Kitabı oku: «Raiding with Morgan», sayfa 10
Calhoun glanced at himself, and did not wonder he had been mistaken for a disreputable character. His night’s walk had made sad havoc with the looks of his clothes. The road was muddy, and he had fallen down several times. Rather in desperation than thinking it would do any good, he made the sign of recognition of the Knights of the Golden Circle. To his surprise it was answered.
“Who are you? and why do you come in such a plight?” asked the gentleman.
Calhoun’s story was soon told. “And you are one of Morgan’s men,” said the gentleman, whose name was Cressey. “I have a son with Morgan,” and he gave his name.
“One of my scouts,” replied Calhoun, delighted. Calhoun had indeed found a friend, and a place of refuge. The next night, with a good horse and guide, Calhoun was taken to a house but a short distance from the river. The farmer who owned the house was to take a load of produce into Mount Vernon that day. Calhoun could easily go with him without exciting suspicion. This was done, and before noon Calhoun, free and unsuspected, was walking the streets of Mount Vernon.
Shortly after dinner he inquired for the office of Judge Worley, and was shown the most pretentious law office in the little city. Entering, he inquired for the Judge, and was told that he was in his private office.
“Tell him that a gentleman wishes to see him on very important business,” said Calhoun.
A clerk bade him be seated, and disappeared. He returned in a moment and said the Judge would see him at once.
When Calhoun entered the private office he saw seated at a desk a dignified-looking gentleman about sixty years of age, who eyed him sharply, and Calhoun was sure a look of disappointment came over his face. This, then, was the gentleman who wished to see him on very important business – hardly more than a boy.
He did not even ask Calhoun to be seated, but said, in a cold voice: “Well, what do you want? Be in a hurry, for I am very busy.”
This was not the kind of reception Calhoun was looking for. Gulping down his indignation, he said: “I am just from the South, I was directed to come to you, who would prove a friend.”
“Ah! some one must have taken an unwarranted liberty with my name.”
While he was saying this, Calhoun was aware a pair of steel-gray eyes were trying to read his very soul.
“Is that all?” at length continued the Judge. “I have no time to give you; as I told you, I am very busy,” and he dismissed his visitor with a wave of the hand.
As a last resort Calhoun gave the sign of recognition of the Knights of the Golden Circle. There was no recognition; instead a testy, “Why don’t you go?”
Calhoun’s face flamed with anger, but controlling himself, he replied: “When you receive some mail from the South, you may find some dispatches from General Forrest which will cause you to treat me differently. If such dispatches come, be here in your office at nine o’clock to-night.”
When Calhoun mentioned “mail from the South,” and “General Forrest,” the Judge turned pale, and Calhoun fancied he made a motion as if to stop him; but the young man paid no attention to the signal, and strode indignantly from the office.
No sooner was he gone than the Judge turned eagerly to a pile of mail which he had just received, and which the coming of Calhoun had interrupted him in reading. Hurriedly running over the letters, he picked out one, and opened it with nervous fingers. It was written in cipher. Opening a secret drawer in his desk, he took out the key to the cipher, and began the translation of the dispatch. As he did so, he gave vent to his surprise in various exclamations.
“Lieutenant Calhoun Pennington of Morgan’s staff … will go by name of W. B. Harrison … comes North to fully investigate conditions… If favorable will invade North… Pennington is member of K. G. C.”
The Judge laid down the letter and seemed to be gazing into vacancy. He was thinking – thinking hard. At last he picked up the letter and read it through to the end. Then he made preparations to go out.
“I shall not be back again this afternoon,” he said to his clerk, as he passed out. “You can lock up the office when you leave. I shall not need you this evening.”
When Calhoun called that evening, he was met at the door by the Judge, and given a reception much different from that he received in the afternoon.
“I am glad to see you, Lieutenant,” said the Judge, and he raised his hand as if in military salute, but was careful not to touch his forehead.
“And I am rejoiced to make the acquaintance of Judge Worley,” replied Calhoun, raising his hand as if to shade his eyes from the light.
They then advanced and grasped each other by the hand, the fore-finger of each resting on the pulse of the other.
“Nu,” said Calhoun.
“Oh,” responded the Judge.
“Lac,” answered Calhoun.
“Nu-oh-lac,” they then both said together.
Thus were they introduced to each other as members of the Knights of the Golden Circle.
The Judge was now profuse in his apologies for his treatment of Calhoun at their first meeting.
