Frank Before Vicksburg. The Gun-Boat Series

CHAPTER VI

An Old Acquaintance

They found that the rebels had captured nearly twenty of their men, several of them badly wounded, and, as there was no surgeon with the enemy, the poor fellows were suffering intensely. Frank shuddered when he thought of the inhuman treatment to which his wounded companions had been subjected by the very men in whose power they now were, on the march from Vicksburg to Shreveport; and he knew, from the scenes through which he had just passed, that the Wild-cats had not grown more lenient in their treatment of those who were so unfortunate as to fall into their power. As soon as they were placed under guard, Jack's hands were unbound, and he seated himself on the ground beside his officer, in no very amiable mood.

hey found that the rebels had captured nearly twenty of their men, several of them badly wounded, and, as there was no surgeon with the enemy, the poor fellows were suffering intensely. Frank shuddered when he thought of the inhuman treatment to which his wounded companions had been subjected by the very men in whose power they now were, on the march from Vicksburg to Shreveport; and he knew, from the scenes through which he had just passed, that the Wild-cats had not grown more lenient in their treatment of those who were so unfortunate as to fall into their power. As soon as they were placed under guard, Jack's hands were unbound, and he seated himself on the ground beside his officer, in no very amiable mood.

"It isn't for myself that I care, sir," said he; "but I am afraid that the treatment you will receive will be a heap worse nor keel-haulin' on a cold winter's mornin'."

"Don't talk so loud, Jack," whispered Frank, glancing toward the guard, who was walking his beat but a short distance from them. "I've been in just such scrapes as this before, and I'm not going to be strung up. If they give me the least chance for life, I'm going to take advantage of it."

"There comes a boat from the ship, sir," said the mate. "If we could only give them the slip now."

"No, sit still; we are watched too closely; wait until to-night."

In a short time the cutter reached the shore, and an officer, whom they recognized as the gunner, sprang out with a flag of truce in his hand. He walked straight up to Colonel Harrison. After a short conversation with that individual, he handed him a letter, and, accompanied by a rebel officer, approached the place where Frank was sitting.

"Well, old fellow," he said, as he came up, "I'm sorry to see you in this fix. But I've got good news for you. The colonel has given me permission to inform you that you will be well treated as long as you remain a prisoner. You see, we happen to have a prisoner who belongs to this regiment on board the flag-ship, and the captain is going to ask the admiral to exchange him for you. So keep a stiff upper lip. Don't think of trying to escape, and we shall see you on board of the ship again in less than a week. Good-by."

Frank and the mate shook hands with the gunner, who walked back to the place where he had left his men, and set them to work collecting and burying the dead.

After considerable trouble, an agreement was entered into between Captain Wilson and the colonel, and all the prisoners, with the exception of Frank and the mate, were paroled and allowed to return on board the vessel, after which the Wild-cats mounted their horses and commenced marching back into the country. While the fight had been raging, their horses were safely hidden in the woods, out of range of the Ticonderoga's guns; and when they were brought out, Frank, although he had not seen either a dead or wounded rebel, was able to judge pretty accurately of the number that had been disabled in the struggle, by counting the empty saddles. What had been done with the dead and wounded he could not ascertain; but the probability was, that the latter had been carried on in advance of the main body of the regiment, and the former hastily buried on the field. The prisoners were each given a horse, and Frank was a good deal surprised to find that although the mate was closely watched, scarcely any attention was paid to himself; his captors, no doubt, thinking that he would prefer waiting to be exchanged, rather than run the risk of the punishment that had been threatened in case he was detected in any attempt at escape. He was given to understand that it was useless to think of flight, for he would certainly be recaptured, even if he succeeded in getting outside of the pickets, and that he would be shot down without mercy. But Frank, who well knew that the rebels would not willingly lose an opportunity of regaining one of their officers, was not at all intimidated by these threats; and, as he had not bound himself to remain a passive prisoner, he commenced laying his plans for escape, intending to put them into operation at the very first opportunity which offered.

Just before dark the column halted in front of a plantation, and commenced making its camp on each side of the road. While the men were making their preparations for the night, the colonel, who evidently preferred more comfortable quarters than could be found in the open air, repaired to the house, where he was cordially greeted by its inmates.

