the North, and he will undoubtedly inform the Confederate
leaders concerning what he learned about me. That is why I
say my usefulness here is at an end."

"And you go North?"

" Yes, York and I shall leave this country. It is not safe for
either of us."

"I wish that you would leave York, " said I.

" Why so ? What good could he do here ? "

" Not here, Captain, but elsewhere."

" What could he do anywhere ? He would soon join the
Federal army, and I have no desire to see him killed."

" I think, Captain, that he could secure a place with one of
my friends."

" In what sort of work ? "

" The service of the Sanitary Commission."

" Well, I don't know. Maybe I'll change my mind, but I
think not."

For me there was little sleep that night. The revelation, if
it may be called so, that Showalter had made, was astounding.
From the very first I had suspected that Scranton was playing
a part, and I soon had found reason to know that it was a base
part, but never had I thought of so enormous a scheme as the
one now developed. There was much to strengthen Showalter's
conception. Maximilian, now on the throne of Mexico, was an
eyesore to our government, which yet could not show great re-
sentment through fear of French recognition of the Conf eder-

316 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

acy. But if this foreigner was a diplomat, or emissary, sent to
foster the interests of the new Empire, why should he have
appeared at all in the Federal army ? That was the one ques-
tion which puzzled me. Could he have hoped to gain informa-
tion that would serve to conciliate the obstinate South ? Why
should the South be obstinate ? Would not Mr. Davis and all
the South jump at the chance of recognition ? For the Em-
peror Napoleon to send a man to the Confederate authorities,
in order to arrange the bargain, would be nothing strange —
but why should the man have gone to General Meade ?

a'-i

UK
•91

XXIX

"LIEUT, c. M. CHA"

" I wish your horses swift, and sure of foot ;
And so I do commend you to their backs."

— SHAKESPEARB.

AT sunrise on the 16th we rode away from Showalter, accom-
panied by its master and York. Captain Howe had decided to
leave at once ; with the change of base to City Point, the force
at White House would be withdrawn and the country around
could no longer be of great interest to the Federals.

Our progress was slow on account of the wounded, who
groaned at every jolt of the ambulance. We had gone perhaps
three miles, when Rice called out, " Here's the place ! " I had
previously told Throop that I was going to follow the tracks
of the enemy, in order to know, if possible, whether they had
crossed the river. He now detailed Rice and another man,
who, with York, remained to help me while the party rode on
to White House. We soon found the tracks of horses and fol-
lowed them to the river ; Owen and Scherzer had made good
their retreat.

At White House the air was thick with rumours of Hamp-
ton's cavalry. The country to the west and south was said to
be overrun, and White House was in danger, expecting an
attack any day. As the Army of the Potomac was now south
of the James, communication was kept up by way of Fortress
Monroe.

A little after midday I rode south. I was not alone. Show-
alter had decided to part with York. No doubt I had helped

317

318 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

this decision by urging my own need for just such assistance
as York could frequently give me, and at length had won my
cause by promising to attach the boy to my own fortunes. The
negro had wished to accompany his old master, and yet was in
dread of the inclemency of the North, magnified to his fancy
by tales he had heard from Union soldiers.

I had not wished to witness the separation. Telling York
to meet me at the picket post on the road southward, I had
wrung Showalter's hand, and had gone to bid good-by to Cap-
tain Orr, and get my rifle. The adjutant was in good humour
over the successes of the parties he had sent out, and gave me
a report to General Meade. A big bundle belonging to York
was left to be sent by water to City Point. My old blue uni-
form also was shipped.

At the picket post I had not long to wait. York soon ap-
peared— yet mounted on the horse he had been riding, and
which now was his own. I had not expected this additional
charge in the matter of supplies, but I comforted myself with
the belief that the quartermaster would not be hard on me ;
moreover, York's horse could sometimes be of use in Dr.
Khayme's work.

The Southern people were and are accustomed to say that
the negro is the happiest creature alive. York's depression
soon left him. Already his thoughts and his tongue were busy
in regard to the near future. He foresaw interest and pleasure
in the great camp and failed to see the toil and danger.

We rode on toward the Chickahominy. I would go as nearly
south as possible for Jones's Bridge, on roads which I had
never travelled, and in a country which York had not seen in
years. Still in Confederate uniform, I hoped to find little
trouble even if I should meet Southerners ; the attendance of
a negro servant would prove a help rather than a hindrance.

At two o'clock we were at the cross-roads near Walls's store ;
beyond this point there was danger, yet I still kept the road.
There were tracks of many horses at the cross-roads — going

"LIEUT. C. M. CHA" 319

east. A mile and a half from Walls's is another cross-road ;
this also was covered by the hoofprints of cavalry — going
east. We rode on, I in front, York a hundred yards behind
me and looking back frequently. At a brook I stopped to water
my horse ; York, riding on, overtook me. Just as we were
about to start again, a group of Confederate cavalry came riding
down the hill in our front ; they were close upon us, and I de-
cided to employ impudence. I stopped York, and we let our
horses drink on.

Six men were coming down the hill; our horses were cooling
their muzzles. It was just such a spot as you have seen many
a time — a clear pool at the right of the crossing, with alder
bushes growing thick, and little minnows and water-bugs swim-
ming around in sun and shade, with the pine woods on the
slope of the hill ; a good place to water — a good place to camp.
I had my eyes on the men coming, who were yet about eighty
yards away. I could see that they were silent and regardful,
looking at me with interest. And now I heard horses' hoofs
behind me, and I whispered to York not to look round ; . . .
our horses continued to play with the water . . . the party
coming in front were in thirty yards . . . the party coming in
the rear were in close hearing distance . . . the parties met
at the water. A lieutenant — by the bar on his collar — and
five men were before me. I saluted, shivering with fear, for I
knew him. The lieutenant returned the salute, and at once
saluted again — this time to those I did not see. Each party
was riding on. The hollow was crowded with horses. A com-
pany of cavalry was passing ahead of us, going up the hill
southward. I looked back. Six men were going north, but
going slowly, and turning in their saddles.

" How goes it, Chappell ? "

A lieutenant at the rear of the company speaks the words,
and I know that the man in command of the squad is named
Chappell, for he replies, " All right ; how are you, Wilkes ? "

We had reined our horses back out of the way. The six

320 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

men stopped. They were a hundred and fifty yards from me.
They were talking and pointing — pointing toward me. I
knew what they were saying — at least the substance of it;
in the lieutenant whom I had saluted — Lieutenant Chappell
— I had recognized the officer into whose hands I had fallen
when I went into The Wilderness for Warren, and I had felt
sure by his look that he knew he had seen me before ; he was
trying to place me. And now he came riding back alone. On
the hill behind, some of his squad had dismounted ; they were
tightening their girths — some of them stretching their legs.
I let the lieutenant come ; I wanted the company to get far
ahead of me ; we might be compelled to run for it.

The lieutenant halted within two rods of me.

" I thought you belonged to Company D," said he.

" Well, sir ! "

" Why are you lingering here, when your company has
gone on ? Your conduct is strange. Where have I seen you
before ? "

He came a little nearer, and looked at me searchingly.

" Whose negro is that ? "

" He is under my charge, sir, for the present. I am going
to ride on in a moment, sir."

" I don't believe you belong to the cavalry ! "

He turned round, and was going to shout to his men.

" Wait, Lieutenant."

He stopped ; he was staring at me ; I knew that he had put
things together.

" Don't you move a limb, Lieutenant."

I had turned my rifle a little, so that its muzzle bore on
him; he could hear the click as the hammer went back.

"I shall keep you here, Lieutenant, just a few minutes.
I have nothing against you, but you have no authority over
me. You wish to prevent me from doing my duty ; I shall
not submit to you at all."

" I know you now ! " he said.

"LIEUT. C. M. CHA" 321

"Do you think I will let you keep me from riding after
Company D ? "

" You are a cool one ! " he said ; " you are no more a Con-
federate than you were when I had you."

"I tell you nothing, sir; imagine as many things as you
wish. I am not under your orders, sir, and you shall not com-
mand me. You began this thing, but you shall not have
everything your own way. Promise me on your word as a
gentleman and an officer that you will not ride after me!"

" You will get no such promise ! "

"If you use force, Lieutenant, you will compel me to use
force. Why should you suppose that I am not a Confederate ?
When you see your brother next time, — your brother Osborn,
I mean, of Company F, Twelfth South Carolina, — give him
Berwick's love."

" You know my brother Osborn ? "

" Only three days ago I helped him off the field, down at
KiddelPs Shop ; he had a flesh wound in the thigh. Did you
not know he is wounded ? "

" No ; and I don't believe you do, either. I believe you are
a Yankee."

" Well, sir, believe what you wish ! " I cried out angrily ;
" I demand that you let me alone ! "

" We'll get you ! " said he ; " maybe you can outrun us, but
we'll run you into some of our men somewhere."

" But, Lieutenant, I shall not allow you ; be sure, once for
all, that you shall not interfere with me ! "

" You mean that you will kill me ? "

In an instant he has turned ; he is galloping wildly up the
hill, waving his hand and shouting to his men, who seem to
stand still with wonder for a moment. In that moment I
give York the word and we dash forward on the road to the
south. Bullets whiz by us, and soon we hear horses clatter-
ing in pursuit where they strike the gravel on the hillside.
I do not look back. York — a light weight, and on a better

322 A

horse — is ahead, going like a greyhound, and gaining distance
at every leap. The road turns sharply to the right — the
dust yet full of the tracks of Company D. Before me a short
stretch of the road is vacant. Had York so far outstripped
me that he has already passed this stretch ? . . . not easy to
believe ... he is flanking . . . and now I hear him call
softly from the roadside, and I pull to the right, and we
gallop down the hill through the woods, and wait.

XXX

CATCHING TARTARS

" Bend up
Each corporal agent, to this terrible feat." — SHAKESPEABE.

THE pursuit passed. We heard shouts up the hill, and the
clatter of hoofs, as the chase dashed by on the road we had
recently left. We knew the enemy would soon halt and search
the woods. The lieutenant of The Wilderness would overtake
Company D, and would spread far and wide through this hos-
tile country the news that a Federal spy was here ; vedettes
would be posted at every cross-road; patrols would ride the
byways; dismounted men would search the forests and the
swamps ; the farmers would be warned.

Now I bitterly condemned the impatience which had
prompted me to leave White House. A day or two of delay
and I should have found a safe passage on some transport.
Instead, I was here in the forest, tracked by foes, surrounded
by foes. The sound of pursuit had died away, but I might
expect to hear it afresh at any moment. My enemies knew
every footpath ; ought I not at once to ride east ? Should we
not go down the peninsula, even to Yorktown or Hampton ?
A far ride, but was it not a safe one ? I thought not. Col-
umns of cavalry had gone east.

Yet, after a while, my great fear departed; surely all of
Hampton's cavalry would not drop their other duties in order
to secure one man ; I was not of such importance. The hunt
would be given up. I was in danger for the moment, but so
soon as track of my flight should be lost, the cavalry would
be gone about other and greater matters ; Sheridan was giving

323

324 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

them enough to do. But where was Sheridan ? He was north
of the Mattapony, marching down to White House. He held
the north, and Hampton held the south; Sheridan could do
me no good. My going east would do no good; columns of
cavalry had gone east.

Now I wanted to put distance between us and Chappell.
Perhaps he had divided his forces, sending some to the right,
others to the left. We rode two miles westward, and crossed
a large open field, beyond which, on a high hill in the woods,
we halted. We watched the field.

The negro could be of no general service ; he could help at
times, but his judgment was worth nothing in the decision I
must make at once. Should I continue west ? The roads to
the south were blocked ; toward the east columns of cavalry
had already ridden; at the north was White House, and the
abandonment of the undertaking. I have always had pride ;
I would not confess failure ; I was compelled to try the west,
— directly toward Richmond.

" York," I said, " do you know the road to Richmond ? "

" No, suh ; not f 'om heah, suh."

"Do you know any road to Richmond? Have you ever
been in Richmond ? "

" Oh, yes, suh ; I've been in Richmond many times."

" How did you get there ? "

" Crossed at Newcastle Ferry, suh, and went by 01' Chu'ch
and Mechanicsville."

So did I know those roads, better perhaps than York knew
them.

" But do you know anything of the roads below that road ? "

"No, suh."

York could be of no help in these matters. I have said
this before ; I thought it many times. Why had I encumbered
myself with this negro? Then I remembered that he had
saved me from death by suffocation in the burning woods, and
I was ashamed.

CATCHING TARTARS 326

It was about five o'clock. The woods were very still. Yet
the horses were restless from the stings of insects. I seriously
considered whether I ought not to abandon the horses ; afoot
we should run less risk. A giant woodpecker drummed loud
on a dead tree and flew away, uttering most unearthly notes —
notes such as I have imagined barbarians might well imitate
with rude instruments for sounding alarms. We had brought
forage for one feeding, and it was already high time the horses
were fed. Halfway up a slender elm a green lizard was ex-
tending his red throat — " showing his money," the children
say. I ordered York to feed the horses. Before he had made
a movement to obey, the far edge of the field in our rear was
dotted with horsemen — six. They were coming rapidly. I
knew that here they could see the tracks of our horses in the
soft earth.

Again we mounted and rode on west ; we crossed fields and
woods and roads. At every wood and at every road, I knew
that our pursuers would be puzzled ; yet they would no doubt
persevere, because we were compelled to ride west, and every
mile to the westward was taking us so much the more into
their country. But I did not intend to go west always ; when
we crossed the road to Bottom's Bridge we turned southwest ;
after going a mile, we halted.

The sun had set. We were in a dense thicket, hidden from
the road which we must cross again. The horses were fed. I
was lying down — York on the watch. I saw him kneel and
peep through the bushes toward the road, and with my ear to
the ground I heard horses, and another movement — the sound
of wheels — getting more and more distinct.

To creep near the roadside took but a minute. From down
the road a carriage was coming — drawn slowly, the horses in
a walk. It was yet thirty rods away — a closed carriage, with
a negro driving. Few were the carriages in this devastated
region ; few were the visits made ; what was the meaning of
this one ? The carriage kept coming.

326 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

And now into the road — coming from the east — a squad of
cavalry ride, and in the road they pause for an instant ; but
they see the carriage and ride after it shouting. The carriage
stops almost against my hiding-place. Nine men ride to the
carriage and surround it. These are not Chappell's men — a
sergeant is in command ; he is at the north side of the vehicle,
and the north curtain is lifted by a hand within, and a face
appears — a face lighted by the red glow at my right where
the sun has just now set — the face of Scherzer. Curiosity
holds me a little longer. Clearly an investigation is being
made. I see a paper pass from Scherzer's hand into the ser-
geant's, and I hear voices but no words. The horseman reads
the paper and passes it back into the carriage; he lifts the
curtain high and wide, and leans over and looks into the
interior for a moment, and then withdraws. The talk con-
tinues ; the sergeant points in many directions ; Scherzer
shakes his head vigorously, and breaks into a stream of words ;
the sergeant turns his horse and rides up the road, followed
by his men.

I watched the carriage continue its slow progress west.
Owen would soon be in Richmond. The cavalry had gone;
had given up the hunt. Scherzer had satisfied the investiga-
tion, but had not been able to tell anything of the fugitives.
Scranton had held himself in the background — doubtless with
the purpose of playing the wounded Confederate.

In a minute I was back with York. He looked at me
anxiously. Doubtless I was excited.

" Will you stand by me ? "

" Th'ough thick and thin, Mahs Jones."

" None of that Mahs Jones. Scranton and Scherzer are at
our mercy."

" But we ah not ahmed, suh."

True — in my excitement I had forgotten. Yet I must not
give up this chance. Success, I saw, required skill rather
than haste. An assault on the carriage might fail. The men

CATCHING TAKTAKS 327

were bold — no doubt of that — and well armed to a certainty.
We had mounted.

"York, there is a carriage going to Richmond, and Owen
and Scherzer are in it. A negro is driving. There is no
escort. We must take the whole outfit before it crosses the
Chickahominy."

" We might take 'em and kill 'em, suh ; but how can we
keep 'em ? How can we get 'em away ? "

" We'll hide in the swamp," said I.

« I'll stand by you, suh ! "

u Then set your wits to work. We must stop that carriage
and get those men ! "

Scranton's condition would at first be in our favour — but
how could we get a wounded prisoner through the swamp ?
How could we make our way for days thus encumbered ? Yet
I had decided to take what chance there was, although I had
been almost in despair concerning our own chances. The pros-
pect of ultimate success was small, but I must risk every-
thing to get those men and their papers.

We crossed the road, and took a southwest course for a mile
or more, going rapidly. We were in the edge of the swamp,
two hundred yards below the road and well hidden. We tied
our horses and approached the road afoot. We had not long
to wait. The carriage was coming ; when opposite our stand,
York sprang to the heads of the horses; the driver reined
up instantly ; in another instant York was at the far side
of the carriage, and I had the old Enfield presented at my
window.

"Captain Scranton, you are my prisoner again, sir. You
are surrounded ! "

Inside the carriage was dark. Suddenly a ball grazed my
temple, and by the flash I knew that Scherzer had fired.
Almost blind, I thrust the gun-barrel full at his head ; he fell
back.

" I give it up ! " said Scranton.

328 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

It had taken but a minute. I ordered Scranton to get out
He seemed to be burdened by Scherzer — now insensible.
York dragged the Frenchman off, and Owen, with much delay,
came out. When he stood on the ground, he looked about him,
and seeing me only, exclaimed : " Surrounded ! Truly, Berwick,
* thou art of a crescent note ' ! "

"We are enough, Captain ; enough to kill you if you attempt
resistance or flight ! York."

" Yes, suh." He came running to my side.

" Pull that man out of the carriage ! "

Scherzer was yet without motion, and I began to fear that I
had crushed his skull. When York had dragged him to the
ground, he lay like a log.

The negro driver had disappeared.

" See if he has any more pistols."

York felt about the man and found a short revolver.

"He had another; give me that one, and look in the
carriage."

York soon had Scherzer's other pistol.

"Now search Captain Owen."

Scranton made no resistance ; he was found to be unarmed.
I searched the carriage for papers, but got nothing except a
haversack and a basket. I wanted papers, and I wanted my
button. If they were not in the haversack, I would examine
my prisoners' clothing to-morrow. Scherzer still lay on the
ground. We must hasten, for the report of the pistol might
have been heard, yet prudence was worth as much as haste.
I would take the chance of the driver's running for freedom.
I ordered York to take the bridle reins from the carriage
horses ; then to mount the box and drive down the road till
he could see the creek, then to get down and run back to me
and to bring the lines with him. When the vehicle should be
found it would not be in the place where we had attacked it,
and would confuse the chase — at least I hoped so.

" You've killed him, Berwick."

CATCHING TARTARS 329

" Oh, no, Captain j I think he is yet living."

" ' He lives in fame, but not in life, ' " he quoted. " What
are you going to do with us ? "

" Captain Scranton — "

" My right name is Owen," he said.

" Well, then, Captain Owen, you must pardon me for not
telling you my plans."

" Berwick, join us ; with your ability we can make millions
— millions — millions."

" Join you in what, Captain Owen ? "

" In a movement to give peace to the country," he said
eagerly.

" Was your waylaying Miss Khayme a part of the move-
ment ? "

" I give you my word as a gentleman — a gentleman — that
that unfortunate affair was the veriest accident."

" Was your robbing me of my button part of your plan ? "

" What button, Berwick ? I know nothing about buttons."

York was coming, panting.

" I left 'em on the bank of the creek, suh."

" Stand guard over Captain Owen," said I ; " tie him first."

Owen submitted, protesting that my conduct was cruel. A
hasty examination convinced me that Scherzer was alive.

Now I ordered York to bring up both horses. He was gone
five minutes perhaps — minutes of great suspense. Every
instant I expected to hear enemies coming.

Owen renewed his appeals ; I gave no reply. My mind was
on York and on Scherzer, and on the probability of being com-
pelled to run and lose my captives.

York returned; we laid the Frenchman across my horse,
and went into the swamp. Our progress was very slow. I
ordered Owen to keep Scherzer's head from drooping. York
in front led my horse, while I in the rear led his. We could
not go very far, yet it was necessary to place ourselves at a
distance from the road. Owen again begged me to join his

330 A FKIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

fortunes! I ordered York to halt. Scherzer was laid on the
ground.

Owen also lay down, saying, " ' Faintness constraineth me
to measure out my length on this cold bed.' "

I feared to make a light. Scherzer was breathing heavily.
York went to the creek and brought water in his hat, and I
sprinkled it upon the face of the injured man.

I suppose it was about ten o'clock. The mosquitoes were
something terrible. Owen seemed asleep ; I put his hat over
his face.

"York," said I, "you're a jewel; I could not have done
this thing at all without you." Then my conscience felt
relieved.

The horses hung their heads. They seemed very patient ;
they knew we had nothing for them.

From moment to moment there came a low rumble from
the south — Lee and Grant contending for Petersburg thirty
miles away. How could I get there ? The James was far,
and all the country in the hands of the enemy. I saw no way
out. Perhaps I was bilious.

We worked on Scherzer. I did not believe for a moment
that Owen was asleep. He was playing the part of a master
indifferent to a servant's troubles ; to show anxiety would be
confession of too great interest in the foreigner.

Scherzer was breathing freely; in a short time he began
to move. I left York with him and sat by Owen. I said,
" Captain Owen, your servant has revived."

There was no reply. Owen continued to snore. I bent
down and felt of his bonds ; they were secure.

I ordered York to do two things. The first was to tie
Scherzer. The act would have been cruel, but that it was
necessary. The second was to find a corn-field and fetch
feed for the horses. While York was gone I thought seriously
of killing the horses. They might be of service after a while,
but just now they were a great hindrance. I decided to wait.

CATCHING TAKTAKS 331

We might be here for days, or we might be compelled to run
at any hour. Just how we could ever get out, I could not see ;
I was feverish.

The horses began to make low noises of eager expectation ;
York was returning loaded with green corn. Now I ordered
him to untie Scherzer's bonds.

There was gloom in the swamp, though overhead the moon
was very bright. Our hiding-place was near the creek. The
ground was damp. The prisoners were lying on our saddle
blankets, Scherzer with a wet handkerchief on his head. I
had been unable to see the extent of his hurt. As yet he
had not uttered a word.

I told York to go to sleep. I knew that for me there was
no sleep ; my head was burning hot.

I sat on my saddle almost between the prisoners. York
was lying near the horses. I would wake him. when I should
become sleepy — I had told him so at least.

The moon was past the meridian. The frogs croaked — the
insects swarmed — the horses quietly fed. At last Scherzer
spoke.

" Quel jour du mois avons-nous aujourd-hui ? "

" The sixteenth," I replied.

" L'empereur . . . qui est la ? "

" Berwick is here, and Owen."

For a long time he was silent. I feared lest he should suc-
ceed in putting things together and would rise and run.

" Ees dat Misser Bairveek ? "

" Yes. Can I help you, Scherzer ? " I knew from his
speech that his mind was clear; he was feigning.

" Ees dat Misser Bairveek ? " he repeated.

« Yes."

" And vere is de capitan ? "

" He is here also."

" I did you try to shoot, Misser Bairveek ? "

« Yes."

332 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

He muttered something which I could not understand, then
he called, " Capitan Scranton ! "

Owen did not reply. I was sure that he was not asleep, and
supposed he feared that Scherzer, in first consciousness, would
betray their real relations ; he refused to speak.

The moon was halfway down the west. The horses had fin-
ished eating, and stood motionless. I bent over and tied
Scherzer's hands. My head was spinning.

To have fever in this swamp would be ruin. What could
York do? He would have two wounded men — prisoners —
to guard and to provide for ; he would have two horses to pro-
vide for ; he would have me to provide for. He would be in
hourly dread of discovery. To feed the horses he must make
many absences; in his absence the prisoners would escape. I
knew something about the swamp fever.1 I had seen friends
in either army with the dreadful disease ; then, too, they had
been on dry ground, in tents, well cared for. But to have it
in this swamp !

I shook York. He sat up, rubbing his eyes.

" York, I'm afraid I'm going to be sick." I said this in a
whisper, for I did not want the prisoners to hear.

The negro put his damp hand on my forehead. " Lawd-a-
mussy, honey, you is sho got it ! But don't you mine dat ;
Yawk'll nuss you, honey ; Yawk'll tek keer o' you. Come, lay
right down heah an' be quiet. I'll keep dem skeetehs off o' you
and nuss you up, so I will. Lay right down and go to sleep."

" York, if I'm worse in the morning, you must not let these
men go."

" Fo' what I let 'em go, Mahs Jones ? "

" Because you can't attend to us all. Take your pistol and
march them to White House. Don't let them get away."

1 " Chickahominy fever may, in a great measure, be prevented ; but when it
has once occurred, its subjects are lost to the army so far as this campaign is
concerned." — Report of Surgeon McParlin, Medical Director, Army of the
Potomac. [Ei>.]

CATCHING TARTARS 333

" Misteh Behwick, these men ah not going to get away f ' om
me."

" Promise me, York," I repeated imploringly.

"Well, honey, I promus; I'll do w'at you say; now go to
sleep."

But I knew what his promise meant. It had been given as
to a child. He could not keep it.

The night was going. I was very sick — getting worse and
worse. York sat by me, brushing away the insects ; his pistol
was between his knees. The prisoners were quiet.

Day came. I could see Owen stir. He had slept, or pre-
tended to sleep, from eleven o'clock until morning.

I made York examine the haversack and basket. He found
food — nothing else except a tin cup. York ate, and Owen,
but Scherzer refused ; for me food was repulsive.

By a great effort I nerved myself to examine Scherzer's
head. The hair was matted with blood. York washed it;
then I could see that the muzzle of the rifle had cut the scalp
in a groove about two inches long. I did not think the skull
injured. Again I lay down.