“The fact is,” said the Judge, “we are surrounded by Lincoln spies on every hand. Some of them have gained admittance into the order. One cannot be too careful. Then your youth misled me. I am now surprised that one so young should be selected for so important a commission.”
“No apology is needed,” said Calhoun. “I confess I was indignant at first, but I now see you were right in receiving me as you did. Have you received General Forrest’s letter yet?”
“Yes, and it makes all plain. By the way, I see that your name is Calhoun. Have you ever noticed our password particularly?”
“No; you must bear in mind I am a new member.”
“Read your name backwards,” said the Judge, with a smile.
Calhoun did so, and exclaimed, in surprise: “Nuohlac! Why, it’s my name spelled backwards.”
“Aye! and it is the name of the greatest American who ever lived,” exclaimed the Judge, with enthusiasm. “I trust that you honor the name. Would that John C. Calhoun were alive now. What a glorious day it would be for him. But his spirit lives – lives, and thank God there is no Andrew Jackson in the presidential chair!”
“Lincoln seems to have more nerve than I wish he had,” answered Calhoun.
“Lincoln is an ignoramus, a filthy story-teller, a monster. Seward is the brains of the administration. Without Seward, Lincoln would be nothing.”
Calhoun thought it wise not to dispute with the Judge, so he changed the subject by asking the number of Knights of the Golden Circle in the state.
“That, under my oath, I cannot give,” answered the Judge. “I see by General Forrest’s letter that you have taken only the first degree of the order. That entitles you to very little information. It is the duty of those who take only this degree to obey, not to question. General Forrest advises that the other degrees be given you as soon as possible. I have already made arrangements to have you initiated into the second and third degrees this evening. That is as high as we can go here.”
The Judge here looked at his watch, and said it was time to go.
Calhoun accompanied him to a room over a saloon, the Judge explaining that they had selected the place so as not to excite suspicion by so many men passing in and out. Calhoun found at least fifty men assembled, and when he was introduced as one of Morgan’s men, he received a perfect ovation.
“Hurrah for John Morgan!” shouted one enthusiastic member, and the cheers were given with a will.
Three cheers were then given for Jeff Davis, followed by three groans for Abe Lincoln.
Calhoun could scarcely believe his ears. Was this the North? He could well believe he was in the heart of the South.
The object of the meeting was stated, and Calhoun was duly initiated into the second and third degrees. There was no mistaking the nature of the society; its object was the overthrow of the Lincoln government. But resistance to the draft was the main thing discussed. Their hatred of even the name of Lincoln was shown in every word.
Calhoun, now armed with the proper credentials, was told that to obtain the information which he sought, he would have to visit the Grand Commander of the state, who was a Dr. Warrenton, of Springfield. Calhoun marvelled that the head officer of such an order should reside under the very shadow of the state capitol.
The next day found Calhoun in Springfield. It was full of Federal soldiers, and from almost every house a United States flag was flying. It did not look like a very promising place for opposition to the Federal government, but Calhoun afterwards learned that the place was honeycombed with members of the Knights of the Golden Circle.
Calhoun was received by Dr. Warrenton with the greatest caution, and it was only after he was fully satisfied that his visitor was what he represented himself to be that the Doctor consented to talk.
“Be frank with me,” said Calhoun; “John Morgan is contemplating a raid in the North, and he wishes to know whether in that case he can expect any aid from this order, and if so to what number.”
The Doctor seemed to be fired with the idea of Morgan making a raid, but said: “If you are to be given the full information you ask for, you must be initiated into the fourth degree of the order. That is a degree which but very few take, and can be given only with the consent of the Supreme Commander. The Grand Commanders of the different states meet the Supreme Commander in Canada next Tuesday. This is Friday. You had better attend that meeting, as your mission is very important.”
“Why meet in Canada?” asked Calhoun.
“Because it is safer, and – and we want to meet the Supreme Commander of the order.”
“Ah! I understand,” said Calhoun. “Mr. – ”
“Stop; on your life mention no names! Our oaths forbid it.”
“I stand corrected,” answered Calhoun, humbly.
It was arranged that Calhoun was to accompany Dr. Warrenton to Canada; but the Doctor warned him that on the cars they must be to each other as strangers.
“When we reach Detroit,” said the Doctor, “go to the Russell House, and register as from Chicago. Write Chicago ‘Chic.’ ”
“I think I will go through to Chicago this evening,” said Calhoun; “I should like to make some investigations there; you can meet me there Monday.”
So it was arranged, the Doctor giving him the names of half a dozen men in that city whom it might be well for him to see. “But mind,” said Warrenton, “do not tell any one of Morgan’s contemplated raid. That must be a secret.”
