Chapter XXVII: Louis as a Confederate Soldier

Moving along as if in deep thought, the clerk of the store reached the very spot where Louis was in hiding, behind a number of loose shelving boards standing upright under the counter. His legs were within easy reach of the young Union soldier, and had he leaned down less than a foot he could have seen the hidden one without trouble.

“Jacob!” It was a call from above, and at once the clerk moved away. A moment later Louis heard him ascend the stairs, and an earnest talk on the next floor followed.

Louis felt that now was the time to make his escape. Even if the others should go away, the clerk would remain in the store until it was time to open for business in the morning. Without making any noise Louis arose from his cramped position. As he did this he saw close at hand a pistol and a box of cartridges, evidently set aside for some customer. He slipped both into his pocket as things which might become exceedingly useful later on.

Less than ten feet away were the articles Jacks and Fox had brought in. Over these Davidstein had hastily thrown some paper, to conceal them from the Confederate officer, who, had he seen them, might have asked some troublesome questions. Louis could not resist the temptation to take a look at the goods. He speedily recognized his watch and several other things belonging to himself, and stowed them away. This done he placed the paper in its former position and ran lightly for the front door.

A look outside told him that the coast in the immediate vicinity of the store was clear. But how would it be farther on? That question could not be answered. Those upstairs were coming down. He moved outside, closed the door noiselessly behind him, and made a dash across the street to an alley between a store and a private dwelling.

“Hi, there!” It was the call of a private citizen, who had seen him running. Louis did not reply, but kept on his course, and reaching the end of the alley leaped over a fence, crossed another street and finally found himself in the rear of a mansion surrounded by a well-kept garden. A barn was close at hand and he entered this, thinking the hay-loft would surely offer a safe hiding place.

An hour was spent in the barn without disturbance, and the young Union soldier was wondering what he had best do next, when he heard the clatter of hoofs, and a man on horseback entered the garden and rode straight for the barn. From the hay-loft Louis saw him dismount and take some papers from a secret pocket in his saddle. Then came the banging of a house door, the rush of feet, and a middle-aged woman rushed up.

“Oh, Robert, are you safe?” Louis heard the lady exclaim, in anxious tones.

“Perfectly safe, Lucy; although I’ve had a tight squeeze of it.”

“And did you get to General McClel--”

“Hush, my dear--” The man put up his hand warningly. “No, I didn’t see the general, but I saw General Keyes and that was just as well. The plans of the fortifications will help along the cause a good deal. Has anybody been here since I was away?”

“Captain Andrews. He wanted to know where you were. I told him somewhere about town. Robert, I am afraid they are beginning to suspect everything is not right.”

“Perhaps. But as long as they can’t prove anything, Lucy, we are safe. I hope you have something ready for me to eat, I’m as hungry as a bear. Whoa, Clipper, there you are, old boy. Lucy, Clipper is a marvel to travel through such swamps and muck holes.”

So the talk ran on, while the man lit a lantern and cared for his horse. That he was a Union sympathizer there was no doubt. He had just made a visit to General Keyes’s headquarters with the plans of the Confederate fortifications in and about Richmond.

Louis felt his heart bound within him. Here were friends who would surely assist him. He came to the edge of the loft.

“Below there,” he whispered.

“Ha! who is there?” ejaculated the man, leaping back and snatching up his pistol, which lay on a feed box.

“Don’t fire, sir. I heard you talk and I throw myself upon your sympathy. I am a Union soldier, just escaped from the prison two blocks over from here--a place that used to be a pork-packing establishment--and the guards are searching everywhere for me. So far they have no clew to my whereabouts, and--”

“Come down here and let me look at you,” was the interruption, and Louis ran down the ladder. The man held up his lantern.

“Pennsylvania Volunteers, eh?” he said, briefly. “Humph! How long were you up in the loft?”

“An hour. You will assist me, won’t you? I don’t want to go back to that awful hole.” Louis looked at the woman.

“Bring him into the house, Robert,” she said, turning to her husband. “I am sure he speaks the truth, for when I was at the window waiting for you I heard some men go by who were talking about two prisoners having just escaped.”

“They were myself and a friend, madam. I don’t know what has become of my friend, but I trust he is safe.”

“Come along, young man,” said the man. “And if you heard anything of importance the quicker you forget it the better it will be for you,” and taking Louis by the arm he led the way through the garden into the house.

Once inside of the house Louis was conducted to a large sitting-room, well furnished. Here he was invited to take a seat, while his host looked to it that every curtain was carefully drawn down and the outer doors locked.

“Now I will listen to your story,” said the man, dropping into an easy chair.

