Kitabı oku: «General Nelson's Scout», sayfa 4

Bill, in a whining tone, told him how on the day he had enlisted, Fred had struck him "just like a nigger." Fred, in a few words, told his side of the story.

"And Bailie Peyton said ye were all right, and Bill here called ye a coward and a liah?" asked the officer.

"Yes, sir."

"Well, Bill, I reckon you got what you deserved. Let the gentleman pass."

With a muttered curse, Pearson fell back, and Fred rode on, but had gone but a few yards when there was the sharp report of a pistol, and a ball cut through his hat rim. He looked back just in time to see Bill Pearson felled like an ox by a blow from the butt of a revolver in the hands of the angry officer.

Once in Kentucky Fred breathed freer, but he was stopped several times and closely questioned, and once or twice the fleetness of his horse saved him from unpleasant companions. It was with a glad heart that he found himself once more at home.

CHAPTER V.
FATHER AND SON

Fred's journey to Nashville and back had consumed eleven days. It was now August, a month of intense excitement throughout Kentucky. It was a month of plot and counterplot. The great question as to whether Kentucky would be Union or Confederate trembled in the balance. Fred found conditions changed. Those who had been neutral were becoming outspoken for one side or the other. Thus it was with Mr. Shackelford. He was fast becoming a partisan of the South. Letters which Fred brought him from his brother in Nashville confirmed him in his opinion. In these letters his brother begged him not to disgrace the name of Shackelford by siding with the Lincolnites.

He heard from Fred a full account of his journey, commended him for his bravery, and said that he did what every true Kentuckian should do, resent an insult; but he should not have sent him had he known he would have been exposed to such grave dangers.

"Now, Fred," he continued; "you and your horse need rest. Do not leave home for a few days."

To this Fred readily assented. His cousin Calhoun came to see him, and when he told him how he had served the fellow in Gallatin who called him a liar, Calhoun's enthusiasm knew no bounds. He jumped up and down and yelled, and clapped Fred on the back, and called him a true Kentuckian, even if he didn't favor the South.

"It seems to me, Fred, you are having all the fun, while I am staying here humdrumming around home. I can't stand it much longer."

"It isn't all fun, Cal. I might have been killed. Look at that hole through my hat."

"That's what I envy, Fred; I must be a soldier. I long to hear the singing of bullets, the wild cheering of men, to be in the headlong charge," and the boy's face glowed with enthusiasm.

"I reckon, Cal, you will get there, if this racket keeps up much longer," answered Fred.

"Speed the day," shouted Cal, as he jumped on his horse and rode away, waving back a farewell.

During these days, Fred noticed that quite a number of gentlemen, all prominent Southern sympathizers, called on his father. It seemed to him that his father was drifting away, and that a great gulf was growing between them; and he resolved to open his whole heart and tell his father just how he felt. The opportunity came sooner than he expected.

One evening his uncle, Judge Pennington, came out from Danville, accompanied by no less distinguished gentlemen than John C. Breckinridge, Humphrey Marshall, John A. Morgan and Major Hockoday. Breckinridge was the idol of Kentucky, a knightly man in every respect.

They had come to discuss the situation with Mr. Shackelford. Ten thousand rifles had been shipped to Cincinnati, to be forwarded to Camp Dick Robinson, for the purpose of arming the troops there; and the question was should they allow these arms to be sent. The consultation was held in the room directly below the one Fred occupied, and through a friendly ventilator he heard the whole conversation.

Morgan and Major Hockoday were for calling out the State Guards, capturing Camp Dick Robinson, then march on Frankfort, drive out the Legislature, and declare the State out of the Union.

This was vigorously opposed by Breckinridge. "You must remember," said he, "that State sovereignty is the underlying principle of the Southern Confederacy. If the States are not sovereign, the South had no right to secede, and every man in arms against the Federal government is a traitor. Kentucky, by more than a two-thirds vote, declined to go out of the Union. But she has declared for neutrality; let us see that neutrality is enforced."

"Breckinridge," said Morgan, "your logic is good, but your position is weak. What about those arms?"

"Their shipment in the State would be a violation of our neutrality; the whole power of the State should be used to prevent it," answered Breckinridge.