The horses must be fed. They were stretching their necks
and biting the bushes and the bark of the trees. Again I sum-
moned all my nerve and stood up.

" York, go and get more corn ! "

The negro shook his head, and looked at me meaningly ; I
knew what he was wishing to say ; while he was gone the
prisoners might overcome my poor strength. I repeated the
order, and he went.

My head seemed afire; my temples throbbed. I wanted
nothing but to lie down on cold linen sheets. Yet my will had
not entirely gone. I could guard these men until York re-
turned— what is pain? Cannot pain be conquered? This
disease must be conquered, or I am lost. I stood against a
tree ; the tree gave me a little relief. Owen had his eyes on
me. No doubt he was thinking that I looked weak and ill.

334 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

He must not think so; I stood straight. Scherzer, too, was
watching me. Both men were yet in bonds. Scherzer was
lying down ; Owen was sitting against a tree, his hands behind
his back.

York was long in coming ; with greatest effort I forced
myself to remain standing. Scherzer's eyes were closing, I
thought ; yet I could see that they were not entirely closed.
Now Owen is on his feet ... he has the Enfield ... he levels
it full at my breast, within six feet of the muzzle. I let him
pull, but, for fear that he may run, I cover him with my pistol.
He throws down the useless gun with a curse.

Scherzer had not said a word. Owen's hands were free, and
I could not venture to tie him until York should come. I
made Owen sit near Scherzer.

Yes, I had found that I could control myself. I had found
that my will was good ; I would use it. I would conquer this
disease.

When York returned, he said, "Fo'e Gawd, Mahs Jones,
you's gittin' betteh ! "

I did not reply. I took the Enfield, and, before the eyes of
my prisoners, picked powder into the nipple, and recapped it.

XXXI

A VHEEK OF AGONY

" In the great hand of God I stand ; and, thenoe,
Against the undivulged pretence I fight
Of treasonous malice." — SHAKESPEARE.

I DETERMINED that I should not lie down. York bound
Owen again. While the horses were feeding I determined
that the march should begin now. My head was humming
and my skin was hot, and my pulse beating fast and strong,
and I knew that York's exclamation had been provoked not
by any physical improvement, but by the look of will in my
face ; this will was yet to be made good.

" York ! "

"Yes, suh."

" Go down the creek half a mile, — a mile — two miles, — go
as far as need be to find a better place than this. Come back,
and we'll move to it."

" Yes, suh ; you think you can stand it, Mahs Jones ? "

" I can stand it. Now, mind you, the place must not be be-
yond a field or any open space which we must cross. Open
spaces must be crossed at night ; understand, York ? "

York had understood; he had nodded his head and had
gone. The horses continued feeding. I was hoping that York
would soon return ; I feared lest my will should give way if,
in consequence of his finding no good hiding-place near by,
my efforts must be long continued.

" Berwick," said Owen, in a low tone, " I beg a private
talk."

336

336 A FBIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

"I cannot grant your request at this time. If you have
anything important to say, say it."

"Not now," said he ; " I'll wait."

I was glad to postpone ; I had enough to do to keep my will
at work fighting fever. The sun was making the swamp very
hot — here in the jungle there was no air stirring. Haven't
you noticed, many a time, how hot a June morning can be
between sunrise and nine o'clock ? If I was getting any bet-
ter, the weather deserved no credit for it. I hoped that
York would find a place where we could get more air, and
where there was a good spring near by; the water of the
creek was deadly ; I would drink no more of it ; how my tem-
ples throbbed ; how dry my hands were ; how hot the sun was,
and my mouth was, and my skin was, and the whole world
was. I caught myself involuntarily stooping to sit down.
I willed and stood erect.

I could see Owen watching me. " Horrible place ! " said he ;
" why not end this thing ? " I did not reply. I must not
allow distraction; I must will to will — and I must keep
it up.

A sparrow-hawk caught a little bird just on the edge of the
swamp. There was a dull roar in the south. Scherzer was
very quiet. I had not heard him speak once since sunrise,
not even to Owen. From time to time I poured a little water
on his head.

York was back at last. He had found a spot — a good
spot beyond which we could not go until night — a mile down
the swamp. We had difficulty in getting Scherzer on York's
horse. The negro led the way, my rifle in one hand and his
bridle in the other. Then came Owen, hands bound behind
his back, I following him closely and leading my horse.
Scherzer's condition was the great hindrance ; we had to make
many turns away from overhanging limbs which would have
knocked the Frenchman to the ground. York went very
slowly ; he had protested that I was killing myself ; the only

A WEEK OF AGONY 337

consideration that kept him from breaking out into open
rebellion was that he had found a better place. The negro
as yet did not know my plan; indeed, I did not know it
fully myself; but he understood that we must move down
the swamp, for in every other direction the enemy held the
world.

Possibly we were more than two hours on this funereal
march ; when we stopped, the sun was almost overhead. But
the place was a good one, compared with that we had left.
Near the bank of the creek was a mound perhaps two feet
higher than the surrounding space, and on this mound was but
little undergrowth. We were completely hidden by the forest,
yet had for ourselves a little room and a little air.

On one side was a bed of cedar boughs, which I saw at once
York had meant for none but me. I helped Scherzer down
and made him lie on the bed, York scowling horribly. I
must fight fever. I wanted to lie on that bed ; I wanted to
yield ; I wanted to tell Owen to be gone, so that I could lie
down and cease to struggle and cease to think, but my pride
kept me up. I was proud of my will-power ; my self-respect
would not let me confess defeat.

The prisoners were on the cedar bed. The horses were tied
to trees ; York had watered them. I stood apart, pistol ready,
while the negro worked. I did not know what he was work-
ing at, but he soon came from the bushes with more cedar
boughs in his arms; he threw them down before me, and
arranged a bed; then he begged me to lie down.

The temptation was great. I did not believe that the fight
had yet been won. I must struggle on, and this day win or
lose, for my strength to struggle would not last another day.
I shook my head.

York came near me and talked in a whisper.

" But Mahs Jones, you must take some rest."

" No, York ; I must fight this fever, or we are lost."

" But Mahs Jones, you ain't had no sleep, and you been

338 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

a-watchin' all night and all de mawnin'. Lemme take my
tuhn now, Mahs Jones."

" York, I cannot lie down before this fever leaves me."

" Hit leavin' you now, suh ; hit leavin' you now ; lay right
down heah, an' go to sleep ; w'en you wake up, hit'll all be
gone, suh."

I did not lie down. York had only encouraged me to per-
severe j he had given me more faith.

The condition of the prisoners was grievous. I wanted to
loose their bonds, but with a sick man guarding them the
thing could not be done. York was frequently away — first
for cedar boughs, then for water, then for young corn ; he
worked to make the place comfortable.

I had begun to feel faith ; I began to know that I should
win. I put York on guard, and walked down the creek to the
clearing through which it would be dangerous to pass. It was
not very large. We would cross it before the next day, and
keep on and rest again at the next opening. My mind was
clearer ; I had faith. I came back and went to the bank of
the stream. Ought we not to get at once to the west bank ?
The farther we should go down-stream, the greater the diffi-
culty in crossing ; and if we should ever reach the track of the
Union army and the pontoon bridge across the James, we must
first cross the Chickahominy. Better cross it now.

" York," I said, " we must cross this river."

The negro made a gesture of despair. " Lawd, Mahs Jones,
how you do go on ! You gittin' heap betteh, and now you
want to git wet and be wuss ag'in ? Dat won't neveh do ! "

" We may wait a day first," said I, " but we must get across.
Find the shallowest place you can; and don't fear for me;
the only difficulty will be the horses and the prisoners."

And now the fellow tacked to suit the wind. " We neveh
gwine to git 'em across, Mahs Jones ; de hosses'll bog up,
and we neveh can git 'em out. Ef we swim 'em across, dey'll
neveh git out on de yutheh side ; dey'll slip back agin — you

A WEEK OF AGONY 339

know dey will. Mahs Jones, you lay right down heah till you
gits well, and den we'll git out o' dis swamp and git away easy."

" Make everything ready for night," said I ; " then go out
and find a crossing."

Scherzer now ate a little. Owen ate all that was given him.
The supply of food was gone. I gave York money and bade
him find food. I must yet stand guard over the prisoners.
There was little or no danger in York's foraging. There was
no body of Confederates near us. All we had to fear was the
road behind us and the road before us ; by these two roads no
doubt bodies of cavalry occasionally crossed the Chickahom-
iny ; the swamp itself was secure ; the hills and farms between
the main roads would not be watched ; possibly foragers would
be everywhere, yet what could foragers hope to find here, only
a few miles in rear of the position held by Meade's army for
almost two weeks ? York's success in getting young corn for
the horses had been beyond my hopes. I told him that if he
would cross the Chickahominy he would find food.

Before dark he returned, very wet and very muddy, but he
had a crocus bag on his shoulder; he produced corn, oats,
bread, and beef. The prisoners ate, and the horses were fed.

" Now, Mahs Jones, you mus' lay down," said York, for the
hundredth time. But York had worked hard ; he was in no
condition to watch. A negro is a poor sentinel if we can be-
lieve what is said of him ; I feared lest York should sleep on
post. I did not feel the need of sleep ; I feared sleep, lest, in
the relaxation of my will, I should lose all I had won. I made
York sleep, and the prisoners slept.

My struggle continued, and I knew that I was yet gaining,
and I had actual joy in the belief that I should at \ast get the
prisoners to the Union army. And then the thought came to
me that even though we could not cross the Chickahominy,
yet we could go down its left bank and reach the James, and
I knew that the James was full of our ships. This thought
came and went, for on that night I banished even thought of

340 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

Lydia, and held to the fight against fever. But the fight was
not such as it had been. The main struggle had been won,
the only fear was lest the dreadful thing should return.

At some time in the middle of the night I found my skin
moist and cool ; a feeling of utter exhaustion began to creep
upon all my senses, and I feared that I should be asleep before
I could wake York. Yet once again I exerted all my powers.
I commanded the disease to go, and continued to command,
and willed to remain alert. " Go ! go ! go ! " I mentally
exclaimed, as though to a creature that might hear and obey
me; "go, and be gone, and stay gone forever ! " and faith grew
very strong, and I knew that I was cured.

I woke York. When he fully knew that he was to relieve
me on guard, and that I had consented to rest, the fellow's joy
was very great.

" But, Mahs Jones, we ain't got no time now ! You done let
de moon go most down befo'e you woke me up."

It was true. The long night had nearly ended when my
struggles had ended ; it was almost day, and we must be mov-
ing. We woke the prisoners, and made a start, and before the
dawn we had crossed the open space in our front ; and now I
felt that I could rest in peace, and waited only until York had
completed his dispositions for the daily bivouac ; then, he on
guard, I sank into a deep and dreamless sleep.

This was the 18th of June. When I awoke it was afternoon.
We moved down the river and came to a good halting-place for
the night. I was very weak, but my head was free and light,
and I could eat a little. Again I stood guard while York
foraged.

On the 19th we moved but half a mile before we were com-
pelled to halt. On the 20th, the Long Bridge road was before
us. In the night York scouted this road, and returned with
the news that the bridge was held by a post of soldiers, and I
knew that they could be none other than Confederates. We
crossed the road under cover of the darkness.

A WEEK OF AGONY 341

Why continue this narration ? It is the same monotonous
tale. But a few miles a day, sometimes but half a mile, we
went on down the stream. After the 18th I had tried to make
the prisoners comfortable. I had allowed their hands to be
tied loosely in front, so that they could use either hand, but
could not reach their bonds with either. Scherzer was improv-
ing. He said little, but he ate. Owen seemed to suffer; he
seemed older. York was the only strong man of the four, yet
I was getting stronger every day ; I slept by day, and York
by night. I watched Owen almost constantly; Scherzer gave
me little trouble ; his great fear of me was evident. Doubtless
he felt that the man who had almost killed him was a desperate
man ; I was willing that he should think so.

We had examined the prisoners' clothing, but failed to find
what I sought, Owen protesting that the search was needless, as
all papers and articles of value had been hidden in the carriage.

On the 23d we were approaching Jones's Bridge. We had
made ten miles in a week. It was yet in the forenoon. The
main road was at a distance, — a mile or more, — but I knew
that before I should reach it we must cross a smaller road
that led into the main road almost at the bridge. We had
halted, and York had gone forward to examine the ground. I
was thinking it was time for him to return, when I heard a
noise in the bushes, and felt relieved, — he must be coming, —
but instead of York, a Confederate cavalry sergeant rode up
to me, and almost at once fell fainting from his horse.

York now came up. I made him move the prisoners some
thirty yards, so that they could not overhear. I attended to
the wounded man, whom I had at once recognized as Sergeant
Crump. His wound was no serious matter, — only a bullet in
the left arm, — but he had lost much blood. He opened his
eyes.

" Tell me how you got hurt," I said.

" I was scouting. The Yankees are advancing to the bridge.
Some of them saw me and fired."

342 A FKIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

"Where was it?"

" Near the Jones's Bridge road."

" How far-away ? "

" About a mile. I held out as long as I could."

" Sergeant Crump, don't you know me ? "

" I do not, though your face seems familiar."

"Don't you remember finding a man in the hands of the
Yankees on the eleventh of May ? "

" I do ; are you that man ? Let me see ; what is your
name?"

" Jones."

" And you belong to McGowan's brigade ? "

"Yes."

" Well, Jones, I'm certainly glad to fall in with you. What
are you doing here ? "

" I am guarding some prisoners."

" Guarding prisoners in this swamp ? "

"Yes; they are regenades. You could see them if you
were standing up. They claim to belong to either side at
times. I must hold them till I can turn them over to our
men."

" All of our men have gone across," said he, meaning across
the Chickahominy.

" And where are the Yankees ? "

"They are coming on the Jones's Bridge road — coming
from White House. A brigade or two are in the road just
this side — they are protecting the flank of Sheridan's corps,
and they are moving everything from White House to the
James. They have nearly a thousand wagons. You'd better
not stay here."

To get Crump across the river as soon as possible was my
first purpose. I could not hold him as a prisoner, for I had
too great anxiety already in regard to more important cap-
tives ; moreover, he had done me a kindness, and I owed him
his liberty.

A WEEK OF AGONY 343

I called out, " York, is it possible for all of us to get across
the creek ? "

" No, suh."

" Could Sergeant Crump get across ? "

Before York could answer, Crump said : " I don't care if I
can't ; I can ride up to Long Bridge if need be ; I'm strong
enough for that. But why don't you come too ? "

" My prisoners are both suffering," said I ; "we wanted to
cross, but concluded it was impossible. They are wounded,
and I cannot leave them."

I offered to send York up the creek with him, but Crump
declined my offer. The blood had been stanched and he now
felt stronger. I helped him on his horse, bade him good-by,
and went to York, whom I sent with Crump to the creek.
Meantime slight skirmish firing was heard far below.

When York returned he reported that Crump had succeeded
in partly fording and partly swimming the creek.

" What did you find below, York ? "

" The road, suh, is full of cavalry."

" Union ? "

" Yes, suh."

" The Jones's Bridge road ? "

" No, suh ; I did not get that fah. I mean the road this
side."

" How far is it to that road ? "

" Only about a quauteh, suh."

Now we feared little, and moved rapidly ; in half an hour
York in the lead halted, and I heard voices. I could see the
road. A blue column of horse was passing to the right. In
another minute I was in their presence ; my labours, my anx-
iety, my sufferings, had all ended.

Yet I had a little trouble in making Colonel Covode of the
Fourth Pennsylvania cavalry understand my position. I was
in Confederate uniform, bringing prisoners to the Federals, and
for some minutes I had to undergo a process of questioning.

344 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

At length Colonel Covode ordered the prisoners to be taken
to the rear and put into an ambulance.

" Colonel," said I, " be so good as to have your adjutant give
me a receipt for my prisoners."

" Certainly," said he, and directed that my request should
be met; the adjutant wrote in the receipt the names of the
prisoners — Owen alias Scranton, and Scherzer, for I wished
to show General Meade not that I had taken prisoners, but
that I had taken Scranton.

Gregg's brigade, to which the Fourth Pennsylvania be-
longed, remained almost stationary for the remainder of the
day.

We learned that an immense wagon-train was passing in
our rear.

In the afternoon the adjutant sent for me and said, " Your
prisoners claim that they are Federals, and that you are a Con-
federate."

" Captain, they are trying to deceive you," said I ; "Scranton
was once a Federal, or pretended to be ; he was once on Gen-
eral Meade's staff, but General Meade now knows his true
character." Then I showed the adjutant General Abercrom-
bie's report, which I was to deliver to General Meade.

I heard nothing more concerning this question. York and I
were furnished with provisions for ourselves and horses. In
the afternoon we crossed the Chickahominy and bivouacked.
On the morning of the 24th the brigade moved on southward,
making for the pontoon bridge near Bermuda Hundred. The
trains were on a parallel road at our left. Hampton's cavalry
were known to be at our right, and apprehension of attack was
visible on the countenances of officers and men ; the train was
in peril. Near St. Mary's Church we heard skirmishing in
front. The brigade dismounted and formed line of battle, one
man in every four being detailed to hold the horses. York
and I were at the rear. The ambulances were soon too few, for
wounded began to come in from the front, where the fight was

A WEEK OF AGONY 345

loud.1 Ambulances were emptied of former occupants in order
to take wounded soldiers to the rear. It began to be rumoured
that the wagon-train had been diverted in order to gain safety
farther down the James, and orders were received by the
Fourth Pennsylvania to hold the ground at all hazards. Owen
and Scherzer were lying on the ground, surrounded by a guard.
Scattering bullets were flying over from the front and left ; we
were under a hill and in no danger, but about four o'clock a
great storm of noises broke out on the right, and at once
Gregg's men gave way — they had to run or be taken ; Hamp-
ton's whole division was upon them. Yet our men did not
leave the field entirely. The Fourth was soon rallied, and con-
tinued to fight; but Colonel Covode fell, and again the regi-
ment broke under a fresh charge of Hampton's men. The
guard was forced to run and leave the prisoners, and many of
our own wounded fell into the hands of the enemy. In this
mixture I had been compelled, for safety — being yet in gray —
to remain near the guard, in fact, I had been acting as one of
the guard ; but now I had to choose between flight and cap-
tivity. The field was deserted, and in another moment Hamp-
ton's men swept over it and continued to advance. Great
shouts of " Rally ! Rally at the woods!" were heard among the
fleeing troops. The horses and horseholders had gone. A
new line was formed at the woods, and a short delay gained.
I looked sorrowfully to the front ; I knew that Owen and Scher-
zer would soon be in Richmond, and safe.

The retreat continued rapidly. The Confederates pursued
us as far as St. Mary's Church, where fresh troops were hurried
up by Sheridan, and the inglorious conflict came to an end.
Colonel Covode was dead. The Fourth had lost many in miss-
ing, besides killed and wounded. The First Maine had been
terribly cut up.

1 General Gregg says, in his report of the cavalry fight at St. Mary's Church,
" For want of sufficient ambulances, a number of our wounded fell into the
hands of the enemy." [ED.]

346 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

When the Confederates ceased to attack it was dark. I
sought the adjutant and told him of my misfortune. In the
midst of so much greater misfortune, he could give me no con-
solation. But on the 25th, at Charles City Court-House, I per-
suaded him to give me a statement that the two prisoners had
been retaken in battle by Hampton's cavalry.

We marched down to Major Douthat's farm. Transports of
all kinds were now busily engaged in taking the wagon-train
across the James, for the pontoon bridge was far up the river,
with Hampton's cavalry between us and the bridge-head. I
have often wondered why the Confederates did not continue
their attacks, for Sheridan and the wagon-train were in im-
mense danger ; probably it was ignorance of the situation, as
well as fear of our gunboats, that held the enemy back.

I cannot dwell upon the unpleasant experiences of these
days ; I had not recovered my strength ; my Confederate uni-
form drew around me a crowd whenever I moved a few yards
away from the headquarters group ; I was out of place, sick at
heart, disappointed of a great success which I had held in my
hand, and fearful of the coming interview with General Meade.

On the 26th York and I got across the James, in a boat
crowded with wagons, and before night I reported at Army Head-
quarters. I had been absent twelve days.

XXXII

A FORLORN HOPE

" My will to serve you now knows no division
Save the alternate beat of love and fear.
There's danger in this quest — name, honour, life —
My lord, the stake is great." — GEORGE ELIOT.

THINGS were not going in a way to suit General Meade's
hopes; the surprise of Petersburg had been attempted and
had failed. Disobedience or misconstruction of orders had
rendered other carefully laid plans abortive, and the Union
army seemed no nearer victory. Its general was becoming
crabbed ; my report of Scranton's first escape was but another
drop added to the bitter bucketful.1

The general had used some very strong language which
I knew I did not deserve. I saluted stiffly, and started to
retire.

" Where are you going, Berwick ? " he asked sternly ; " I
have not dismissed you."

I stopped and saluted again.

" I beg your pardon, General ; I thought you had finished."

" You thought no such thing, sir. I know what you thought.
Upon my soul, everybody about me — " he paused and made a
gesture signifying reluctance to give utterance to 'his thought.

" What has become of Captain Howe ? " he asked.

" I left him at White House on the sixteenth, sir ; he told
me he should no longer reside in the South."

i " His (Meade's) own staff officers do not dare to speak to him unless first
spoken to." Dana to Stanton, July 7, 1864. [ED.]

347

348 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

" Berwick, I should have pursued Scranton if I had been in
your place. Upon my soul, I should."

" His right name is Owen, General."

" How do you know ? "

" Showalter saw his commission, sir, as a captain in the Con-
federate army."

" That proves nothing. When was it that he got away ? "

"The fifteenth, sir."

" And what have you been doing since, Berwick ? "

" I was going to tell you, General. On the sixteenth I re-
captured Owen and Scherzer."

" What ! Upon my soul ! Why the hell didn't you tell me
that before ? Where is Scranton ? "

" I am afraid he is in Richmond, General."

" What do you mean, man ? "

"He escaped again, General, or rather Hampton's cavalry
picked him up. Please let me tell you the whole thing, sir."

When I had concluded my narrative, and had shown General
Meade the receipt I had taken for the two prisoners, he had the
goodness to say that he had been wrong in scolding me.

" General," said I, " I haven't told you all yet."

" Well, what more ? "

" I think Owen is inferior to Scherzer."

" What do you mean by that ? Less a dam rascal ? "

" No, sir ; I mean to say that Scherzer is not the servant, but
the master."

I told him Sho waiter's opinion, and the indications in the
swamp pointing toward Mexico. General Meade made no re-
sponse to these utterances, yet I could see that he was very
serious, watching me intently while I was speaking. When I
had finished, he said gravely : " See that you tell no man your
suspicions. This is a dangerous affair, Berwick. It would
have been better if you had killed Scherzer. Of course, I
don't mean that exactly ; but if you had crushed his skull, it
would have simplified matters very much. Now, let me tell

A FORLORN HOPE 349

you, we must not give him up yet. We must get him out.
How we are going to do it I don't see, but if it can be done . . .
if you can do it, your fortune is made."

" He is in Richmond, General."

" Other people can get into Richmond."

" You mean to suggest, Gen — "

" Yes, I mean to suggest. I'll tell you what to do. Go to
Doctor Khayme. Tell him these things confidentially. Tell
him what I want, and what you want to do, and see if he can
help you. He's a wonderful man, that Doctor . . . upon my soul
he is."

"General, I need rest. I've told you I was sick in the
Chickahominy swamp, but I have not told you all of it. I had
a hard fight, and I need rest."

" Certainly, Berwick ; I shall require nothing of you except
to try to get Scherzer and Scranton. No ; never mind about
Owen ; get Scherzer. Take all the rest you need, of course,
Berwick. Go to Doctor Khayme. You and he can devise a
plan ; make a good scheme ; take all the rest you need. Report
to me again in a day or two. I'll help you all I can, and that's
saying a good deal. You shall have everything necessary;
don't stint ; make a good plan, no matter what it costs — we
must put a stop to this thing."

And now I sought my dearest friends. Lydia was with her
father. Under an open fly the two were sitting, unmindful of
my approach. And I was afraid — afraid that my sudden
appearance, after so long a time, would prove a shock ; I knew
that my sufferings had changed me greatly. So I wrote my
name on a scrap of paper and sent York forward with it. Dusk
was gathering. In the west a heavy cloud-bank betokened rain,
and the darkening northern horizon flashed intermittently over
the whole quarter. I saw Lydia take the paper ; I saw her rise
at once, and hand it to her father, and then turn with eager
questions to the negro. York pointed, and I rushed to my
loved ones.

350 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

" But," said the Doctor, after a while, " why did you not see
Lydia on the thirty-first ? "

" Her ship came up to the landing as I marched away from
White House with the Eighteenth corps."

" And on the fourteenth ? "

" Captain Orr, of General Abercroinbie's staff, told me the
medical people had all sailed on that very morning."

" It was true," said Lydia ; " we reached White House late
on the thirty-first of May, and left it early on the four-
teenth of June."

" And each day I missed you by a few hours," said I.

My friends were speedily made aware of our inheritance in
the person of York, and he was welcomed and given a place.
When not needed for work in connection with my own duties,
he was to look after all the horses, and to make himself gen-
erally useful.

To my story about Scherzer and Showalter, and the project
in regard to Mexico, Dr. Khayme listened without emotion ;
then he said : —

" You have already told these things to General Meade, no
doubt."

"Yes, Doctor."

" And you found that he had previously known ? "

" He did not tell me plainly ; but I inferred that he knew
something. He commands me to continue my efforts to capture
Scherzer, and refers me to you for guidance."

" It will not be easy to take Scherzer," he said.

" He is no doubt safe in Richmond and will not leave it,"
said I.

