Chapter XV: Colonel Rosenthal

His eyebrow dark and eye of fire
Showed spirit proud and prompt to ire;
Yet lines of thought upon his cheek,
Did deep design and counsel speak;
His forehead by his casque worn bare,
His thick moustache and curling hair,
Dark brown and grizzled here and there,
But more through toil than age.
His square turned joints and strength of limb
Showed him no carpet knight so trim,
But in close fight a champion grim,
In camps a leader sage.—SCOTT.

Elfie in the hands of the guerrillas, we must go and look after Justin, from whom we have been separated too long.

It is true that we have heard of him from time to time, and by little fragments of news picked up here and there, we have been able to keep track of his movements since he left us.

We know, for instance, that his regiment has been engaged in several sharp skirmishes, such as would be set down as great battles in any other country than this, the theatre of our colossal war, and that in every one of these fights he distinguished himself alike by his personal courage and his military skill.

We have heard that, for gallant and meritorious conduct, he was promoted to the rank of major, and that, by the death or disabling of his superior officers, the temporary command of his regiment, then on duty at H., devolved upon him.

Now it happened that upon the very morning of Elfie’s fatal picnic excursion, the colonel of Justin’s regiment, being convalescent, returned to his post of duty. Major Rosenthal was relieved, and for faithful and efficient services, was promoted to the rank of colonel, and ordered to assume the command of the —— Cavalry, then stationed at W., in the valley.

The next morning Colonel Rosenthal, mounted on a noble war-horse, set forth to cross the Blue Ridge, _en route_ for his distant destination. He was attended by a single orderly, Sergeant Hay, the friendless youth whom Britomarte had kissed and blessed on the moving of the brigade, and who was thenceforth the object of Justin’s especial care.

The valley was free, or supposed to be free, from guerrillas, and therefore a body guard was deemed unnecessary.

It was a glorious autumn morning after the storm, and the passage of the mountains on this route was neither difficult nor dangerous. And it was yet early in the forenoon when Colonel Rosenthal, having crossed the ridge in safety, descended into the old turnpike stage road, leading though a dense forest towards W., which was still far distant.

But the glory of the morning had no power to lighten the gloom that overshadowed the young officer’s spirit.

In truth, he had both public and private matter for depression.

The former was of course grief for the wide-spread ruin wrought by the war, and sickness of soul with “hope deferred” by its long continuance and indefinitely postponed end, and was shared by every patriot in the land, and every philanthropist in the world.

The latter was in distress about his sister Erminie and his beloved Britomarte, and his intense anxiety concerning the fate of a young orderly sergeant, whom, while in temporary command of the regiment, he had detailed on special duty, and who had left him about seven days previous to this, and had not yet been heard from.

This boy was an especial favorite with his superior officer. Soon after the regiment had left Washington, and while it was lying at City Point, he had enlisted. Since that, for cleanliness, sobriety, diligence, fidelity, and, in short, all soldierly good qualities, he had been steadily promoted until he had reached the rank of sergeant.

As by instinct Justin Rosenthal soon singled the boy out from his comrades, and selected him as one of his own orderlies, Hay being the other.

Now it occurred that while Major Rosenthal was in command of the regiment at H., there came rumors of the reappearance of the terrible Free Sword on the east side of the Blue Ridge. He was reported to be in the neighborhood of L., re-organizing his band of desperadoes, who were flocking to his standard by scores, by fifties and by hundreds.

It was whispered that there was a plan on foot to mass the three great bands respectively commanded by Monck, Corsoni and Goldsborough; then to cross the river above the Point of Rocks, slip down behind the line of forts, and make a sudden dash into Washington.

Such were the rumors among the country people; but whether they were true or false, or by whom, or upon what ground they had been started, no one could tell.

Reconnoitering parties had been sent to beat up the country in the neighborhood of L.; but they had returned without having seen or heard anything about the dreaded Free Sword or any of his followers.

Either he was not there, or his encampment was well concealed, and the people of the country were keeping his secret.

And as for Monck’s and Goldsborough’s bands, there was not even a rumor suggestive of their whereabouts.

It became now advisable to send some person of equal tact and courage, who should go among the country people in the vicinity of L., pass for a secessionist, discover the retreat of the Free Sword, penetrate to his camp, and find out what foundation there might be for all the rumors that were afloat.

The duty must be undertaken voluntarily of course; but no one in the regiment was found willing to go upon this dangerous expedition, until Will. Wing, the major’s second orderly, proffered his services for the forlorn hope.

