Читать книгу: «Raiding with Morgan», страница 8

While at Columbia Morgan reports that his men heard distinctly the sound of distant cannonading away to the southwest. To their accustomed ears it told of a battle raging. It was the thunder of Rosecrans’s cannon at Stone River. Little did Morgan’s men think at that time that that distant thunder meant that hundreds of their brave brothers were being slaughtered in that fatal charge of Breckinridge. Murfreesboro is, as the crow flies, a hundred and eighteen miles from Columbia. In no other battle during the war is it reported that cannonading was heard so far.

From Columbia Morgan proceeded by easy stages to Smithville, Tennessee, which he reached January 5, just fourteen days after he had started on his raid from Alexandria. During this time his command had travelled fully six hundred miles. This raid was one of the most remarkable Morgan ever made, when we consider what he accomplished, and the number of troops that tried in vain to capture him. Riding within a few miles of thousands of men, he easily eluded all his pursuers and escaped almost scot free.

General Morgan, in summing up the results of this raid, says: “It meant the destruction of the Louisville and Nashville Railroad from Mumfordsville to Shephardsville within eighteen miles of Louisville, rendering it impassable for at least two months; the capture of eighteen hundred and seventy-seven prisoners, including sixty-two commissioned officers; the destruction of over two million dollars’ worth of United States property, and a large loss to the enemy in killed and wounded. The loss of my entire command was: killed, 2; wounded, 24; missing, 64.”

It seems impossible that so much could be accomplished with so slight a loss. The number of his killed and wounded shows that the Federals touched him very gingerly; that they did not force the fighting. In the capture of the stockades in which he took so many prisoners, Morgan suffered hardly any loss, as he forced the surrender with his artillery. But the joy which Morgan and his men felt over the success of the raid was clouded when they reached Tennessee by the news of the result of the battle of Stone River. Murfreesboro no longer belonged to the South. Bragg had retreated to his new line along Duck River.

CHAPTER XII.
A SPY! A SPY!

For nearly six months after the battle of Stone River, the Federal army made no general advance. General Rosecrans made his headquarters at Murfreesboro, while Bragg’s was at Tullahoma. But these months were not months of idleness. Almost daily skirmishes took place between the lines, and there were a number of contests which arose to the dignity of battles.

Morgan’s cavalry protected the right of Bragg’s army. His headquarters were nominally at MacMinnville, but it could truly be said they were in the saddle. Morgan did not stay long in any one place. A number of expeditions were made against him, sometimes with a whole division, but he managed to elude them with slight loss.

Only twice during all this time did severe reverse overtake him – once at Milton, when he failed in his efforts to capture a brigade of infantry, and again at Snow Hill, when he was charged by a whole division of cavalry under the leadership of General David Stanley.

His captures of scouting and forage parties were numerous during these months, and he added a long list of prisoners to those he had already captured. But so strongly was every place held, and so numerous had become the Federal cavalry, it was impossible to make any large capture. The enemy had learned by bitter experience, that eternal vigilance was their only safety in guarding against Morgan, and the troops which held the left of Rosecrans’s army were always in fear. No Federal soldier was safe half a mile outside the lines. Bitterly did many sleepy soldiers curse him, for at three o’clock every morning they were forced to get up and stand at arms until broad daylight. The Federal officers wanted no more surprises. But in spite of all their vigilance, Morgan would swoop down and carry off prisoners from under their very noses.

These months were busy ones for Calhoun; he and his scouts were always on the go. At the battle of Milton he greatly distinguished himself, and was the subject of a complimentary order. But during the battle he received a slight flesh wound in the arm and the ball came from the rear. Again was Conway behind him. The thought that he might be slain in this treacherous manner was distracting, but what could he do? He durst not complain; such a monstrous charge against a brother officer would have to be substantiated by the best of proof. He could only avoid Conway as much as possible during battle, and hope for the best. After the battle at Milton, by reason of losses in the regiment, Conway was promoted, being appointed major. It was fortunate for Calhoun that he was chief of scouts, and on Morgan’s staff, or Conway would have made his life a burden, for he was a member of the regiment of which Conway was major.

