by Oliver Optic
CHAPTER IX
LIEUTENANT SOMERS CHANGES HIS NAME AND CHARACTER
Like the major-generals in the army, Lieutenant Somers had strongaspirations in the direction of an independent command. Like thosedistinguished worthies, no doubt, he felt competent to perform biggerthings than he had yet been called to achieve in the ordinary routine ofduty. He had the blood of heroes in his veins; and, in spite of all hecould do to keep his thoughts within the limits of modesty, he found themsoaring to the regions of the improbable and fanciful. His imaginationled him a wild race, and pictured him in the act of performing marvelousdeeds of valor and skill.
Fancy is a blind and reckless leader; and it gave our hero oftentimes acommand which his reason would not have permitted him to accept. Whatboys, and even what men, think, when stimulated by ambition, would be tooridiculous to put upon paper. If their thoughts could be disclosed to theimpertinent eye of the world, the proprietors would blushingly disown anddisclaim them.
Still, almost every live man and boy gives the reins to his fancy; and inthe Army of the Potomac, we will venture to say, there were a hundredthousand privates and officers who permitted themselves to dream thatthey were brigadiers and major-generals; that they did big things, andreceived the grateful homage of the world. At any rate, Lieutenant Somersdid, modest as he was, even while he felt that he was utterly incompetentto perform the duties incumbent on the two stars or the one star.
Experience had given him some confidence in his own powers; and there wassomething delightful in the idea of having an independent command. It wasa partial, a very partial, realization of the wanderings of his vividfancy. He felt able to do something which Lilian Ashford would takepleasure in reading in the newspapers; perhaps something which wouldprove his fitness for a brigadier's star at some remote period. Now, wehave made all this explanation to show how Somers had prepared himself toaccomplish some great thing. The mission with which he had been intrustedwas an important one; and the safety of the whole left wing of the armymight depend upon its faithful performance.
He was wrought up to the highest pitch of patriotic inspiration by thecharge which had been laid upon him; and he was determined to bring backthe information required of him, even if he had to fly through the air toobtain it. It was of no use to suggest impossibilities to a young man insuch a frame of mind; he did not know the meaning of the word. To impresshim with the importance of the duty intrusted to him, the general ofdivision had given him a faint outline of the intended movements of thearmy. If the enemy massed his forces in this direction, it was of vitalnecessity that the general should know it.
Thus prepared and thus inspired, Lieutenant Somers marched his littleforce to the point from which he proposed to operate. On his right handthere was a dense wood, on the border of which extended one of thenumerous cross-roads that checker the country. On his left was anotherpiece of woods, terminating in a point about a quarter of a mile from theroad and in the center of a valley.
On the hill beyond was the intrenched line of the rebels. In front of it,at the foot of the slope, was a line of rifle-pits, which were occupiedby the rebel pickets. The hill and the woods concealed the operations ofthe enemy; and no signal station was high enough to obtain the necessaryinformation. The woods on both sides of the open space were picketed bythe rebels; and the rifle-pits in front were an effectual check to theadvance of a small force, while a large one could not be sent up withoutbringing on a general engagement, which had been prohibited by thecommanding general.
Lieutenant Somers surveyed the ground, and came to the conclusion thathis chance of spending the night in Libby Prison was better than hischance of being made a first lieutenant. The rifle-pits had a chillingeffect upon the fine dreams in which his fancy had indulged. He was not agrub, and could not burrow through the earth to the rebel lines; he hadno wings, and could not fly over them. The obstacles which are so easilyovercome in one's dreams appear mountain-high in real life. He lookedtroubled and anxious; but, having put his hand to the plow, he wasdetermined not to turn back.
The best way to conquer a difficulty is to charge upon it; and thisSomers decided to do, even though he had no well-defined plan for theaccomplishment of his purpose. Avoiding the observation of the rebels inthe rifle-pits, he moved round, and reached the point of woods on theleft of the road.
"Excuse me, Lieutenant Somers," said Sergeant Hapgood with a militarysalute: "'tain't none o' my business, but I'd like to know where you aregoin' to."