"Oh! that General Buckner were here!" exclaimed Major Hockoday. "Now that he is gone, the State Guard is virtually without a head."

"Where is General Buckner?" asked Mr. Shackelford.

"Hobnobbing with President Lincoln in Washington, or with President Davis in Richmond, I don't know which," answered Marshall, with a laugh.

"Oh! Buckner is all right," responded Breckinridge; "but he ought to be here now."

It was finally agreed that a meeting should be called at Georgetown, in Scott county, on the 17th, at which meeting decisive steps should be taken to prevent the shipment of the arms.

All of this Fred heard, and then, to his consternation, he heard his father say:

"Gentlemen, before you go, I want to introduce my son to you. I am afraid he is a little inclined to be for the Union, and I think a meeting with you gentlemen may serve to make him see things in a different light."

So Fred was called, and nerving himself for the interview, he went down. As he entered the room, Major Hockoday stared at him a moment in surprise, and then exclaimed:

"Great God! Shackelford, that is not your son; that is the young villain who stole my dispatch from Conway!"

"The very same," said Fred, smiling. "How do you do, Major; I am glad to see you looking so well. I see that the loss of that dispatch didn't worry you so much as to make you sick."

"W-h-y why!" stammered the major, choking with rage, "you – you impudent young – " here the major did choke. He could say no more.

Fred rather enjoyed it, and he continued: "And how is my friend Captain Conway? I trust that he was not injured in his hurried exit from the cars the other night."

All the rest of the company looked nonplused, but Morgan, who roared with laughter.

"What does this mean?" sternly asked Mr. Shackelford of Fred.

"It means," answered Fred, "that I got the major's dispatches away from Captain Conway, and thus saved Louisville from a scene of bloodshed and horror. And, Major, you should thank me, for your scheme would have failed anyway. The Union men were too well prepared. I really saved any number of your friends from being killed, and there you sit choking with rage, instead of calling me a good boy."

"Leave the room, Fred," commanded Mr. Shackelford; "that you should insult a guest here in my own house is more than I can imagine."

Bowing, Fred retired, and the company turned to Major Hockoday for an explanation of the extraordinary scene. The major told the story and ended with saying: "I am sorry, Shackelford, that he is your boy. If I were you, I should get him out of the country as soon as possible; he will make you trouble."

"I will settle with him, never fear," replied Mr. Shackelford, grimly.

"Look here, Major," spoke up Morgan; "you are sore because that boy outwitted you, and he did you a good turn, as he said. If your program had been carried out, Louisville would be occupied by Federal troops to-day. Thank him because he pulled the wool over Conway's eyes. Ha! ha! two old duffers fooled by a boy!" and Morgan enjoyed a hearty laugh, in which all but Major Hockoday and Mr. Shackelford joined.

"And, Shackelford," continued Morgan, after he had enjoyed his laugh, "I want you to let that boy alone; he is the smartest boy in Kentucky. I want him with me when I organize my cavalry brigade."

"I am afraid, Morgan," said Breckinridge, "that you will be disappointed in that, though I hope not for Mr. Shackelford's sake. The boy looks to me as if he had a will of his own."

"Oh, he will come around all right," responded Morgan.

After making full arrangements for the meeting to be held in Scott county on the 17th, the company dispersed.

Hours after they had gone Fred heard his father restlessly pacing the floor.

"Poor father!" thought he, "like me, he cannot sleep. I wonder what he will say to me in the morning; but come what may, I must and shall be for the Union."

At the breakfast table Mr. Shackelford was silent until the close of the meal, when he simply said, "Fred, I would like to see you in the library."

Fred bowed, and replied, "I will be there in a few moments, father."

When Fred entered the library, his father was seated at the table writing. There was a look of care on his face, and Fred was startled to see how pale he was.