One day Calhoun, being sent on special duty over to the left of Bragg’s army, found himself in Columbia. He now remembered what Captain Haines had told him of the misfortunes which had befallen the Osbornes, and he determined to visit them. As he approached the place a sigh escaped him, for the plantation no longer was blooming like a rose, and the splendid mansion house was a charred mass of ruins.

He found the family living in a small house which once had been occupied by the overseer. Their story was soon told. After Lieutenant Haines had been exchanged, he came back and was stationed at Columbia. He visited them frequently, was very attentive to Miss Osborne, and at last asked her to become his wife. He was very politely but firmly refused. He now began a series of petty persecutions, and was forbidden the house as a guest. Then he began to threaten. He reported to the commander that Osborne’s house was the headquarters of a gang of guerrillas which gave the Federal authorities in Columbia and Pulaski a great deal of trouble.

About this time the murder of General Robert McCook by guerrillas greatly angered the Federals. A few days after he was killed a couple of foragers from Columbia were found dead. Lieutenant Haines lost no time in reporting that the gang of guerrillas sheltered by Osborne had murdered the men. A party was sent out, who burned the house, took away everything of value in the shape of stock, and arrested Mr. Osborne, who was afterwards sent North as a prisoner.

Calhoun listened to the recital with flashing eyes. “The villain!” he exclaimed; “if I had only known this he would not have escaped so easily when we captured him at Gallatin.”

“That is not all,” continued Mrs. Osborne, in a broken voice. “After all this had happened, the scoundrel had the effrontery to renew his suit, and say if Emma would marry him he would see that Mr. Osborne was released; that he had powerful political friends who could accomplish this. We spurned his proposition as it deserved. I knew my husband would rather rot in prison than consent to such a monstrous thing.”

“Oh! had I known! had I known!” exclaimed Calhoun, pacing up and down the room in his excitement; “but we may meet again.”

Little did Calhoun think that before many days they would meet again, and that that meeting would nearly mean for him the ignominious death of a spy. A few days after his return from Columbia, he asked the permission of Morgan to visit Nashville. “I would like to see,” said he, “what our friends, the enemy, are doing in that city.”

Morgan shook his head. “I don’t want to see you hanged,” he replied.

But Calhoun argued so zealously, that at last Morgan’s scruples were overcome, and he gave his consent, but added, “If you should be captured and executed, I would never forgive myself.”

Calhoun looked upon it as a mere holiday affair; he had passed through too many dangers to be terrified. Taking half a dozen of his trusty scouts with him, he had no trouble in reaching the Cumberland River a few miles above Nashville. The few scouting parties of the enemy they met were easily avoided. He ordered his scouts to remain secreted in a thick wood near by a friendly house, from which they could obtain food for themselves and provender for their horses.

“If I am not back in three days,” said he, “return to Morgan, and tell him I have been captured.”

His men pleaded with him to let at least one of them accompany him, but this he refused, saying it would but add to his danger.

From the gentleman who resided in the nearby house he secured a skiff which had been kept secreted from the lynx-eyed Federals. In this Calhoun proposed to float down to Nashville.

Night came dark and cloudy. It was just such a night as Calhoun wished. Clad in a suit of citizen’s clothes, and with muffled oars, he bade his comrades a cheerful good night, and pushed out into the river, and in a moment the darkness had swallowed him up. He floated down as noiselessly as a drifting stick.

In an hour’s time the lights of Nashville came in view; the dangers of his trip had just commenced. He knew that the banks of the river would not only be strongly patrolled, but the lights from the shore and from the steamers moored at the wharfs shone across the stream in places, making it impossible for an object the size of his boat to pass without being noticed.

But Calhoun was prepared for just such an emergency. He was a capital swimmer, and had no fears of the water. He had weighted his skiff with stones, bored a hole in the bottom, and filled it with a plug which could easily be removed. When he had drifted as far as he dared, he removed the plug. The skiff gradually filled and at last sank. If any person had looked after it disappeared, all he would have seen would have been the small branch of a tree, covered with leaves, floating down with the current.