Frank and the mate lay down on the ground by the side of the road, and were talking over the incidents of the day, when a dashing young lieutenant stepped up, and inquired:

"Yanks, don't you want something to eat? Come into our mess; we want to talk to you. I'll hold myself responsible for their safe return," he continued, turning to the guard.

This individual, after a few moments' consideration, concluded that the "Yanks could pass," and the prisoners followed the lieutenant to the place where the members of the mess to which he belonged were seated on the ground, eating their suppers.

"Sit down, Yanks, at the very first good place you can find," said their host. "Our chairs have been sent on board one of your gun-boats to be repaired, and the sofa hasn't come in yet. Do you ever have as good a supper as this on board your men-o'-war?"

"O yes," replied Frank, glancing at the different dishes that were scattered about over the ground, which contained corn-bread just raked out from the ashes, salt pork, onions, and boiled chicken, the latter evidently the fruits of a raid on some well-stocked hen-roost. "O yes, we live very well on board our boats. There is nothing to hinder us, if we have a caterer worth a cent."

"Where do you get your grub?" asked the lieutenant. "We steal every thing along the shore that we can lay our hands on, just to keep it away from you, and there are no provisions at the North."

"Well, you need not believe any such story as that," answered Frank, who could not help laughing outright at the idea of the people at the North having no provisions to spare. "I never knew a gun-boat to be short of rations, except down the Yazoo Pass."

"Well, then, some of our folks tell what is not the truth," said one of the officers, who had not yet spoken. "But, to change the subject, how many men did you lose in the action to-day?"

"I am not able to tell," replied Frank. "I see that you have taken good care to hide your loss. I haven't seen a single wounded man since I have been with you, and I know I saw several drop during the fight."

"Yes, we did lose a few men," said the lieutenant; "how many, you will never know. But, to change the subject again, what did you come down here to fight us for?"

"Now, see here," said Frank, setting down his plate, which had been plentifully supplied by the lieutenant, "you were kind enough to ask me here to get some supper, and I don't want to spoil a good meal by entering into a political discussion; for, if I answer your question, I shall tell you some pretty plain things, and I know you will get provoked at me."

"O no, we are not as unreasonable as that," replied the man. "Answer my question."

"Well, then," said Frank, "I will make the same reply as I once did to that question in the prison at Shreveport. It is this: I believe that if ever there was a lot of men in the world who need a good, sound thrashing, you rebels do."

"That's the truth, sir," said Jack, talking as plainly as a mouthful of salt pork would permit. "Stand up for the old flag, sir."

The discussion thus commenced was maintained for an hour, the rebels evincing the utmost ignorance in regard to the principles for which they were fighting; and the manner in which Frank knocked their flimsy arguments right and left, and the fearlessness with which he upheld the course the government has pursued, and predicted the speedy overthrow of the rebellion, excited their respect and admiration.

At length bedtime came, and, just as Frank and the mate were about to be conducted back to the guard, Colonel Harrison, accompanied by two ladies and a strange officer, walked up.

"Here, Yank," he exclaimed, addressing Frank, "here's an old acquaintance of yours. Come here."

As Frank obeyed the order, the strange officer advanced to meet him, and he recognized Lieutenant Somers. He was not at all pleased to see him, for the lieutenant, doubtless, had not forgotten the circumstances connected with his capture, and although he could not remember of ever having treated him badly, still he feared he might harbor some feelings of malice, and might see fit to take a summary revenge upon him. To his surprise, however, the rebel eagerly advanced to meet him, and, extending his hand, greeted him with:

"How are you, Nelson? You're in a fix, I see. I am the free man now, and you the prisoner."

"Yes," answered Frank, "I'm in for it again. Although I was captured in violation of all the rules of war, I suppose I must submit to it for awhile."

The lieutenant passed nearly an hour in conversation with him, talking over all the little incidents that had happened while he was a prisoner in the hands of Frank and his fellow-fugitives, and was compelled to pilot them through the country, and ended by saying:

"Although you were sometimes obliged to use me rather roughly, you did the best you could under the circumstances, and I shall let you see that I don't forget favors. I'll speak to the colonel, and get him to furnish you with quarters at the plantation to-night."