" You cannot ride into Richmond at the head of a cavalry
regiment."

" No ; the thing must be done by stratagem."

" The negro can help."

" I have thought so."

" Well," said Dr. Khayme, " I will think about it ; mean-

A FORLORN HOPE 351

time, get a good rest. In a day or two I will see General
Meade and talk with him about these things. You need rest,
Jones ; go to bed."

" One moment, Doctor. Can you not let me into this Scher-
zer secret ? Who is Scherzer ? "

" An envoy of Napoleon, as you suspected."

" But why was he in the Federal army, pretending to be a
servant of a pretended Federal officer ? "

" Napoleon's first efforts were for Federal alliance," replied
my friend. "After the Federal Congress voted against the
monarchy in Mexico, Scherzer decided to try the Confeder-
acy ; thus much is pretty clear, and the rest is not important
to know. General Meade naturally feels that the Frenchman's
efforts to trade with the Confederates should be defeated ; that
is all that concerns us."

" Let me tell you a thought I have had."

" Certainly."

" Is it not possible that there was more than one diplomat
sent to the United States, and that while Scherzer was the
one selected to attach himself to the army, the others were in
Washington ? "

" Yes ; that is not only possible, but even likely."

" Can you tell me more ? "

" Oh, yes ; I'd rather you would go to bed, but I'll relieve
your curiosity first. Scherzer landed in New York as a
Russian named Espinoff, in March, sixty-three. He had the
appearance of a wealthy gentleman. In April Owen came to
his rooms. Owen was dressed as a citizen at the time; the
records of the military prison at Elmira show that Captain
R. S. Owen was sent south — exchanged — on the last day of
February. How he avoided going south is not known, but he
was seen with Espinoff frequently, and it was clear that Es-
pinoff had vast resources. Owen then appeared as Captain
Scranton, volunteer aide on Hooker's staff, and Meade suc-
ceeded to him. Scherzer did not appear as Scranjton's servant

352 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

until September — only a month before you returned to us.
Of course, we can see that Scherzer bought Scranton, and it is
easy to believe that the wealthy foreigner had such influential
connections here that no difficulty was found in placing Scran-
ton. I suspected him very early, but had no proof; indeed,
proof would have done no good, as it is no crime to work for
Napoleon. When Scherzer came, I suspected more strongly.
I could easily see that Scherzer was a very bad counterfeit as
a servant. But at that time there was nothing to show that
they intended trying the Confederacy ; that thought came
later, or, it may be, it was an alternative impressed upon
Scherzer by his master."

" Did General Meade know that Scranton was interested in
Mexico ? "

" Yes, but he cared little for that ; he was deceived as to
Scherzer, and, of course, had no thought of his going to the
Confederate authorities."

" But why should Scherzer pretend to be a servant ? "

" He was assaulted when in New York ; he thought himself
in danger as Espinoff ; he knew that he was under suspicion."

" But, Doctor, what could he hope for in the army ? And
what did Scranton hope for ? "

" Scranton hoped for monetary reward. Espinoff hoped at
first to develop a sentiment favourable to a Mexican monarchy
among the great merchants in New York. Indeed, he had
some success in this. Afterward he hoped that with Owen's
help he could develop the same sentiment in the army. He
had some success there, also. The plot, as you suspected, had
many ramifications. Scherzer was not sent to the United
States alone."

" And as soon as their schemes fail, they try the South ? "

" Yes. Scranton, however, was hampered by his service as
a Federal. No doubt his desertion from the Confederates
would have been permanent if the French had secured Fed-
eral alliance. When he left us, his intention, I think, was to

A FORLORN HOPE 353

return to New York and try to go South by sea; but he aban-
doned that slow and uncertain process for a quicker one. He
tried to get around your flank into Lee's army and thus into
Richmond. He had almost succeeded when you came upon
him near Milford."

"But why should the Confederates delay in accepting a
proposition from France ? "

" I don't think they would, unless France loaded her pro-
posal with terms. But is it certain that the proposal has yet
been made ? General Meade wishes to prevent its being made.
Now, Jones, my boy, you are ordered to bed. I shall not say
one word more. Yes, I must say one word, lest I should for-
get it. You must never risk that swamp again. A second
attack of that fever would be fatal to you. Go to bed."

A few quiet days of great happiness passed swiftly away.
In three hearts the belief was strong that the war was soon to
end. Clearly the Confederates were in their last stronghold,
and were making their last gallant defence. The offer of
an alliance with France would revive their hopes, but Dr.
Khayme did not believe that French recognition, or even
French aid, could at this late date save the Confederacy. The
war must end before any great number of French troops could
be landed on our shores. He said more than once that the
capture of Johnson's divison on the 12th of May at the horse-
shoe salient was the beginning of the end. And with all the
lights before me, I must now believe that he was right. No
doubt the Confederates fought well after the 12th of May;
but I am confident that they fought with much less hope.
They expected the Union army to attack, and the consequence
was that they were restrained to an almost purely defensive
policy; indeed, they defeated many attacks, but the opinion
rapidly spread in their ranks that surrender was but a ques-
tion of time. It is readily admitted that in small opportunities
they took the offensive, and sometimes gained a brilliant suc-
cess— but only a partial success which could not turn the

354 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

general course of the war, and was worth only a little delay ;
the end must come, and they felt it — yet, sad though it be, it
is nevertheless a proud situation which Lee's army held. It
had sustained world shocks, and would yet sustain them, and
would struggle on to the last, and fall like a giant.

*******

It was the night of the 1st of July. General Meade had
sent for me, and I was again in his presence.

" You have conferred with Doctor Khay me ? "

" Yes, General, and I am ready."

"The help that I can give you is money only. Will you
have it in gold or in paper ? "

" How much is it to be, General ? "

"Name any amount not to exceed twenty thousand."

" Better be gold, General, or Confederate money."

" You may take five hundred thousand in Confederate money
if you wish — or even more ; and you need not smile, you ras-
cal ; it's not counterfeit."

" I suppose I'd better divide it, General. Give me a thou-
sand in gold, and two hundred thousand in Confederate money.
How much will a thousand in gold weigh ? "

" A few pounds only, — say four or five, — I don't know ex-
actly. When do you start ? "

" To-morrow night, sir."

"Well, I'll have the funds sent to Doctor Khayme to-mor-
row morning. Now tell me your plans."

" I shall get into Richmond, General, and watch for oppor-
tunities. Colonel Sharpe has given me some letters to loyal
persons, and some other things, and Doctor Khayme has given
me one to an old friend — a physician — who knows everybody
and who will help me. I shall take a negro with me — York
— who once belonged to Captain Howe. York's mother is in
Richmond. He can be of great help, I think. My only pur-
pose will be to capture Scherzer and get him into the Union
lines. To capture him will be easy, I think ; to bring him in,

A FORLORN HOPE 355

will be the trouble. I may be compelled to send York back
here for help ; but I hope to get along without troubling you.
I can hire enough help, I trust."

"Don't trouble about Scranton. Let the scoundrel alone.
You'll have enough to do to get the other. Have you a map of
the city?"

" Yes, sir."

" Have you thought of the river route coming back ? "

" Yes, sir; but I fear that the Confederate obstructions would
prove insurmountable, especially the pontoon bridges; yet that
is the shortest way, and I may be tempted to try it."

" Berwick, if you succeed, I'll make you a colonel. Do you
know that I'd like to go with you ? Upon my soul, I'd like
nothing better than to lay down this job of mine and go with
you ! " and General Meade laughed heartily. " How do you
expect to get into Richmond ? "

" As a Confederate, sir. I'll go on the north side."

"Yes. Well; good-by, Berwick. Remember what I said —
if you succeed, you shall have a colonel's commission. I don't
care a dam if it does make some people mad."

It had been thought best that Lydia should not be told of
my purposes, so as I crossed the long pontoon bridge on the
night of the 2d of July, my heart was full of the sweet re-
membrance of loving and hopeful smiles. ... " For only a
few days, Jones," she had said.

By my side was one of General Meade's escort — Charliss ;
he was to take our horses back. York rode at my rear. The
fellow's slender waist was engirdled with a belt containing
many thousands of Confederate money, now worth perhaps
a thirtieth of its face value ; he carried some of the gold also.
Besides half the money, I had a few letters, and a pass which
Colonel Sharpe assured me would give me great help within
the city, but would be worthless elsewhere ; it was approved
by General R. S. Ewell, and was no doubt genuine, for Sharpe
had paid a good sum for it- to George Cane — a deserter from

356 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

the Fourteenth North Carolina, who had just come into our
lines.

North of the James we had but few troops, and I had weakly
supposed that here the Confederates also had no great infantry
force. I expected to send our horses back when our cavalry
outposts should be reached, and then take it afoot through
woods until we should be so far in the rear of the Confederate
outposts that no suspicion could easily attach to us. When
near the city we would separate, and each make his own way ;
we would meet by stealth, first at the corner of Ninth and
Main, afterward where we should devise.

The night was far spent when we reached the north side.
General Foster was in command at the bridge-head; one of
his staff spoke of rumours that the Confederates were throw-
ing heavy forces across from the south, but nothing definite
was known, and we went on to the right toward the Chicka-
hominy.

It was broad day when we dismounted and gave Charliss the
bridles of our horses. He turned back ; we went on. At first
we made northwest, going toward the New Market road. But
we soon found that the Confederates had a line of infantry in
our front. From a hill, we could see the line in an open field
half a mile away. We turned to the north and tried to get
around the flank of the rebel infantry. York was absolutely
unarmed. I had the Enfield and boldly took the advance,
being dressed, of course, as a Confederate private, and ready
here to play the straggling forager. York was following at a
distance of a hundred yards or so ; at the first alarm he would
hide himself, or go on in a different direction to avert suspicion
of our being companions. I came in sight of the New Market
road and turned toward Richmond. At my left was a wide,
open space, a narrow wood skirting the roadside. In the road
some three hundred yards from me I saw a man coming, a Fed-
eral infantryman, fully accoutred. His head was hanging,
and his body was bent, as he trudged along in the hot dust. I

A FORLOKN HOPE 357

looked behind me. York was not in sight. The Federal con-
tinued to approach. I hid behind a cluster of bushes ; I knew
the man was in imminent danger, and feared that I could not
help him; the Confederate pickets must be very near us. I
was hoping that the man — a lost and lonely straggler — would
pass without seeing me, and reach safety ; if he should see me
and make an exclamation, the attention of some vedette might
be attracted, and I should be compelled to retreat and try a
more circuitous way.

The man was coming; he was within a hundred yards of
my bushes ; suddenly I saw six Confederates at my left ; they
also were coming. Likely they had been hidden from me by
a swell of the ground ; now they were in plain sight, coming
rapidly; they would cut off my line of retreat.

The man comes . . . the six men come ; I see that the man
is lost ... I see that I am lost unless I can prove myself a
rebel. That the men see the Union soldier is very clear, but
they do not see me. They will intercept the man just two rods
in my rear. ... I step into the road, with my Enfield presented
at the blue man twenty feet away. He drops his musket and
raises his hands ; he is German, and speaks no English. Now
the Confederates are around us.

" Take charge of this man. I must go on," I say.

" All right," says one of them, a sergeant ; " we'll take him
back. We were making for him; didn't know anybody was
here."

" Sergeant, I want a receipt," said I.

" Got any paper ? I've got a pencil."

"No."

One of the men tore a leaf from his pocket diary and handed
it to the sergeant.

The sergeant wrote a receipt to B. Jones of the First South
Carolina for one prisoner. The signature was Madison F.
Hawthorne, Serg't, Company F, 12th S. C. V.

I marched up the road. The squad with the prisoner lin-

368 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

gered near the road. No doubt they were "going through
him," which means that they were taking all the United
States property on his person, if not indeed his individual
effects.

York was now cut off. Enemies were between us. I did
not doubt that he had seen the recent performance, and I
feared that he would be badly puzzled as to my conduct. He
was a sharp fellow, was York ; but my action in capturing a
Federal would be hard for him to see through ; yet I would
hope to find him in Elchmond. He could get there.

Now at the left of the road I saw a skirmish-line in the edge
of some timber. I saw but few men, really, but I knew that
there was a skirmish-line. I could see parts of it on the left
of the road, and on the right also ; but on my right the line
seemed to curve back toward the west. I went to the right.
In a few minutes I heard a shot, and another, and another, all
seeming to come from one spot. Before me, at a distance of
say forty or fifty rods, was a dwelling-house ; from the windows
of the upper story shots were being fired. I went up to the
house and entered.

Do you know why I went into that house? If its occupants
should prove to be Federals, I could make a fresh start; if
they were Confederates, I would be a big rebel too — that was
the whole of it.

The occupants of the house were Confederates — five; I
made the sixth. We were Thomson, Norton, Crossland, Moore,
Watson, Jones. I knew they were McGowan's sharp-shooters
because I knew West Norton, and I knew Crossland, for I had
served in the Gettysburg campaign with these men. The other
men whose names I have just called I did not know, but soon
became acquainted with them.

" Hello, West ! " says I.

" Why, who are you ? " says he.

"Hello, Sergeant!" says Sam Crossland to me, and holds
out his hand. " Glad to see you ; we've been wonderin' whether

A FORLORN HOPE 359

we ought to send back to the battalion for help, but I reckon
we've got enough."

Norton now recognized me ; I had slept with him many a
night. " But you're not in the battalion this year," says he.

" No, not this year," I said ; " what you got on hand here,
boys ? "

From the upper windows these marksmen had command of a
good many rifle-pits of the Federal skirmish-line. Twenty-five
or thirty pits were in full view, three hundred yards, in a
hollow. Bullets came tapping, tapping on the walls of the
house and on the chimneys ; occasionally one entered. Thom-
son was bleeding from a slight wound on his hip ; the ball had
crushed a hole in his canteen first.

My position was delicate. I could not hope to feign.
Amongst so few, it would be at once known that my Enfield
was worthless. Suddenly I said : —

"Thomson, rest awhile and lend me your gun."

" What for, Sergeant ? "

" Mine won't shoot. I'd throw it away, but it's too good to
lose. It's choked."

" Wait till I fire once more," says Thomson.

There were but two windows overlooking the Yankees. The
men would fire alternately and step back into the room to load.
Rap, rap, came the Federal bullets.

Thomson fired and handed me his gun. My cartridge-box
was full — Springfield cartridges, you know, but they fit an
Enfield well enough. I loaded. Thomson took my gun and
went downstairs. I fired at the ground fifty yards from the
house, stepped back, and began to reload.

All at once a most terrific shock was felt : bricks flew into
the room ; a hole as big as your head was in the chimney ; the
room was full of dust and litter ; a big hole was in the wall of
the room opposite the chimney.

Now at each window were two men, trying to get a shot at the
artillery ; the men were loading and firing as fast as possible.

360 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

" Look out ! Run down ! " shouted Watson and Crossland
at once, and there was a stampede for the stairway. We were
running for the cellar. The cannon — there was but a section
of a battery — pounded away, knocking holes in the upper
story. We held our ground in the cellar.

" My cartridges are almost out," said Norton.

" Sergeant Jones has got a plenty for a while yet," said
Thomson.

Again I was in trouble. I must not let a cartridge go.

" Yes, and Sergeant Jones is going to use his own car-
tridges," said I. "You fellows had your fun before I got
here ; now it's my turn."

Crossland and Norton drew straws to see which should go
back to the line — a quarter of a mile off — to get cartridges.
The lot fell to Crossland.

" Sergeant, lend me a few," said Norton ; " when Crossland
gets here, I'll pay you back."

I ran upstairs, and fired through the hole that the shell
had made in the chimney, and continued to load and fire
rapidly. Watson came up also, and fired his last two shots.
Now we could see the gunners aim, and we ran down into the
cellar again. There came two tremendous blows on the
house. Again I ran up and fired, and when I again descended
for protection against the shells, Crossland had returned.

Now, with a fresh supply of ammunition, these almost reck-
less fellows kept the stairs hot up and hot down. Their shots
were aimed at the artillery on a hill, a hundred and fifty yards
behind the skirmishers. Bullets rained on the house ; shells
passed entirely through it. But for the cellar the place must
have been abandoned.

Thomson demanded his gun, and I gave it to him reluctantly.
" I'm a better shot than you are," said I.

"I'll shoot twice and let you have it back," said he. "Your
dam'd old thing's full o' dirt, or something else. Ramrod sticks
out a foot. I primed it with powder, but it's all plugged up."

A FORLORN HOPE 361

I remained in the cellar. This contest was very absurd.
Here were five Confederates fighting some two hundred infan-
try and two cannon. True, the Confederates had a great
advantage in position, but that was only because their enemies
allowed it ; a rush of twenty men up to the house, and these
sharp-shooters would be taken. I could hear the balls hitting
shingles and weatherboarding ; the artillery fire had ceased, at
least for a time.

Thomson came down and again we exchanged guns.

" They're getting ready to leave," said he.

" Who ? "

" The Yankees."

When I got above stairs the men were busy, loading and
firing. Moore shouted : " Everybody hold his load. They're
going to run; then give it to 'em."

The artillery people on the hill were stirring about. The
sharp-shooters were reserving their fire ; I made no objec-
tion.

The artillery people leaped on their horses and lashed them
madly ; at once they were on the brow of the hill, and gallop-
ing for the woods beyond. Four shots went at them, and one
into the ground.

" Load! Load ! Load ! Load ! Load ! " everybody shouted.

And now about two hundred skirmishers rose in their pits,
levelled their guns, and sent a shower of balls against the
house, and then — would you believe it? — they turned and
skedaddled up the hill like fiddlers on the seashore. We got
two shots apiece. Thomson had come up to see the fun, and
begged earnestly for the last shot, but I hardened my heart
against him.

We were downstairs in a jiffy, and, led by Moore, were
making for the deserted pits. These hungry rebels wanted
booty, and they got it. Knapsacks, blankets, haversacks, fell
into their hands ; one Union man was taken. He told us that
the position being untenable, a sergeant of the artillery was

362 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

sent back to General Foster with the report that the rebel
sharp-shooters were picking off skirmishers and gunners ; the
general had cursed the sergeant, and ordered him to return
and batter down the house. The sergeant had obeyed, but
just as he reached his place a bullet had taken off part of his
nose, and in this deplorable plight he was sent again to the
general, who then yielded, and ordered the whole angle of
the skirmish-line to fall back nearly a mile. For my part, I
did not believe a word the prisoner said.

It was dark when we reached the Confederate skirmish-line ;
we entered it above McGowan's brigade ; in less than a minute
I had deserted my daring comrades and was making tracks
straight to the rear — straight toward Richmond.

Where was York ?

XXXIII

FOBTINBKAS

"And one man in his time plays many parts. " — SHAKESPEARE.

AT sunrise I was halted by the guard at the Richmond for-
tifications; presenting George Cane's pass, approved by Gen-
eral Ewell, I was allowed to enter. The night had been spent
in making the march to the city, a straight march of only
about twelve miles, but devious and slow from the necessity
for avoiding bodies of Confederates who might have stopped
me.

In the outskirts of Richmond I found a miserable little
hotel, where I got breakfast and a bed for twenty dollars ;
it was now about ten o'clock, and I preferred going into the
city by night.

At dusk I left my bed and started into the city, following
Franklin Street, as I was told. Now I saw many soldiers,
single and in groups, some of them armed, going this way and
that way. I went past the Capitol. Inside the grounds, at
the corner of Bank Street and Ninth, was a small brick build-
ing with a belfry ; the bell was struck nine times as I passed ;
afterward I learned that the building was a guard-house, and
that the bell was struck for every hour and half-hour, day and
night.

I went on as far as Seventh Street; then I turned to the
right, and went nearly two streets beyond Broad. A dark
alley was before me, and I turned into it, but only for a few
feet ; almost at the very entrance to the alley was the bottom
of a flight of stairs; I counted twenty steps, and reached a

363

364 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

landing, protected by a railing, outside of which was darkness,
the landing being directly over the alley. At my left was a
closed door. I bent until my eyes were on a level with the
keyhole ; there was no light within. I knocked and waited,
and again repeated my knock, louder this time. I knocked
again ; there was never an answer.

When I reached the street, I saw, beyond the alley, a light
on the sidewalk ; the light came from a window. I left my
gun leaning against the wall in the dark alley and approached
the light ; I passed it slowly, looking at the window. In the
room I could see nothing. The window-panes were soiled;
whatever was in the room could not be discerned at a rapid
glance, and I feared to pause and look ; I passed on ; the place
seemed a storeroom.

In a moment I met a group of men — three. I must keep
on. I went around the block ; I would come through the alley
from the other end, but on Sixth Street I found no alley at all,
and knew now that there was no thoroughfare, but a blind alley
beginning at Seventh Street. I kept on until I was back at
the stairs; I climbed them again; perhaps Dr. Almonte had
been on a professional visit; perhaps he had now returned.
Again I bent to the keyhole ; there was no light. I knocked
softly ; I feared that persons passing, and persons in the store-
room beyond the alley, would observe me. I stooped low, and
at last sat down on the landing, lest my form should be seen
against the sky. Great fear was coming upon me — fear that
I should be unable to find any help in Richmond. To doubt
York was absurd ; yet did I not know that the boy could be
turned away from his purpose by a thousand causes small
and great ? Dr. Almonte was not at home — thus much was
clear; what of the others, those to whom I had letters from
the provost-marshal ?

Again I came down the stairs. I crossed the alley and
picked up my gun. Then I went farther into the alley ; I had
a wish that this place of Dr. Almonte's — vacated or occupied

FORTINBRAS 365

— should be my quarters, and I wanted to know something
of surroundings. At the rear of the storeroom, beyond the
alley, was a small side gate that gave entrance into a back
yard. I passed it, and almost at once found my way stopped
by a long, low outhouse extending from one side of the alley to
the other and on toward the left, that is to say, into the dark
premises of the Almonte place. This outhouse had neither
window nor door, so far as I could see, on this side; it was
simply a wall, beyond which I could not go. I groped along
the Almonte side, returning. There was a tall wooden fence
of upright boards ; in the middle, about halfway between the
outhouse and the dwelling, was a large double gate of such
construction that it seemed a part of the fence ; yet by feeling
I could make out where the great hinges were, and where an
iron chain served to keep the two wings closed — doubtless
there was a padlock inside. I crossed the alley again, and
entered the small gate opposite, and was now at the rear of
the storeroom. In the yard it was very dark. The house had
but one story ; its eaves were parallel with the alley, its gable
presented to the street; on the alley there was no opening.
I moved slowly along the rear of the shop, not more than thirty
feet. A high wall was met. I went along the wall ; there was
no gate anywhere in it. And now I went to Dr. Almonte's
great gate ; I placed one foot on the lower hinge, and caught
the upper hinge with my right hand, and raised myself until I
could just see over the fence ; I looked and listened for a min-
ute; then, convinced that there was nothing to fear in the
yard, I stepped back again, and hung my rifle, inverted, to the
top of the fence by the trigger-guard; a minute more and I
stood in the yard. The space was very small ; the long out-
house which blocked the alley extended entirely across the
yard. From the rear of the dwelling to the side of the out-
house there was the space of about forty feet.

I approached the rear of the dwelling; a short flight of
rickety stairs led up to its back door. On either side of the

366 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

door was a closed window, and by using my rifle from the top
of the stairs I could tell that across each window ran an iron
bar diagonally from top to bottom. I must get in at the door.

The lock proved secure. I had hoped that these peculiar
premises could be easily invaded; disappointed, I began to
contrive a plan for forcible entrance, for I knew that it would
be dangerous to wander about in Richmond ; if Dr. Almonte
should return and find me in possession, I hoped that my
papers would justify me. It would have been easy, no doubt,
to force open the door; one blow with the butt of my rifle
would suffice, but I must make no noise ; I must look about
for some instrument. I went to the door of the long build-
ing. What was in this outhouse ? What was its purpose ?
I became very curious. Perhaps, after all, it would be
better to make my quarters here. I tried the lock ; the door
opened.

One long room was before me. I could see no window any-
where, yet a faint light was in the room, even when the door
was shut, and in a moment I knew that there was a skylight.
I struck a match, and dimly saw shelves on both walls and a
long, heavy table in the middle of the room, and much litter on
the floor. The room smelt horribly of chemicals. I went out
for fresh air.

But I felt it necessary to go back ; I must get an instrument.
This room was the doctor's workshop ; there must be in it a
chisel, or some tool which would serve me. I did not light
another match ; I was ignorant of chemistry, and feared an
explosion ; I might break bottles and mix things ; so I groped
about in the darkness very slowly and with the greatest care,
until after feeling on many shelves my hand came in contact
with a stout wire. At once I went out into the yard; put-
ting the wire into the muzzle of my rifle, I bent half an inch
at a right angle. Again I went up the rickety steps. I put
my wire in the keyhole and turned, first in one direction,
then in the other. The prong of the wire seemed too short ;

FORTINBRAS 367

I straightened it, and then made it longer ; at the first turn the
bolt slipped back ; I opened the door, entered, and shut myself
in. At once I was startled by a sound.

I do not know what sound is. I have read somewhere re-
cently that it is vibration, or the sensation produced on the ear
by vibration in the air ; and it is true of the sensation I had
experienced, that to say I was startled by a sound is not so
accurate as to say that I felt the sound rather than heard it.
It was a peculiar sound, so low that the next instant I could
not have sworn that I had heard aright ; I thought that there
had come to me a voice, asking feebly, " Who is there ? " The
voice seemed to be in the air — possibly the words had been
uttered by some one in a room overhead. I was silent. I
knew not whether to reply or to retreat. I stepped back and
opened the door.

At the very moment when the door opened, the voice was
heard again — the same words.

" A friend," I replied ; " is that Doctor Almonte ? "

There was no answer.

I stood a moment undecided. Then I heard the voice say,
" Come up."