“Won’t you have your supper first, Robert?” interposed his wife. “Perhaps you are hungry, too?” she added, turning to the young soldier.

“I am--but I want to know that I’m safe from the rebels before I begin to eat,” was the quick reply.

“You are safe here, my lad--only don’t speak of rebels so loudly, for even walls have ears, you know.” The man drew two chairs up to the center table. “We’ll eat here, Lucy; it will be safer, in case there is an interruption from the outside.”

In a few minutes a smoking hot supper was brought in from the kitchen. The lady had cooked it herself, all of her servants having been discharged, that they might not pry into the affairs of the household. Never had a meal tasted better to Louis, and he said so, after he had eaten and related his tale at the same time.

“You were lucky to get away, Rockford,” said Robert Dowling, for such was the man’s name. “And you were lucky to strike this place, don’t you think so?”

“I do, Mr. Dowling--especially after such a spread.” Louis smiled at the lady of the house, who smiled back. “This beats rations on the peninsula.”

“I dare say it does. But now the question is, Having escaped from prison, what are you going to do?”

“Get back to camp--if I can.”

“Precisely--if you can. It is going to be difficult, Rockford, tremendously difficult. Getting through the lines is no light work.”

“I believe you, sir. But I don’t want to remain here, so I’ll make the attempt, if you’ll give me a little aid.”

“I’ll give you all the aid I can. You had better not try to start now. It will be daylight soon. Wait until four o’clock this afternoon. Then you can go down near the picket lines and break through--if you can--when it grows dark.”

“The trouble is, this uniform is against me.”

“Not so much as you may think. Some of the boys down here are wearing cast-off Union suits of clothing. All you must do is to rip off your numbers and letters and dirty the suit a little more and it will pass, combined with a Confederate cap of gray which I will furnish to you.”

“And what will be my best route out of Richmond?”

“That must lie with yourself, since what is best is difficult to state. During the day I will take you to the top of the house and through my field glass you can get some idea of how the land lies.”

After this the talk became general. But Robert Dowling was sleepy and soon he excused himself and retired, leaving Louis to be entertained by his wife. The young soldier learned that the family had moved to Richmond from Boston ten years before, the head of the house being in business in both places. The war had ruined Mr. Dowling’s trade, and being a Northern sympathizer he was using his leisure in giving the Federalists all the aid within his power.

Having taken a wash after eating, Louis was conducted to an upper chamber, where he lay down, but not to sleep, for his mind was in too much of a tumult for that. He was about to start on a dangerous mission. Would he succeed or fail? Then his mind traveled back to the parting with Hornsby. Was the old soldier safe, or had he been retaken? And then Louis thought of Andy. Where was the daring young cavalryman now?

From the window of the bed-chamber he could look down two of the streets of Richmond. Occasionally he saw an ambulance pass along, and in the middle of the afternoon a regiment of Confederate infantry passed with colors flying and drums beating gaily, on their way to the front. “Maybe I’ll have to fight my way through those fellows to-night,” he thought, as he turned away to avoid even the possibility of being seen.

It was three o’clock when Robert Dowling called him, and both went up to the roof of the house, but did not step outside. The man had brought a pair of powerful field glasses with him, and through these he pointed out to Louis the various roads leading to the north and east.

It was a grand sight to Louis. On all sides of him lay the Confederate capital, hemmed in with fortifications and swarming with soldiers like ants around some gigantic ant-hill. Here was a single company, there a regiment, and over yonder an entire division, with tents and wagons innumerable. From the fortifications frowned the batteries, and Louis could distinctly see the gunners standing ready for immediate service and the officers moving around, giving orders and inspecting the various headquarters. In one section of the great field a regiment was out on drill, its men marching and counter-marching in splendid order, with bayonets sparkling in the light of the fading sun.

“Tough job to get in here, eh?” said Robert Dowling, briefly.

Louis drew a long breath. “Indeed it will be. Do you really think General McClellan can do it?”

“If General McDowell’s troops come down, yes. If they don’t--” The man did not finish. “Come down, if you have seen enough.”

“In a minute.” Louis turned the field glass to the northeast. “Our troops have their balloon up,” he cried. “They are taking observations.”

“That balloon makes the Southerners awfully mad,” said Robert Dowling, with a laugh. “Time and again they have tried to shoot it full of holes. But come, or somebody on another roof may see you and grow suspicious.”

They went below again, and now the man brought forth the faded Confederate cap he had promised Louis. It made the youth feel queer to put it on. “Seems like I was insulting myself,” he explained, at which his host smiled broadly.

