From School to Battle-field: A Story of the War Days

by Charles King

  CHAPTER XXI.

  There is not room in this brief chronicle to tell the story of ShortyPrime's sensations this eventful day. Wrath, amazement, burning shame,and indignation, all were struggling for utterance, but, above all, atthe moment the youngster felt the importance of the despatch of which hewas bearer, the need for its immediate forwarding to generalhead-quarters. His steaming, hard-panting horse had been led one way andhe himself, to his unspeakable rage, had been hustled, protesting,through a grimy hall, past groups of grinning soldiery, a burly sergeantfairly rushing him into the square court beyond, never loosing his holdon the collar, and then, as Shorty still kicked, struggled, andprotested, reinforcing that grasp by nipping the boy's left ear withthumb and forefinger of the other hand. The precious despatch had beentorn from his grasp, despite his stout resistance. Even in his rage hehad sense enough to refrain from any denunciation of the lieutenant,but against the laughing Irishman who had dared to address him as TomThumb Shorty launched a torrent of threat and invective. It was onlywith the utmost difficulty that he could repress the flood of passionatetears that a year before would have overcome him. The storm of sobs thatseemed imminent would only have made him ridiculous and rejoiced hiscaptors the more, so with all his strength he fought against it. Hedemanded his release. He declared again that he had only obeyed hisorders. He gave his name and that of his general, and insisted thatevery man who had treated him with indignity would suffer for it. Atfirst they only laughed the more, as he was led across thestone-flagged, sunlit court, on three sides of which were heavily barredand latticed "cells," or rather alcoves, many of them occupied bydisconsolate stragglers. But, even as a corporal was unlocking one ofthese and throwing open the gate, there came stalking majestically overfrom a little office on the east side a tall man whose upper lip, chin,and cheeks were shaved after the fashion of the Mexican war days, whostill wore the high black leather stock at the throat, whose buttonsglistened, every one in its place, and whose sleeves were decorated withthe chevrons of a first sergeant.

  "Let go that ear," he said, in quiet tone, and jeer and laughter ceased."Who ordered this?" he asked.

  "The lieutenant, sir," answered Shorty's conductor, obeying instantly,and speaking with a deference much exceeding that which he had shown tothe suckling subaltern commanding the guard.

  "Who did you say you were?" asked the veteran regular, professionallygrave, his steely blue eyes seeming to penetrate beneath the mud withwhich Shorty's face and dress were smeared.

  "Mounted orderly at brigade head-quarters, Chain Bridge," came Shorty'squick answer, as he stifled his rising sobs. "Ordered to get mydespatches to General McClellan and stop for nothing. The river's washedaway the pontoons----"

  "Where is the despatch? Let go that collar, Sergeant Hanley," and Shortystood released.

  "Stolen from me by these----" And Shorty gulps. Even now he knows itwon't do to call names. "I told them my orders. I begged them, and theofficer of the guard, to let me----"

  "What did you do with them?" interrupted the sergeant, glowering atHanley.

  "Sure I don't know, sergeant. The lootenent ordered him into the cells.He was sassin' everybody."

  "I never said a wrong word to the lieutenant," burst in Shorty,indignant that he should be accused of disrespectful language to anofficer, no matter how much contempt he might feel for the individual.

  "What became of the despatch, I say?" demanded the first sergeant,frowning around upon the now silent circle.

  "Corcoran took it, sir," ventured a young soldier, presently.

  "Go you and fetch Corcoran," were the sergeant's instant orders toHanley, and the big Irishman lunged away. Here was a power indeed! themajesty of the discipline of the old army as exemplified in the firstsergeant of thirty years' service. "Bring that bench, and water, soap,and towel," was the next order, short and crisp, and two young recruitsjumped to obey. In a minute the bench, with a tin basin, a bucket withfresh water, and towel and soap were placed before the bedraggled lad.

  "Wash," said the sergeant, and Shorty pulled off his jacket and flannelshirt and tossed them, with his natty cap, to the pavement. "Pick thoseup and clean 'em," said the sergeant, and a soldier whipped them off theflags, while the lad buried his hot face in the brimming bowl. It cooledand steadied him and gave him time to think,--time to recover breath andwits and self-control. Corporal Corcoran was marched in by Hanley,looking queer. The tall sergeant gazed about at the circle of listeningprivate soldiers. Non-commissioned officers, said the regulations, mustnever be rebuked in presence of the men. It weakens their authority."Get you out of this, all of you!" was his order, and they stood not onthe order of their going, but were gone in less time than it takes totell it.