I lighted a match and saw a flight of stairs, which I began
to climb ; the light went out and left me in greater darkness.

" This way," said the voice.

Feeling my way, I turned to the left and soon knew that I
was in a bedroom ; there were two open windows ; I could see
a bed.

The voice, now distinct, said, "There is a candle on the
chair."

I approached and lighted the candle.

" An armed man," said the voice.

On the bed I now saw a man — a yellowish old man with a
long gray beard. A sheet covered him.

" Are you Doctor Almonte ? " I asked.

He did not reply, though he was looking at me with atten-

368 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

tion. He drew a hand from under the sheet. He said, " Fetch
the slate."

I looked about and saw a slate on the table near the bedside.
To the slate a pencil was attached. I offered the slate to the
old man. He shook his head, saying : " No, you write. I am
deaf."

I did not write. I offered him a letter and held the candle
near him. He looked at the superscription, and said : " It is
for me ; yes. Open it."

When he had read it, he said, "Sit near me and write
replies."

" In what am I to serve you ? " he asked.

" Dr. K. does not tell you ? " I wrote.

" No ; he simply places you under my care in Richmond, and
leaves the rest to me."

" I am sent here to try to capture a man who is dangerous to
republics — a friend of monarchy, a foreign political emissary."

" Of course, no bloodshed is meant ? "

"No."

" I will help you. How did you get in ? "

" By the back way, forcibly. I knocked many times first."

" Write down all I need to know."

When Dr. Almonte had been fully made aware of my
intentions, he said : " You must begin work at once. Are you
very tired ? "

"No, sir."

" Then I will send a message by you."

He wrote a note to John Carpenter, asking him to come
immediately.

" You will find him," said he, " on Marshall Street, between
Second and Third, on the right-hand side. It is not far ; only
a few blocks ; he lives over a shoemaker's shop. I suppose he
has retired, and you will have to wake him."

In half an hour I had returned to the doctor, accompanied by
Carpenter. As soon as I saw this man by candle-light, I knew

FORTINBRAS 369

that no broad English name had been his originally. He was
a small man, of about forty, of very dark complexion, keen
black eyes, and an air of intelligence. His replies to the doc-
tor's questions were made mostly by signs. I saw at once
that the two were very intimate.

" Carpenter," said the doctor, " I want to know the late
arrivals at the hotels."

Carpenter nodded.

" Go to the American Hotel, the Exchange, the St. Charles,
the Spotswood, the Broad Street, and the Powhatan hotels,
and bring me the names of all who registered in them on the
twenty-fifth and twenty-sixth of last month. When you find
the name of R. S. Owen or of R. S. Scranton, you need not go
farther. Merely bring me the names that follow and precede
his upon the day of his arrival."

Carpenter again nodded, and made some signs in the air with
his fingers that I did not understand.

" Report to-morrow morning," said the doctor. " It may
take you a long time to do the work."

Carpenter started.

"From what you tell me," said Dr. Almonte, "I do not
suppose that your man has yet appeared in a public place ;
he is too unwell. I shall try to gain admittance to him — but
please call Carpenter back for a moment."

I caught the man before he had got downstairs, and brought
him back.

" I want you to do another thing for me, Carpenter. When
you find Owen's name, you will likely find the name of some
foreigner. It may be Scherzer; it may be Espinoff ; it may
be some other foreign name, but you will likely find the name
written in the same hand that writes the signature of Owen or
Scranton. When you find two names, one of them Owen or
Scranton, and another name, both written in the same hand,
find out if either of the two men is sick, and, if so, what phy-
sician attends him."
li

370 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

Carpenter nodded again and took his leave.

Dr. Almonte had not risen ; I asked if he was ill.

" Not at all," said he ; " there is nothing the matter with me
whatever except that 1 am deaf. By the bye, have you had
your supper ? "

" Yes, sir ; not supper exactly, but I have satisfied my
hunger."

"To-morrow," said he, "we will make some arrangements
for you. To-night I am afraid that a cot is all I can offer. I
retire early, and I awake early. I shall be up before you are,
I think. You may retire now, if you wish."

On the next morning when I awoke I found the doctor's
breakfast ready. It was a very frugal meal. He kept no
servant, and there was no cooking done in the house. He told
me afterward that he was accustomed to take his meals away
from home.

About eight o'clock Carpenter came in, and handed the
doctor a sheet of paper, which was in turn handed to me. On
the paper was : Exchange, June 26, R. S. Owen, C. S. A. 14 ;
H. Scheultz, 14.

"Did you ascertain if either of them is ill?" asked the
doctor.

Carpenter nodded assent, and put his finger on the name
Scheultz.

" What physician attends him ? " asked the doctor.

Carpenter wrote " Dr. Ellis."

"I shall see him," said Dr. Almonte.

I asked the doctor to let me have a razor; he smiled, saying,
" I have not used one in thirty years."

On Main Street I found a hardware store, in which were
two razors, one at sixty, the other at seventy-five dollars. I
shaved my chin only, and arranged a bandage around my head,
as if I were wounded. To have had an arm in a sling would
have been as good a passport for the streets of Richmond ; I
used the bandage for the additional purpose of disguise.

FORTESTBRAS 371

At nine o'clock I turned the corner of Ninth and Main
streets. The sidewalk was very crowded. I had hoped to
meet York here, and felt greatly disappointed in not seeing
him. I went on to Seventh Street, and then back toward the
doctor's. I had passed the Richmond and Fredericksburg
depot and was crossing Marshall Street, when I heard a foot-
fall behind me, and a man passed me saying : —

"Don't tuhn yo' head, Misteh Behwick, but tell me wheah
to meet you again. I saw you down yondeh at the cawneh,
but theah weh so many people I thought I had betteh follow
you."

" Come just at dark, York, to the alley on Seventh Street,
between Marshall and Clay."

Dr. Almonte was not at home when I reached the house,
and I now had time to look about me. There were but four
rooms. The front, or rather side, entrance led to a narrow
passage which cut the story in halves and connected with
another passage which ran along three rooms and half of the
fourth; midway of the back room, this passage became the
stairway leading up from the back door. The doctor's sleep-
ing room was the fourth; mine, temporarily, was the third.
The rooms were all of a size, about fourteen by sixteen feet ;
my room had but one window; the doctor's being a corner
room, had two ; in it we had eaten breakfast. The furniture
was simple and scant. There was not a carpet, not a fireplace,
except a small stove in the rear room. As may be easily sup-
posed, the house was not well kept. Dust was everywhere;
cobwebs were in the corners of the ceiling, and the window-
panes looked as though they had not been washed since the
war began. There were no books except some old English
and Spanish pamphlets on medical subjects. Any one com-
ing into these apartments might readily suppose that the house
was shut up, and the occupants gone for a long visit.

The house explored, I went into the yard in the rear, and
again entered the doctor's workshop. I saw little more than

372 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

I had seen in the night ; here also I found the lack of care ;
very probably Dr. Almonte had not entered this building in
months. There was but one door. The skylight was badly
in need of repair ; dust covered the shelves and the tables, and
the floor was so thick with it that I could distinctly see my
footprints — but no other's. I went back to my room and
waited. Time was heavy on my hands. I cleaned a spot in
a window-pane and looked across the alley. Nothing could
be seen except the wall and roof of the windowless store-room.
That building had aroused my curiosity before. I would ask
the doctor what it was used for ; perhaps it could serve my
purposes.

It was after two o'clock when I heard footsteps on the stairs.
My host reported that he had invited Dr. Ellis to a consulta-
tion, and had learned from him that a mysterious foreigner
was under his treatment at the Exchange Hotel — a severe
wound of the scalp, caused by a fall. The gentleman would
be confined to his room for a week at least.

"We have time enough to make every preparation," said
Dr. Almonte; "what is your plan?"

" I must try to take Scherzer before he goes to the Capitol.
Is it possible to take him in his room ? "

" Possible, but not easy. How can you prevent him from
communicating with the authorities in writing ? "

" I don't think he will do that. He will not part with his
credentials. He no doubt expects to make an official visit to
Mr. Benjamin.1 He will perhaps first notify the Secretary of
his arrival, but I think he will not do that before he recovers.
He will wish to conceal the curious fact of his wound."

" I doubt his having regular credentials."

" Why ? "

"Because they would imply previous recognition of the
Confederacy. I think you will find that he has nothing but

1 The Confederate Secretary of State. [ED.]

FOBTINBKAS 373

letters from important persons — to somebody who will intro-
duce him to the Secretary. His hoped-for arrangements are
first to be made."

" I trust you are right, Doctor."

"It would be very difficult to take the man while his
companion is with him; they have the same room — room
fourteen."

" Did you learn how Owen is ? "

" I infer that he is well. Doctor Ellis said nothing about
him at all, except that he was present and did most of the
talking. Both of them take their meals in their room. They
are having clothing made by a tailor, who came to their room
for orders."

" What sort of clothing ? "

"Civilian's for Scherzer; a Confederate captain's uniform
for the other man."

" If it were certain that Scherzer would go alone and afoot
to the Capitol, we could get him. I would rent some house
and get him into it by some means."

"But you cannot expect him to make even a semi-official
visit in that way. He may go alone, but he will go in a
carriage."

I wrote five words on the slate, showed them to the doctor,
and erased them at once.

"That will do exceedingly well," he exclaimed. "A very
happy thought, sir."

Dr. Almonte was surprised to learn that the house beyond
the alley was occupied. He told Carpenter to find out what
it was used for, and try to get possession. My new friend's
practice kept him away from home much of the time. After
that first breakfast my meals were procured from bakers' and
grocers' shops ; I feared restaurants and hotels.

Our plans were being perfected. A great amount of money
was spent. Seventy-five thousand dollars went for a single
purpose. Colonel Sharpe's letters — one of them, at least —

374 A FKIEND WITH THE COUNTEESIGN

had secured powerful help. We had influential men at work,
and more than one house rented.

On the 7th Carpenter showed me an advertisement in one
of the morning papers : —

LOST! LIBERAL REWARD!

A package of papers marked R. S. O. was lost near Bottom's
Bridge on or about the 16th ultimo. $1000 will be paid for its
delivery to the undersigned, and no questions asked.

R. S. OWEN, Exchange Hotel.

On the night of the 7th Carpenter led me into the store-
room. It was but one long apartment; no egress anywhere
except front and rear doors.

" Look about you," he said, " and see if you find anything
peculiar."

I saw where he was looking, and examined the wall, but
everything was uniform and natural.

He held the candle high and low, but I saw nothing.

" Here," said he, " this whole section comes out ; I shall be
compelled to go out to open it."

He was gone but a few moments when I saw about six feet
of the wall begin to move ; it opened until there was a space
sufficient to allow a man to pass. Outside there was a narrow
space between the store-room and another almost like it.
Carpenter led me out into a back yard and showed me a high
wall at the left. The other side of this wall I had run against
in the explorations of my first night ; the wall had no gate.
Carpenter opened a door in the rear of this second building
and showed me a small bedroom with one window ; its blinds
were closed — nailed up, he said.

" And you have rented this also ? "

" Yes ; I thought it would be safer ; and I've cut a door in
the end of the Doctor's workshop ; we can get to him without
going into the alley."

FORTINBBAS 375

On the evening of the 8th of July we held a council. Dr.
Almonte had seen Ellis again, who had paid his last visit
to Scheultz. Carpenter was told to warn our people that great
vigilance was needed.

The doctor went out. It was about eight o'clock. I had
been in the house all the afternoon, and needed air and change.
I walked about the streets awhile. Passing the corner of Broad
and Seventh, I saw that the theatre was lighted. There was a
huge placard bearing the words: —

HAMLET
A POWERFUL CAST

BY

LOCAL TALENT

ADMISSION
TEN DOLLARS — FIVE DOLLARS — Two DOLLARS

I paid two dollars and went into the gallery. A few soldiers
were there. The parquet was pretty well packed with officers,
civilians, and ladies.

The curtain had long since risen in the second act. Three
persons were on the stage.

One, who I know is personating Hamlet, says in a startling
squall : —

/ am but mad north-northwest ; when the wind is southerly I know a
hawk from a handsaw.

A fourth man enters and speaks : —
Well be with you, gentlemen !

The audience applauds. It is easy to see that this actor is a
favourite, at least for this night's performance. His voice —
Polonius's — is more nearly natural than the prince's. The
play proceeds.

Presently Polonius makes a long speech : —

376 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

The best actors in the world, either for tragedy, comedy, history, pasto-
ral, pastoral-comical, historical-comical, tragical-historical, tragical-comi-
cal, historical-pastoral, scene individable, or poem unlimited : Seneca
cannot be too heavy, nor Plautus too light- For the law of writ, and the
liberty, these are the only men.

Polonius says it very well. His voice is good and Ms man-
ner in keeping with the part — grave, dignified, a trifle over-
pompous. He reminds me of I know not whom.

The third act has ended. Polonius's dead body has been
dragged out by Hamlet, to the applause of the whole house.

And now the martial scene of Act Fourth. The leader of the
troops raises his huge sword and speaks : —

Go, Captain, from me greet the Danish King ;
Tell him that, by his license, Fortinbras
Craves the conveyance of a promised march
Over his kingdom. You know the rendezvous.

Again the applause, again the voice of Polonius, and again
— I know it now — the voice of Scranton.

The play goes on. I have no eyes or ears for any but For-
tinbras. The lights in the gallery are dull ; I have no fear.

The play is ending. Fortinbras tells us that he embraces his
fortune with sorrow ; the curtain falls. I start, and reach the
stairs. The audience applauds mightily, and at length Hamlet,
and Fortinbras alias Polonius alias Scranton, appear hand in
hand, and make their bow ; and Hamlet speaks : —

" Ladies and Gentlemen : It is with a peculiar mixture of
pleasure and regret that I beg to acquaint you with two things.
First, our misfortune, which has deprived us of two of our com-
pany to-night, has been more than repaired, as you well know,
by the illustrious actor whom I hold by the hand ; second, this
gentleman who has so kindly come to our rescue to-night in
taking the parts of both Polonius and Fortinbras has but now
recovered from wounds received in battle, and to-morrow returns
to his command under Hampton. Hereafter, when your mind

FORTINBRAS 37r

recurs to the great Shakespearian drama, I know, Ladies and
Gentlemen, that you will remember with interest the gallant
Captain Owen of the Confederate army."

As I reached the street the applause within the house could
yet be heard.

When I saw Dr. Almonte I wrote one line on the slate : —

Owen leaves to-morrow. We must act at once.

XXXIV

THE SEIZURE

"This is the thing that I was born to do." — SAMUEL DANIEL.

A CLOSED carriage was moving slowly on Main Street, going
westward. The negro driver was in modest livery. The
horses were impatient.

Sidewalks were crowded; groups of officers — men with
their arms in slings — men on crutches — negroes bearing bur-
dens— no ladies.

The bell on the guard-house was striking twelve.

I was wearing the uniform of a Confederate captain — a
soiled uniform. Two soldiers raised their hands to me in
salute. I returned their salute.

I was walking westward, keeping pace with the carriage.

The day was hot; many eyes were upon the vehicle, in which,
for the closed curtains, no one could be seen ; was it possible
that no one was within ? The glass windows, however, were
open.

At the corner of Tenth, just where you leave Main to go up
to the Capitol, the horses stopped short for a moment; some
huge army wagons, turning the corner in an opposite direction,
were blocking the way completely.

I stepped slowly to the side of the carriage, turned the
handle of the door, opened it, entered, and immediately shut
myself in. The carriage was moving on.

Scherzer stared at me, looking very angry; he did not speak
— possibly he was in doubt whether he should use good lan-
guage or broken English.

378

THE SEIZUEE 379

I had a drawn revolver in my hand. The chances were good
that my captive was not armed.

"No bodily harm is intended," said I; "be quiet, or — "
and I handled the pistol threateningly.

He cowered and glared back at me. I saw that at this in-
stant he recognized me.

His hand went to the door-knob.

"Try it as much as you wish," said I; "it is fast enough."

" Misser Bairveek, vot you do vit me dees time ? "

" I shall treat you kindly enough," I replied. " All I exact
is that you raise no outcry. Will you treat with me ? "

"Vot you mean by treat?"

" Make terms with me."

" You vant money ? "

" Not a dollar. I want you to go back to your own country
— to France."

" I cannot."

" You want us to hold you till the war ends ? "

He did not reply. The carriage had driven into the Capitol
grounds. I had lifted the curtains. A man was standing at
the side of the carriageway, a man dressed as a Confederate
colonel. I saluted. The carriage stopped and he sprang in.
I changed seats to the front. The colonel sat by the captive.

"Colonel, I would introduce your prisoner, but I do not
know his real name. I suppose he wishes to be called
Scheultz; among the Federals he was Scherzer. He is an
educated gentleman ; at least he can speak excellent English
on occasion."

Carpenter gave no reply ; he had merely returned my salute.

Scherzer seemed astounded ; he, too, was silent.

A sergeant approached the carriage and raised his hand in
salute.

" Colonel, the transportation will be ready."

" Very well. Keport at six with four men."

The carriage moved on ; the curtains remained open.

380 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

"It matters not who you are," said I to Scherzer; "your
game is known and blocked ; you will consult your own inter-
est by giving us your parole that you will not try to escape."

He shook his head vigorously.

The carriage drove on rapidly, turned several corners, left
the city, and entered the cemetery. Those who knew Holly-
wood at the time of the war, remember its charming seclusion,
its deep recesses of wood and dale, its utter isolation from the
crowds of living humanity. I continued to argue with Scherzer.

" But eef I do not so you veesh, vot vill you do vit me ? "
he asked again.

" We shall secure you so that you can do nothing," said I.

"Captain," said Carpenter, "let the prisoner make up his
mind without trying to influence him."

" But I do appeal to de law," said Scherzer.

" Let the law take its course," said Carpenter.

The carriage drove on.

At two o'clock we left the cemetery and made toward
Shockoe, going slowly.

At four o'clock the carriage was at Rocketts.

At six o'clock the carriage was near the Tredegar Iron
Works, still going slowly, consuming time.

At dusk the carriage passed by Almonte's ; men were on the
sidewalk, going and coming. The carriage drove on by.

In half an hour Almonte's was again approached ; there was
no one on the sidewalk — the carriage stopped.

The colonel seized an arm of the prisoner.

The doctor's house was dark, the storeroom was dark.

The three men entered the alley. York drove down the
street rapidly.

The three men went down the alley. They went through
the small gate at the rear of the store-room.

They went into the store-room, and passed through an open-
ing and into a back yard. A door opened, and a small room
was entered. Here was one candle burning ; a small bed and

THE SEIZURE 381

other necessary furnishings were in the room. Carpenter went
out and left me alone with the prisoner.

" Misser Bairveek," said he, " vot you to do vit me ? "

He sat on the bed.

" Scherzer, I'm going to treat you better than I did in the
swamp, that is, if you will let me."

" Vill you let me gif my vord I go zees contree' ? "

" No ; I cannot go so far as to say that, but I will treat you
well, and see you safe aboard ship."

" Zen I see you at hell."

" Better make up your mind to it. I shall leave you alone
now, so that you can retire ; but first I want your papers."

He offered no resistance, but at once handed me a long blank
envelope sealed. There was no address whatever. I put it in
my pocket; I would deliver it to General Meade.

I went into the back yard. Carpenter caught me by the
hand.

"A squad of soldiers are searching Dr. Almonte's house,"
he whispered.

" Are you certain ? "

" Yes. I had a narrow escape down the back stairs."

" Blessed thing I brought my gun out. Is the doctor there ? "

" Yes, and in bed right enough."

" Then let them search," said I ; " but how do you suppose
they were put on our scent ? "

" Somebody saw us come into the alley, I think."

"Has York got back?"

" Not yet. I'm looking for him every minute."

"We must keep him from going into the alley until the
guard leave. Be on the lookout for him."

"All right, sir."

There was a closed window to Scherzer's room — a narrow
apartment made expressly for his accommodation by running
a doorless partition across the second vacant store-room. Car-
penter had gone to the corner and was waiting for York. I

382 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

could hear heavy feet in Almonte's rooms. I wondered what
influence had been set to work against me. I went back into
Scherzer's room. He was yet sitting on the bed. I heard the
soldiers go down the front stairs.

" If you need your things at the hotel, I will send for them.
Give me an order ; I will see that your bill is paid also."

He looked at me curiously. "I do vidout zem," he said.
" Capitan Owen, he can pay."

Then Owen had not gone !

Would the house — the doctor's house — be watched ? Owen
had by some means learned of the seizure. I had been foolish
in supposing that he would go away before Scherzer reported
success. Owen was Scherzer's — not Hampton's. He had
waited for his master's return, and had grown suspicious at
long delay ; he had begun pursuit. I wished I had first taken
Owen.

I had little fear that the prisoner would be found. But now
there came loud knocks on the street door of the store-room on
the alley.

Scherzer made a movement — he had heard.

The knocking continued. In a moment there was knocking
at the back door also.

" Break in ! " said a loud voice at the front.

Now men were entering the front door of the first store-room.
I grasped Scherzer by the wrist, and blew out the light.

" Make the slightest sound, and I'll throttle you ! " I whis-
pered in his ear.

There were voices and footsteps in the first store-room. I
hardly dared to breathe ; I kept one hand on Scherzer's wrist,
the other on his throat, but not pressing it.

Some time passed — I know not how long a time. The
voices and footsteps were heard no more. I released Scherzer.

Half an hour later Carpenter came to the door. He was
sure that the search had ended, but was not sure that no
soldier had been left near by to watch. *

THE SEIZURE 383

u Is it safe to confer with the doctor ? " I asked.

" For me, yes ; but not for you, I fear."

Carpenter left me, and it was long past midnight when he
returned. He drew me away from the bed on which Scherzer
had stretched himself. .

" A guard is at every corner of the block," he whispered.

" Have you seen the doctor ? "

" Yes. He advises complete quiet ; he thinks the search
has been given up, but that a watch may be maintained for
days."

" Carpenter, we must get away ; it will not do to stay here."

" Yes, but how to get away ? "

"We must overpower one of the guards unless we can
deceive him in some way."

" You mean to leave this man here ? "

" Not by any means. I shall risk everything — everything
— I shall take him with me. Dr. Almonte is wrong — is
wrong; we must go. Scherzer would die here in this hot
place. I wonder how he can sleep ; he must be pretending."

For a minute or more Carpenter was silent ; then he said :
" I can manage it. Let us get our watches together. No,
never mind that ; when the guard-house bell strikes three, I'll
have a man on Marshall Street and another on Clay to make a
noise. The sentinels at the corners will run to the noise.
When you hear the guard-house bell strike three, you can
march Scherzer across Seventh, and into the alley opposite.
There I will join you and we will go to my house."

The moon had gone down before twelve.

" I can't think of a better plan, Carpenter ; but I object to
going to your house. We'd better go anywhere else."

"Then we'll go to the fisherman's room near the bridge,"
said he.

" What room ? "

" The fisherman's. He's faithful, and we'll be safe."

" We must risk it."

384 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

A few minutes before three I laid my hand on Scherzer.
He was really sleeping. I shook him, and he sat up, yawn-
ing. At first he acted strangely, not knowing where he was.

I ordered him to rise and go before me.

" Vot you to do vit me dees time ? " he asked.

" I shall take you to a better place. Don't you fiad it very
warm here ? "

" Tres chaud — yes, Misser Bairveek."

" Go before me and be silent."

"But eef I not— "

" Then you may force me to use violence. You are in no
danger unless you resist ; but you'd better make terms with
me."

" Misser Bairveek, you lofe your ccntree* ? "

« Yes."

" Not bettaire zan I."

I picked up a chair, and gently pushed him before me until
we were in the first store-room ; there I gave him the chair to
sit on. He used his hat as a fan, though the place was much
cooler than that he had left.

The front door had been left half open by the soldiers who
had searched the place ; I allowed it to remain so ; I stood
near the prisoner in the back part of the store-room.

The side of our block, that is to say the distance from the
corner of Clay to the corner of Marshall Street, was a hundred
yards. At either corner was a guard. Carpenter's project, if
successful, would cause the guard at either corner to run
toward Sixth Street and leave Seventh Street unwatched for a
short time. A minute would suffice.

Scherzer said nothing. He had ceased to fan himself. At
two o'clock in the morning the air is cool enough, if you can
get it. His head was bent, his chin on his breast. I went to
the door, tiptoeing. The streets and sidewalks were deserted.
I returned to Scherzer ; he had not moved.

The slow moments grew.

THE SEIZURE 385

To get this man out of Richmond and into the Union lines
was a work well-nigh impossible. We had had many plans, not
one of which seemed entirely feasible. To go north, south,
east, west, all routes were closed. I had at first thought that
the Pamunkey might be reached, and a boat found or built in
which we could float by night to White House; but White
House had been abandoned, and West Point had been aban-
doned, so that now there would be no refuge nearer than For-
tress Monroe, unless by chance we should run up with some
Union vessel in the bay. I had given up the Pamunkey route.

Then I had for a little while seriously considered the Chick-
ahominy swamp; to go down its northern bank in the way
we had journeyed with Scranton two weeks ago, seemed feasi-
ble. But Dr. Khayme had impressed upon me the necessity
for my keeping out of that swamp. Fever there again would
be fatal.

To go north — toward Frederick sburg — was to go a long
distance through a country filled with inhabitants devoted to
the South, and where the Confederates constantly gathered
forage, and where they rode night and day.

To go west — up the James — would be an endless journey.
I could not hope to guard Scherzer so closely that for many
days he would not find himself in presence of some one who
would suspect, whom an exclamation of the prisoner might
bring to the rescue.

The project of going south — across the James — and around
the right flank of the Confederate army, which now rested
miles beyond Petersburg, had been canvassed. There would
be no great trouble in crossing the James, for Carpenter had
already in his pay more than one fisherman whose boat lay
down at the wharf, but the James was not all ; the Appomat-
tox also must be crossed.