Pushing aside his writing, he sat for some moments looking at his son in silence. At last he said:

"Fred, you can hardly realize how pained I was last night to hear what I did. I would not have thought it of you. But the past is gone. You are old enough to realize something of the desperate nature of the struggle in which the two sections of the country are engaged. For the past two weeks I have thought much of what was the right thing to do. I love my country; I love and revere the old flag. As long as the slightest hope remained of restoring it as it was, I was for the Union. But this is now hopeless; too much blood has been shed. Neither would the South, if granted her own terms, now go back to a Union she not only hates, but loathes. The North has no lawful right to use coercion. Kentucky, in her sovereign right as a State, has declared for neutrality; and it has been contemptuously ignored by the North. Nelson, a man to be despised by every patriot, has not only organized troops in our midst, but now seeks to have the Federal government arm them. Such true men as Breckinridge, Marshall, Buckner, Morgan, and a host of other loyal Kentuckians have sworn that this shall never be. General Buckner is now in Washington. If he ascertains that the Lincoln government will not respect the neutrality of the State by withdrawing every Federal officer and soldier, he is going to proceed to Richmond and offer his services to the Confederate Government. Once accepted, he will immediately form the State Guards into an army, and turn them over to the Confederacy. Regiments must be formed, and I have been offered the colonelcy of one of these regiments."

Fred was startled, and stammered, "You – father – you?"

"Yes, my son, why not? If your mother had lived, it would have been different, but now I can go far better than many who have gone. I have arranged all of my business. I shall place Belle in school in Cincinnati. John Stimson, who has been our overseer for so many years, will remain and conduct the plantation. My only trouble has been to dispose of you satisfactorily. My wish is to send you to college, but knowing your adventurous disposition, and how fond you are of exciting and, I might add, desperate deeds, I am afraid you would do no good in your studies."

"You are right, father," said Fred, in a low voice.

"This being the case," continued Mr. Shackelford, "I was going to offer to take you with me in the army, not as an enlisted soldier, but rather as company and aid to me. But from what I heard last night, I do not see how this is possible, unless what you have done has been a mere boyish freak, which I do not think."

"It was no freak," said Fred, with an unsteady voice.

"So I thought. Therefore, the only thing I can do is to send you away – to Europe. What do you say, an English or a German university?"

"And you are really going into the Confederate army, father?"

"Yes, my son."

"And you want me to play the coward and flee my country in this her hour of greatest peril? Oh, father!"

Mr. Shackelford looked astonished, and then a smile of joy passed over his features; could it be that Fred was going with him?

"Not if you wish to go with me, my son."

Fred arose and tottered to his father, sank beside his knee, and looking up with a tear-stained face, said in a pleading voice:

"Don't go into the Confederate army, father; don't turn against the old flag." And the boy laid his head on his father's knee and sobbed as if his heart would break.

Mr. Shackelford was deeply moved. He tried to speak, but a lump arose in his throat and choked him; so he sat in silence smoothing the hair of his son with his hand as gently as his mother would have done.

"What would mother say," at length sobbed the boy.

Mr. Shackelford shivered as with a chill; then said brokenly: "If your mother had lived, child, my first duty would have been to her. Now it is to my country. Neither would your mother, it mattered not what she thought herself, ever have asked me to violate my own conscience."

"Father, let us both stay at home. We can do that, you thinking as you do, and I thinking as I do. We can love each other just the same. We can do good by comforting those who will be stricken; and mother will look down from heaven, and bless us. We cannot control our sympathies, but we can our actions. We can both be truly non-combatants."

"Don't, Fred, don't tempt me," gasped Mr. Shackelford. "My word is given, and a Shackelford never breaks his word. Then I cannot stand idly by, and see my kindred made slaves. I must draw my sword for the right, and the South has the right. Fred, the die is cast. I go in the Confederate army – you to Europe. So say no more."

Fred arose, his face as pale as death, but with a look so determined, so fixed that it seemed as if in a moment the boy had been transformed into a man.

"Father," he asked, "I have always been a good son, obeying you, and never intentionally grieving you, have I not?"

"You have, Fred, been a good, obedient son, God bless you!"

"Just before mother died," continued Fred, "she called me to her bedside. She told me how my great-grandfather had died on Bunker Hill, and asked me to always be true to my country. She asked me to promise never to raise my hand against the flag. I gave her the promise. You would not have me break that promise, father?"

"No, no, my son! Go to Europe, stay there until the trouble is over."