The lieutenant then left them, and shortly afterward a corporal and his guard came up, and conducted Frank and the mate to the plantation, where they were confined in a deserted negro cabin. A few blankets had been spread out on the floor to serve as a bed, and, had they been among friends, they could have passed a very comfortable night.

As soon as the corporal had locked the door and retired, the mate, who had been examining their quarters, said:

"I wish, sir, that lieutenant hadn't taken so much interest in you, 'cause we're in Darby now, sure."

"We are much better off than we would be out in the camp," answered Frank. "Try that window-shutter – carefully, now."

The mate did as he was ordered, and, to Frank's joy, reported that it was unfastened.

"Now," said the latter, "the next thing is to ascertain where the sentries are posted."

"There's one out aft here," replied the mate, "'cause I can see him; and there's one at the gangway for'ard, 'cause I heered the corporal tell him to keep a good look-out."

"We must wait until the camp is still," said Frank, "and then we will make the attempt."

For two long hours the prisoners sat on their rough bed – the mate, in accordance with the discipline to which he had been accustomed from boyhood, waiting for his officer to speak, and Frank listening for the advent of that silence which should proclaim that the time for action had arrived.

Eleven o'clock came at length, when, just after the sentry's cry of "All's well," Frank arose to his feet, and cautiously approaching the window, pushed open the shutter and looked out. The sentry was seated on the ground at the corner of the cabin, holding his musket across his knees, now and then stretching his arms, and yawning. Jack remained seated on the bed, while Frank debated long and earnestly with himself as to what course it was best to pursue. Should they spring out and overpower the sentry where he sat? This could not be accomplished without a fight, for the sentry was a large, powerful-looking man, and, without doubt, possessed of great strength; besides, if a struggle did ensue, the noise would attract the attention of the guard at the other side of the cabin, who would lend prompt assistance, and, with these two men opposed to them, escape would be impossible. Still, there seemed to be no other course for them to pursue, and Frank had already proposed the plan to the mate, and was about to push open the shutter and make the attempt, when he noticed that the sentinel had leaned his head against the cabin, and was sleeping soundly.

"Jack," he whispered, "get out of this window quickly, and make the best of your way into those bushes," pointing to a thicket that stood about twenty feet from the cabin. "As soon as I see you safe, I will follow. Don't make any noise now."

The mate touched his cap, lingered for an instant to press Frank's hand, then mounted lightly into the window, reached the ground without arousing the rebel, and, in a moment more, disappeared in the bushes. Frank was about to follow when the sentry suddenly awakened, rubbed his eyes, gazed vacantly about him, and then sank back to his former position. As soon as Frank felt certain that he was asleep, he again opened the shutter, descended noiselessly to the ground, and, after carefully closing the window, sprang into the bushes.

"Shiver my timbers, sir," whispered Jack, seizing his officer's hand, "that was well done. Won't the Johnnies be surprised when they call all hands in the morning, and find us missin'?"

But the fugitives were by no means safe, neither had their escape been accomplished. They were still inside of the lines, and might, at any moment, stumble upon a picket. But it was necessary that they should get as far away from the camp as possible before their escape became discovered, and Frank, without waiting to receive the congratulations of the mate, who now looked upon their escape as a certain thing, threw himself on his hands and knees, and moved slowly across a field that extended a mile back of the cabin, and which must be crossed before they could reach the woods. Their progress was slow and laborious, and it was two hours before they reached a road which ran in the direction in which they supposed the river to lie. Not having seen any pickets, and now feeling quite certain that they were outside of the lines, they arose to their feet, and commenced running at the top of their speed. The road ran through a thick woods, but they had no difficulty in following it, as the moon was shining brightly. Just before daylight, they arrived at the Mississippi. It was a pleasant sight to their eyes, and both uttered a shout of joy when they found themselves standing on its banks. But their spirits fell again, when, on glancing up and down the river as far as their eyes could reach, they could not see a vessel of any kind in sight. They were not yet at their journey's end. There might be a gun-boat close by, hid behind one of the numerous points that stretched out into the river, or there might not be one within a hundred miles. They must not linger, however, for they were not free from pursuit until they were safe on board some vessel.

