Chapter V: Off for Washington

“Now, then, who is the next volunteer? Come, gentlemen and fellow citizens, you have read our worthy President’s proclamation; you know how urgent is the call; you know that the rebels are collecting a great force to capture our noble Capitol at Washington; you know how those same rebels have taunted us, saying the North could not be kicked into a war; and you know also what the cities and towns and villages around us are doing--enrolling their patriots as fast as the names can be put down. Shall it be said that Goreville stood back when called upon to do her duty? Never! Come, who is the next volunteer?”

Captain Paulding stood upon the stoop of the grocery store, addressing the crowd which had collected at the roll of the drum in the hands of young Benny Bruce, who had also enlisted, although less than fifteen years old. The captain had been “spouting” earnestly for half an hour, but no new volunteers had appeared. The muster roll numbered thirty-four names, and Captain Paulding wanted forty before starting on the long march for Washington.

Behind the captain sat a clerk with the list in hand and a table with pens and ink beside him, for the captain knew that many volunteers had to be “caught on the fly,” or their enthusiasm would wane and they would not sign the enlistment paper. Beside the clerk sat Josiah Bruce, the father of Benny, a veteran who had lost a hand in the Mexican war, and who was much crippled by rheumatism.

“Come, boys; come and sign!” cried Josiah Bruce, waving his stump of an arm over his head. “I went to Mexico, and my son there is goin’ to beat the drum fer ye. Sign, I say, an’ be patriots! Hurrah for the Stars and Stripes! Oh, if I wasn’t doubled up with this ’ere rheumatism, I’d show ye! Benny, beat the drum ag’in. Perhaps some o’ the men standin’ around hain’t heard it yet!”

And Benny beat the drum so vigorously that a larger crowd than ever began to collect. Again Captain Paulding addressed those before him.

“Shall it be said that the majority of the men of Goreville were cowards; that they would not march forth to uphold the hand of their President? No, never! Come now and sign; place your names on the golden roll of honor ere it is too late. Ha! Here is another, our worthy citizen, Moses Blackwell. Moses is a blacksmith, as we all know, and creation help the rebel that gets in front of him in a hand-to-hand fight. Soldiers, three cheers for our new member, Moses Blackwell.”

And as Moses, a tall, thin, but, nevertheless, powerful fellow, put down the rough scrawl which went for his signature, the cheers were given with a will. As the blacksmith stepped back, two others came to the front, one a man who had just hopped from a farm wagon, and who came forward with his pants tucked in his boots and his whip in his hand.

“Bart Callings and Nathan Hornsby!” announced Captain Paulding. “Keep the ball a-rolling, boys. Now is the time, remember, ere it is too late. Soldiers, three cheers for Callings and Hornsby! That makes thirty-seven. We want at least three more. Come, now! Come! Everybody join in, please.”

“‘My country, ’tis of thee,
Sweet land of liberty;
Of thee I sing!’”

Loud and clear arose the song on the bracing April air, and ere the refrain had died away two more names had been added to the list. The echo of the final word yet rang over the distant hills when Louis Rockford slipped shyly from his horse and mounted the store porch from the side.

“I want to sign, please,” he almost whispered to the clerk.

“Hello, Rockford! Then you are really going, after all!” cried the clerk. “I’m glad to hear it. Rowe put you down as too cowardly, but I knew better and said so. Captain, Louis Rockford will sign.”

“Another! The fortieth!” shouted Captain Paulding. He shook Louis by the hand. “Going in place of your poor father, I suppose. Soldiers, three cheers for our fortieth man, Louis Rockford.”

And once more the cheers rang out, this time with an extra will, for Louis had many friends among the younger members of the company. But during the cheering Louis’s quick eye detected that Jerry Rowe’s lips did not move. Almost instinctively he felt that, though he had many friends in the company, he had also one enemy.

Louis had had an easier time than he anticipated getting his parents to consent to his enlistment. The reason for this was that, now Mr. Rockford could not go, he felt the family should be in some way represented and had whispered as much to his wife during the moments when not in pain. And Mrs. Rockford had agreed, but with tears in her eyes, for her only son was sorely needed about the dairy, and the thought that he must go forth to meet great danger filled her with alarm. A deeply religious woman, she spent a night in prayer, then called Louis to her side, and kissing him fondly, told him to do his duty to his country.

The days which followed the enlistment flew on wings, so much was there to do. Louis was called on each day to drill for three hours, from four o’clock to seven in the afternoon and evening--this time being chosen that the men might do a fair day’s work at home before commencing. At first he was put in the “awkward squad,” drilled by old Josiah Bruce, and rapidly taught how to stand at “attention,” how to “right face,” “left face,” “about face,” “mark time,” and “march.” This learned, he was given a gun and put through the manual of arms until he could handle the weapon as well as any of them.

Louis’s earnestness was warmly approved by the old Mexican veteran. “You’re a born soldier, Louis,” he said one day when the drilling was over. “Keep on as you have begun and my word on it, you’ll come out of the war with shoulder-straps.”

“Now I’ve started, I mean to do my best,” was the quiet answer, and those words told the whole story, as the chapters which follow will testify.

At last came the day when the company was to start for Washington, that being then the objective point of all the Union troops. It was felt that if the South struck any blow at all it would be at our Capitol.