Calhoun spent two days in Chicago, and what he saw and learned there surprised him more than ever. Opposition to the Lincoln government was everywhere. The leading newspaper boldly demanded that the war be stopped, boastingly proclaimed that there would soon be “a fire in the rear” that would bring Lincoln to his senses. Resistance to the draft was openly talked on the streets. It was even hinted that there was a secret move on foot to liberate the prisoners at Camp Douglas and burn the city.
“This is proving interesting,” thought Calhoun; “the whole North seems to be a seething volcano, ready to burst forth into flames, yet something seems to smother the flames.”
Calhoun had an inkling of what smothered the flames when, representing himself as a young Englishman, he asked a Federal officer why the government permitted such open talk of treason.
The officer smiled as he answered: “It is better for them to talk than act. The government has its eye on them. As long as they only talk it lets them alone. The first overt act will be crushed with a heavy hand.”
Then Calhoun remembered what both Worley and Warrenton had told him; that government spies were in the order, and that they knew not whom to trust. Would the spies of the government find out who he was, and his mission? It was not a very comforting thought.
CHAPTER XV.
OHO NE! OHO NE! OHO NE!
Monday Calhoun left for Detroit. Dr. Warrenton was on the train, but they met as strangers. When he reached the city and went to register at the Russell House, a gentleman was carelessly leaning against the desk talking with the clerk. He did not appear to notice Calhoun, but he had caught the word “Chic.” after his name.
After a few moments the gentleman approached Calhoun and said: “Pardon me, but is not this Mr. Harrison of Kentucky?”
“My name is Harrison,” answered Calhoun, “but if you would examine the register you would see I am from Chicago.”
“Ah, yes, I understand,” and he gave the secret sign of the order. “Come,” he continued, “and let me introduce you to some friends.”
He led the way to a room where there were several gentlemen seated smoking and talking, among them Dr. Warrenton, who gave him a warm greeting.
“I have been telling them about you,” said Warrenton, “and they are all anxious to meet you.”
The Doctor then introduced Calhoun to each member of the party. There was Wrightman of New York, Bowman of Indiana, Hartman of Missouri, Bullock of Kentucky, and others.
“You don’t tell me you are the son of my old friend, Judge Pennington, of Danville,” asked Mr. Bullock, as he shook Calhoun warmly by the hand.
“The very same,” answered Calhoun.
“Gentlemen, we need have no fears of Lieutenant Pennington,” exclaimed Mr. Bullock, addressing those present. “I will vouch for him with my life. Let’s see, your name is now – ”
“Harrison for the present,” answered Calhoun, with a smile.
The party had no trouble in getting across the river, and that night there was a meeting in Windsor which boded ill for the Federal government.
The Supreme Commander of the order was a gentleman in the full vigor of manhood. He was polished in his manner, rather reserved, but every action showed that he was accustomed to command. Behind it all Calhoun thought that he detected the signs of an inordinate ambition – an ambition which would stop for nothing.
“Isn’t he grand,” whispered Dr. Warrenton to Calhoun. “A fit representative to wear the mantle of your great namesake.”
“Better say the mantle of Aaron Burr,” thought Calhoun, but he wisely did not give expression to his thought. The object of Calhoun’s coming was fully explained, and it was decided by a unanimous vote, that he should receive the fourth degree, and thus be entitled to all the information which he wished.
The degree was duly conferred on him. Calhoun was now certain he was among a band of conspirators who would stop at nothing to achieve their ends.
“Is this the highest of the degrees?” asked Calhoun, when he was through.
The party exchanged meaning glances, and then the Supreme Commander said: “There is one more degree, but it is given only to the highest officers in the order, and would not be of the least advantage to you.”
Calhoun was certain there was something which those present did not wish him to know – some object which they wished to keep secret.
The number of members in the order was now given to Calhoun. The figures astounded him. In Iowa there were twenty thousand members, in Missouri fifty thousand, in Illinois one hundred and twenty thousand, in Indiana one hundred thousand, in Ohio eighty thousand. Throughout the East the order was not so numerous. This seemed strange to Calhoun, for he thought that New York especially would be fertile ground for it.
“How many of these men are armed?” asked Calhoun.
The answer was: “In Missouri nearly all, in Illinois fifty thousand, in Indiana forty thousand, in Ohio the same, in Kentucky nearly all.”