  "Where's the papers you took from this--young man?"

  "Sure I put 'em on the officer of the guard's table, sir."

  "Where's he?"

  "Gone to breakfast, sir."

  If the sergeant had then and there ordered Corcoran to "go and fetch thelieutenant," Corcoran would have gone and tried, and it wouldn't havesurprised Shorty. "Fetch me my cap," he said instead; then turning tothe prisoner, now rubbing hard with the towel, he continued in the samecrisp, curt tones.

  "Obey orders. Sit in there," and he pointed to the open cage, "till Icome back. I'll see to the despatches."

  And though still raging over his misfortunes, measurably relieved,Shorty saw him stride away through the dark hall, saw how the soldiers'eyes followed him, how at the outer gate the loungers stood up as hepassed by. Then, without a word to the Irishmen or another word fromthem, Shorty stepped into the wooden-barred cage and sat him down uponthe wooden bench, still rubbing with the now grimy towel. A change hadcome over the situation. Corcoran presently slipped away and speedilyreappeared with a clean towel, which he handed to Shorty with a queermingling of anxiety and bravado in his manner, and as silently took thesoiled one away. Hanley, after a minute's perturbed pondering over thematter, scratched his head and slunk--there is no other word forit--into the neighboring barrack-room. Over in one of the other cells adrunken soldier had set up a maudlin song, and it was a relief to thebig sergeant's soul to stop and tell him to shut up. Four or five otherprisoners, each in his own barred cage on the west side, were standingor sitting and peering out into the court, curious spectators of thescene. The cages or cells to Shorty's right seemed to be empty. Butpresently there came a soft knocking and scratching on the boards thatseparated him from the occupant of the one on his right. Lumber wasbought in a hurry that summer, much of it only half seasoned. The plankshad warped and shrunk. There was a wide crack, and at that crackappeared an eye, and through that crack came the whisper of "Shorty,Shorty. Don't ye know me?"

  Some of our brigade, thought the lad, as he edged up to the wooden wall.Some poor fellow overstaying pass. "Who is it?" he asked.

  "Don't ye remember Desmond, 28's Engine?"

  "Desmond! Of course. Why, what brought you here?"

  "The same squint-eyed, pasty-faced pup that did you, I s'pose. Sa-ay,Shorty, _you_'re all right. They can't keep you 'soon as they know whoyou are. The officer of the day comes at nine o'clock and you'll be letoff all right. But I'm in a hole. Say a good word for me. Help me out,and I can tell you things about that school you'd give a heap to know.Remember the day of the fire in Twenty-fifth Street?--the day the peelerwasn't going to let you pass, and I pulled you through?"

  How could the lad forget it! A policeman had tried to drive him backwhen he would have worked his way up along 28's line of hose, andDesmond gave him the big nozzle to take forward to the pipeman. Ofcourse he remembered it, and how proud he was that when it came to"soaking down," and the big nozzle was screwed on in place of thethree-quarter inch, the wearied pipeman let him take hold. Of course heremembered.

  "But how'd you get here?" he asked. "How'd you know me so quick?"

  "Lord! I seen you every day for a week when we were camped near you upthere at Kalorama. Second Fire Zouaves I'm in,--Major Moriarty. We wasdown here
on a frolic the other night, an' could 'a' got back all right,but there was a fire on the avenue, an' we piled out onto an engine, an'when the fire was out the fellers took us round to their house andsalooned us to the best in the market, an' the next thing the patrol gotus, and this shanghai lieutenant out here shoved us into the cells forofferin' to lam him in front of the guard. Sa-ay, ain't I seen thatfeller smokin' cigarettes round the stable next the school? If 'tain'thim, it's like enough to him to be his twin brother. If 'tis him, youget me out of this and I can tell you things you and Snipe ought toknow. Lay low, Shorty; here comes that big shanghai sergeant. Sa-ay,ain't he a rooster? Do what you can for us, boy, will you?"

  And there was no time for more. Straight to the cage the sergeantstalked, and for the life of him Shorty couldn't help standingattention, as he did to his brigadier-general.

  "I got those despatches," said the sergeant, "and sent them right on,and I've sent word to the officer of the day, and he'll be herepresently. Better let me explain. You're too excited yet."