"Through this woods," replied Somers doggedly.
"You used to be a good boy, when you was a boy; and I hope you've saidyour prayers," replied old Hapgood, appalled at the prospect before hisyoung friend.
"Don't you croak, uncle," added Somers.
"The rebels' pickets are up here, not twenty rods distant. Do youcalculate to go through them, or over them?"
"Either--just as I can; but I am going through, somehow or other."
"It can't be done! Thunderation! you'll bring down the whole rebel armyupon us! You don't think of going over there with only twenty men!"
"I do, uncle. I'm going over on that hill yonder, and I'm coming backagain before night."
Hapgood tapped his forehead significantly with his finger to indicatethat the young lieutenant had lost his senses.
"I was ordered to do it, and I am going to do it, uncle. You can set yourmind at rest on that point."
"It can't be did!" said the old man positively. "I don't keer who toldyou to do it; it can't be did with less'n twenty thousand men. You willsacrifice yourself and all the rest of us."
"You may return to the camp, if you wish."
"Tom Somers--Lieutenant Somers," said the old man, much hurt by the wordsof the young officer, "you know I'm not afraid of anything; and I didn'texpect you'd say that to me."
"Excuse me, uncle; I didn't mean it. Now, hear me a moment."
In a low tone, Lieutenant Somers told the sergeant the nature of hismission, and what depended upon its prompt and successful execution.
"He ought to have sent a division to do such a job," muttered the oldman, taking off his cap, and scratching his bald head. "Howsomever, I'mready to follow you wherever you choose to go."
"Forward, then," replied Somers; and they advanced cautiously through thewoods till they came to a kind of bog-hole, beyond which they discoveredthe rebel pickets.
The party lay down on the ground, and crawled on the edge of the bog,till they obtained a fair view of the rebels.
"Now, uncle, the time has come, and my plan is formed," said Somers in awhisper. "When they discover you, retreat with the men as fast as youcan. Fire on the rebels; but don't pay any attention to me."
"Where are you going?" demanded the old man.
"When you retire, I am going to roll into that grass. They will followyou; and, as soon as they have passed me, I shall move forward."
"I won't do anything of the sort. Thunderation! you are goin' to runright into the arms of the rebels."
"Obey my orders! That's all you have to do. I can take care of myself."
"Excuse me, Tom--Lieutenant Somers."
"I know all about it, uncle. You do what I tell you, and you shall haveall the particulars to-night, when I return."
"Return! You will be in Libby, if you are not shot, by dark."
"If I am, leave that to me," replied Somers, as he rolled over into thelong grass of the bog, and entirely concealed himself from the view ofhis own men. "Now fire one or two shots into the rebel picket and thenretire."
Hapgood reluctantly obeyed the order; though he felt as though he wassigning the death-warrant of his young friend by doing so. The bulletsbegan to fly; but the sergeant took care to keep his men out of sight asthey retreated. The enemy followed; for they always chase a retiring foe,and run from an advancing one. They reached the bog in which Somers wasconcealed, where one of the three fell before a ball which the lieutenantwas sure had been directed by the practiced eye of the veteran sergeant.The other two swor
e at the calamity, and vowed vengeance on the Yankeewho had done the deed.
Hapgood continued to retire, and led his foe to the very verge of thewoods. In the meantime, the lieutenant emerged from his hiding-place. Thefirst object that attracted his attention was the ghastly face of thedead rebel. The sight of him was not pleasant, but it was suggestive;and, without the loss of a moment, he dragged the body into the grass,and hastily removed the uniform from it. It was a loathsome task; but thenecessity of the moment seemed to justify the act. Taking off his ownuniform, he put on that of the dead rebel, who was fortunately about hisown size. Rolling up his own clothing in as small a bundle as possible,he concealed it in the bog, at some distance from the place where thepicket had fallen. Dragging the corpse to a quagmire, he sunk it beneaththe muddy waters, and it passed from his view. After taking theprecaution to straighten up the long grass, which might have betrayed hismovements, he advanced towards the rebel lines.