"She said more, father. Listen, for I believe her words to be prophetic: 'God will never prosper a nation whose chief corner-stone is human slavery.'"

"Stop, Fred, stop, I can't bear it. Your mother did not understand. This war is not waged to perpetuate slavery; it is waged to preserve the rights of the States guaranteed to them by the Constitution."

"Do not deceive yourself, father; slavery has everything to do with it. No State would have thought of seceding if it had not been for slavery. Slavery is the sole, the only cause of the war. It is a poor cause for noble men to give up their lives."

"We will not argue the question," said Mr. Shackelford, pettishly; "you will forget your foolishness in Europe."

"I shall not go to Europe."

"What!"

"I shall not go to Europe."

"Do you dare to disobey me?"

"I shall not only not go to Europe, but I shall enter the army."

"The army! the army! What army?" asked Mr. Shackelford, dismayed.

"The Union army."

The father staggered as if a knife had pierced his heart. He threw out his hands wildly, and then pressed them to his breast and gasped: "Fred, Fred, you don't mean it!"

"I was never more in earnest in my life."

Mr. Shackelford's feelings underwent a sudden change. His face became purple with rage; love for his son was forgotten.

"Do that," he thundered, "do that, and you are no son of mine. I will disown you, I will cast you out, I will curse you."

"Father," said Fred, in a low tremulous voice, "if part we must, do not let us part in anger. Never have I loved you better than now; you do what you believe to be right; I do what I believe to be right. We both perform our duty as we see it. God will hold the one who blunders blameless. Let us then part in peace."

Mr. Shackelford, with white, drawn face, pointed to the door, and uttered the one word, "Go!"

"Oh, father, father, do not send me away with a curse. See, father," and he turned to his mother's portrait which hung on the wall, "mother is looking down on us; mother, who loved us both so well. How can you account to her that you have turned away her only son with a curse, and for no crime, but the one of loving his country."

"Boy, boy, have you no mercy that you will not only break my heart, but tear it out by the roots."

"I am the one who asks for mercy, who pleads that you send me not away with a curse."

"Fred, for the sake of your mother, I will not curse you, but I will, if you remain in my sight. Here," and he went to his safe, opened it, and took out a package of money. "Here is $1,000, take it and Prince, and begone. Go to that man, Nelson, who has seduced you. It is a heavy account I have to settle with him. Go before I forget myself and curse you."

For a moment Fred gazed in his father's face; there was no wrath, nothing but love in his look. Then he took the money and said: "Father, I thank you; I not only thank you, but bless you. May God protect you in the midst of dangers. Not a day shall pass but I shall pray for your safety. Good-bye, father."

He turned and went out.

Mr. Shackelford staggered towards the door. "Fred!" It was the cry of a repentant soul. The boy's footstep echoed outside along the hall, fainter and fainter.

The father groped blindly, as if about to fall.

"Fred, Fred, come back!"

The outer door closed; his boy was gone.

Mr. Shackelford staggered backward and groaned, as if in mortal agony. Then his eye caught the portrait of his wife looking down on him. Raising his arms beseechingly, he cried: "Oh, Laura! Laura! What have I done? Don't look at me so; I didn't curse him. I would have called him back. My boy! my boy! Oh, God! Oh, God!"

It was with a heavy heart that Fred left the house. As he shut the door, he thought he heard his father call. He stopped and listened, but hearing nothing, he went on. Getting his horse, he rode to Danville. His little sister was visiting at Judge Pennington's, and he wanted to see her, as well as to bid farewell to his uncle, and see Calhoun. He had no idea but that his uncle would forbid him the house when he heard of his being cast off by his father.

He found Judge Pennington at home, and frankly told him what had happened, shielding his father as much as possible, and not sparing himself.

The judge went into a fearful passion.

"Why, why, you young jackanapes," he roared; "it's a horse-whipping you want, and you would get it if you were a boy of mine! Disowned you, did he? And drove you away? Well, he is a fool, too. A good tanning is what you need, and, by Jove! I have a mind to give it to you," and he shook his cane threateningly. "Going to join the Yankee army, are you? Join and be hanged, you idiot! A Shackelford in the Yankee army! I'll, I'll – " but the judge was too angry to say more.