Sorrowfully they bent their steps down the river, listening for sounds of pursuit, and eagerly watching for signs of an approaching steamer; but the day wore away, and the fugitives, who began to feel the effects of hunger, halted, and were debating upon the means to be used in procuring food, when, to their joy, they discovered smoke around a bend, and, in half an hour, a transport, loaded with soldiers, appeared in sight. They at once commenced waving their hats, to attract the attention of those on board, who evidently saw them, but being suspicious that it was a plan of the rebels to decoy them into shore, turned off toward the opposite bank.

"I should think they ought to see us," said Frank, and he commenced shouting at the top of his lungs. A moment afterward a puff of smoke arose from the forecastle, and a twelve-pounder shot plowed through the water, and lodged in the bank at their very feet. It was then evident to them that they had been taken for rebels. After watching the boat until it disappeared, they again turned their faces down the river. Night overtaking them without bringing any relief, the fugitives, hungry and foot-sore, lay down in the woods and slept.

CHAPTER VII

A CLOSE SHAVE

When the morning came they bent their steps down the bank, keeping in the edge of the woods to prevent surprise, but not far enough from the river to allow any boat that might chance to pass to escape their observation. They again began to feel the fierce pangs of hunger, which they endeavored to alleviate by chewing twigs and roots. But this affording them no relief, the mate finally proposed that they should turn back into the country and ask for food at the first house they could find. Recapture was preferable to starving to death. Frank easily turned him from his purpose by assuring him that they would certainly be picked up during the afternoon, or on the following morning. But night came, without bringing them any relief, and the tired and hungry fugitives again lay down in the woods and slept.

hen the morning came they bent their steps down the bank, keeping in the edge of the woods to prevent surprise, but not far enough from the river to allow any boat that might chance to pass to escape their observation. They again began to feel the fierce pangs of hunger, which they endeavored to alleviate by chewing twigs and roots. But this affording them no relief, the mate finally proposed that they should turn back into the country and ask for food at the first house they could find. Recapture was preferable to starving to death. Frank easily turned him from his purpose by assuring him that they would certainly be picked up during the afternoon, or on the following morning. But night came, without bringing them any relief, and the tired and hungry fugitives again lay down in the woods and slept.

About noon, on the next day, they found themselves on the banks of a wide and deep ravine, that ran across their path. To climb up and down those steep banks was impossible; their wasted strength was not equal to the task. Their only course was to follow the ravine back into the woods until they could find some means of crossing it. After wearily dragging themselves for two hours over fallen logs, and through thick, tangled bushes and cane-brakes that lay in their path, they emerged from the woods, and found before them a small log-hut, standing close to a bridge that spanned the ravine. Hastily drawing back into the bushes, they closely examined the premises, which seemed to be deserted, with the exception of a negro, whom they saw hitching a mule to a tree at the back of the cabin.

"I don't see any white men there, Jack," said Frank. "I think we may safely ask that negro for something to eat. I hardly think there is any danger, for, if he should attempt mischief, we could soon overpower him. What do you say? Shall we go up?"

"Just as you say, sir," answered the mate. "But let us first get something to use as a belaying-pin, in case any body should run foul of our hawse."

The fugitives procured two short clubs, and moved out of the woods toward the cabin. The negro immediately discovered them. At first, he rolled up his eyes in surprise, and acted very much as if he was about to retreat; but, after finding that the two sailors were alone, his face assumed a broad grin, which the fugitives took for a smile of welcome.

When they had approached within speaking distance, Frank inquired:

"Well, uncle, is there any chance for a hungry man to get any thing to eat in here?"

"Plenty ob it, massa," answered the negro. "Go right in de house."

The fugitives, far from suspecting any treachery, were about to comply; but Frank, who was in advance, had scarcely put his foot on the threshold, when two rebel soldiers sprang out of the cabin, and one of them, seizing him by the collar, flourished a huge bowie-knife above his head and demanded his surrender. So sudden was the assault that Frank, for a moment, was deprived of all power of action. But not so with the mate, who, retaining his presence of mind, swung his club about him with a dexterity truly surprising, and brought it down with all the force of his sturdy arms upon the head of the rebel, who, instantly releasing his hold, sank to the ground with a low groan. But before he could repeat the blow, three more soldiers sprang from the cabin, and, in spite of their struggles, overpowered them; not, however, until the mate had been stunned by a blow from the butt of a pistol.