His major was surprised and softened by this devotion in one so young and tender as this boy, and he kindly and candidly set before him the extreme perils of the enterprise.

But Wing was firm, and respectfully represented that his very youth would be his protection, as it would render him an object of less suspicion to the enemy; and he begged that he might be permitted to render the required service to his country.

So the major had consented, and the young orderly, disguised in a suit of confederate gray, had left H. some seven days before, and since that he had not been seen or heard from.

And now Colonel Rosenthal’s soul was pierced by remorse for having suffered the boy to go upon such a fatal errand, and by grief for his probable fate; for scarcely a doubt remained upon the colonel’s mind that his spy had been discovered, and had fallen a victim to the vengeance of the terrible Free Sword.

With a spirit burdened and darkened by these thoughts and feelings, Colonel Rosenthal rode on his way.

So few travellers passed this old, deserted turnpike road, that the sound of horse’s feet, galloping rapidly towards him, startled Justin and caused him to look up; when, to his unspeakable joy, he recognized Wing.

Smiling, the boy saluted his officer and sprang from his horse.

“Oh, Wing, my child! I am so rejoiced to see you safe back again! What news?” eagerly exclaimed Colonel Rosenthal.

“Great news, Major,” said Wing, who knew nothing of his officer’s new rise in rank—“great news, sir! I have met with a complete success. I have unearthed Corsoni and delivered him and his band over to our forces.”

“That is glorious! Wing, you shall have a lieutenant’s commission for that!”

“Thanks, Major; if the new commission is not to remove me from your side,” said the orderly.

“Foolish boy! Do you weigh your attachment to me against such an honor as that?”

“No; Heaven knows I do not; for my attachment to you would so weigh down the honor that it would send the lieutenant’s commission flying!”

“We shall not be separated, Wing. I shall take good care of that. I am going on to W. to take command of a cavalry regiment there. After you are promoted, if you should be found capable of fulfilling the duties of the office, you shall be my adjutant and live at my head quarters. But where were you flying so fast when I met you, Wing?”

“To report to you, Colonel.”

“At H.?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, you have an opportunity of reporting here. Mount your horse, Wing, and ride on with me. I have managed to get you and Hay detached from your late regiment, and transferred to the one of which I am about to assume the command; so that you may both be near me, as formerly.”

“Thanks, Colonel,” answered Wing, springing lightly into his saddle.

“Now give me a full report of your expedition, Wing. Yet let it be a brief one, since ‘brevity is the soul of wit.’”

“It shall be brief as a military order, my Colonel. When I left the camp, seven days since, with the rebel prisoner’s clothes on my back and the rebel soldier’s pass in my pocket, and _your_ pass rolled up into the compass of a hazel-nut and wrapped in water-proof skin, tucked into my cheek like a quid of tobacco, so that I could even swallow it in a case of extreme emergency, I took the way to L., avoiding the highway and keeping pretty much to the country roads and bridle-paths. I stopped at the farm-houses, ostensibly to procure food or lodging, but really to get information. I passed for a confederate soldier on leave going home to L. to see my friends; and to prove my words true, I showed them the pass that we took from the prisoner William Grill, whom we captured near C.”

“But, Wing, there was danger in that.”

“Sir, there was danger in every step of the expedition. I was prepared to meet it.”

“Brave boy! But suppose you had met with people who knew the person of this William Gill.”

“Sir, I had to risk that, and to use some little address. On coming to a farm-house, at the close of the day, for instance, I would be taken at once by my uniform to be a confederate soldier, and I would be received and treated kindly. Soon I would take an opportunity of asking my entertainers if they knew a family of the name of Gill. Almost invariably it happened that they knew no such family personally; though in some instances they knew _of_ them. I would express myself sorry for that, as I was a connection of that family myself and had been in hopes of meeting friends on my road. When my entertainers betrayed suspicion of me, which was very seldom, I showed Gill’s pass, which at once dissipated all their doubts.”

“Well, and what did you hear from these people?”

“Plenty of abuse of the Yankees, Colonel, which was quite natural, and in which I joined so boisterously and with such seeming malignity as sometimes even to provoke an apology for these same Yankees from their confederate foes. ‘Some of them Union fellows were not so very bad, after all,’ the rebels admitted.”

“Well, but about the Free Sword?” inquired Colonel Rosenthal.