Lieutenant Somers felt that he was now actually embarked in his perilousventure. He was within the enemy's line, and in disguise. If discovered,he would be liable to the penalty of being a spy. But inasmuch as he didnot intend to be discovered, he did not think it necessary to expend hisnervous energy in a discussion of this question. Success was a duty tohim; and he spent no time in considering the dark side of the picture.
He was excited, and he knew that he was excited. He knew that coolnessand impudence were the essential elements of success in such anadventure; and when he had followed the woods nearly to the top of thehill, he sat down to recover his self-possession, and compose his nervesto their natural quietude. It was not a very easy matter. He had alreadyarranged his plan of future operations, and he diligently set about thebusiness of making his appearance correspond with his circumstances.
He felt that he was hardly dirty enough to be a rebel; so he rubbed hisface, neck and hands with some dark-colored earth, ripped his pants andcoat in sundry places, and otherwise disfigured his comely person, tillMiss Lilian Ashford would not have known him, or if she had known him,would have been ashamed to acknowledge his acquaintance. Having completedthis work to his entire satisfaction, he rose, and resumed his marchtowards the rebel line. He had advanced but a few paces before he feltsomething in the breast-pocket of his coat, which excited his curiosity.It was a diary which the dead soldier had kept from the time he enteredthe army.
Such a work would have been deeply interesting to the lieutenant at anytime, but especially at the present, when he was sadly in want of theinformation which would enable him to personate the difficult part he hadchosen to perform. Seating himself on the ground again, he was soonabsorbed in the contents of the note-book. The owner's name was OwenRaynes; and from the diary Somers learned that he had been a clerk inRichmond when the war broke out; and that his father resided on theWilliamsburg road, near Seven Pines, where the battle had been fought.Somers was alarmed at this information; for the young man must be wellknown in the neighborhood. Of course he could not assume the name andcharacter of Owen Raynes.
Though the time was precious, he continued to read the diary till he cameto an entry which excited his deep interest: "Poor Allan Garland wascaptured to-day by the Yankees; and I suppose they will torture andstarve the poor fellow, as they have the rest of our boys who have falleninto their hands. We shall never meet again. He was a good fellow. He wason a scout."
Somers was deeply concerned about poor Allan Garland, who had fallen intothe hands of the terrible Yankees, to be tortured and starved; and heturned back to the beginning of the diary to obtain further particularsin regard to this interesting person. Fortunately for history, andparticularly for Lieutenant Somers, Owen Raynes had given a tolerablyfull account of his friend. They had been to school together in Union,Alabama, where Owen had an uncle, and where Allan resided. They were fastfriends; and both agreed to enlist as volunteers in the Fourth Alabama,Colonel Bush Jones; for their schoolmates were mostly in this regiment.
When the regiment arrived at Richmond, Owen had not time to visit hisfather; for the troops were instantly ordered to Manassas, and heenrolled himself without discovering that his friend was not in theranks. He was too sick to come with his comrades; "wrote letter to Allan"was a frequent entry in the diary, until June 18, 1862, when this recordappears: "Allan joined the regiment to-day; has been sick about a year;is very well now; he is a handsome fellow. Sue shall be his wife, if Ican bring it about; they have kept up a correspondence for three years;she never saw him, but she will like him."
"All right!" exclaimed Somers, as he closed the book, and put it in hispocket. "I am Allan Garland. Don't think I shall marry Sue, though,whoever she may be. I wonder if Lilian Ashford would object. I don't knowas she would. Never mind; I am a soldier of the Fourth Alabama, ColonelJones, just now. How are you, Allan Garland?"
He walked along towards the rebel lines, feeling in his pockets forfurther revelations. An old letter from Allan Garland rewarded hissearch. He spoke tenderly of Sue, who was Owen's sister.
"Sue wouldn't think I'm very handsome just now," said Somers, glancing athis dirty hands, and imagining his dirty face, as he continued toadvance.