When Calhoun was well down abreast of the city, and coming to a place where shadows covered the river, he turned toward the bank. Fortunately he landed near a dark alley which led down to the water. Listening intently, he heard nothing, and making his way up the alley, he soon came to a street. A violent storm came on, which was of advantage to him, for if he met any one, it would account for his dripping clothes. It also had the effect of driving the patrol guards into shelter.

Calhoun was no stranger in the city. He had visited it frequently when a boy, for he had an uncle residing there, now a colonel in the Confederate army. But his family still resided in the old home, and he knew that there he would find a haven of safety. Carefully making his way, and dodging the few guards that he met, he soon reached the house. The yard was inclosed with a high iron fence, the pickets provided with sharp points. But Calhoun had been in the army too long to be baffled by any such obstacle. He mounted the fence with but little trouble and dropped down into the yard.

Making his way to the rear of the house, he found refuge in a small shed. The night had turned cool and he shivered with the cold. But he durst not arouse the household, for the alarm might be heard outside. The hours passed wearily by, but at last morning came. He looked eagerly for some of the family to appear, but only the colored servants passed in and out. To escape being seen he had hidden behind a large box in the shed.

He heard the call for breakfast, and concluded he had never been so hungry before in his life. After a while his patience was rewarded. A young lady came out of the house, and entering the shed, began looking around, as if searching for something. It was his cousin Kate.

“Kate!” he whispered.

The girl started and looked wildly around.

“Kate!”

She uttered a little scream and turned as if to flee.

“Kate, don’t be afraid. It is I, your cousin Calhoun Pennington.”

“Where? Where?” she half-whispered, looking eagerly around and poised as if still for flight.

“Here behind the box. Come close. There, don’t ask a question. Get the servants out of the way and smuggle me into the house unseen. I am wet, cold, and hungry.”

Kate flew to do his bidding. In a few moments she came out and beckoned to him, and right gladly he followed her into the house. One risen from the dead would hardly have created more surprise than did his appearance. His aunt and Kate persisted in embracing him, wet and dirty as he was.

To their eager questions, he said: “Dry clothes first, Auntie, and breakfast. I am famished. I will then talk with you to your heart’s content.”

Mrs. Shackelford had had a son about the size of Calhoun killed in the army, and our hero was soon arrayed in a nice dry suit, and seated before a substantial breakfast, upon which he made a furious assault. When his hunger was fully appeased, he informed his aunt and Kate he was ready to talk. And how they did talk! They had a thousand questions to ask, and he had full as many.

To his surprise and joy he learned that his cousin, Fred Shackelford, had not been killed by his fall over the cliff, as Major Hockoday reported. Instead he was alive and well, was with the army at Murfreesboro, and frequently visited them.

“He has been a good friend to us,” said Mrs. Shackelford, “but at one time he was nearly the death of Kate.”

“Why, how was that?” asked Calhoun.

Then for the first time he heard of Forrest’s plot to capture Nashville, and of Kate’s part in it, of her condemnation, and imprisonment as a spy, and how Fred had secured her pardon.²

Calhoun listened to the story in wonder. When it was finished, he exclaimed: “Why, Kate, you are a heroine! I am proud of you.”

“I am not proud of myself,” answered Kate. “I blush every time I think of how – how I lied and deceived.”

“Oh! that is a part of war,” laughed Calhoun. “If Morgan didn’t lie about the number of men he had, the Yanks would gobble him up in no time. We don’t call such things lying; it’s a righteous deceiving of the enemy.”

“But I am ready to sink into the earth with shame every time I think of Ainsworth,” sighed Kate.

“That’s rich,” laughed Calhoun; “crying because you broke the heart of a Yankee! Kate, I have a mind to send you into the enemy’s lines. If Cupid’s darts were only fatal, your bright eyes would create more havoc than a battle.”

“No use sending her away,” broke in Mrs. Shackelford; “there are more Federal officers buzzing around her now than I wish there were.”