“I heard nothing for the first two days. Near noon, on the second day of my journey, I fell in with a party of our foragers. I was stopped immediately as a rebel. But I took out my quid of water-proof skin, and unrolled and exhibited your pass, and told my story. I passed the night with them, and from them I learned that on the preceding night they had surrounded the house of a certain notorious bushwhacker named Gill, with orders to arrest him and his sons; that they had been fired upon from the windows of the house, and several of their number wounded and two killed; that they had then fired the house and burned out the bushwhackers. The father and one son were killed in the fight that followed, and the other son was taken prisoner. There was another son, they said, who had been captured some six weeks before. I explained to the men that this first captured son was the one I was personating, and that the affair of the previous night would aid me very much in keeping up the character. In the morning I left them and went on my journey, striking deeper into the forest.”

“I hope you soon struck the trail of the Free Sword.”

“Sooner than I expected. Look you, sir: I did not spare my flesh and blood. I gashed myself with several wounds, to make it appear that I had been in a fight. Nor did I spare the Confederate uniform. I burned and scorched it in several places, to make it seem that I had barely escaped with my life from the burning homestead.”

“You have a great deal of craft for one so young, Wing.”

“‘Necessity is the mother of invention,’ it is said, sir. In this ‘forlorn plight’ I went on my way, until, near nightfall, I came to a lonely farm-house, on the edge of the forest, where there were some extremely ragged Confederate soldiers, smoking and drinking. I dragged myself to their presence, and told them my piteous story: how I was a Confederate soldier on leave; how I was going home to see my father and brothers, when, on the very night of my arrival, their house was burned, and they themselves bayonetted by the Yankee soldiers; and how I had barely escaped with my life.”

“There again you ran a risk, Wing! Suppose these soldiers had personally known the Gills?”

“I provided for that, Colonel. The first question I groaned forth was whether they knew the Gills. No—none of them knew the family personally, though one man said he had heard of them, and that they had a son in the Confederate army. So you see, my Colonel, all the rest was easy enough. I had only to say that I was that son, and to tell them my piteous story.”

“But suppose some one of their number had known the son by sight, and so had detected you?”

“Suppose the earth had opened under my feet, Colonel? I beg your pardon for speaking so lightly, sir; but one was as likely to happen as the other. Both were possible, but neither probable. However, I had even provided for the remote contingency of detection before committing myself in my story. I had ascertained by observation that no one among them knew by sight any member of the Gill family. If they had, I should have passed myself as a distant connection, bearing the same name.”

“Go on, my boy.”

“One of the men—Haddycraff—asked me how long I had to serve in the regiment to which I belonged. I answered, no time at all. That my leave in point of fact amounted to a discharge; for that before the leave should expire, my time of service would be out.”

“And what was your motive in telling that story, Gill? Was it that you had got your hand in, or rather your tongue in, to the invention line of business, and couldn’t get it out again?” laughed Colonel Rosenthal.

“Not at all, sir; I had a motive in saying that. I saw that the men among whom I found myself were members of some guerrilla gang, and that they were after recruits. The event proved that I was quite right, for Sergeant Haddycraff slapping me smartly upon the shoulder, exclaimed heartily:

“Well, my brave boy, a soldier does not sit down to weep over his wrongs, like a woman; he rises up to avenge them like a man!”

“‘And that I mean to do on every blamed Unionist I can find!’ I answered.

“‘Quite right. Now you’re a-chatting. That’s the talk! Now to help you to do this, how would you like to take service under one of our gallant independent leaders?’ he asked.

“‘One of the guerrilla chiefs, do you mean?’ I inquired.

“‘That’s what the lying Yankees call us, blast them! We are no more guerrillas than we are Cossacks!’ exclaimed Haddycraff angrily.

“‘But for my part, I thank the Yankees for bestowing it. I should glory in the name of guerrilla,’ I said.

“‘Ha, ha, ha! we have made it a terror to the clock-peddling heroes who have mistaken their vocation and come down here to fight us,’ chuckled Haddycraff.

“‘To be a gallant guerrilla is the height of my ambition,’ I said.

“‘Then how would you like service under the brave Free Sword?’

“‘The Free Sword!’ I exclaimed, with enthusiasm. ‘Oh, Heaven! I should think it almost too much glory to hope for, to live and die in the service of the great Free Sword!’

“‘And I tell you what, my boy, your ardent admiration of Colonel Corsoni is shared by at least one-half the youth in Virginia.’

“‘But the cursed Yankees who burned my father’s house were saying among themselves that the force of the Free Sword was entirely broken up and scattered to the four winds, and that it never could be re-organized,’ I said.