"Now, uncle, don't get in a rage; it's no use. My mind is fully made up. I shall join the Union army in some capacity."

"Get out of my sight, you young idiot, you!" thundered the judge.

Just then Calhoun came in. "What's the row?" he asked, looking from one to the other.

"Row, row!" sputtered the judge. "If you were as big a fool as your cousin there, I would skin you alive."

"Glad you have at last come to a full appreciation of my worth," coolly replied Calhoun. "For years I have had the virtues of my cousin held up to me as a shining mark to follow. Now, I find I am saving my skin by surpassing him in the wisdom of this world. Congratulate me, dear father."

"Why, this fool says he is going to enlist in the Yankee army," foamed the Judge, pointing at Fred.

"And this fool says he is going to enlist in the Southern army," answered Calhoun, pointing to himself.

The judge was sobered instantly. "Calhoun, you don't mean it?" he asked.

"Yes, I do mean it," stoutly replied the boy. "Why not? Haven't you been talking for years of the rights of the South? Are you not doing everything possible to take Kentucky out of the Union? Haven't you encouraged the enlistment of soldiers for the South? Then why not I? Why am I better than others? Father, I don't want to quarrel with you as Fred has with his father, but I am going into the Southern army, and I hope with your blessing."

The judge was completely sobered. Having his son go to war was so much different from having some one else's son go.

"Do not do anything rash, my son," he said to Calhoun. "When the time comes if you must go, I will see what can be done for you. As for you, Fred," he said, "you stay here with Calhoun until I return. I am going to see your father," and calling for his horse, the judge rode away.

It was afternoon before the judge came back. Calling the boys into a room for a private interview, he said: "Fred, I have been to see your father, and he is very much chagrined over your disobedience. His fierce anger is gone, and in its place a deep sorrow. He does not ask you to give up your principle, but he does ask that you do not enter the Federal army. You are much too young, to say nothing of other considerations. You should accept his proposition and go to Europe. We have come to this conclusion, that if you will go I will send Calhoun with you. That will be an even stand off. Calhoun wants to enter the Southern army, you the Northern, so neither section loses anything. You have both done your duty to your section, and both will have the pleasure and advantage of a university course in Europe. What do you say, boys?"

"That it is a mean underhanded way to prevent me from entering the army," flared up Calhoun. "I hope Fred will not accept."

"Be careful, boy," said the judge, getting red in the face. "You will not find me as lenient as Mr. Shackelford has been with Fred. You will go where I say."

Calhoun's temper was up, and there would have been a scene right then and there if Fred had not interfered.

"Uncle," said he, "there is no use of Calhoun and you disagreeing over this matter. I shall not go to Europe; so far as I am concerned, it is settled. As for Calhoun entering the army, you must settle that between you."

Calhoun pressed Fred's hand, and whispered, "Good for you, Fred; you have got me out of a bad scrape. I think father will consent to my going in the army now."

The judge stared at the boys, and then sputtered: "Both of you ought to be soundly thrashed. But if Fred's mind is made up, it is no use pursuing the matter further."

"I am firmly resolved," answered Fred.

"Then," answered the judge, "I will say no more, only, Fred, my house is open to you. When you get sick of your foolish experiment you can have a home here. Your father refuses to see you unless you consent to obey."

"I thank you, uncle," said Fred, in a low voice, "but I do not think I shall trouble you much."

In justice to Mr. Shackelford, it must be said it was by his request that Judge Pennington made this offer to Fred. Mr. Shackelford's heart had softened towards his son, and he did not wish to cast him off entirely. But the destiny of father and son was to be more closely interwoven than either thought.

Fred remained at his uncle's until the next day. He and Calhoun slept together or rather occupied the same bed, for they had too much talking to do to sleep. Both boys were romantic and fond of adventure. Both longed for the fierce excitement of war. They did not talk as enemies. They did not realize that they might face each other on the field of battle. They talked of their oath, and again promised to keep it to the letter.

They were like two brothers, each going on a long journey in different directions.

Their parting the next morning was most affectionate, and when Fred rode away he turned his horse's head in the direction of Camp Dick Robinson.