“You’ll get used to it. Now, remember, if you are asked any questions, that you belong to Company A, Second North Carolina Troops, Brigadier-General Anderson commanding, under General Hill, and that you are looking for your company somewhere down the Williamsburg road, and that you lost your regular army clothing during a skirmish in the swamps. That will carry you outside of Richmond and when you get near the picket lines you must take care of yourself as seems best. My advice is, don’t move until it’s dark.”

“Just what I was thinking,” answered Louis, and repeated the name of the organization to which he was supposed to belong, that he might get it right. Soon after this he was bidding his kind host and hostess good-bye, having previously given his word that come what might, he would not reveal what he had heard in the barn during the night previous.

He left the garden by a back gate, and with a heart that beat rapidly hurried along the street to where one of the main thoroughfares led out of Richmond to the Williamsburg turnpike. At first he imagined everybody was looking at him and suspecting him, but this soon wore away and he continued on with greater confidence. He had no gun, but in his pocket was the pistol which he had picked up in the store, now fully loaded.

Coming to a corner of the thoroughfare, he paused for a minute, to avoid some soldiers who were marching past. As he lingered, he chanced to glance at a door upon which was a brass plate bearing the name:

THEODORE FAILY

“The very man father wants to hear from!” Louis murmured to himself. “Shall I venture to call on him, or had I better move on?”

His first inclination was to go on, but then he remembered the letters from home, and how afraid his folks were that they might lose the farm. He advanced to the door and knocked sharply.

In answer to his summons an aged negro appeared, and when the youth asked for Mr. Faily, ushered him into a dimly-lit parlor. A minute later Theodore Faily appeared. He did not know Louis and gazed inquiringly at the young soldier in his tattered uniform.

“Excuse me, sir, but I am in great haste,” said Louis, speaking rapidly. “Will you tell me if you are the Theodore Faily who used to live in Pennsylvania and sold a farm to Mr. Rockford?”

“I am the man, yes.”

“I am an--an agent for Mr. Rockford, Mr. Faily. I have reached you under difficulties. Let me ask, do you know a man named Samuel Hammer?”

“I do--to my sorrow.”

“Did he have a claim on that farm?”

“Not in the least. He once claimed to have, but his claim was worthless.”

“He has been bothering Mr. Rockford a great deal lately,” continued the young soldier. “He wants three thousand dollars, or he is going to law--”

“The rascal! But it is just like Sam Hammer. Mr. Rockford had better pay no attention to him.”

“Can you give me some paper, showing the truth of this matter? I will manage to get it to Mr. Rockford by some means. I have risked a great deal to reach you.”

Theodore Faily mused for a moment and gazed keenly at Louis.

“This is--er--a rather unusual proceeding,” he observed. “But in these times many things are unusual. I think I understand you--since you must come from the North.” He closed one eye suggestively. “Yes, I will give you a paper, duly signed and witnessed. I hate Sam Hammer and would like nothing better than to put a spoke in his wheel.”

The gentleman went out--to be gone over a quarter of an hour. When he came back he handed Louis an envelope.

“There, take that. You will find it will stop Hammer, I reckon. And when you see Mr. Rockford, give him my best respects.” He leaned forward. “My sympathies are still at the North,” he whispered.

“Thank you a thousand times, sir,” said Louis, as he slipped the document into an inner pocket. Then, after a few words more, he left the house.

The sun was beginning to set when Louis found himself out of the city. He had been stopped twice, but his answers in each instance had enabled him to proceed without molestation. One man gave him minute directions as to where he could find “his company,” and for this Louis thanked him profusely, inwardly shivering for fear the fellow might chance to know some of the North Carolinians and ask after them.

The young Unionist reckoned that he was about a mile from the picket line when he came to a turn in the road he was pursuing. He had just passed a small encampment of Confederate troops who were breaking up to march to the rear. He now heard the thunder of cavalry on the road and stepped into the brush at hand to let them pass by. They soon came into view and he recognized the Montgomery Grays.

“Andy’s troop,” he muttered, and strained his eyes to catch sight of his friend, but failed to do so, at which he was much disappointed.

The cavalry having passed, he resumed his journey, but with greater caution, feeling he must ere long go into hiding until nightfall. A short tramp brought him to the top of a rise. From this he made out Confederate troops to his right and his left, while the road ahead was alive with them.

“That settles it. I can’t go much farther in this direction. I’ll strike out through the woods.”

Leaving the road, he pursued a course in the center of the rising ground, thus avoiding the swamps upon either side. There was a beaten trail here, showing that others had taken the same course.

A few minutes of walking and Louis suddenly stood still. A horse was coming towards him, walking slowly. The animal was riderless and was bleeding from a bullet wound in the foreleg. As the beast came closer Louis recognized it. The horse was Firefly.