But for the Confederate pontoon bridges across the James,
down that river would be the quickest and safest route. The
obstructions sunk in the river by the Confederates would not
2c

386 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

hinder a small boat, and by selecting the darkest hours o\
three successive nights, and hiding inshore in the intervals,
we could make the venture with a minimum of risk. But the
bridges seemed an almost insuperable difficulty, for there were
three of them. Of course I knew that on a dark night it was
not impossible, even under the fire of the sentinels, to pass, in
a specially constructed boat, beneath a pontoon bridge ; but an
alarm given would make our capture below absolutely sure, for
the river on both sides was lined with batteries and regiments
— especially at and beyond the lowest bridge. Moreover,
Scherzer might prove impossible to manage. I had tried re-
peatedly to treat with him ; he had refused. Indeed, if he had
consented to my wishes, the getting out of Richmond would be
comparatively easy. Scherzer, willingly wearing Confederate
uniform, and willingly conniving at our scheme, would have
made our escape a task of little trouble. It was his obstinate
persistence in refusing to treat with me that made my thought
dwell on the river, where, in a boat, we could thoroughly con-
trol him. But the bridges and the batteries were not all ; the
river itself was full of danger; Confederate picket-boats
patrolled it; if one should approach us, even in the night,
the captive could summon help.

I must talk again with Carpenter about the river ; great risk
must be run, but some way must be chosen.

*******

The guard-house bell began to strike. Before the third
stroke rang, I was in the doorway with my man. Holding
Scherzer by the wrist with one hand and my gun in the other,
I leaned out and looked ; then I pulled him sharply, and we
walked straight across the street, my arm beneath his. At
my right I heard scampering feet.

In the alley opposite were Carpenter and York.

XXXV

A THOROUGHFARE

* But oars alone can ne'er prevail

To reach the distant coast ;
The breath of heaven must swell the sail,
Or all the toil is lost." — COWPBR.

WE passed through the alley to Eighth Street, Carpenter
leading, York bringing up the rear. At Eighth, Carpenter
turned to the right, going slowly. There were no lights, no
moon, no stars — a cloudy night. Carpenter's course was
southeast — toward the river. He went two blocks and
halted. In the darkness I could just make out that he was in
the midst of a group of men ; I stopped. Scherzer struggled
a little, but I held him fast. " Come on," said Carpenter.

When I reached him, he said, " There is nothing wrong ; my
detail has come up."

There were four men, armed. Carpenter ordered York to
go home. Then he put himself at the head of the squad,
with Scherzer and me in the middle, and marched boldly
down Eighth Street. The men had their rifles at the carry,
and kept step, and I with them, making the pavements ring
at times. At the corner of Main there was a light on the
sidewalk, a dim light coming from the entrance of the Spots-
wood Hotel. Carpenter marched his squad through this light,
turning down Main. An officer was standing here ; he moved
out of our way ; he saluted Carpenter. Down Main we went
for many blocks — nine I counted, and turned again to the
right, making toward the river. And now I felt a hand on
my arm and heard Carpenter say "Stop!"

387

?88 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

The squad marched on, keeping time with their feet; I
heard them turn the next corner.

Carpenter guided me into a blind alley, and into a yard, and
up a flight of stairs. He struck a match and lighted a candle.
The room was squalid enough.

" Where are we ? " I asked in a whisper.

" In a block of the Libby."

Scherzer sank down on the only chair in the room

" Can't we get a bed for him of some kind ? "

" Not to-night ; but we'll fix him up to-morrow."

" Can't you get a mattress ? "

"No."

" How long is it till day ? "

" Day is breaking now."

" Carpenter, I have come to a decision."

"Ah! And what?"

" We must take to the river."

" Whatever you say, we'll do."

" Come out here in the passage. . . . Now, I'm going to
send York back for more help, for just such help as we need ; I
know where to get it. Meantime I'm going to examine the river.
How far down are the pontoon bridges ? Tell me again."

''One is about three miles from here; a mile and a half
below Rocketts ; it is not entirely pontoon — half pile and
half pontoon; the second is at Warwick, about three miles
below the first, and the third at Chaffin's Bluff, three miles
farther down."

" Carpenter, I'm going to examine all of them, and I'm going
to start at once. When can you see York ? "

" I hardly know. If you go away, I'll be compelled to lock
myself up with Scherzer. But I can safely send York word to
come here."

" That will do. It may take me several days to do what I'm
going to do, and it is better for us to be very quiet now ; better
for me to be away. I shall leave a note for York."

A THOROUGHFARE 389

"All right."

" And Carpenter ! You must put your wits together and get
a boat that four or five men can go down the river in."

"Easy enough," said Carpenter. "I can get her ready in
forty-eight hours. I'll make a false gunwale with tarpaulins
that can be lowered, and we'll slip under the bridges without
touching."

" And you can take charge of Scherzer till I get back ? "

" Easily ; better than if you were here," said he.

" And you must search him carefully. I have one package
of papers, but he may have others. And another thing.
Get your friends to see General Ewell's people — I want a
fresh pass. Put in it the name of Private B. Jones, First
South Carolina."

" All right, sir."

I wrote three words for Carpenter to give to York, and
explained that the negro must at once set out for the Sanitary
Camp. The note bore no address ; it simply said : —

" In trouble — come."

*******

The sun was rising at my left oblique as I quit the suburbs.
At my right lay a fleet of the last gunboats of the Confederate
navy, intermingled with tugs and picket-boats and barges. In
the stretch of the James below was Drewrey's Island, and be-
yond it a dark strips reaching from bank to bank — the first
pontoon bridge.

My road ran parallel with the river and almost directly south
— here the same road by which I had entered Richmond.
Only at times could the river be seen — the road sank in
hollows and rose again. I met men and wagons and ambu-
lances, but had no fear in meeting them, for the Confeder-
ate lines were far below. A mile or so south of Rocketts
I crossed a creek ; beyond it I saw a road coming in from
the river ; I took the new road. Evidently it went to the
bridge.

390 A FKIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

Soon I came to the top of a hill from which I could see the
river again and the pontoon bridge stretching across. On the
bridge was neither wagon nor man. At the far side I could
see a single sentinel standing at support arms. On my side
the end of the bridge was not visible on account of irregularity
of the ground. I turned and went on down the river.

The first bridge could be easily passed. I had seen that it
was hardly an obstacle ; the sentinel at either end was insuffi-
cient watch against my enterprise . . . but what if, by night,
guards were posted all along the bridge ? I would risk that ; I
knew the weakness of the Confederate forces.

Again I was marching down the river turnpike ; soon it
forked — the left-hand going to New Market. I kept toward
the right. You remember that the reserves were planted
across my road ; I had passed around them on the night of
the 3d. I would wait till night to get through.

But it was yet early morning. These reserves posted across
the road did not extend far to the left ; I would flank them as
I had done in coming. And I did flank them, but it took long,
so that it was late in the afternoon when I stood again in sight
of the James. And I was very weary, for on the preceding
night I had not slept after a day of terrible suspense. So I
found a hiding-place, and the night passed in a moment.

Before sunrise I was following a creek flowing to my right,
and soon I came to the river, which stretched straight south
for more than a mile below. Looking up I could see the west
end of the first bridge ; looking down I could see the west end
of the second bridge. I was almost midway between the two,
and could see neither plainly — only the end of each on the
far side of the river.

I left the river and retreated to the hills, making my way
slowly and cautiously nearer to the bridge below. Straight
south the horizon was hazy with smoke, and from the south
came the dull sound of cannon — not pulsating, but almost
continuous in vibration. I kept going south — going slowly.

A THOROUGHFARE 391

Five miles from Richmond — half a mile to the pontoon
bridge at Warwick.

I wondered where York was by this time — doubtless in
some swamp, getting around the Confederate right ; it was not
possible that he had reached the Doctor. I wondered where
the Doctor was — doubtless in some trench, some rifle-pit,
stanching some wound made by a sharp-shooter's bullet. I
wondered where Lydia was — no doubt like her father she, too,
was at this moment ministering to the wounded. I blamed
myself for having sent York for the Doctor — yet the work I
was attempting seemed more important than one life, or many
lives, and I was solaced.

Now, in the thicket, I saw a tall tree before me ; I climbed
the tree ; from an altitude of only twelve feet I could see the
bridge distinctly — from one end to the other — but six hun-
dred yards away. The bridge was crowded with troops and
wagons — going toward the right bank — going from me. Ten
minutes later the bridge was clear. I could see a sentinel at
either end ; none in the middle.

I came down from the tree and approached the road at my
left. I would go beyond the bridge and take a look at it from
below.

As I approached the road I heard a noise — a sound as
though a single horseman was coming up the hill. I got
behind a bush and watched. The ground before me was undu-
lating, so that the road fell and rose more than once within
the scope of my vision as I looked south. The first thing I saw
was a horse's head, and I wondered why I did not see the
man's. Could the rider be a boy ? True, I could see the top
of a hat, I thought, but unless this horse was a beast very
different from the average Confederate cavalry horse, the
rider's head would be very visible. Now I could see nothing —
horse and rider had disappeared in the hollow road.

But almost presently I saw the surface of the rise dotted
with a black speck beyond it — a speck growing — coming — •

392 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

a horse's head — his neck — his withers — and it flashed over
me that I had seen that horse somewhere before — and then
I saw the right leg of the rider — the man himself invisible
behind the horse's neck — but the horse tossed his head aside
— and I saw Dr. Khayme !

Time had been when I thought that nothing could surprise
me in regard to this little man ; but I avow that I now stood
for an instant rooted to the spot.

The Doctor rode up to me ; he had shown no first impulse to
pass my hiding-place — he simply rode up to me.

" Doctor — "I stammered, " I don't see for my life how you
got here so soon."

"So soon? I've been long enough about it, I think. I
started yesterday morning. Is anything wrong ? "

" And you haven't seen York ? "

"No," the Doctor looked at me inquiringly; "have you
lost him ? "

" I sent him to you, Doctor ! "

"He had not reached me; but I had begun to be uneasy
about you, and — "

" Doctor, how in the world did you get into these lines ? "

" Get in ! There's no trouble in getting in. I simply rode
around them."

Dr. Khayme always wore plain civilian's dress ; with his
saddlebags slung behind him it would be easy to think him
a country doctor.

"You have been long absent, Jones," he continued, "and
Lydia has been in agony about you. What is the matter?
Be good enough to tell me ; I have asked twice."

*******

At one o'clock on the morning of July 13th a strange little
boat started on its journey down the James. Dr. Khayme
had gained complete control of the French noble, who now
wore the uniform of a Confederate lieutenant and spoke good
English. The Doctor had visited his friend Almonte, and had

A THOROUGHFARE 393

pressed upon him the gift of the horse he had ridden. York
had not been heard of. All my money had been spent.

The night was very dark ; the moon had gone down ; a thick
fog rested upon the surface of the water black as ink. Car-
penter sat at the stern, his hand on the rudder ; a pair of oars
lay within his reach. Scherzer was lying upon a blanket, the
Doctor sitting flat in the bottom of the boat. My place was
at the front ; my gun lay behind me.

The boat — flat, narrow, floating so deep in the water that
Carpenter's tarpaulin gunwale was an essential — began to
drift down the centre of the stream. Off to my left shone a
few faint sparks — lights I knew, upon the unfinished gun-
boats at Rocketts, while to the rear of my right, in the town
of Manchester, there was the glimmer of a candle in some win-
dow, the faint reflection streaking with vague yellow the
quivering surface of the water. No sounds came to my ears
except the rumbling of railroad trains, and from the indistinct
animation of the wave under the eastern wind. Peering con-
stantly, ear alert, hand ready, we floated in utter gloom — in
utter immediate silence. Seconds at last became minutes —
and my eyes, accustomed to chaos, could discern objects
foreign to the fog. Flat on the water before me — how
far I could not know — swelled out suddenly a deeper black-
ness, and I whispered " Right," — and the Doctor whispered
" Right," — and the boat swerved in its course, and we floated
on, with the dark hull of some anchored vessel at our left, and
the Chesterfield shore looming close to leeward — too close.
Again a whisper, and the boat swung to the left, and now I
could see land again, and I knew that we were passing to
the right of Drewrey's Island. The wind freshened and tore
the fog; my vision became better; the boat floated on, and
passed the island, and in midstream, with head straight south,
was making for the first pontoon bridge. I could not yet see
it. At my back was a hundred feet of quarter-inch hemp with
an anchor fastened to the end — and two extra anchors also in

394 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

the bottom of the boat. I lowered the anchor into the water,
and let it touch and drag, ready at the moment to let go and
hold. I let go, keeping the rope taut. The boat began to turn ;
I raised the anchor, and we drifted on; again I let go, and
again I pulled up, and so repeatedly, checking our downward
progress by instants, and listening hard for the tramp of a sen-
tinel on the wooden floor of the bridge. At last I saw a dark
spot on the water ; the spot widened and became a line, and the
line became an ellipse. My companions lay flat.

There was not a sound. Crouching low I watched the bridge
rise out of the water, and rise higher, and higher, and the
thing came down on my head as the boat glided into a tunnel
where for two seconds all was black as Egypt. Then I looked
round, and the dark blotch was behind me, and was fading,
fading, moving northward into the fog until the f.-g swallowed
it.

No doubt it was past two o'clock ; to make the second pas-
sage was not to be thought of. True, we might get through
before the fog lifted — but not far enough through. The dan-
ger point could not be certainly passed. So we gently turned
the boat toward the left bank, and before daylight were lying
hidden under overhanging willows near the mouth of Peyton's
creek.

Throughout the day I stood watch on the hills, in order to
divert stragglers from our hiding-place. Men passed me going
and coming on the road, but none moved toward the river. My
companions rested and slept.

*******

When the moon went down it was an hour after midnight.
At two o'clock we started for the second bridge. There was
no fog as yet, and the stars gave a great light — too great to
dare the middle of the stream. Under the hanging willows
we crept on, hoping for the mist. But no fog came, and we
reached a spot where we could see the bridge, some three
hundred yards below, and we knew that our boat, small as it

A THOEOUGHFAEE 395

was, would be seen by either sentinel if we should dare the
middle of the stream, and I heard Carpenter grumble oaths.

And now great fear fell upon me lest day should come be-
fore darkness, and I knew that only prompt action could give
success to the work. I ordered Carpenter to put the boat
ashore; he obeyed.

" Now, Carpenter," I whispered, " the time has come. When
you hear me reply to the sentinel, let the boat go under the
bridge, close to the bank. Then watch for me below. They
may let me go on at once, or they may send me down the
river to McGowan's brigade. If I don't get to you before
to-morrow night, just go on without me."

I went up the hill. Below me at my right oblique, stood
the sentinel at the end of the bridge, and nearer to me, but
beyond the road, was a feeble fire where lay the reserve
guards. I advanced.

" Who comes there ? "

" A friend without the countersign ! "

" Corporal of the guard, post Number One ! "

The corporal came. I told him I had a pass from General
Ewell.

" Come to the fire," he said.

He marched in my front; I could easily have run on by
him. He stirred the fire until a flame arose; then he took
my pass, and read it.

" All right," said he ; " know where your brigade is ? "

" Somewhere down this way ; can you tell me where it is ? "

" You've got to go below the bluff a mile or more, and then
take to your left. You've come the wrong way, anyhow."

Half a mile below the bridge, I found the boat waiting.
We floated on until the sky became red.

*******

We started before the moon went down, for many miles
must be made before the day. We must make the last bridge
early ; not only above it, but also below it the river was com-

396 A FKIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

manded by batteries past which we must float in darkness.
Again there was no fog.

For a time Carpenter sat at the front while I took his place
in the stern. By the stars I knew that our course was bend-
ing toward the southeast, and that soon we should be under
the guns of Fort Darling ; we hugged the north bank, against
which we hoped our boat could not be seen from the farther
shore. It was long after midnight, for the moon had sunk
behind the hills — when we saw at our right — and high in the
air, the fortifications at Drewrey's. There were no lights, but
sounds came from the hill, the tramp of some relieving guard,
I thought ; and sounds came from our left also, where in the
sedgy flats a night bird flapped its wings. Then silently I
took the front, and we pushed a little farther from the shore,
and a little farther, until we floated down the main current,
edging off to the right bank, for we must now pass batteries
on the eastern shore, and almost under them should strike the
pontoon bridge.

But presently vapour lay upon the very surface of the water ;
sitting, I could see nothing ; standing an instant, I could see the
dark hills ; another instant, and I saw before me what seemed
a single wire resting on the white vapour, and I saw spots upon
the wire, and knew that sentinels were posted along the bridge.
I let go the anchor; the boat swung round and stood. Now
Carpenter, twenty feet nearer the bridge, could see where to
guide to strike midway between two guards ; but he must also
compute to a nicety the relative speed of our boat and of the
guards marching their beats, for the tramp of feet upon the
bridge came to our ears. Not long could we wait. I cut
the rope and again the boat swung round and made for the
bridge. All flat but Carpenter; hat in my pocket, neck
stretched, I could see yet, through the fog, the black wire — a
wire no longer, but a broad band, and I could see two men
walking, approaching each other, toward the middle of the
bridge, and I knew, too late to warn our steersman, who now

A THOROUGHFARE 397

was prostrate — too late even if lie had seen — that our course
was straight for the meeting-place, now not forty yards away.

The boat went under the bridge, grating at its entrance
against the side of one of the pontoons. Even at the instant I
heard footsteps, hurrying I knew to the upper edge of the
bridge, and then I heard steps hurrying back across the floor
under which we had just passed. A moment more and a flash,
and another, and two reports rang out, and Carpenter seized
both oars and pulled away manfully.

We were two hundred yards below the bridge ; a great hub-
bub arose behind us. We could see nothing; the fog had
thickened; but shouts and the noise of running came to us.
Suddenly from our left a red mouth opened in the blackness,
and the water behind us split wide and rose high, and our boat
was tossed and flung, and there was a sound as though heaven
and earth had come together.

Carpenter muttered a horrible oath.

" Be calm," said the Doctor ; " it is our safety. The picket-
boats will not come under the fire."

And now there came a terrific blast, as many guns opened on
the water. Left and rear the sky was ablaze ; sheets of fire,
hurricanes crossing, waterspouts all round us, which we could
hardly see. The boat was filling, but it drifted on. One of
Carpenter's oars had been smashed, and the hand that held it
broken. I stood up to throw out the anchors, and lighten the
boat, and at that instant it rocked wildly under a yet more
fearful explosion at the bow ; I lost my balance and fell over-
board.

XXXVI
BERWICK'S LAST SERVICE

"Now, good or bad, 'tis but the chance of war."

— SHAKESPEARE.

WHEN I rose to the surface, the boat was not to be seen ; I
could see nothing at all. But the artillery on the hills flashed
out again and enabled me to judge my course, and I started
down the river with the long breast-stroke, hoping that I
should quickly overtake my friends.

Soon the cannon hushed, and all was utter blackness. I
tired of swimming, and lay as nearly motionless as I could, and
let the water carry me ; being compelled, however, to use some
strength, my clothing cumbering me. I had gone three or four
hundred yards, I thought, when I heard voices ahead, and the
sound of oars. I used my hands and feet vigorously to prevent
drifting, for I had suspected at once that a picket-boat was just
before me, and an instant later, that my companions, in order
to avoid it, had swerved toward the left bank.

When this thought came to me I turned on my left side, my
face down-stream, and swam silently toward the shore. The
noise of the picket-boat died away, and still I swam on, not now
directly for the land, but down-stream mainly, approaching the
bank very gradually, for I knew that the Confederate pickets
were beyond Chaffin's Bluff, which was now behind me, and I
must land below them. At length I felt almost sure that I had
come far enough, and pulled for the bank and crawled out.
Trees were around me, the branches hanging over the water.
I took off my coat and wrung it. The night was warm, and I

398

BERWICK'S LAST SERVICE 399

did not put it on again, but walked up the hill, clad in a gray
shirt, carrying my coat on my arm. At the top of the hill I
turned eastward, and walked on. I could not know whether I
was between the lines, but I could play either part, so I took
some pains to make noises as I went : if I was yet in the Con-
federate rear, I should not be suspected ; if I was in the Fed-
eral front I wanted the vedettes to hear me, else they might fire.

Before I had gone two furlongs I heard a challenge. I
halted and responded that I wanted to come in, and that I was
alone. I was ordered to stay where I was, and then the
vedette called for a corporal, who soon came up to me and took
me into the lines. I was questioned, and not wanting to give
any hint of the enterprise upon which General Meade had sent
me, I allowed these men to believe that I was what I seemed,
a Confederate deserter. Indeed, my answers convinced them
that I was of McGowan's brigade, which they knew to be in
their front. These troops were the Eleventh Maine regiment,
of General Foster's command. It was not long till day, when
I was brought before Colonel Plaisted, who soon sent me off to
Colonel Sharpe, on the south side. When I reached the pro-
vost-marshal's headquarters, I was detained outside for ten
minutes or so; then I was ushered into his presence. He was
bending over a pile of papers ; his back was toward me.

"Well!" said he, perfunctorily, without looking up; "what
corps ? "

" The secret corps, Colonel."

He turned quickly. " Well, I will be dam'd," said he.
*******

Scherzer had been sent to Fort La Fayette. Carpenter, or
rather Lieutenant Benavides, formerly of the Confederate
army, was getting ready to leave for Mexico, despite his
wounded hand, to join the patriots who were resisting the for-
eign occupation of the land of his birth. York had returned.

400 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

The summer went away. If I should tell all I saw, and all
I did in my feeble way, this work would take me too long. I
saw Burnside's mine explode. I saw Hampton's men drive 2500
head of beeves away from Grant's rear and into the Confeder-
ate lines. I saw the battle of Reams's Station — and stood
once more with McGowan's sharp-shooters while they picked off
almost every horse of our batteries, and afterward captured the
guns. I saw our men take Fort Harrison, and I saw much more.

On the night of December 30th I was on the picket-line of
the Sixth corps, where the Ninth New York artillery — a regi-
ment so called yet, but serving as infantry — occupied the pits.
I was dressed as I usually dressed while scouting — in the
uniform of a Confederate private — and carried an Enfield.
The ground over which I had to go was almost bare, the trees
having been felled and used for fuel by the armies, which at
this point, just east of the Weldon railroad, were perhaps a
mile apart. Here and there, in some hollow, were a few bushes,
and the smaller twigs of the felled trees lay about everywhere
between the stumps, affording me cover in my silent advance
toward the enemy's lines.

The night was exceedingly cold. This ground had been
fought over more than once ; there were old abandoned lines of
rifle-pits running across the land, and the earth had been cut up
by artillery wheels and by horses' hoofs, and the rain had filled
the ruts and the hoof -prints, and now a thin sheet of ice was
spread over the little pools scattered everywhere. The moon
had gone down before nine o'clock ; the stars were out in all
their glory, Aldebaran low in the west, Orion higher, then great
Sirius — and Spica in the southeast, back between Forts Sedg-
wick and Hays — known by Yankees and Rebels as Hell and
Damnation.

General Meade was at the bedside of his dying son in Phila-
delphia; General Parke was in command of the army. The
character of my service had long since been extended ; I was
now the head of a body of scouts, and had not recently done

BERWICK'S LAST SERVICE 401

such work as General Parke required. The circumstances,
however, justified him in sending me forward alone: a strong
expedition had been prepared by General Grant against Fort
Fisher, in North Carolina, and it was very desirable to know
whether Lee's army would remain quiet.

I crept along — not going directly toward the Confederates,
but gradually approaching at a great angle. The ice crunched
under my feet, making me start every minute in expectation
of a challenge, but I was yet some hundreds of yards from the
vedettes, who were doubtless engaged in marking time to pre-
vent their freezing. It was a sad thing — this Army of
Northern Virginia in the winter trenches of Petersburg ;
half-fed on mouldy meal, clothing in tatters, shoes — if they
had any — tied to their feet with rags ; hopeless of the end,
they yet stood in their ranks and died for their faith. I have
never been able to know how these men could stand against
our army so long ; they were stanch men ; we all are now proud
of them. It is no wonder that some of them deserted.

A long hollow was before me, stretching east and west
between the lines. I had been told that the Confederate skir-
mishers were just on our side of the hollow, and I supposed,
of course, that their vedettes were at least a hundred yards in
front of their pits, so as I approached the hollow I became
exceedingly careful, crawling from one stump to another,
lying behind them and listening. I had no intention on this
night of getting into the lines ; all I wanted was to get near
enough to hear great movements.

At last, lying behind a stump, I saw, some fifty yards in
front of me, a man standing stiff. I remained motionless for
a full minute ; then I moved on to my left about thirty yards,
and paused again behind another stump. Now I looked for
the man again, and was surprised to see him moving forward,
— and not alone, but followed by two others. In an instant I
knew what was meant — these men had decided to abandon a
hopeless struggle against fate ; they were coming over.

402 A FKIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

The vedette's post having thus been deserted, I decided at
once to go forward to the picket-line. I could see dim spots
of light above the pits in which the pickets had their fires.
I crept along from stump to stump, and at length succeeded in
getting between two of the pits, but not without being seen.

" Where'd you come from all at once ? " asked a man at the
pit on my right. He was standing now, having risen from a
sitting posture before his fire, where, in blankets, were stretched
the forms of three others.

" From the front," said I ; " let me warm my hands a little,
and I'll tell you all about it. What brigade is this ? "

" Scales's." l

" Where's McGowan's ?"

" On our right."

" Well, I don't want to raise any false alarm, but you'd
better wake up your men. Your vedettes have gone to the
Yankees."

" The hell you' say ! " He began to shake the sleepers in
pit.