  And under ordinary circumstances such might, indeed, have been the wisercourse, but there were other surprises in store for Shorty and hisguardians too. Even while the tall sergeant was asking certain questionsthere came the hoarse cry of the sentry in front of the building, "Turnout the guard! Officer of the day!" There was a scurry of feet, abanging of musket-butts, a word of command, a clash of steel, and aftera moment or two of parley without there came through the dark hallway anofficer whom Shorty saw to be a captain of infantry. His sash was oldand weather-stained, his uniform a trifle shabby, but in every movethere was the ease and swing of the old soldier. Hurrying after andranging up beside him came another, an officer whose sash, belt, anddress were as spick and span, new and glossy as those of the officer ofthe guard, an officer who looked a trifle less at home in them than didthe veteran on his right, but at sight of his face the light danced upin Shorty's eyes, and, forgetful of discipline, of regulation, ofmartial etiquette, propriety, he sprang forward with a cry of joy.Barely four months earlier, from his perch on the lamp-post and throughblinding tears, the boy had marked him striding down Broadway at thehead of a famous company of a famous regiment. Now here again heappeared, in the garb of the regular army.

  "Mr. Winthrop--Captain Winthrop! Don't you know me? Regy Prime!"

  And another of Pop's old boys, another Columbiad, another of New York'sNational Guardsmen, turned regular soldier,--the new captain threw asidehis book and grabbed the youngster's hands.

  "In the name of all that's preposterous, Regy, what are you doing here?"

  And then, unnerved and overcome at last, fearful of breaking down, thelad looked imploringly at the big sergeant, and in twenty words thestory was told.

  "Who ordered him confined? Who took his despatches away?" demanded theolder captain, the old officer of the day, with threatening eyes.

  Not for the wealth of India would Sergeant Brennan sully theunimpeachable record of thirty years by a word of even inferentialdisapproval of the deed of a superior officer.

  "Call Sergeant Hanley," said he, and Hanley came. The question wasrepeated.

  "The officer of the guard, Lieutenant Hoover," said he, in answer.

  "My compliments to the lieutenant, and say I wish to speak with him,"said the veteran captain; and there was painful silence as, a momentlater, the junior officer came clinking in, his black eyes flittingnervously about, his blue lips twitching. "This way, if you please, Mr.Hoover," said the senior captain. "Captain Winthrop, will you favor me?"And ushering them both into the little guard-room, the captain closedthe door.

  Less than four minutes lasted that interview. Meanwhile there wassilence in the sunny court-yard. Brennan paced majestically up and down.Hanley stood uncomfortably a moment or two, then tiptoed back to theguard still standing in ranks in front of the building, and Shorty wasleft practically alone. There was a delighted whisper behind. "Sa-ay,Shorty, just wouldn't I rather be here than in that feller's shoes! Getus out of this now, and you'll see."

  Presently the glass door opened and Hoover came forth, slinking,crestfallen, twitching, but if he had been a conquering hero Brennancould no more magnificently have saluted. Halting, facing him, hiswhite-gloved hand snapped up to the polished visor of his cap, and thereit stayed unnoticed, until the dismayed officer was swallowed up withinthe hall.

  Two minutes more and two soldiers were sent on the run to clean theorderly's horse and equipments. A little darky was set to work on hisbesplashed leggings. "I'll see you in a few minutes again," said CaptainWinthrop, as he and his predecessor hastened away to report to theircommanding officer. The guards changed on the pavement outside. A newlieutenant came in and looked curiously at Shorty, now being regaledwith soldier coffee and a huge crust of "Capitol Bakery" bread. Fifessqueaked and drums banged on the avenue as the old guard turned off, butHoover came no more.

  When Winthrop reappeared in course of half an hour, "Badger" was readyin front and Shorty was once more in trim for a ride. A receipt for hisdespatches was stowed in his belt, and then as the captain would haveled him forth, the lad thought of Desmond, and briefly he told thestory. Winthrop nodded, went back, spoke a few words to the Zouave, andrejoined the lad. Desmond waved his hand. Winthrop grasped Shorty's andshook it warmly.

  "Now don't let this mishap trouble you, Regy. No harm has been done.Good will come of it. Now, good luck to you."

  How much good was to be the result of that mishap Winthrop could neverhave guessed at the time. How much poor Shorty had lost through thatstorm, that morning mud ride, that arrest and incarceration and theconsequent fatigue, he was to learn within another day.