Louis had taken an affectionate farewell of his father and his mother at home, and now Lucy and Martha took him down to Goreville Square in a dairy wagon, not only to see him off, but to witness the celebration given in honor of the departure of the Goreville Volunteers. Big bonfires were blazing, a flag flew from the front of every house and place of business, and the small boys were shooting off all the powder and crackers they could lay hands on, while in the midst of all little Benny Bruce was rolling his drum as never before, calling the men together for their first march of a hundred and fifty miles or more.

“Fall in, men!” cried Captain Paulding. There was a hasty handshaking and a kissing all around, and the men hurried to the center of the square. “Company, attention! Shoulder arms! Forward march!”

Rap! Rap! Rap-rap-rap! went Benny Bruce’s big drum, and off the company started in two rather irregular lines. Old Bruce gave a rousing cheer and this was taken up on all sides, while the ladies waved their handkerchiefs and some of the boys set off the cannon they had borrowed from somewhere. The Goreville Volunteers were off at last.

Each man was provided with a gun of some kind, finding the weapon for himself, and each had likewise furnished himself with a belt and ammunition-box, a haversack, and a blanket. None of the privates had uniforms outside of caps, which the general store-keeper at Goreville had donated. The officers wore uniforms of their own selecting, while Benny Bruce had been tricked out with uniform and drum by his enthusiastic father. The flag the company carried had been presented by the ladies of the district, who had held a large “donation” party for the purpose of raising the necessary funds. Each man’s haversack was stocked to overflowing with rations, and behind the company drove a wagon packed with other necessities of camp life.

The course of the company lay directly southeast through the State of Maryland. At that time it was known that Maryland was “on the fence” so far as joining the North or the South was concerned, and hardly had the boundary-line of the State been crossed than Captain Paulding halted the company and made a brief address.

“Men, we have now entered the State of Maryland,” he began. “We trust this State will remain true to the Union, but we are not sure that she will do so. I know personally that there are many people living here who are rebels at heart, and some of these people may try to make us trouble. If--”

“Let ’em try it on, that’s all,” came in a growl from the rear line.

“Silence in the ranks. I feel as you do about this matter, but at the same time if we can reach Washington without open trouble, we had best do so. Of course, we will maintain our rights, but to seek a quarrel will only delay us.”

Having spoken thus, Captain Paulding paused for a moment and then commanded Privates Rockford and Bingham to step forward. Wondering what was up, Louis did as ordered, and Harry Bingham followed.

“You will go on ahead,” said the captain. “Take the road to Frederick and keep on until about four o’clock this afternoon, when you can look around for a good halting-place. If you see anything alarming report to me as quickly as you can.”

Louis and Bingham replied that they would. Then they saluted the captain in true military style and hurried off side by side.

“I’m glad he detailed us for this work,” said Louis, a few minutes later. “It’s much pleasanter to have a friend along.”

“Rather have me than Jerry Rowe, eh?” replied Harry Bingham. “Well, I don’t blame you. Rowe is very overbearing. But I reckon he’ll have the starch taken out of him before the war is over.”

Knowing what was expected of them, they hurried off at a rapid pace, and soon the company was lost to sight behind a turn in the road. It was a clear and by no means cold day and both felt in capital spirits, and Louis would have started to whistle, but suddenly thought better of it. Their course lay along a low hill, and this passed, they came within sight of several farmhouses. As they passed the first of these, two farmers came out to meet them.

“Hullo, sodgers; whar ye goin’?” questioned one.

“Down the road,” answered Louis, pleasantly.

“Goin’ to Washington, I allow,” put in the second farmer.

“Perhaps we are,” said Harry, with spirit. “Any objections?”

“Objections? Not at all, young man. Only--”

“Only what?”

“Reckon ye’ll wish ye hadn’t gone afore long--when Jeff Davis takes hold o’ things at the Capitol.”

Both farmers laughed meaningly; in the midst of which Louis and his friend proceeded on their way.

“Captain Paulding was right; Maryland is full of rebels,” said Louis, when they were out of hearing. “We must be on our guard and not let the company run into trouble.”

On and on they went, over one hill after another; past open fields and through heavy woods. At the noon hour they halted beside a brook and partook of a portion of the rations contained in their haversacks.

“I’ll tell you one thing,” remarked Harry, as he munched a sandwich. “We are not going to live as well as we did at home--not by a good deal.”

“Fortunes of war,” laughed Louis. “Think of what the old Revolutionary heroes had to put up with.”

“Yes, and the heroes of the War of 1812 and the Mexican War. Do you know what made me enlist? It was old Bruce’s stories of how General Scott took Mexico.”

“I am glad President Lincoln has called General Scott to take charge in Washington. I want to see the old fellow. Who knows but that--Hist! Who is that coming?”

Louis broke off short as three horsemen appeared at the ridge of the hill just beyond the brook. The three horsemen wore the uniforms and trappings of cavalrymen. In a moment more they were leading their animals down to the brook for a drink. Feeling they might be a detachment of the enemy, the two Union boys started to withdraw from sight. But the movement came too late.

“Halt, there!” came the command, and in a moment more the three cavalrymen were upon them.