" Yes; it's a fact. Where are McGowan's sharp-shooters ? "

"I don't know where they are now, but you'll hear some-
thing from 'em before day, I reckon."

" Where are your sharp-shooters ? "

" Way down on the right."

" Is Major Young down there ? "

" Yes. Wait here a minute. Say, git up here, Stevens ; go
call Sergeant Hall."

Sergeant Hall came. I reported that some of his vedettes
had deserted.

" How do you know ? " he asked.

" I saw 'em," said I. " I was out in front and saw 'em."

" What were you doing out in front ? "

"Oh, well," said I, "you don't reckon a man would be out

1 Babcock to Gen. S. Williams, Dec. 31, 1864 : " Deserters from the enemy
came in last evening . . . (from) Scales's brigade, Wilcox's division." [Eo.]

BERWICK'S LAST SERVICE 403

there for fun, do you ? You'd better be 'tendin' to your own
business now, or you'll have the Yanks down on you in no
time," and I left him.

I walked to the right for a short time, but soon diverged,
going to the rear, toward the main Confederate lines. It was
now about three o'clock, I judged, and I should have time to
look inside the lines, and get back before daylight. I had gone
perhaps five hundred yards when I heard the marching of
troops, and stopped, in order to hear better. The sounds con-
tinued to come — the sounds of a small body of men moving
near me — not the indistinct murmur of a division far away.
Now I could hear a voice, but no movement, and I knew that a
halt had been called and that orders were being given in low
tones. I walked toward the voice, wondering why it seemed
to sound familiar.

I approached a short line of men, standing with their backs
to me. I could see the Confederate intrenchments just beyond
these men. Why had they come out in front of their works ?
I must try to learn. I crept up close and lay flat behind the
ranks.

" Now, men, remember what I've told you ; there must not
be a shot fired until you hear Scales's battalion charge ; then
go in with a rush. Lieutenant Hasell's company will lead
until we pass our pickets; then the battalion will halt and
wait for the word."

I needed no more to convince me that a serious attempt was
to be made upon our lines, by at least two battalions of trained
skirmishers. The purpose of this night attack I could not yet
know ; could it be that a heavy infantry force was to follow ?
I must find out.

In two minutes I stood on the intrenchments ; there, all was
still ; dimly I could make out along the line, irregular rows of
such huts as the men had been able to construct — huts hardly
worth the name, little better than the open winter weather.
Here, behind the works, was no sign of a movement — no

404 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

preparation for a march. And now I cared comparatively little
concerning the attack of the battalions; this attack could
mean nothing more than a surprise of the picket-lines, in order,
probably, to secure prisoners and thereby get information for
General Lee ; but, at the same time, my main duty was over
and done ; I had seen that in this part of the lines there was
no great movement going on ; not having anything more im-
portant to do, I would get back as quickly as possible, that I
might warn those New York people, and, through them, the
whole of our skirmish-line.

So I hurried back; I would march out with the battalion
through the picket-line, and then drop out in the dark and get
around them, for I knew that they would steal up close before
charging. I reached the place where I had left the sharp-
shooters, and heard just at my right the sound of their march-
ing; in a moment I was following. We went through the
picket-line — there halted, and the order was given, not by
an officer but from man to man, to deploy; I was in the
darkness behind the men, and had scarcely been able to hear
the order as it passed down the line.

Now, knowing that I had no time to lose, as these sixty
men would make a line of three hundred yards, I set off at as
fast a gait as prudence would allow, going toward the right
flank of the skirmishers, whose advance was extremely slow.

In the still night there was not a sound, except of my own
making. Between me and the sky I could catch dim outlines
— forms of men slowly stealing on, and on, toward their enemy
sleeping ; and I hurried too greatly, for I fell into a ditch and
was long in getting out, so that when at last I was on the flank
of the skirmishers they were near the brow of the hill, and
I heard a challenge directed at me, and others at my left
directed at the battalion, and then a shot far to my left
where Young's battalion of Scales's was leading the assault ;
and then, as I rushed forward risking the aim of the sentinel,
fire spouted from sixty rifles, and the rebel cry rang out in the

BERWICK'S LAST SERVICE 405

dark morning as Dunlop's line, half wheeling to the right,
swept upon the rifle-pits of the Ninth New York artillery.

I had reached the line too late ; the men were standing in
their pits, looking stupid and frightened. One of them, seeing
my gray uniform, said to me, " We give up." I started to run ;
my foot tripped and I fell.

One moment more and the pit was filled by half a dozen men
in gray, each shouting at the top of his voice, and each seizing
a prisoner ; in a second others came on, and began picking up
the blankets, knapsacks, and everything else lying about, and
laughing in high glee.

" Let me go ! " I cried to the man holding me. " Don't you
see your mistake ? "

" Nary mistake, my boy ! I saw you ahead of us. Hadn't
be'n for you, we'd ha' caught a heap more. Come along. You
can't fool me ! "

I struggled to get away.

" Here ! " he shouted ; " Wade ! come help me manage this
fellow, or I'll have to kill him ! "

But I had him so that he could not strike ; I continued to
struggle and desperation lent me strength. I broke away, but
for an instant only ; now two men had me and held me securely.

The Federal prisoners were standing at the fire. More were
brought up, and a strong guard placed over them, while the
battalion was cleaning out the rifle-pits for half a mile on our
left. My captors still held me. The firing had ceased ; there
was nothing to fire at, and I knew that these fellows, reckless
as they were — for it now developed that the attack had been
devised for no other purpose than getting spoil l — would never-
theless be compelled to withdraw at once ; day was at hand.
How bitterly I now regretted my unavailing struggles. If I
had only kept quiet, I could yet slip away, but now the atten-
tion of all was upon me, and I must endure my bitter fate —

1 Major Dnnlop, Lee's Sharp-shooters, p. 228, says, "We secured all the
supplies necessary to our comfort for the winter." [ED.]

406 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

a fate that had always been before me in possibility, yet which,
after so long a time, I knew I had never fully admitted.

At sunrise the battalion was back in the intrenchments. The
prisoners — almost as many as a company — marched under
guard in the rear, and I, although in gray, in the midst of them.1
Yet as I marched along under the gaze of McGowan's brigade,
I tried to collect whatever mental resources were left me ; I
pulled my hat over my brows, and lowered my head, and bent
over to lessen my height, hoping yet that I might be regarded
as one of many prisoners of war. But the closing day of the
year was not my day ; the battalion and the captives marched
through crowds, gathering not for the purpose of gazing at the
unfortunate, for Federal prisoners were a common sight to these
soldiers of many campaigns, but to see the sharp-shooters in
whose ranks all had friends.

" By grannies, yonder's Jones ! " shouted a man, — Stokes of
Company H.

At once I was surrounded. Some of the men shook my hand.
Others stood aloof. All gazed upon me as men look upon the
miserable.

1 From Report of General Wright, Dec. 31, 1865. "The enemy made an
attack upon my picket-line at about five o'clock and succeeded in killing two
men and wounding three. Thirty-seven are reported missing." [ED.]

XXXVII

LIFE OB DEATH

" For let us now, like soldiers on the watch,
Put the soul's armour on, alike prepared
For all a soldier's warfare brings."

— JOANNA BAILLIB.

THE New York men were sent away — where, I do not know.1
I was placed in the brigade guard-house.

At sunset visitors came — two; I knew them well. They
were the captain and the orderly-sergeant of Company H.

I saluted the captain ; Wilson gave me his hand.

" Sergeant," said I ; " you would not shake hands with me
the last time I saw you ; you remember ? "

" Jones," said Wilson, " you know I didn't have time then ;
an' you come so sudden like, you know. I've been tellin' the
cap'n about that — and he hardly believes it yet."

" When was it, Jones ? " asked Captain Barnwell, looking at
me narrowly.

" Twelfth of May, sir."

" Why was it I did not see you ? "

" I can't tell you, sir ; / saw you"

" Did any one else besides Sergeant Wilson see you ? "

" Yes, sir ; Sergeant Mackay shook hands with me just be-
fore he was killed ; Promptly saw me and spoke to me. The
tree fell on both of us."

" Where had you come from ? Where had you been since
Bristoe ? "

1They were confined in the Libby prison in Richmond. [Eo.]

407

408 A FEIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

My mind had been made up not to talk ; I could see no good
in talking. Wilson had of old been a good friend to me. He
knew that I had been in the ranks of the company at the
Bloody Angle; he could believe that I had just returned from
prison, or from a forced absence — forced by any one of many
causes. Wilson was my friend, but the captain ? Would not
his office compel him to be my enemy ? Better not commit
myself.

" Why am I under arrest, Captain ? What are the charges ? "

" Desertion, my poor fellow ; desertion to the enemy ! "

" And who makes these charges ? "

" I ; I am forced to make them."

" Then you must excuse me for keeping my own counsel, sir."

" Of course, Jones ; just as you wish ; but I don't want to be
hard on you, and I shall be truly glad if you can disprove the
charges; if you could convince me that they are not true, I
would willingly withdraw them."

"When will my case come up, Captain?"

" There is no saying, Jones ; the regular corps court martial
has much to do ; it is in session almost constantly, yet there is
a rule of war, I believe, to try a case in eight days."

" I cannot get ready in that time, Captain."

" I suppose you can get a delay."

" Who is the judge-advocate ? "

"Captain Cothran — you ought to remember him — Orr's
Rifles."

" Shall I be allowed to see him ? "

" Whether he has the time I do not know ; but you ought to
try, and in any case, you may write to him."

" Where shall I address him ? "

"His regiment, or the court — which sits in Petersburg;
Halifax Street — either address will do. Now, Jones, we must
go. Yours is the first case of the kind in Company H, and
I hope your case is stronger than it looks on the surfaca
Good-by."

LIFE OR DEATH 409

Wilson again wrung my hand, and swore that he would do
all he could to help nie — he would come again on the next day.

But the next day brought a great change. This was the day,
January 1, 1865, — postponed from Christmas because of fail-
ure then, — on which the ladies of Richmond gave a dinner to
Lee's starving army. As I was led under guard through the
lines of huts behind the intrenchments, men were jesting,
laughing, grumbling, cursing, about one absorbing subject — the
dinner had been distributed and had been found to be very
scant.

My guards led me to Petersburg, where I was confined with
many others accused of crime; thence, a few days later, I was
sent to Richmond by rail and placed in Castle Thunder. I
had a little money and found some favour with Sergeant
Hamby — who commanded the prison guards — so that I did
not suffer greatly. I was allowed to purchase blankets, food,
and materials for writing. Hamby, however, was proof against
every attempt made to induce him to deliver letters to my
friends in Richmond. While in the guard-house at Peters-
burg I had written to the judge-advocate ; I gave him the
strength of my case, without divulging my real history, and
begged him to see that my witnesses were ready.

I was surprised when I received a reply. Captain Cothran
wrote that the court was greatly pressed with business ; that
an Article of War required the trial to proceed within eight
days, but in that short time he had no hope of being able to
find some of my witnesses ; he left it with me entirely, without
advising, whether I should waive my right. I answered this
letter with one line, leaving the matter entirely in his hands.
*******

On the morning of the 22d of March, Sergeant Hamby came
into my room. It was easy to see that he was unusually seri-
ous ; in his hand he held a pencil and piece of paper.

« Well, out with it ! " said I.

" You take it uncommonly cool," he returned.

410 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

"Take what cool?"

" Your trial is set for to-morrow."

" How do you know ? "

" Here is a paper for you."

I read the perfunctory order commanding the presence of
B. Jones, Company H, First South Carolina Volunteers, before
a corps court martial on the charge of desertion to the enemy.

The sergeant had taken a seat on his heels, leaning against
the wall.

" I suppose it will be in Petersburg ? "

« Yes."

" Got to walk ? "

"No, no."

" When am I to go ? "

" To-day at twelve o'clock a guard will come for you. What
counsel do you want ? "

" Counsel ? "

" Of course, they always allow you counsel."

" I have nobody ; I want nobody."

" Expect to manage your own defence ? "

"Yes."

" Got any witnesses ? "

" A cloud of 'em if they're not all killed. Say, Hamby, don't
you fret about me. I'm going to win this thing."

" By George ! I'm glad to see you so hopeful. Better take
your blankets ; it's mighty cold."

At noon I was marched to the depot, where I was hustled
into a freight car. At two o'clock I was hustled out — the
train having reached its destination — and then hustled into
the guard-house in Petersburg. Water and food, were brought
to me. But for my own blankets, I should have frozen.

My senses were alert ; my mind was set on preserving my
life by making a strong case before the court. I knew that I
was guilty technically, but morally innocent. To make that
court believe me innocent was all my thought.

LIFE OR DEATH 411

The trial was to begin at nine o'clock ; I was ready at six ;
the minutes seemed eternal. When I was at last conducted
to the court-room, and found myself standing before my judges,
all nervousness left me — left me clear and cool.

One of the officers I knew to be Captain Cothran, of Orr's
Rifles, McGowan's brigade ; the others were unknown to me.

"The accused will be seated here," said Captain Cothran,
the judge-advocate. I sat at a small table in front of the
officers, who were around a large table. I looked about me ;
the room was pretty well filled ; I saw men of Company H ;
Wilson was there, and Albert Youmans, and Jerry Butler.

The charges and specifications were read by the judge-advo-
cate in a monotonous rush. I was accused of having deserted
Company H on the morning of October 12th, 1863, and having
given aid and counsel to the enemy.

" Guilty or not guilty ? " demanded the judge-advocate.

I rose and responded, " Not guilty, sir."

"Take your seat," said an officer; I supposed he was the
president. His tones indicated neither compassion nor un-
kindness.

" Have you provided counsel ? " asked the judge-advocate.

I rose and replied that I had not, and asked permission to
defend my own case.

" You have that right," said the president.

There were seven officers before me ; I counted them many
times.

From a semicircle came sounds, incessantly, of artillery
firing, — south, east, northeast.

The officers of the court took the oath to try the case, —
the customary oath.

John Wilson was called and sworn.

He gave his position as orderly-sergeant, Company H, First
South Carolina.

I had never before seen a court martial, but I had seen the
workings of a civil court, and as the case progressed I became

412 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

aware of a great difference ; Captain Cothran seemed almost
as much on my side as on that of the Government. He drew
from Wilson testimony against me and for me. With many
interruptions because of questions, Wilson spoke as follows : —

" I recognize the accused as B. Jones, — never knew what
the B was for, — of Company H, First South Carolina Volun-
teers. He was wounded at Gaines's Mill, — a severe wound.
We were all greatly surprised when he returned to duty as
we were starting on the march to Manassas ; everybody saw
that he was not strong enough to march; he had left the
hospital too early. He got very sick, and Captain Haskell
tried to get a place in an ambulance for him, but could not do
it. Jones caught up again before the battle. Captain Haskell
thought a great deal of Jones; he took him into the sharp-
shooters and gave him a sergeant's place there. After Gettys-
burg the accused became gloomy ; I could see it was because
Captain Haskell had been killed. Some of the men thought
Jones was losing his mind. He was missing about the middle
of the Bristoe campaign. I expected him back, because, once
before that, he had been away from us a long time and came
back."

" When was that ? " asked the president.

" He was expected to die at Fredericksburg, in December,
sixty-two. He was not in that battle ; we left him sick and
heard nothing more of him for months, but he returned all
right."

" When did you learn that he was missing ? " asked the
judge-advocate.

" About October twentieth, I think, sixty-three. I was not
then orderly-sergeant."

" When did you see him last before he was arrested ? "

" On the twelfth of last May, sir."

All the officers looked up at this, and looked at each other.

" Tell the circumstances fully."

" It was at the Bloody Angle. We were in the breastworks ;

LIFE OR DEATH 413

the Yankees were on the other side of the breastworks. All at
once a man came up to me and wanted to shake hands. I knew
he was Jones. I made him get into ranks. Where he came
from I don't know."

A long pause followed. I could see curiosity in the faces of
my judges.

At last Captain Cothran said, " Look carefully at the accused."

" I know him, sir," said Wilson.

" Is he the same person you saw at the Bloody Angle ? "

" I'd swear to him, sir, on a stack o' Bibles."

" Did any of your men see him ? "

"Yes, sir."

"Who?"

" Owens and Kothwell."

" Are they here ? "

" Owens has never been seen, sir, since that day. I reckon
he was killed there. But Eothwell is here."

The judge-advocate looked at his papers.

"All right," said he; "we have Eoth well's name as a wit-
ness for the accused. Has the court any questions to ask this
witness ? "

The president asked Wilson one question. " Was B. Jones
of Company H, an indifferent soldier, a poor soldier, or a good
soldier ? "

Wilson blurted out: "I will say this much for him. Com-
pany H didn't have a better man in it — then or now."

The judge-advocate then said : " The accused has the right
to question the witness." I shook my head : Wilson's testi-
mony had been favourable, and I feared to alter it in the least.
I felt that the court was not hostile to me.

Captain Barnwell was sworn ; he testified that I was B. Jones,
and that I had .been missing from his company since October
12th, 1863. He had never seen me again until I had been
brought into the lines by the sharp-shooters. I had been a good
soldier, but very peculiar in some things.

414 A FKIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

Two men whom I did not know swore that they had taken
me in company with the Yankees on the morning of Decem-
ber 31st. One of them swore that he saw me in a Federal rifle-
pit before he reached it, and that I was trying to wake the
men. This evidence brought a smile to some of the officers'
faces.

Lieutenant C. M. Chappell was sworn. He testified that his
men had captured me in The Wilderness, in November, 1863,
and that I had afterward escaped — that at that time I was in
Federal uniform and unarmed. He had seen me afterward in
June, 1864, some six miles south of White House, that time
in Confederate uniform, armed and mounted.

"Do you know him to be the same man you had in The
Wilderness ? " asked the judge-advocate.

" Yes, sir."

" You positively identify him ? "

" Yes, sir."

" Why did you not arrest him ? "

" I did not recognize him at first, sir, and when I did, he
resisted. I pursued him but could not overtake him."

" When you had him in The Wilderness, why did you not
keep him ? " asked the president.

" Well, sir, he pretended to be exhausted and speechless. I
did not know what to do with him. He was guarded poorly,
and got away."

"Pretended, you say? Did you consider him an unwilling
prisoner, or a deserter — which ? "

The witness hesitated.

"Answer the question, sir," said the president, who, I had
by this time learned, was Colonel Cantwell, of the Fourth North
Carolina cavalry.

"I thought him a deserter; and I continued to think so
until I saw him afterward."

" Did he confess he was the same man ? " asked the president.

"No, sir, he did not."

LIFE OR DEATH 415

" Did he profess to be a Confederate ? "

"No; he made no assertion as to that, but he claimed to
have helped my brother off the field at Riddell's Shop."

" What is your brother's name ? " asked Captain Cothran,
fumbling with his papers.

" Osborn Chappell ; he belongs to the Twelfth South Caro-
lina,— McGowan's brigade. He has written to me that he
was wounded at Riddell's Shop, and was helped by a man
named Jones, but I have not seen Osborn in a year."

" May it please the court," said the judge-advocate, " I wish
these brothers to confront each other."

"If there is no objection," said the president, "you may
have it done, but you'd better get through with the govern-
ment's witnesses first."

To my great surprise and terror, Captain R. S. Owen was
called and sworn. He had not been in the room, and I now
saw him for the first time since June, 1864. He was dressed
in a very handsome uniform ; the gilt braid on his arms con-
trasted with the faded ornaments of the other officers present.
He refused to meet my eye.

He gave his name and position as Captain R. S. Owen, First
Maryland cavalry.

His testimony was very long, but the court showed no
impatience; evidently the case had become interesting.

Owen swore that my name was Berwick — that he had known
me as a Federal serving General Meade himself. I wondered
how he could thus betray his own duplicity, but the idea did
not seem to trouble the court; I supposed that Owen was
known to the officers, and that he counted on honours rather
than disgrace. He was sure that the accused was named Ber-
wick. He had known me to be a Federal soldier, first as a
private in the Eleventh Massachusetts infantry.

" When did you know him in that capacity ? " asked the
president.

Owen said that his acquaintance with me had not begun

416 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

until I had left the Eleventh, but that he had certain knowl-
edge of my having been in that regiment. He had seen the
accused dressed as a Confederate, and as a Federal. He had
never seen Berwick before October, 1863 — about the 18th.

The judge-advocate asked the witness if he could bring any
corroboration to his testimony.

"Yes," replied Owen; "I have in my possession a written
order of General Meade's in regard to the accused."

" Produce it before the court," said Captain Cothran.

Owen thrust his hand into his pocket and brought out a button.

I felt that I was lost.

" This button," said the witness, " contains a paper written
by General Meade. The man who devised this hiding-place
devised at the same time an instrument with which tp open it.
I have lost that instrument; I ask the court to break the
button."

The judge-advocate took the button from the hands of the
witness and laid it on the table.

The attempts of the officers to preserve their gravity dis-
torted it ; their gaze went from Scranton to the button ; from
the button to me; from me to Captain Cothran and to each
other ; they were silent.

From without came the roar of cannon. The judge-advocate
called a soldier and took his bayonet from the scabbard. He
looked at the president ; the president nodded.

The judge-advocate held the bayonet by the blade ; he struck
the button with the hilt of the bayonet. The button rolled a
little way ; it did not break.

The judge-advocate struck again and harder ; the button was
shivered.

" Produce the paper," said Captain Cothran.

Scranton's face was unmoved; the officers sank back into
their seats ; one of them rose, thrust his hand into his pocket,
took out a knife, sat down, bent over, and began sharpening a
pencil.

LIFE OR DEATH 417

"Gentlemen," said Scranton, calmly and emphatically, "there
is an order from General Meade in a button. There are four
buttons alike. No man can tell one from another. I have
simply made a mistake and have picked out the wrong button."

"Produce the other buttons," said Captain Cothran.

Hope in me had turned to bitter despair.

The judge-advocate brought the bayonet down on the second
button.

The button was thrown into a corner ; it was picked up and
again laid on the table. It proved to be of brass.

The third button was flattened on the table.

The fourth and last button lay under the uplifted bayonet.

The bayonet descended.

The button shivered.

A sudden vertigo seized me ; my head sank to my knees ; it
was death.

"Gentlemen," said Scranton, triumphantly, "here is the
order ! Read it for yourselves."

The officers fingered the pieces of the broken buttons.

"Read the order," said the president to the judge-advocate.

The judge-advocate read aloud, and slowly, as if he were
deciphering a writing almost illegible : —

"HEADQUARTERS AHMT OF THE POTOMAC,

"October 17, 1863.
"SPECIAL ORDER.

" Private J. Berwick, Company D, llth Massachusetts Volunteers, is
hereby relieved from further duty with his company. All pickets will
pass him.

"GEORGE G. MEADE, Major-General Commanding"

While these words were sounding slowly and monotonously,
the officer holding the gauze-like shred of paper at a peculiar
angle to the light, a glimmering thought awoke in my brain :
could I not turn this thing to my advantage 9

" Does the accused wish to question the witness ? "

418 A FKIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

With great effort I responded, " Yes," forced myself to my
feet and leaned on the table.

" I wish the witness to state to the court," said I, " when,
and under what circumstances he first saw J. Berwick."

Scranton did not reply.

" Answer," said the president.

" I saw him first on the night of the seventeenth of October,
sixty-three."

" Where was this ? "

" Near Centreville ; in the presence of General Meade."

" Was he an utter stranger to you ? That is, had you no
intimation of his previous service in the Massachusetts regi-
ment ? "

"General Meade himself told me that Berwick had previ-
ously served in a Massachusetts regiment."

" Can you say how long he had served in the Massachusetts
regiment ? "

" I can only say that Berwick told me afterward that he had
enlisted in it at the opening of the war ; he had been at both
battles of Manassas, he said."

" Can you swear positively that J. Berwick had ever been a
soldier in the Confederate army before you saw him ? "

The witness hesitated, and then said, " I cannot."

I sat down.

"Do you know what J stands for before Berwick in this
order ? " asked the judge-advocate.

" It is the initial letter of the name Jones," said Scranton,
and my new hopes fled.

But Colonel Cantwell said, with something like heat in his
tones : —

" Witness, you have not answered the question properly ; the
court was already aware that Jones begins with a J."

" May it please the court," replied the witness ; " ' in the gross
and scope of my opinion,' I gave a definite answer : I was asked
what a certain J stands for; there are many J's in the world."

LIFE OR DEATH 419

The president frowned. Scranton had had the best of it in
the clash of words, but had not helped his cause. The presi-
dent became alert.

" Do you know Jones Berwick and B. Jones to be one and
the same person, sir ? " asked the president.

"I do not," said the witness, "unless the accused is B.
Jones."

"Then, Mr. Judge-Advocate, it seems that this witness's
testimony is hardly relevant," said the president.

" Pardon me," said the judge-advocate ; " I think I can show
through this witness that there can be no reasonable doubt as
to the identity of Berwick with Jones. Captain Owen, have
you ever seen the Federal Jones Berwick dressed as a Confed-
erate ? "

"Yes, sir; I see him so dressed now; but to answer your
question as it is intended, I will say that on the fifteenth of
last June, I not only saw him in Confederate uniform, but
that he led an attack upon me on that day."

"The accused may question the witness," said the judge-
advocate.

" Did Berwick, dressed in Confederate uniform, admit that
he was a Federal soldier ? " I asked.

" There was no necessity for such admission ; he knew that
I knew him."

Then I said : " The witness has stated that Berwick, as a
Confederate, attacked him, a Confederate. For one Confed-
erate to attack another is not warfare. Will the witness
explain ? "

" The party he led were openly Federals," said Scranton.

" You have said that when you first saw Berwick he was in
General Meade's presence. Were you a prisoner ? "

" It is well known that I went into the Federal army, but
was, while there, serving the Confederate States."

I sat down. I must seem to be confused by Scranton's last
answer.

