The Young Lieutenant Part 43

Somers grasped the hand of his brave and devoted companion, which he pressed with a warmth that indicated his feelings more eloquently than words could have done. He was entirely satisfied with the explanation, because it was fully sustained by the conduct of the captain, and by the words of the rebel cavalry officer who had claimed his acquaintance. He was even disposed to believe that De Banyan had been a soldier in the European wars and in Mexico; which was a degree of credulity hardly to be expected of a sensible young man.

"You will forgive me for my unjust suspicions, captain? I a.s.sure you it went against my grain to believe that you were a rebel."

"You had good reason for it. I was more afraid of you, when I confessed my sins to the rebel officer, than I was of him. We are friends again, Somers; that's all I want."

"You have proved yourself my friend by this last act; and I should have needed no further explanation to convince me that you were a loyal man."

"I am all that, my dear boy."

"Where have you been since I parted from you?"

"I got up to Petersburg in the afternoon. I was put in that hole where I found you at first; but, when the provost-marshal learned my story, he sent for me, and I was conducted to his office. Just as I came out of the depot, you went in. He wanted to question me, he said. Well, I happened to know him, though he did not know me. I knew his weak point; and, in a word, I bamboozled him. I a.s.sured him I was an officer in the Third Tennessee, and that, on further inquiry, he would find I was all right; that I had rendered greater service to my country by going over to the Yankees than I could possibly have done by remaining with my regiment; which, you are willing to believe, was strictly true.

"I asked the privilege of putting on my uniform again, which he granted; and, with the gold in my pocket, I purchased a full fit-out of the quartermaster. The provost-marshal told me that I must report at Richmond, which I promised to do; and, my dear boy, I hope I shall be able to do so at no distant day, though it doesn't look much like it just now. He gave me an apartment next to his office, for the night; where, of course, he expected to find me in the morning. In the night, I got up, and went into his office to transact a little business on my own account.

"After I saw you at the depot, my dear fellow, I couldn't forget your sad look. You seemed to be as hopeless as a stray chicken in the wet gra.s.s, and I was trying to think what I could do for you. I couldn't have gone back to Harrison's Landing without you; it would have broken my heart.

And what could I have said to the general, when he asked for you? How could I have made my peace with the officers of the regiment, if I had gone back without you?"

"It was very kind of you, after the shabby manner in which I had treated you," added Somers.

"That was the very reason why I was bound to help you out of the sc.r.a.pe, if I could. I wanted to set myself right with you. I wanted to convince you I wasn't the man you took me to be."

"You have convinced me in the fullest manner; and I owe you a debt of grat.i.tude which I shall never be able to pay."

"Steady, my boy; we are not out of the sc.r.a.pe."

"No matter whether we get out of the sc.r.a.pe or not, my feelings towards you will be just the same."

"Thank you, Somers; I am satisfied."

"But where did you get the pa.s.s you gave the corporal of the guard at the depot?" asked Somers.

"I found the provost-marshal's signature on certain papers, one of which I filled out to suit myself. But there was a sentinel at the door of the office, put there, I suppose, for my benefit; though I was sorry to trouble the poor fellow to stand there on my account. My friend, the provost, had done this little act in the most delicate way in the world.

He did not tell me that I was under guard; but I happened to find out before I put my foot in the trap.

"In a word, not wishing to disturb the sentinel, I took the liberty of leaving by the way of the window of my chamber, instead of the door.

Luckily there was a one-story shop next to the office; and with the aid of a blanket from my bed, I dropped down upon it, without disturbing the meditations of the sentinel or the slumbers of the provost. I got into the street, and went to the depot. There I told the corporal of the guard a very interesting story about the prisoner who had been brought up in the afternoon, meaning myself; and that the man I wanted was needed immediately as a witness. You know the rest, my dear fellow; and here we are."

"And here we are likely to remain, I'm afraid," added Somers.

"Not a bit of it. I haven't exhausted half my expedients yet. On the night before the attack on the Redan, at Sebastopol, I went all over that city, and spent the evening at the house of one of the most distinguished citizens--a gentleman who had a government contract for rations. Of course, he didn't know me."

"Hush! There is some one coming into the stable below," said Somers, as he heard a door opened on the floor below.