"Wal, I'll be dog-gone!" exclaimed one of the rebels, "but this is a lucky haul of Yankees. Tom, get some water and throw it into the captain's face," pointing to their prostrate companion, "an' fetch him to. The rest of you, get some ropes an' tie these fellers' hands behind them."

While the men were executing these orders, Frank had time to scan the countenances of his captors. They evidently did not belong to the Wild-cats, for, although that regiment was composed of most ferocious-looking men, they appeared like gentlemen compared with those in whose power he now found himself. These were a dirty, ragged, blood-thirsty looking set of men, and, unless their countenances belied them, they were capable of any atrocity.

Presently, the men who had gone into the cabin returned with some pieces of cord, with which they proceeded to confine the hands of their prisoners, who offered no resistance. By the time this was accomplished, the man whom the mate had handled so roughly had been restored to consciousness, and supported himself against the cabin to collect his thoughts, while the others stood silently by, as if awaiting his orders.

"Get every thing ready," he said, at length, "and let the job be done at once. It needs no judge or jury to decide the fate of these men, knowing, as we do, what has befallen those of our number who were so unfortunate as to fall into the hands of the Federals."

The rebels, in obedience to the order, brought out of the cabin two pieces of rope, which they took to a tree that stood close by, and, coiling them up in their hands, threw one end over a limb that stretched out about six feet from the ground, and fastened them there.

"Douse my top-lights," exclaimed the mate, as he witnessed these proceedings, "but it is all up with us, sir. They're going to swing us to the yard-arm."

The horrid truth was too apparent, and Frank was so completely unnerved that he was compelled to lean against the cabin for support. He was soon aroused by the voice of the leader of the rebels, who said:

"This is to be done in retaliation for an order issued by Admiral Porter, stating that he would hang all 'guerrillas,' as he termed them, who might be caught firing into transports along the river. You can see the effect of that order right here. Out of a company of a hundred of us who entered the army at the commencement of the war, you see all that are left. The remainder have been killed or captured by you gun-boat men. Those captured have suffered the penalty of that order. They were no more guerrillas, however, than you are, but were regularly sworn into the service, and were detailed to harass the enemy in every possible manner; and, for obeying our orders, some of us have been strung up like dogs. We shall continue to retaliate on you until our government receives notice that the order has been countermanded. I will give you an hour, and at the end of that time you must swing."

"If you must execute us," said Frank, in a husky voice, "why not let us die like men, and not like criminals?"

"My men would have preferred to be shot," said the rebel, "but were not allowed the privilege of choosing." So saying, the captain turned on his heel and walked away, while Frank seated himself on the threshold of the cabin, and repeated his sentence with a calmness that made him think his senses were leaving him. Could it be possible that he had heard aright, and that he was in reality a condemned man? When he had entered the service, the thought that he should be killed had never once occurred to him. He had fully and confidently expected that he would be permitted to live to see the end of the war, and to return home to enjoy the society of his friends once more. Could it be possible, then, that, after indulging in such bright anticipations, he must end his life in that desolate place, away from home and friends, in so terrible a manner? He could not convince himself that it was a reality. But there was the tree, with the ropes, and the fatal noose at the end, dangling from the limb; and there were those blood-thirsty looking men lounging in the shade, and only waiting until the hour granted by their leader should expire to begin their horrid work. O, the agony of that moment, when he could look forward and count the very seconds he had to live! An hour! How often and how lightly had he spoken of it! For an hour in the life of one moving about at freedom in the world, not knowing when death will come, and, as is too often the case, scarcely giving the matter a moment's thought, is a space of time of very little importance; is carelessly spoken of, and, when passed, no notice is taken of its flight. But an hour to a person condemned to die, who has heard his sentence, and who is bound, and watched over by armed men, that he may not escape from that sentence; who is in the full possession of all his faculties; who can look abroad upon the beauties of nature, and feel the soft breeze of heaven fanning his cheek, but who knows that, at the end of that time, he will be deprived of all these faculties; that his life will be suddenly and terribly terminated – in the case of such a person, who can describe the thoughts that "make up the sum of his heart's fevered existence?"