“‘Ho, ho, ho! And that is all they know about it, laughed Haddycraff; ‘and if you choose to go with me, and take service under the Free Sword, you may know for yourself how little truth there is in those reports.’

“Well, my colonel, I agreed to accompany the guerrillas to the camp of their chief. And so, when they had feasted at the expense of the farm people, who were mostly women and negroes, and had loaded their mules with farm produce, for which they paid in veritable greenbacks, we all took the road through the woods for some miles, and then turned out of the road in the thickest depths of the pathless forest, and with no other guide than a pocket compass, found our way to the encampment of the Free Sword.”

“And where was that?”

“On an old deserted plantation in a clearing of that same forest. The approaches to the encampment were very strongly picketed. There was strict military discipline observed. We reached head quarters just as they were beating the reveillé, and in twenty minutes afterwards I was ushered into the presence of the Free Sword. A very handsome fellow is this celebrated guerrilla chief, my colonel, looking every inch a brigand leader, however, and reminding one strongly of ‘Fra Diavolo’ in the opera.”

“Yes, yes—I know the personal appearance of Vittorio Corsoni. I knew him well in former days. He was a young Italian adventurer, and at the first opportunity took to the guerrilla life as naturally as a duck to water. How were you received by him?”

“Very, very kindly. He bent those large, dark eyes so earnestly upon me while I was telling my piteous story of coming back to find a burning homestead and a murdered father, with his ‘hoary head all dabbled with his blood,’ that to escape his intense gaze I had to cover my face with my hands and take refuge behind a flood of tears. And then what do you think happened, Colonel?”

“What?”

“I felt the hand of the Free Sword laid gently on my head—gently as a woman’s hand—and I heard his voice, saying:

“‘You shall stay with me and be my son, and I will avenge you on your adversaries.’ It was as if the voice of a god of Olympus had spoken.”

“Are you an enthusiast, Wing?” inquired Col. Rosenthal.

“Perhaps, sir. Then, at least, when I looked up and saw tears of compassion standing in brave Corsoni’s eyes—compassion for me, come to his camp to betray him, I felt for a moment as if I were the caitiff and traitor, and he were the hero and patriot; and I assure you, my Colonel, that I had to remember he was in arms against our government before I could reconcile myself to the part I had to play.”

“One might think you had fallen in love with the interesting brigand!”

“That would have been quite impossible for me, sir! Yet I do not wonder that his wife did! nor that she keeps close to his side through all the evils and dangers of his wild life!”

“You talk like a woman, Wing,” exclaimed the colonel, laughing.

“Perhaps I do, sir; but I acted like a man! like a very man!” retorted Wing, sarcastically; “for I betrayed the host of whom I pretended to seek refuge, and who promised to protect me and avenge my supposed injuries!”

“And _now_ you talk like one particular woman whom I could name! But proceed, my boy! How did you get on in the camp of the Free Sword?”

“Very successfully! He said that I was not stout enough for their hard, military duty, so he placed me in attendance upon his wife. But I had ample opportunities of finding out their plans; for the Free Sword had no secrets from the devoted companions of his dangers. I learned, little by little, that there was certainly a plan on foot to consolidate the three great guerrilla bands, to make a raid into Pennsylvania or Maryland; they had not decided which was to be the theatre of the invasion. They were waiting for the arrival of Colonel Goldsborough, who was daily expected.

“Go on.”

“Well, sir, I remained in the camp of the Free Sword for five days; but I learned nothing more, because there was really nothing more to learn. But on the evening of the fifth day there was a surprise.”

“Ah!”

“Not from our forces. The surprise was the sudden arrival of Colonel Goldsborough with a female captive. He came in the dead of night, with his prisoner bound on the horse behind him, and attended by a single officer, the notorious Nicholas Mutchison, whose gigantic proportions have in no degree been exaggerated by report.”

“Umph!”

“We learned from that loud-mouthed Mutchison, who told the story with great gusto, that their band had surprised a picnic party near the Point of Rocks; had exchanged their own foul and ragged clothing for the holiday dresses of the gentlemen, as far as they would go; had eaten up the picnic dinner and finished the evening by a ball in which they danced with the ladies of the party; and finally had broken up their bivouac in a hurry at the arrival of their chief and the announcement of a squadron of Yankee cavalry near, and had brought off one young lady captive, leaving all the others to find their way home as they could.”