“Mighty useful to worm secrets from,” exclaimed Kate; “but I make no promises to any of them.”

“That’s right, Kate, get all the secrets from them you can,” said Calhoun; “that is what I am in Nashville for. Can any one get around the city without much danger?”

“Oh, yes, in the daytime; but there is always more or less danger to strangers. Business is going on as usual. The city is lively, livelier than before the war; but it is soldiers – soldiers everywhere.”

“And you have to have no passes?” asked Calhoun.

“It is best to have one. Most of us have standing permits to come and go in the city as we please.”

“Can you get me a permit?” asked Calhoun, eagerly.

“There is Jim Grantham,” replied Kate, thoughtfully; “his description will suit Calhoun close enough. I can get Jim to loan you his.”

Calhoun was now told that the Southern people in Nashville were thoroughly organized into a secret society. They had their signs and pass-words, so that they could know each other. So far no one had proved a traitor. The Federal authorities suspected that such an organization existed, but their shrewdest detectives never succeeded in finding out anything about it.

Kate, who had gone for the permit of James Grantham, soon returned with it. The description fitted Calhoun almost as well as if made out for himself. He could now walk the streets of Nashville with little fear of arrest.

He was given a list of those who could most probably give him the information he desired. He marvelled to see how quickly a little sign which he gave was answered, and was amazed at the work this secret organization was doing. Not a regiment entered or left Nashville but they knew its exact strength, and to what point it was ordered.

In two days Calhoun had gathered information which would be of vast value to the Confederate cause, and it was now time for him to see by what means he could leave the city. He was on his way to see three gentlemen who said they could get him outside of the city without trouble or danger, when an incident happened which came near sending him to the gallows. He was walking unconcernedly along the street, when he suddenly came face to face with Haines, now a captain. Although Calhoun was dressed in citizen’s clothes, the captain knew him at a glance.

“A spy! A spy!” he yelled at the top of his voice, and made a grab at Calhoun. Calhoun struck him a tremendous blow which sent him rolling in the gutter, and fled at the top of his speed.

But a score of voices took up the cry, and a howling mob, mostly of soldiers, were at his heels. He hoped to reach the river, where among the immense piles of stores heaped along the levee, or among the shipping, he might secrete himself, but a patrol guard suddenly appeared a block away, and his retreat was cut off. He gave himself up for lost, and reached for a small pistol which he carried, with the intention of putting a bullet through his own heart; “for,” thought he, “they shall never have the pleasure of hanging me before a gaping crowd.”

Just then he saw two young ladies standing in the open door of a house. What told him safety lay there he never knew, but hope sprang up within his breast. Dashing up the steps, he thrust the ladies back into the house, slammed the door to, and locked it. So rude was his entrance, one of the ladies fell to the floor.

“Save me! Save me!” he cried, “I am a Confederate spy,” and he gave the sign of the secret order.

The young lady who had not fallen was terribly frightened, but she grasped the situation in a moment.

“Upstairs,” she gasped, pointing the way; “tell mother, the secret place.”

Calhoun lost no time in obeying her. The girl flew to the back door and opened it, then back just as her sister was rising, her face covered with blood, for she had hit her nose in falling.

“Quick, Annette, in the parlor,” said her sister; “assent to everything I say.”

Annette staggered into the parlor hardly knowing what she did, for she was dazed and terribly frightened. The sister, whose name was Inez, was now at the door, which was giving way before the blows of Calhoun’s pursuers. All this happened in less than a minute.

“Stop!” she cried, “I will unlock the door,” and she did so, and when the soldiers rushed in, crying, “Where is he? Where is the spy?” she stood wringing her hands and sobbing, “My sister! Oh, my sister! he has murdered her.”

The words brought the soldiers to a halt. “Who murdered your sister?” asked a sergeant who seemed to be the leader.

“The man! the man who ran in here!”

“Where is he? He is the fellow we want.”

“He rushed out of the back door. Oh! my sister, my sister!”