420 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

But the president took up the case.

"Did Berwick know that you were in the service of the
Confederate States ? " he asked.

" I cannot say positively," was the answer.

At this reply I recovered, and being permitted, continued to
question the witness.

" I wish the witness to state fully the circumstances in
which he saw Jones Berwick first, after the witness left the
Federal army."

" The witness will reply," said the president.

" I saw him on the twenty-first of May. I was then near
Milford Station. The accused brought a party of Federal
cavalry upon my post and pursued us to the river — the Mat-
tapony. We were fired on many times. My party was scat-
tered, and I myself wounded and almost drowned in the river.
It was a miracle that I escaped. Afterward, while slowly
recovering from my wounds, I saw the accused at the house
of a friend who had given me refuge."

"State to the court where and when you then saw Jones
Berwick ? "

" It was in King William County, in the rear of the Federal
army, some miles distant from Hanovertown. On the night
of the twenty-eighth of May, sixty-four, he came to this house.
I did not see him come to it, but I saw him leave it. He
was then on his way to White House, on what mission I
know not."

" When did you next see Jones Berwick ? "

" At the same house he appeared again on the night of the
fourteenth of June, or perhaps I should say on the morning
of the fifteenth, as it was past midnight, nearly day, when I
learned of his presence. He led a body of Federal cavalry
in an attack upon the house in which I was yet laid up
by my wounds. The house was taken by force, and he made
me his prisoner. Several of my friends were killed or
wounded. Later in the day others of my friends rescued me

LIFE OR DEATH 421

while I was being taken under guard to the Federal post at
White House."

" And you saw him no more ? "

" Yes, I saw him again. My friends got me that night to
the south of the Pamunkey, and secured a carriage, in which
to take me to Richmond. On the next evening, near Bottom's
Bridge, my carriage was waylaid by a party of armed men ; a
distinguished companion by my side was maltreated and so
injured that for a long time I thought he was dead, and I
myself dragged into the Chickahominy swamp, and held as a
prisoner by the accused."

"You are sure he was serving at the time as a Federal ? "

" Yes ; the Confederates were near by. He could have taken
me to them at any hour. At the time, the Federal cavalry
were north of the Pamunkey."

" Was he, while dressed as a Confederate, within the Con-
federate lines ? "

" At the time I am speaking of he was in no lines at all."

" Did he do you any injury ? "

"None; except what might be claimed as necessary. He
kept me under guard in the Chickahominy swamp, moving
down it for a week. He and his party feared to leave the
swamp lest the Confederates should come upon them. On the
twenty-third of June he delivered me to Gregg's column of
Federal cavalry, which was then marching from White House
to the south of the James. On the twenty-fourth, near
Charles City Court-House, Gregg's cavalry was attacked by
General Hampton and defeated. In the stampede I was left
without guard, and the Confederates picked me up."

"You have said that Berwick led the party of cavalry
against you at Mil ford Station. Can you state positively that
the man who led the party was a Federal ? "

" He was Berwick, and Berwick is a Federal."

" Was the man who led the party at Milf ord Station dressed
as a Confederate or a Federal ? "

422 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

" I was not near enough to know positively."

" Do you know that the party of cavalry who pursued you
at Milford Station were Federals ? "

" I know it from the wounds I received."

" Was the man who you say left the house in King William
County on the twenty-ninth of May dressed as a Confeder-
ate or a Federal ? "

" He was dressed as a Federal."

" Was the man that you say led the attack on that house on
the morning of the fifteenth of June dressed as a Federal
or a Confederate ? "

" He was dressed as a Confederate."

" Are you sure that the man dressed as a Confederate, and
the man dressed as a Federal were one and the same person ? "

" I am sure of it."

" Were your friends who defended you in the house in King
William County Federals or Confederates ? "

" They were neither."

"Were your friends who were with you at Milford Confed-
erates or Federals ? "

" They were neither."

"Was the leader of the party who assaulted your carriage
dressed as a Confederate or a Federal ? "

" He was dressed as a Confederate."

" Were the men under his command dressed as Confederates
or Federals ? "

The witness refused to answer. The court ordered the
room cleared. When the doors were reopened, the judge-
advocate said : —

" It is decreed by the court that you answer the last ques-
tion of the accused."

" I asked you," said I, " whether the men under command
of the leader who assaulted your carriage were dressed as
Confederates or Federals ? "

"The carriage was stopped in the night," said Scranton.

LIFE OR DEATH 423

" I could not see without. Suddenly the curtain was thrown
aside, and a voice demanded my surrender, exclaiming that I
was surrounded. My companion fired a pistol. The accused,
in retaliation, I must admit, stunned my companion with a
blow. His body fell on me and prevented me from making
resistance ; besides, my worst wound had not yet healed. I
fancied, in the darkness, that I had fallen into a powerful
ambuscade, and I could do nothing but surrender. When I
could at last see outside of the carriage I could see that
Berwick had but one follower — a negro."

" Was the negro dressed as a Confederate or a Federal ? "

" He had on no uniform," said Scranton, scowling.

" How long did you say that this single Confederate, or Fed-
eral, or whatever he was — this Berwick — held you a prisoner
in the Chickahominy swamp? "

"Seven days."

" With what was Berwick armed ? "

" He had a rifle and pistols taken from the carriage. With
one of the pistols he armed the negro."

" During these seven days how did Berwick sustain his pris-
oners ? What seemed to be his source of supply ? "

" The first day he had the provisions captured with the car-
riage. Afterward the negro was sent foraging every day."

" How many persons did Berwick have in his charge ? "

"Two; myself and one other."

" When the negro was absent foraging, did Berwick alone
guard his two prisoners ? "

" Yes."

" Berwick had no other help than this negro ? "

" None that I could see."

" While in the swamp you saw no one else at all ? "

" I saw one man."

" Was this man dressed as a Confederate or a Federal ? "

" He was dressed as a Confederate."

"Who was he?"

424 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

" I do not know."

" The witness will state the circumstances fully," said the
president.

" The day that the accused delivered me to the Federals, a
wounded cavalryman, a Confederate no doubt, rode up to the
accused. They talked together, but I could not hear what was
said. The accused attended to the wound, I think; then he
helped the man on his horse and the man rode off. That is all
I know about it."

" The accused will continue," said the president.

" How was Berwick armed ? With what sort of rifle ? "

" He was armed with an Enfield rifle."

Then the president said, " You say that you were attached
to General Meade's army in some capacity ? "

« Yes, sir."

" You are familiar with the arms of the Federal army ? "

" Yes, sir, in some degree."

" Have you noticed many Enfield rifles in the hands of Fed-
eral infantry ? "

" No, sir, very few. They are almost all armed with Spring-
fields."

" You are understood to say that the accused, when he at-
tacked your carriage with an Enfield rifle, and while he held
you prisoner in the Chickahominy swamp, was in Confederate
uniform."

" Yes, sir."

" You are understood to say that when you were attacked at
Milford, and afterward when you were attacked and rescued
in King William County, that your friends who assisted you
were neither Federals nor Confederates. Who were they ? "

" They were men, sir ; my friends ; not enlisted men of
either army, sir."

" Were they armed ? "

« Yes, sir."

" With what were they armed ? "

LIFE OR DEATH 425

"I would be unable to describe their arms, sir. Some had
carbines and pistols ; others had what suited their fancy."

" Were they dressed in the uniform of Confederates or Fed-
erals, or any uniform ? "

"No, sir."

" Were they mounted men ? That is to say, did they have
horses ? "

" Yes, sir."

" Were they the farmers of the neighbourhood ? "

"No, sir."

" Did they receive pay for their services ? "

" Yes, sir."

" Who paid them ? Were they paid by the United States,
or were they paid by the Confederate States ? "

" By neither, sir."

"The court understands you to say then that these men
under your command were living on the booty that you could
take. Were they partisan rangers regularly enlisted ? "

" No, sir ; and they were not living on booty."

" Who paid them ? "

" I paid them, sir."

" And how did you derive the means for paying them ? "

The witness refused to answer. The court ordered the room
cleared. When the doors were reopened, the judge-advocate
announced that the court had decreed that the witness should
not be forced to answer the question.

" The accused may continue," said the president.

" Can you swear that Berwick, also, was not a guerilla ? "

" He may have been a guerilla at that time, but he had been
a Federal."

" When you were attacked at Milford Station, did you know
of any special reason for the attack ? "

" None, except that I was a Confederate and they were Fed-
erals."

" Were you dressed as a Confederate ? "

426 A FKIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

" I was not."

" Were you dressed as a Federal ?"

"Partly."

" Prior to that time, had Berwick ever seen you in other than
Federal uniform ? "

" Not to my knowledge."

" When he attacked you, did you believe he knew you were
a Confederate ? "

« I did not."

"Did you have any booty that they might hope to recap-
ture ? "

" No booty ; none at all."

"There was nothing of value in your possession that the
party wanted to take from you ? "

" There was no such thing in my possession as is ordinarily
called valuable."

" Did you have nothing whatever which the party wished to
take from you ? "

" Yes ; there was a person in my charge."

" Was this person dressed as a Confederate or a Federal ? "

" The person was dressed neither as a Confederate, nor as a
Federal."

" Was he one of your own comrades ? "

"No."

The president said, "The witness will state the circum-
stances fully."

" The person whom I had in charge was a lady, and I was
conveying her to a place of safety. She was far from her
friends and in my charge."

" The accused will continue," said the president.

" Had this lady willingly put herself under your charge ? "
I asked.

" No ; I cannot say that she had."

" Were you conveying this lady to her home ? "

" I was not."

LIFE OR DEATH 427

" By what means were you conveying her ? "

" She was in an ambulance."

" Was the ambulance Confederate or Federal ? "

" It was neither."

The president said: "You are understood to say that the
ambulance in which you were conveying the lady was neither
Confederate nor Federal. Was it a private ambulance ? "

" Yes, sir, in a sense it was a private ambulance. It was an
ambulance belonging to the Sanitary Commission of the United
States. I had captured this ambulance in the rear of General
Meade's army, and for some time I knew nothing of its con-
tents, it being in the night. When I looked into it I found
there was a lady in it."

" The accused will continue," said the president.

" Did you know who this lady was ? " I asked.

" Yes."

" When you were attacked there at Milford, did you resist ? "

" No ; I did not resist."

" In your retreat did you save the ambulance and the lady ? "

" I did not."

" Did you endeavour to do so ? "

« Yes."

" Did Berwick know that this lady was with you ? "

" I do not know that he knew it when he attacked me."

" Did he know this lady ? "

" Yes."

" When Berwick attacked you in King William County, were
you and your men dressed as Federals or Confederates ? "

" No ; we were not dressed as either."

"At that time were there any valuables in your possession
which Berwick wanted to take from you ? "

" We had nothing which could be called valuable."

"Did you have a lady prisoner on that occasion ? "

" I did not."

" Did you have any prisoner ? "

428 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

"I had."

" Was this person a Confederate or a Federal ? "

" He was neither."

The president said : " You were understood to say that you
had a prisoner in your keeping, and that this prisoner was nei-
ther a Federal nor a Confederate. Who was this prisoner ? "

"Mr. Showalter, sir."

"A citizen?"

" Yes, sir."

" Where did he reside ? "

" In the house upon which the attack took place, sir."

The president said, " The accused may continue."

" I have no further questions, sir," I replied.

"The court stands adjourned until to-morrow morning at
nine o'clock," said the president.

XXXVIII

LIFE AND DEATH

" To the last moment of his breath,

On hope the wretch relies ;
And even the pang preceding death
Bids expectation rise." — GOLDSMITH.

AT night Sergeant Wilson came. He was cheerful — said
that Captain Barnwell was feeling much better over the case.

" You'll get through, Jones, I hope," said Wilson, " unless
somethin' happens I can't see into. That fellow Owen got his
dose to-day."

" Why didn't Captain Barnwell come with you, Sergeant ? "

" Had to go on picket. And then, you know, it's six miles
off. Say, Jones, can't you help out your case in some way ? If
you could only show up where you've been, and what you've
been doin', you know."

" Sergeant, that was a tenstrike of yours — telling ;em about
my absence after Fredericksburg."

" Well, I reckon you've been sick this time, too, and maybe
more'n once," said Wilson ; " all that dam stuff about Berwick
— why, there's not a man on that court can't see Owen was
talkin' about another man. And I believe Owen knows it
himself."

Wilson's suggestion that I add strength to my cause made
me uneasy. I had not intended to say one word about the
manner of my joining Company H, but now I decided to call
for Dr . Frost, and I asked the sergeant to see him for me, and
to get him to send for Colonel Haskell.

429

430 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

When the court opened on the next morning the judge-
advocate announced that there was no other witness for the
government, but that Lieutenant Chappell would be questioned
again in the presence of Private Osborn Chappell, Twelfth
South Carolina volunteers, a witness for the accused.

Lieutenant Chappell took the stand and repeated substan-
tially his previous testimony, yet with some hesitation, which
meant, I hoped, that he had seen his brother and was staggered.

Private Chappell was then sworn.

I asked Chappell if he recognized me.

" Of course I do," said he ; " I've been with you enough to
know you."

" State the circumstances fully."

" On the fifth of May, in the battle of The Wilderness, the
accused fought by my side. In the Bloody Angle I saw him
again and talked with him. At Riddell's Shop I was wounded
and saw him then; he helped me off the field and divided
rations with me."

Lieutenant Chappell asked that he might change his
testimony.

He desired, he said, to do no injustice ; while he had been
convinced that the man whom he had held prisoner in The
Wilderness was the accused, his brother's testimony had
caused him to doubt ; he could not now swear positively that
this was not a remarkable case of mistaken identity.

The officers' faces showed unmistakable signs of satisfaction.

The judge-advocate questioned Private Chappell.

" Do you know the name of the accused ? "

" Yes, sir, Jones — Berwick Jones."

" Remarkable," said the president, audibly.

The reply of Chappell seemed peculiarly unfortunate. I
asked the judge-advocate to be sure that Dr. Frost was sent
for.

Now the judge-advocate said : —

" The accused has furnished me with the names of several

LIFE AND DEATH 43*

witnesses who cannot be produced. I have the name of Cap-
tain J. T. Fender, of the Fifty-fifth North Carolina. Captain
Fender, I understand, is at home suffering from a dangerous
wound. I have the name of Sergeant Madison F. Hawthorne of
the Twelfth South Carolina, said by the accused to have given
him a receipt on the third of July last for one prisoner turned
over. I learn that Sergeant Hawthorne was killed at the battle
of Jones's Farm, last September. I have also the name of
Sergeant Crump, of the Fourth Virginia cavalry, who, the
accused claims, rescued him in The Wilderness from the Fed-
eral cavalry. I learn that Sergeant Crump is a prisoner. I
have the name of Colonel A. C. Haskell, formerly adjutant of
the regiment to which the accused belongs, and brother to Cap-
tain Haskell, who, if he were in life, could throw some light
on this peculiar case. Colonel Haskell is in command of the
Seventh South Carolina cavalry and is many miles from this
spot. The accused, however, wishes the trial to proceed and
waives all claim to delay necessary to submit interrogatories."

Cyrus Ruff, Twelfth South Carolina, was sworn. He testified
that on the evening of November 29th, 1863, he had seen me in
the line of battle at Mine Run. Being questioned by the judge-
advocate as to the definiteness of his identification, Ruff said :
" Oh, I know him ; I was with him in Haskell's battalion ; and
as to my knowing him that night, he sat down by the fire
with a crowd of us boys and staid there, talking and smoking
until after dark. I know Sergeant Jones."

Benjamin Rothwell, Company H, First South Carolina vol-
unteers, was sworn.

Promptly's testimony was to the effect that on the 12th of
May I had fought by his side in the Bloody Angle, and that he,
the witness, and Jones, had both been knocked down by a tree
which fell on some of the men. He swore further that he
thought Jones had been killed by the tree.

" Why did you think that ? " asked the judge-advocate.

" 'Cause when I got strength enough to crawl out I called to

432 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

him. He was a-layin' almost on top of me. I felt him and
shook him. All our men had gone, and I didn't want to leave
him there if he was alive, 'cause the Yankees would get him."

" And did the Yankees get him ? "

" I reckon they did. I left him there, and never saw him
any more till the other day."

Private West Norton, Company A, McGowan's sharp-
shooters, testified that on July 3d, I had been with him and
a few other sharp-shooters who were skirmishing with the
Yankees on the north side of James River ; that he knew me
very well — had marched with me and slept with me in the
old battalion.

Sergeant J. D. Hall, Company E, Thirty-eighth North Caro-
lina, Scales's brigade, was sworn.

The sergeant testified that on the morning of December 31st,
he being on the skirmish-line where the sharp-shooters after-
ward passed through to surprise the enemy, a man had come
into the pits from the front, and had reported that some of his
vedettes had left their posts and gone to the Yankees. He
had gone out and found the report true, and had posted new
vedettes. He could not positively swear that the accused was
the man who had given him the information.

Private Frank Meadows, of Company E, Thirty-eighth North
Carolina regiment, testified similarly to Sergeant Hall, and
swore positively that the accused was the man who had reported
that the vedettes had deserted. Upon being questioned fur-
ther, he said that he could see the man's face better than Ser-
geant Hall could, because before he woke up Hall, the accused
had come within the light of the fire — had sat by the fire to
warm.

" Where did he go ? " asked the judge-advocate.

" He went down on the right," said the witness ; " he said
he was looking for the sharp-shooters."

Dr. F. L. Frost was sworn ; he testified as follows : —

(< About the third of June, sixty-two — I being then the sur-

LIFE AND DEATH 433

geon of the First South Carolina regiment, — the accused was
brought insensible to my hospital tents. There had been
some artillery firing at the front, and he had been picked up
by our infirmary men. I found a large but superficial contu-
sion on the occiput, and a very slight one covering the glabel-
lum," putting his hand first at the back of his head, and then
between the eyes. " He soon recovered consciousness, but was
unable to speak. When at last he did speak, I knew from the
nature of his replies that his mind was in a state of confusion.
He did not seem to know at first where he was, or even what
was going on about him. Before he had recovered power to
speak I had sent to the adjutant of the brigade a description
of the man, believing his friends had missed him and were
anxious, as nobody around appeared to be interested in him.
The adjutant had instituted inquiries throughout the brigade
without avail, yet the man evidently belonged to our brigade,
for he had palmetto buttons on his jacket. When he was able
to speak and understand, he showed at first an inordinate curi-
osity, but no healthy interest. I at last told him plainly that
he was a soldier, and that the country was at war, but he
would not believe me. It was evident that he had lost the
memory of events for nearly three years past. He remembered
being at some place in South Carolina, but could not remember
his home. He even had his name mixed. On a diary in his
pocket he had his name written B. Jones, while he insisted
that his name was Jones Berwick. I consulted Adjutant Has-
kell — now Colonel Haskell — concerning the case, and we
agreed that the best thing to do with him upon his recovery,
which was soon expected, would be to place him in Company
H, of the First, with the special condition, of course, that he
be returned to his own company whenever called for. It was
a very curious and interesting case. I learned afterward that
under Captain Haskell the man became a very fine soldier. I
know that Captain Haskell was greatly attached to him, and
I know also from sources not to be doubted that the accused
2r

434 A FKIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

became very disconsolate after Captain Haskell's death at
Gettysburg. When I heard that he was missing, my opinion
was that he had recovered his memory and had gone back to
his proper command."

Dr. Frost here paused, and then said, " There is one other
thing I ought to say. My patient was morbidly sensitive
concerning his mental condition. He feared that he would
become a gazing-stock, so to speak, and he joined Company
H as a raw recruit, investing money in new citizens' cloth-
ing, in order that nobody might suspect that he had been
in the service before; he said the men would wonder at a
soldier's joining them, and would ask questions that he could
not answer. I am quite sure that there were only three per-
sons who knew the truth — Captain Haskell, Adjutant
Haskell, and myself. I have never heard anything of his
original and proper command, and I have always wondered
why somebody didn't claim him ; yet, as I say, when I learned
that he was missing I supposed that he had recovered and had
returned to his company."

When Dr. Frost had ended, the president said, " I think it's
high time to wind up this case and get at something else."

The words might mean nothing; the tones were full of
hopeful meaning.

" One moment more, sir, if you please," said the judge-advo-
cate. " Will Colonel Brown please take the stand ? "

Colonel J. N. Brown, commanding McGowan's brigade,
was sworn.

I asked him if he knew me.

He testified that he recognized me as one Berwick Jones,
whom he had first observed in the battle of Spottsylvania, and
afterward in that of Jericho Ford.

" I have heard a good deal of the conflicting testimony of
this case," said the colonel, "and I think I can throw some
little light on it. The accused was not captured at Spottsyl-
vania, for I know that he was at Jericho Ford not two weeks

LIFE AND DEATH 435

later ; there he and I were both captured. I had asked him
the way to the Fourteenth regiment, and had ordered him to
lead me, but I failed to follow his direction, and I am sorry
that I didn't, for I led him into a trap ; we both got caught.
It is not surprising that a prisoner doesn't report to his com-
pany."

This ended the testimony.

The president said, " Has the accused anything to say in his
own vindication ? "

I rose and said : " May it please the court ; I do not deny
that I have been at times absent from Company H. There
have been times when I was compelled to be absent from Com-
pany H. There have been times in my life, gentlemen, when I
knew not where I was, or who I was. Such was my condition
when I was brought to Doctor Frost. This is all I have to
say, gentlemen — if the words of those who have borne testi-
mony against me are true without extenuation, then I ought to
be condemned by the court ; but one thing I do know, gentle-
men : I never did, knowingly and wilfully, desert my colours."
Then I sat down.

The judge-advocate made a short, closing speech, giving
Owen's testimony great weight ; yet I could tell that his sym-
pathy was not with Owen.

The court ordered the room cleared ; in less than two min-
utes the doors were thrown open and the long agony was over.

But no; it was not over; when I heard the words "Not
guilty," my tense restraint loosened, and I almost fell into the
outstretched arms of Wilson, who saw my weakness. Previ-
ously I had fought with all my will ; now, when will was no
longer needed, body and mind underwent a relaxation, un-
wholesome and confusing. Complete indifference had come
upon me ; physical sensation was dulled ; thought stood still ;
I cared not for South or for North — for myself or for my kind.

I went with Wilson to Company H. I began to be sick —
horribly sick. The surgeon of the regiment was sent for. He

436 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

found me lying in Wilson's own bunk in his little shanty. He
felt my pulse, looked at my tongue, and said : —

"Nervous prostration. You've had enough to kill you j just
keep quiet."

In the late afternoon I was sinking into a doze, when I
felt some one shake me. Wilson stood by ; he looked very
serious.

" Bad news, old man," he said.

"Let me sleep," I muttered.

He said something which I did not catch; then he leaned
over and shook me again.

" Get up, Jones ; some men want to see you."

" I don't want to see anybody."

" But you must get up ; you're wanted."

" What is it, Sergeant ? "

" I don't know what it's about, but you must get up."

When I had crawled out of the bunk, and crept out of the
hut, I saw a corporal and two men.

" Are you B. Jones ? " asked the corporal.

« Yes."

" You are under arrest ; come with me."

I did not move ; I did not understand. " Go with you for
what?" I asked.

" I've got nothin' to do with that part of it ; all I've got to
do is to obey my orders."

" Where are you to take me ? "

" To the guard-house."

Wilson had brought out my blankets ; he started to go along
with us. " Some mistake," he grumbled.

" Sergeant," I said, " please go see Captain Barnwell and ask
why I am arrested."

The circumstance was very odd, I thought — I should say
fancied, for I was yet in a semi-stupor, and could not think
connectedly. Yet I had no fears. There was nothing against
me now — could be nothing. I had stood my trial and had

LIFE AND DEATH 437

gone free — rightly free. My conscience was clear ... as for
serving the Confederates again, of course I had no such inten-
tion— such an intention would have been impossibly unscru-
pulous . . . had I said anything in my sleep ?

I was not long in suspense ; a suspense, however, but little
beyond indifference. Wilson came to the guard-house.

" What is it now, Sergeant ? "

" Jones, it's the most ridiculous story I ever heard."

" Out with it ! "

" That Captain Owen accuses you of being a Yankee spy !
Says that when you came to us at first you were a Yankee

spy!"

*******

Saturday night. They were quick about it. That night,
last night it was, I made up my mind to plead guilty. My
will was exhausted in yesterday's struggle. Besides, it is
impossible for me to fight what I know to be true. I had
fought the charge of desertion, — that charge had been untrue ;
before the truth I was powerless. Life was at stake ; as yet,
not fully recovered from prostration, I did not value life ; at
least its value was not appreciated as it now is ; yet I wish to
declare solemnly that my act of deciding to yield the contest
was not for the reason that I did not value life ; now that I
know what is before me I do not repent my act. My condi-
tion is such that there can be no egotism. I wish to give my
friends the comfort of knowing that I did not contest the
truth. I had incurred the penalty of military law. When I
went into the Confederate lines, in the night of June 2d, 1862,
I took my life in my hands, and I now had no right to
complain.

Wilson has brought me some sheets of yellow Confederate
paper; I have wished to devote these last few hours to my
friends whom I shall not see in this little life. God knows
how I love them, how I weep for their weeping, how I wish
to comfort them, and how I pray God to be with them always.

438 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

But Lydia, I want you to know the truth — that I stood for
what I thought right — that I would not deny the truth.
*******

Sunday. I have written out what has happened since last I
saw my Lydia — mine, even now, I know. I thank my friends
here in this army for their kindness . . . the officers of the
court — they were kind . . . they could not help what they
have done ... I saw tears in their eyes . . . and for old John
Wilson, I have no words that can give my feeling. God bless
you, John. You will find my friends and will give them this,
and I want Lydia, when she reads it, to give you my kiss.
*******

Doctor, — my friend — my more than father, — farewell. I
have loved you. You have been my guide . . . how I treasure
your teachings . . . they comfort me now, as I go into the
darkness ... for I believe ... I believe you. ... I believe
God . . . this is not the last . . . Doctor . . . Father . . .
farewell !