It was impossible to move then without making noise enough to excite the attention of the person who had entered; for the stable was old and rickety, and the boards creaked at every step they took. The fugitives listened with breathless interest to the movements of the unwelcome visitor. The horse whinnied again; and the person entered the stall, and spoke to him. The sound of his voice filled the occupants of the loft with consternation; for evidently the speaker was not a negro servant, as they had hoped and expected to find him, but a white man, and one who used the English language well.

"Come, Jenny, there's a job on hand for us; and you must postpone your breakfast till we catch the Yankee prisoners," said the person, who, the fugitives were now satisfied, was an officer of the cavalry service.

While De Banyan was telling his story, they had heard some noise at the house; and they now concluded that the party which had ridden up the street had come to call this officer for duty. They hoped that nothing would require him to pay a visit to the loft, and that, like a good officer, he would be as expeditious as possible in his preparations.

"You are my prisoner, if he comes up-stairs," whispered De Banyan.

Somers pressed the hand of his companion to a.s.sure him that he understood his plan; and they held their breath, in the intense anxiety of the moment, for further developments. The present seemed to be the turning point in the career of the adventurers; and, if they could once escape from the horns of this dilemma, skill and prudence would conduct them in safety to the Union lines.

The officer below, after he had politely informed "Jenny" of the early movement, seemed to be in no hurry to get into the saddle. He went out at the door of the stable, and all was silent again, except the voice of Jenny, who seemed to be protesting against any movement before she had received her customary feed of corn.

"Peters!" shouted the officer from the door, "hurry up! The Yankees will get to the James River before you get the saddle on my horse. Where have you been?"

"I was looking for my boots."

"An orderly ought to wear his boots to bed with him, if he can't put them where he can find them," replied the officer, as the heavy step of another man was heard in the stable below.

"What news did you hear?" asked the officer, as the orderly led the horse from the stall.

"The sergeant said some officer that had been took as a deserter done runned away," replied Peters, as the fugitives heard the rattle of the saddle-gear.

"Hurry up, then!"

"He done took a Yankee prisoner from the depot with him," added Peters, who, if he had not been called an orderly, the listeners would have taken for a negro.

"You may take a peck of corn in a bag for Jenny, Peters. We may have a long ride of it," added the officer, as he left the stable.

A peck of corn! De Banyan and Somers were sitting on the grain chest! It was impossible to avoid discovery; and De Banyan threw off his cloak, ready for the emergency.

"Somers, my boy, we must change our tactics. They have heard the whole story, and we can't blind them. We must make the best of it. Have you a pistol?" whispered the captain.

"No; all I had was taken from me," replied Somers.

"I have only one. No matter; it would never do to fire up here," added De Banyan, as he picked up a short pitch-fork which lay near him.

"Are you going to kill him?" asked Somers.

"It's life or death for you and me! We can't stop for trifles," answered the captain in hurried tones, but still in a whisper.

They listened for a moment longer to the quick movements of Peters in the stable below. It was evident that Jenny was duly caparisoned for service; and then another horse was led out, which belonged to the orderly. He was prepared for service in less time than Jenny had required; and, a moment later, the step of Peters was heard on the stairs. With the bag in his hand, he was coming up for the corn, as he had been ordered by the officer. He did not see the fugitives till he had reached the last step; when, as he was on the point of opening his mouth to speak, De Banyan leveled a blow at his head with the handle of the pitch-fork, which felled him to the floor.

He sank down upon the stairs stunned or dead; and the captain, as though he had carefully matured his plan beforehand, dragged the body to one corner of the loft, where he covered it with hay.

"Not a word, Somers," said he in an excited whisper, as he crouched down behind the grain chest.

"Are you going to stay here?" demanded Somers, astonished at this singular disposition of the forces.

"Hush--the officer is close by."

With beating heart, Somers waited for the further action of his resolute companion. It was the most critical period of his life, it seemed to him, especially as he did not fully comprehend the purpose of De Banyan. Only a moment elapsed, but it was long enough to be a week, before the owner of Jenny returned to the stable.

"Peters! What are you about?" shouted he angrily. "I shall never get off at this rate. Peters!"

Peters was not in condition to answer the summons at that moment. Somers hoped he was not dead; but he might as well have been dead, so far as speaking was concerned.