“After him, boys; don’t let him get away!” yelled the sergeant, and they rushed through the house in hot pursuit.

The house was rapidly filling, when a captain appeared, and learning of the sobbing Inez what the trouble was, said: “Murdered your sister! Horrible! where is she?”

“Here,” said Inez, leading the way into the parlor. Annette was reclining on a sofa, her face bloody; she was apparently in a fainting condition.

The captain acted quickly. He ordered the house to be cleared, sent a subordinate for a surgeon, and another to have the whole block surrounded. In the mean time the mother of the girls had appeared, and was adding her sobs to those of her eldest daughter. When the surgeon came and had washed the blood from Annette’s face, her only injury was found to be a bruised nose.

Both the captain and the surgeon looked inquiringly. “How is this?” they asked, “you said your sister was murdered.”

“I – I thought she was,” stammered Inez. “I saw the blood and thought the man had stabbed her.”

“Tell us just what happened,” said the captain.

Annette, who had by this time so far recovered from her fright as to comprehend what was going on, saw Inez give her the signal of danger. It put her on her guard.

“Why, it was this way,” said Inez, in answer to the captain, “sister and I were going out, but just as we opened the door, there was a tumult on the street. We stopped to see what the trouble was, when a man dashed up the steps. We tried to oppose him, but he struck sister a cruel blow, knocking her down, flung me backward, and slamming the door to, locked it; then running through the house, disappeared through the back door. Seeing sister’s face covered with blood, I picked her up and carried her into the parlor. By this time the soldiers were breaking down the door, and I went and unlocked it.”

Annette only knew that she tried to oppose the entrance of a strange man, who knocked her down. She must have been rendered unconscious, for she remembered nothing more, until she found herself lying on the sofa in the parlor. The mother, Mrs. Lovell, was upstairs, and knew nothing of what had happened until alarmed by the screams of her daughters and the noisy entrance of the soldiers. These stories so accorded with the known facts that the captain did not for a moment doubt them. But when the sergeant returned and reported that no trace of the fugitive could be discovered, he was puzzled.

Orders were given to search every house in the block. This was done, but the search was fruitless. When this fact was reported, the captain bit his lip in vexation. Then turning to Inez, he said: “Pardon me, Miss Lovell, while I do not doubt your story in the least, are you sure the fellow ran out of the house? Was not his opening the back door just a ruse? He opened the door and then dodged into some room, thinking this house the safest place for him. Every house in the block has been searched except this one, and we can find no trace of him. While I regret it, I shall be compelled to have this house searched.”

“I am sure he ran out,” answered Inez, “but I confess I was very badly frightened. If you think he is in the house, search it. I ask as a favor that you search it, for if he is concealed in the house as you think, he may murder us all.”

A thorough search was made, but there was found no trace of Calhoun. The officers and soldiers retired greatly puzzled. A strong guard was maintained around the block for three days; then all hopes of catching Calhoun were given up, and the guard was withdrawn.

The Federal authorities had become aware who the fugitive was through Captain Haines. “I cannot be mistaken,” he said; “I have met him too many times. He is one of the most daring of all of Morgan’s cutthroats”; and then he gave an account of his first meeting with Calhoun.

But where was Calhoun all this time? When he rushed upstairs at the command of Inez, he was met at the top by Mrs. Lovell, who started in affright at the sight of him.

“Your daughter said, ‘The secret place!’ ” he exclaimed, as he gave her the sign of danger. “My pursuers are already at the door.”

The lady quickly recovered herself. “Come!” she said, and led Calhoun into a room. Here she began working in a corner. Her hands trembled as she did so, for the soldiers were thundering at the door downstairs, and she could hear it giving way. To Calhoun’s intense surprise, a section of the apparently solid wall gave way, leaving an opening large enough for a person to enter by crawling on his hands and knees.

“Quick, go in!” said the lady.

Calhoun needed no second bidding, but crawled in, and the wall slowly came back to place. Calhoun found himself in a narrow place, between the wall of the room and the side of the house. The house had been built with a mansard roof on the sides, thus leaving a space. This space was about three feet wide at the bottom, coming to a point at the top. Close under the eaves, where it would not be noticed, an aperture had been left for the admission of air, and through it a ray of light came.