“Where was this picnic party from?”

“Washington.”

“And—what young lady was that who was taken captive?” inquired Colonel Rosenthal, with a dawning of anxiety.

“Mutchison called her Miss Fielding; Colonel Goldsborough called her Elfie.”

“Good Heaven!”

“What is the matter, sir?”

“I know the young lady. She is an old friend of my sister. Go on, Wing.”

“Well, sir, the young lady was placed under the care of Madam Corsoni, who made her comfortable—that is, as comfortable as any creature whose every breath was a malediction could be made.”

“The young lady did not bear her captivity very patiently, then?”

“Patiently! I tell you, my Colonel, if I had been Albert Goldsborough I had rather carried off bodily a well grown she-tiger. She had torn his hair and whiskers out by the roots and had nearly clawed both his ears off. His jaws will have to be bandaged for a month; and if he doesn’t get erysipelas from his wounds, I don’t know what will prevent him. Afterwards, while she was in the care of Madam Corsoni, as I said before, she did nothing but breathe maledictions against him and his band.”

“Very natural and extremely like her. Well, my boy, you say that was on the evening of the fifth day; you must have left soon after that.”

“Yes, sir, I did. That night the Free Sword, much to his distaste, had to give up his half of his lady’s chamber to her new guest; for as Madam Corsoni was the only other woman in the encampment, she insisted on keeping the young girl under her own immediate protection.”

“And she was quite right. Proceed, Wing.”

“That night the Free Sword, being banished from his wife’s quarters, passed the hours with his guest, Colonel Goldsborough, in consultation upon the combination of their forces for the projected raid. I kept the door. In that interview it was decided that the three great bands respectively commanded by Colonel Corsoni, Goldsborough and Monck, should rendezvous at the Black Bear’s Pass, where the greater portion of Goldsborough’s guerrillas had already preceded them, and where Monck’s horde was expected to join them. It was arranged that they should march the next day, if the weather should permit.”

“Well! Go on.”

“When I had heard so much, my Colonel, I thought it was about time for me to make my escape from the Free Sword’s camp and carry the information to the nearest Federal Fort. Soon as I was relieved from duty at the office door, I took measures to get off unobserved. Fortunately for me, there was a terrible storm arose. Under its cover I made my escape.”

“How did you pass their pickets, my boy?”

“I crawled through the dense and pathless woods between the picket stations, until I got quite clear of the encampment. Fate still favored me. Outside I caught a horse all saddled and bridled, that seemed to have broken away from his fastenings somewhere. Once mounted on the horse, I dashed on as fast as possible towards Fort R., where I arrived just before sunrise. I was stopped and questioned by our own pickets. I had no pass-word, of course; but I told my story and was taken under guard up to head quarters, where again to Colonel D. I told my story. And in fifteen minutes or less time, two companies of cavalry were mounted and off after the Free Sword. I was detained in a sort of honorable captivity for several hours, and finally dismissed with a pass to return to my regiment at H.”

“Before leaving Fort R., did you hear from the companies that went out after Corsoni?”

“Yes, sir; some of the men returned to report to Col. W. that my information was correct; that they had found the camp of the Free Sword just where I had reported it to be; but that the band had probably received information of the approach of our forces, for that they had hastily evacuated the premises.”

“Then Corsoni and his band were not captured?”

“No, sir; but the cavalry were still in search of them when I left.”

“And that is all, Wing?”

“That is all, sir.”

“Well, Wing, I hardly know for which quality you deserve the most praise: for your shrewdness, or for your courage. If I have any influence in the proper quarters you shall receive a lieutenant’s commission for this service.”

“Thanks, Colonel.”

“And if the Free Sword should really be captured upon the information given by you, you will be entitled to a considerable portion of the large reward offered for his apprehension.”

“Your pardon, sir. What I did was done for the service of my country and for the pleasure of my Colonel. But not to save myself from perishing would I touch a cent of the blood money!”

“Upon the whole I think you are right, Wing. In your place, _I_ would not touch the reward, certainly. But the lieutenant’s commission—that is an affair of another color, eh, boy?”

“Yes, sir. I hope I have earned that, or shall earn it in some nobler manner than spying out and giving information against outlaws.”

As they spoke, they emerged from the forest out upon the broad high road that skirted it.

“We are now about thirty miles from W., I think, Wing?” said the colonel.

“Thirty-eight,” answered the boy.

“So far? Well, at least we shall reach the town by nightfall,” concluded the colonel.