*******

Monday. 0 my Lydia — my sweet true-hearted one . . . what
can I say to you ? Nothing — nothing — except that I was
true, and that I know I shall be with you again — in another
land where there is no war. Be not angry against my accusers
... it is military law. It is hard to leave you, dear — hard —
hard . . . and I think it hard, too, that I am to die at the hands
of my old comrades by whose sides I fought so long; you
know that I have never harmed one of them ; that all my best
service, all my real service was given for them, for my life
under General Meade has been a failure — a complete failure.
Everything I've attempted has failed — in The Wilderness,
and at the salient, and at Riddell's, and now. Nothing I've
done since I left Lee's army has succeeded — except the matter
of Scherzer . . . and success in that case was not mine, Lydia,
— it was your father's. But, dear, this is useless talk now —
I must think of your sweet face, and not of my disappointed

LIFE AND DEATH 439

past. Oh, love, love me ! I need you, dear. ... I am weak,
. . . weak ... I should sink but for remembering your father's
words.

They are getting ready. My love — my love, what can I
say to you? . . . They are coming. . . . Love — love me;
good-by. . . .

XXXIX

FROM LYDIA'S NARRATION

How slowly the days went by ! Winter, spring with its
joys annihilated by man's wickedness, and then the long, long
days in Virginia where death raged under the Dog-star, and
when the time was spent in naught but shedding blood.

When Jones returned to me on the Rappahannock it was
my wish that he should retire from the service; his three
years of enlistment had nearly expired, and it would have been
so easy for him to secure an honourable discharge ; every one
who saw him said that he looked utterly unable to do more.
And when Father and he agreed that he should serve General
Meade in those mysterious channels where he worked, I was
utterly opposed; but no; they would not listen to me; I could
not have my way. My opposition to Jones's work was extreme ;
I felt the awful danger that he was always running, and I
knew that some day he would be captured, and if captured he
would be certain to be recognized, for if any one ever saw
Jones he would surely know him again. He has said in his
description of himself as a Confederate that he was ugly — but
it is not so; he never was ugly even in his moments of great-
est suffering and neglect — he was by far the handsomest man
I ever saw ; not handsome after the order of a ready-made pic-
ture, — made with colour and adornment, — but handsome as a
man ought to be. One had only to see his face once to know
there was something in him — something of life and honour
and truth and intelligence. I know that Father thought there
was no man on earth as good as Jones — I believe he loved
him more than he loved me.

440

FKOM LYDIA'S NARRATION 441

On the night when Father showed Jones those buttons I was
more than usually wretched ; Jones had just come back from
the Mine Run march, where he had seen and talked with some
of his old comrades. He had returned safely, yet my fears
were not lessened by his return ; I had made him that reversi-
ble clothing, and I now began to repent what I had done ; my
fears told me that such a device only increased his danger ; if
he should be suspected and examined, he would be lost. And
when they began to talk about those buttons, it looked to me
as though everything was conspiring to bring ruin on Jones.
What did I care whether he succeeded in passing our pickets ?
I wished that no picket would ever let him pass out of our
army. This button with its perpetual countersign was but a
new danger, for it would only make Jones more venturous, and
even before Father began to suspect Captain Scranton of covet-
ing it, I coveted it, and determined to have it. So while they
were talking about some other matters that night, I quietly
took away the marked button, and substituted for it one left
over from my supply purchased for the reversible uniform.
Captain Scranton did not get that button then, though he may
have taken others.

When Father sent for me to come and nurse Jones after that
horrible Angle battle, I learned that Jones had missed his
button, and that he attributed his being forced in that battle
to its loss ; but suppose the Confederate men who saved him
should have found him in the act of showing that button and
its contents to our men ? I kept the button. But when our
ambulance was captured by Captain Scranton, with poor me in
it, some of his men stole my little satchel, and I know now
how Mr. Scranton came at last into possession of General
Meade's order and of the little wrench, for I had that also. I
said nothing of this to Jones, for he was having trouble enough,
but I did tell Father.

When Jones went to Richmond on that desperate undertak-
ing in regard to the French nobleman, neither he nor Father

442 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

told me a word about it, and I expected him to return in a few
days, but a week went by and I became very uneasy ; my sleep
was troubled, and in my waking hours, even, I could see him
in distress. This state of mind continued until it became
really intolerable, and at last I persuaded Father to act. No
sooner had Father gone to Jones's help in Richmond than
I became satisfied, and remained so. I could not account
for this then, nor can I now ; all I know is that such was the
case.

The latter part of March came, and Jones had been gone
from us for nearly three months. I was in agony. Not a word
had been heard from him. I had gone to see Colonel Sharpe
more than once, and had begged him to inquire thoroughly of
eveiy deserter from Lee's army about Jones ; for deserters were
coming in every night, some of them, I knew, from General
Hill's troops, and it would not be strange if some of them
should know something. In February I had sent York into
Richmond, but he had returned without a word of news.
Jones had not been seen or heard of by any of his friends
there.

My anxiety became almost madness. Father was on the
north side, and I could not see him, and I had nothing what-
ever to comfort me. I knew something was the matter with
Jones, and my mind became so restless that I could not do good
work in the hospital, and my condition was rapidly growing
worse. I imagined Jones sick, in prison, starving, in danger
of his life from those Confederates ; I felt sure they had
taken him.

Very early one Monday morning late in March I was greatly
astonished to see Colonel Sharpe come into my ward.1 I was
more than astonished — I was terrified. He came to me at
once, and said, " Miss Khayme, are you strong ? " My heart

1 Thia officer had been recently promoted. He was now Brevet Brigadier-
general Sharpe. We have thought best to leave the title as the writer has it

— the title to which she was accustomed. [ED.]

FROM LYDIA'S NARRATION 443

— no, I had no heart — everything turned black before my
eyes, for I knew what he meant ; but I had strength enough
to say, " Anything is better than suspense."

" Colonel Berwick is in great danger, my dear young lady."
Then I burst out crying, for these words really brought a little
relief ; I had thought that he was going to tell me that Jones
was dead.

" Where is he ? " I asked.

" A prisoner," said he.

" Where ? "

" In front of our left, beyond the Weldon railroad," said he.

" How did you learn it ? " I asked.

"Some deserters from McGowan's brigade came in last
night," he replied.

" And you say he is in danger ? "

" Yes ; very grave danger ; no man could be in greater,"
were his words.

" Then they know him ? "

" Yes ; they know him, and worse."

" Worse ? " I cried. " Tell me all ! "

" Four days ago he was tried as a deserter from the Confed-
erate army — he was acquitted; Saturday he was tried as a
Federal spy and was convicted."

" Oh, no. no, no ! " I cried, although I knew that what he said
was not surprising.

" It is very sadly true," said he ; " he has but a few hours."

" Colonel, I am going to General Lee — I am going to Gen-
eral Lee — help me, please help me, to get to General Lee ! "
and when I cried out these words I had no idea that he would
do it ; but he said at once : —

" You can't do any harm, and I will help you, but you must
be quick ; you have not one moment to lose ! "

I sank down in a chair and covered my face with my hands,
and I prayed, oh ! how I prayed.

But I rose again and looked at Colonel Sharpe.

444 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

" If I can only get to Colonel Paull," I cried, " I know he
will see that I get to General Lee ! "

" I had expected you to try it," he said ; and oh ! that gave
me a little hope. " I came by General Meade's headquarters
and told him ; and I have orders to help you in every way pos-
sible. Now just remain here one instant," and he went away,
but came back at once, and led me out. Then I saw our
ambulance, with big, strong horses, and a great yellow flag
flying, and there were five or six mounted men, one of them
an officer, and York was sitting on the seat. Colonel Sharpe
said something and gave something to the officer, who at once
turned and rode off to the south, followed hard by his men,
and then York roared at his horses and drove as fast as he
could.

Where we were going I did not know, but I was sure that
Colonel Sharpe knew, and I felt not one bit of fear for myself,
which was all the worse for me, as it kept my anguish full in
thinking of Jones. Ahead of us cannons were firing and
smoke was rising, but after a while we passed beyond the smoke
and turned west, and I remember we crossed a railroad, and
then went for a long distance through woods and fields, every-
where seeing our men in the long yellow trenches. But we
went even beyond the trenches, and then turned north, York
whipping the poor horses at almost every step to keep in sight
of the men before us.

We had not gone north very far when I saw our horsemen
stop, and we came up with them.

The officer handed me an envelope and said : —

" We can go no farther. You are to deliver this to its ad-
dress in case you find it advisable. It is from General Meade
to General Lee, and I am ordered to tell you that you are
advised to be cautious in handing it to him; you must not
hand it to him at all unless you know that it is absolutely nec-
essary, because it is possible that he would be offended at what
he might regard as interference — a threat, you understand,

FROM LYDIA'S NARRATION 445

madam. We are going to remain here until we see that you
get safely within the rebel lines. You can see them now.
Have no fears of their injuring you; the yellow flag will pro-
tect you."

Then he ordered York to drive on, and down the hill we
went, for a little while in the woods, but soon there were no
more woods, and I could see some men standing in the road.
Before the ambulance reached them, they said, " Halt ! " and
York obeyed. Then two of them stepped forward and came
close to the ambulance and asked York what he meant by
coming.

I pulled aside a curtain, and then saw that one of the men
was wearing a sword, and I asked if he could send me to Col-
onel Paull. He replied that he would be compelled to keep
me, but would send for Colonel Paull, who was not on duty
this day. I begged him earnestly to lose no time, but he did
lose time ; he was gone so long that I thought he would never
return, but at last Colonel Paull himself rode up, and demanded
to know what was wanted, and before I could reply, he cried
out, " By the Lord ! I believe this is Doctor Khayme's ambu-
lance ! "

Then, in a flood of tears, I leaned forward and tried to
speak.

He dismounted and came to me and begged me to compose
myself, saying that no harm should come to me, and begged
me to tell him my trouble.

When, after more than one failure, I had made him know
the reason of my distress, and had besought him to send me to
General Lee at once, he instantly mounted, and told York to
drive after him, and away we went again — north, north,
always north, until — when it was full midday — we were go-
ing through the streets of a town, and I knew it was Peters-
burg, for the noise of the cannons was now behind us and at
the east. Colonel Paull stopped and helped me out of the am-
bulance ; at the door of the house there was a sentinel, but he

446 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

made no opposition to our entering. We went upstairs. The
colonel said to me, " Remain here one moment, please, and
collect all your resources." Then he went on into a room
where I could hear voices of men, and the door closed behind
him. I was in a kind of small anteroom — or rather a large
turning space at the top of the stairs ; an old settee was there,
and I was sitting there, not frightened in the least in regard
to my interview with General Lee, except as it concerned
Jones ; all at once the door opened and two men walked toward
me, one of them the grandest looking old man I ever saw, and
Colonel Paull said, " General, this is the lady who saved my
life — and that of other Confederates."

The general took my hand and said : —

" The women put us to shame ; their devotion has no limits."

I thought by this speech that he was wholly unaware of my
purpose, for he seemed to think me a Southern woman, and I
said : —

" General, you must not think me in favour of the South.
I have come to beg you for the life of a Union soldier."

He still held my hand. I had risen at his approach. Now
he said, " Let us sit down here. Colonel, won't you please sit
with us ? "

The three of us were there on the settee, I in the middle.

"No," said the general; "Colonel Paull has told me who
you are, but he has not informed me fully as to your present
visit."

He spoke wearily, yet with the utmost courtesy in manner
and tone. And now I stood before him, he sitting there and
looking up into my face, which I know was red and distorted.
And words came to me — words given by thoughts born in that
instant.

" General, listen. A man comes into your army dressed as a
Confederate ; he does nothing against you except that ; as soon
as he gets into your army, God destroys his purpose; God
makes of this Union soldier a Confederate soldier who serves

FROM LYDIA'S NARRATION 447

under Lee and Jackson ; he serves well ; in the very first bat-
tle — the first victory which you won with this army, General,
this man falls far in front of hesitating men. He recovers and
fights for your army at Manassas and Harper's Ferry and An-
tietam and Chancellorsville and Gettysburg. General Lee, are
you going to kill this man ? No ! You are not the one to kill
him ! Let the Union men kill him, if anybody must ! They
are the ones he fought ! "

" But why should I kill him ? Who is he ? Tell me, Colo-
nel ; tell me this case. I never heard of this. What is it ?
Please be seated again, my child."

Colonel Paull told the general the case ; how that B. Jones
had been tried for desertion and found not guilty, and that at
once he had been tried as a spy and had plead guilty, and had
been sentenced.

The general rose and went to the door, and I could hear him
say a few words — "Third corps — papers — Jones," and I
could hear another voice in reply to him.

Then he came back to us and said : —

" Colonel, can you give me any explanation of this matter ?
Why did this spy join us ? "

Before Colonel Paull could answer, I exclaimed : —

" General, I have known Jones for many years. Mr. Ber-
wick, who is known as Jones by your army, lost his memory
— had lost his memory more than once before — and he knew
no better than to join your army."

Then Colonel Paull added, timidly I thought, but in order,
no doubt, not to appear as a voluntary adviser of the great
general : —

" As I understand the matter, General, the charge to which
Jones pleads guilty is out of date according to Article 88."

" What mean you, Colonel ? "

"The offence was committed more than two years ago,
sir."

" Ah ! yes ; but you forget the condition in Article 88 — the

448 A FBIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

accused has not been amenable to justice within the two years ;
we haven't been able to get him." *

" Amenable to justice ! " I cried ; " what is it to be amenable
to justice ? Is to be one of General Stonewall Jackson's men
until General Jackson fell to be amenable ? Why was he not
amenable ? Did he escape ? Instead of escaping he joined you !
Did he absent himself from your justice? Instead of that,
he became one of you ! He was one of you for nearly eight
months of your stipulated two years ! Not amenable to justice !
Why not ? A man marching and fighting under General A. P.
Hill for nearly two years not amenable ? Amenable for what ?
You did not even know that any offence had been committed ! "

General Lee rose. He said : " We have not very much time.
It is now two o'clock, and at three" — he did not finish.
"Colonel, I shall ask you to serve me at once by riding to
McGowan's brigade, as it is on your way back. Give my ver-
bal order to delay. I shall give Miss Khayme the pleasure of
taking to her friend a written respite for a week ; that is the
best I can do, my child — no, no, no; no thanks — I wish I
could do more — and maybe I can in the end — but I must
look into this matter fully."

Colonel Paull had rushed from the room.

All my strength forsook me; I sank back on the seat. Gen-
eral Lee had disappeared. Oh, my friends, you cannot under-
stand the conflicting emotions which now raged in me. Had I
succeeded ? I knew that I had in a measure, but this respite
might mean only a prolongation of agony. Yet I might well
hope, I thought, that this grand man, this kind gentleman,
after having once taken upon himself the issue of life in
Jones's case, could not willingly be cruel in the end. A week

1 The Confederate States Article of War, No. 88, read as follows : No per-
son shall be liable to be tried and punished by a general oourt martial for
any offence which shall appear to have been committed more than two years
before the issuing of the order for such trial, unless the person, by reason of
having absented himself or some other manifest impediment, shall not have
been amenable to justice within that period. [En.]

FROM LYDIA'S NARRATION 449

of torturing suspense and Jones should then be free ? Oh, no;
I could not hope for that ! Hope that General Lee would let
him go without any punishment at all ? How could I hope for
that ? Jones would be held a prisoner ; even at/ the best he
would be held a prisoner until the end of the war. Yet, I
must say, my physical weakness was not the result of these
thoughts ; it came, I don't know how or why — Father thought
it was a natural reaction.

General Lee did not return ; he sent out an orderly. I have
always thought since that the general did not wish to see my
emotion, perhaps wished to avoid my overflowing gratitude.
The orderly handed me an unsealed envelope, and told me that
he was to accompany me in order to show me the way. As
soon as I was in the ambulance again, I opened the envelope
and read the order which General Lee had written ; it was
couched in the following words : —

" HEADQUARTERS ARMT NORTHERN VIRGINIA,

" March 27, 1865.
" COMMAICDIWG OFFICER McGowAN's BRIGADE :

" The execution of the sentence in the case against B. Jones alias Jones
Berwick will be postponed until further orders.

"R. E. LEE,
" General Commanding."

York was crying by my side ; I had taken the seat in front.

" Oh, York," said I, " we have saved him ! We have saved
him!"

" Yes, Miss Lydia, I hope so ! " said York. " Colonel Paull
told me when he came out, but I think we'd betteh hurry up ! "

It was fully five miles, so I learned afterward, to the place.
We had three-quarters of an hour only, but Colonel Paull had
an hour and was well mounted. But York's fears increased
mine, and I told him to drive hard — the orderly was a little
distance in front of us, going rapidly, but his horse was not a
very good one. What, 0 my God, what if something should
happen now !
2o

450 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

At places all along the road we could hear the cannons ; but
the noises were far to our left hand, the most of them, and we
were in no danger. We passed troops of all sorts, some of
them going and some of them coming, and once we had to get
out of the road to let them march by. What if Colonel Paull
had been detained !

And I begged York, though he needed no begging, to beat
those poor horses which had already worked so hard, and we
went on fast really, though the pace seemed like creeping.
And at last we came to a place where we saw in the distance
some troops formed into three sides of a square, and here we
had to pause a moment, for the road had some wagons in it,
and as we paused I heard the most dreadful music that had
ever sounded in my ears. Then I saw the orderly riding very
fast and waving his hand to us and shouting, but I did not
know what he said; and York again started, and we got to
the top of the hill, at one end of the troops, who were all
standing still and looking at the vacant side of the square,
where were marching slowly a few men, following the dreadful
music ; and I could see Jones, too, marching, marching with
them, all by himself, with his hands tied behind his back,
keeping step between two small bodies of armed men. And
then I saw a man running — running fast and waving his hat
as he ran, and shouting, and I knew that he was Colonel Paull,
and he was running straight to the marching men, and then I
saw a man on horseback go fast toward Mr. Paull, and he
reached him, and then rode on and stopped the marching men.
I don't know how long all this was in happening ; all I knew
was that there was my Jones, in the hands of the men for
whom he had fought so hard, and now they were about to kill
him. Then I saw them unbind Jones, and I could see that
Colonel Paull was talking to him, and Jones knelt down on the
ground, with his face toward me, and clasped his hands together,
with his head bare, and waved his hands up at the sky and
toward me, and then I saw no more.

XL

ANNULMENT

" God's in his heaven :
All's right with the world." — BSOWNINO.

WHEN I saw Dr. Khayme's ambulance, and learned from
the gallant Colonel Paull that General Lee, at Lydia's appeal,
had suspended the preparations made for carrying out the
sentence of the court martial, the love of life returned to me
in almost overpowering emotion, and for a few seconds I was
incapable of giving utterance to thought. In a short time,
however, Lydia's condition became a subject of great anxiety.
I knew that I was to be held under guard, — perhaps sent back
to Richmond, — and I feared that the doubtful standing of an
occupant of a foreign ambulance here in the Confederate army
would cause her great embarrassment, if not actual suffering.
While these thoughts were going through my mind, Colonel
Brown rode up and spoke to Colonel Paull.

"I suppose, Colonel, you have authority ?" said Brown.

" Yes, sir," was the reply ; " I have direct though verbal
orders from General Lee. He was to give the written order
to a friend of mine who was to follow, and I see that she has
arrived."

" You were just in the nick of time," said Colonel Brown.

" Yes, sir," responded Paull ; " I should have been here
before you formed, but my horse fell and broke his leg and
injured me a little, so that I was delayed. I think I was
worse scared than hurt, though."

" What is the nature of General Lee's order ? "

461

452 A FRIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

" A respite for a week," said Paull ; then added, " Miss
Khayme, in the ambulance up there, has the written order."

An officer was now sent to the ambulance ; he returned and
handed a message to Colonel Brown.

" Ah ! " said Brown, after reading, " I see that it is a little
broader than you supposed, Colonel; it says the sentence is
suspended until further orders."

I begged Colonel Paull to go to Lydia, and he consented at
once, but delayed. He said to Colonel Brown, " I shall wish
to see you privately, Colonel."

" With great pleasure," said Brown ; " I'll be at leisure just
as soon as I can dismiss the regiments," and he rode to the
head of the brigade.

" Mr. Berwick," said Paull, " I shall try to arrange for Miss
Khayme to visit you. Of course you wish that? "

" Colonel, you will add greatly to my gratitude," I said-
Then he went toward the ambulance. The platoon was
marched to camp, leaving me under a sergeant and two men,
who escorted me back to the guard-house.

In the course of an hour or two — while night was gathering
— Colonel Paull brought Lydia to me. I must forbear. . . .

What to do with Lydia — now that she was here — troubled
me extremely. Colonel Paull suggested trouble in regard to
York also ; some of the men, and some of the officers even, had
been heard to use language that could have no other meaning
than anger in consequence of a supposed Federal negro's pres-
ence in the camps. I told him that York had never been a
combatant, and that, moreover, he was not a slave; this gave
the colonel great pleasure to hear ; he could now, he said, allay
all feeling on that most delicate subject. He entered into our
troubles in regard to Lydia, and we discussed the situation in
all its lights. Something must be done at once, for I had
already been notified that by the next train I must start under
guard for Richmond. It could not be expected that the Con-
federates would allow Lydia to pass back into General Meade's

ANNULMENT 453

lines — indeed, she did not desire to do so; she wanted to re-
main as near me as possible. The end of the matter was that
Colonel Paull rode off to see General A. P. Hill, and secured
from him written authority for Lydia to go to Richmond, with
a note to General Ewell, in command there, asking that her
services as a nurse be required in some one of the Confederate
hospitals.

Colonel Paull told me that Owen had been no eager party to
my first trial, — in fact had learned of the trial almost by acci-
dent, — but had been the one who had preferred charges against
me as a spy. My admission that my name was Jones Berwick
had put Scranton on the right scent, and he had taken ven-
geance, not only for former fancied wrongs, but also for my
having mortified him so greatly in the first trial.

I remember the parting words of Lydia and the colonel.

Said he, " Have you a sister ? "

And she replied : " No, but I have a brother, though I am an
only child. God forever bless you, sir ! "

She set out at once in the darkness, having York for driver,
and giving room to two persons — a wounded Virginia officer
whose home was in the beleaguered capital, and a friend to
attend him, Lydia's ambulance, at least in the eyes of the
Confederates, being a very commodious and easy carriage.

I had asked to see Sergeant Wilson, but was informed that
the First had been sent to the skirmish-line, and that constant
firing was being kept up out there. I never saw Wilson again.

On the morning of the 28th I was sent to Richmond, and
confined in the Libby, the prison for Federals, for I was known
to be a United States soldier. My respite now, according to
General Lee's verbal order, was for six days to come.

I could not see Lydia — I would not have had her come to
this filthy place ; but by some means — through the instrumen-
tality of a lady whose name has gone into history as the
gracious benefactor of many wretched prisoners of war — I
received a letter from my dear girl ; she had been given work to

454 A FEIEND WITH THE COUNTERSIGN

do in Chimborazo hospital, and felt that she was giving more
than value received for the protection accorded her. She wrote
me that she was greatly encouraged — that she knew General
Lee would never give orders countermanding the one he had
already given — yet she was greatly distressed when she re-
membered that I must remain a prisoner until the end of the
war.

The days went slowly by. I knew that Lydia was suffering
great anguish on my account : in her woman's heart there must
have been many times when despair got the better of hope,
yet, as she has told me since, she had almost supreme trust
in three persons under God — three persons as widely different
as political institutions could make men to be — her father,
General Grant, and General Lee ! She knew that her father
could not have remained ignorant of her condition and of
mine, for Colonel Sharpe, and General Meade as well, would
at once have sent him information; she knew that General
Grant's powerful army was now attacking the Confederates
continually, and she was praying for the end of all to come ;
and her trust in General Lee's magnanimous sense of justice
had large influence in sustaining her.

For me, every day was an eternity. I knew that life yet
hung upon a thread : why had not the Confederates already
seen that long since '62 I had been a spy ? If they had not yet
seen it, they could not fail, sooner or later, to know it ...
and every day, yes, every hour, I expected to receive notifica-
tion of new charges that could not be denied ; how long could
this thing last ?

The days — horrible days — crept on ; days of life and death
and destruction. I counted three to the end — the end of my
respite ; what would be the end ? My mortal danger oppressed
me.

At last Sunday morning dawned after a night of such con-
tinuous noises as I had never heard — the sound of tremendous
cannonading along Grant's line of forty miles. And Sunday

ANNULMENT 455

went by, with commotion in Richmond — the populace, espe-
cially in the afternoon, disturbed and fearful. Some of the
prisoners were mad with excitement. One had received the
news — how, I do not know — that Petersburg had fallen !

On that Sunday night there was no sleep for any one ; loud
noises shook the earth — from explosions ; we knew that troops
were hurrying through the streets, and toward day the smell
of smoke invaded even my quarter of the prison, and I knew
that the Confederates were burning what they could not take
away !

Before sunrise the sound of the conflagration reached my
ears ; I heard running in the corridors ; my companions and I
tried the door — it opened !

The Libby was a prison no longer. We reached the street.
My companions scattered in the crowd. I made my way to
Chimborazo hospital, passing through an indescribable scene.
I found Lydia — weeping in the arms of her father.

*******

The long war had ended. Life — the gift of the defeated —
was yet ours.

*******

And there came a time when I knelt where a new life had
begun, and my heart stood still with awe before creation's
mystery.

" You know what his name is," she whispered.

I knew.

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