Narrow and contracted as his quarters were, to Calhoun they were more welcome than a palace. It was plain that the place had been occupied before, for on the floor there were soft blankets, and in feeling around Calhoun discovered a jug of water and some provisions. It was evident that no one who was put in there hurriedly was to be allowed to suffer from thirst or hunger.

Calhoun could hear every word which was said when the soldiers searched the room. His heart stood still when he heard them sounding the walls, but they gave forth no uncertain sound, and the soldiers departed, much to his relief.

It was not until the next day that Calhoun was allowed to leave his hiding-place, and then he was told he must not leave the room. He had to be ready to seek his refuge at a moment’s notice, if found necessary. For three days he was virtually a prisoner, then the guards around the block were withdrawn.

Word was taken to his aunt and Kate where he was. They had been in an agony of fear over his non-return. But they durst not visit him.

To Mrs. Lovell and her daughters Calhoun felt he could never repay what they had done for him. He felt like a brute, when Annette was introduced to him, her pretty features disfigured by a swollen nose, and when he was making his most abject apologies, she interrupted him with a gay laugh.

“I am proud of that nose!” she exclaimed; “as proud as a gallant soldier of his wounds, for does it not show that I have shed my blood for our beloved South?”

We are of the opinion that during his enforced imprisonment, Calhoun would have lost his heart to Annette if he had not learned she was engaged to a gallant officer in Bragg’s army.

What troubled Calhoun the most was the thought that his scouts would return to Morgan with the news that he was captured, but there was no help for it.

After the guards had been withdrawn, he at once began to make plans for his escape from the city. The original plan had to be given up, for the vigilance of the Federals had been redoubled, and it was impossible for any one to leave the city without his identity being fully established.

At last Inez clapped her hands. “I have it,” she cried. “Get him out to Dr. Caldwell. The doctor lives clear on the outskirts of the city, and on the bank of the river. Lieutenant Pennington can take to the river going as he did coming.”

“But he can’t float up stream,” said Annette, “and as for a boat, that will be impossible.”

“He can swim,” said Inez, “swim across the river. He will be above the pickets around Edgefield.”

“But how can he get to Dr. Caldwell? It is not safe for him to appear on the street. Not a guard but has a description of him,” said the careful Annette.

“Dr. Caldwell is attending Mrs. Robinson (the Robinsons lived next door); it will be easy for the doctor to take him in his buggy; no guard will think of disturbing the doctor, he is too well known.”

Calhoun eagerly caught at the idea. When Dr. Caldwell visited Mrs. Robinson during the day, he was seen, and consented to the scheme. “Muffle him up,” he said, “he will be taken for one of my patients.” Before Calhoun left he wrote a letter, and directed it to Captain Haines – Regt. This Inez promised to mail when Calhoun was well out of the city.

Dr. Caldwell had no trouble in taking Calhoun to his home. Here he stayed until dark, then bidding the hospitable physician good-bye, he plunged into the river and was soon across, and began to make his way slowly up the northern bank. But the night was dark, and after many falls and bruises, he concluded to wait for daylight. Having made himself a bed of leaves beside a log, he was soon sleeping as peacefully as if no dangers were lurking near.

As for Captain Haines, he was bitterly disappointed when Calhoun was not caught. But his leave of absence was out, and he had to return to his regiment near Murfreesboro. A day or two after his return the following letter came with his mail:

Nashville, Tenn., April 25, 1863.

To Capt. Chas. Haines,

My Dear Captain: When you receive this I shall be well out of Nashville. We have already met three times, and I trust we may meet once more. If we do, it will be our last, for one or the other of us will die. I know of your damnable treatment of the Osbornes. Be assured it will be avenged.

Sincerely yours,

Calhoun Pennington,

Lieutenant, Morgan’s Command.

Captain Haines was no coward, but his hand trembled like a leaf when he laid the letter down.