“Gentlemen,” exclaimed Calhoun, with considerable warmth, “if these figures are correct, why have you not arisen before this, and hurled the Lincoln government from power? Pardon me, but it looks like timidity. The North is denuded of men, those loyal to Lincoln are in the army.”
“That is what I have insisted on,” cried Mr. Bowman, of Indiana, jumping to his feet in his excitement. “I say strike, strike now! We of Indiana are ready. Liberate the Confederate prisoners in Northern prison pens! We have arms for them. If necessary, give every Northern city over to the flames.”
“Brother Bowman forgets,” answered the Supreme Commander, “that our forces are scattered; that if we attempt to concentrate, the government will take alarm and crush us. At present we have to work in secret.”
“But what if Indiana and Ohio should be invaded?” asked Calhoun.
“That would be different,” was the answer.
“What if you should be successful in your plans?” asked Calhoun.
“Let the South go free. We firmly believe in the doctrine of States’ Rights,” was the answer.
“Would your states cast their lot with the South?” asked Calhoun, eagerly.
Again there were meaning glances among the leaders. “It is yet too early to answer that question,” slowly replied the Supreme Commander, “or even to discuss it. The overthrow of the present Abolition government and the independence of the South is now our object.”
But had the leaders a further object? Calhoun resolved to find out, and he did.
The conference at Windsor was over. It was resolved that the order should everywhere be strengthened, and that it should strike at the first favorable opportunity. That opportunity would come at once, should the North be invaded.
From Detroit Calhoun went to Columbus, Ohio, from there to Dayton, the home of Vallandigham. He found that that gentleman was the idol of that section. They wanted him to come home. They swore they would defend him with their lives. The whole country reeked with disloyalty to the Federal government.
Calhoun availed himself of the opportunity of talking with all classes of citizens. He especially tried to get at the feelings of the humbler members of the Knights of the Golden Circle, why they joined the order, and what they proposed doing. All the information he gleaned he treasured up.
From Dayton Calhoun proceeded to Indianapolis, where he was to meet Mr. Bowman. He found Indiana much better organized than any of the other states. Bowman was enthusiastic, and he seemed to hate the Lincoln government with his whole soul. He would stop at nothing to achieve his ends. But the especial object of his hatred was Governor Morton.
“I want to live long enough,” he said, “to see that tyrant hanged for trampling on the constitution of the state.”
Calhoun found that the Knights stood in great dread of Morton. They declared he had a way of finding out every secret of the order. If he had not been thoroughly guarded, his life would not have been worth a farthing.
Calhoun was taken into the country, where he witnessed the drilling of two or three companies of Knights. These meetings always took place at night, in some secret place, and sentinels were posted to guard against surprise. Calhoun talked with many of the members to get their ideas and to find out what they wished to accomplish.
“What do you think?” asked Bowman of Calhoun, after they had returned to Indianapolis. “I have forty thousand of those fellows.”
“Will they fight?” asked Calhoun.
“Fight? Of course they will fight,” was the answer. “Let Morgan get into the state, and you will see.”
At Indianapolis Calhoun met with a wealthy farmer named Jones, who lived near Corydon. He had no words too severe to say of Lincoln, and boasted of the number of Knights in his part of the state.
“We are going to sweep the Black Abolitionists from the earth,” he exclaimed, boastingly, “and hang Old Abe, and Morton too.”
“What would you do if Morgan came?” asked Calhoun.
“Do? I would throw my hat in the air and yell until I was hoarse,” was the answer.
“What if Morgan should want some of your horses?” asked Calhoun.
Mr. Jones’s countenance fell. At length he mumbled, “Of course he would pay me for them?”
“Of course,” replied Calhoun, in a tone which the old gentleman did not quite understand.
Just before Calhoun was ready to leave Indianapolis Bowman told him Morton was to hold a reception, and asked him if he would not like to attend and see the great War Governor.
Nothing would suit Calhoun better. He had a desire to see the man of whom he had heard so much – a man who had the majority of his legislature against him, yet held the state as in the hollow of his hand – a man who borrowed hundreds of thousands of dollars in his own name, that the soldiers of his state might be thoroughly equipped. He had overcome every difficulty, and held his state firmly for the Union. Now, with thousands of the citizens of the state secretly plotting against him, he moved serenely along the path he had marked out. Urged to adopt the most severe measures, he knew when, and when not, to make an arrest. He avoided angering his enemies except when the public safety demanded it. His very name caused every member of the Knights of the Golden Circle to tremble. Little did Calhoun think that when he promised to attend the governor’s reception that Morton’s detectives were already looking for him. The renewed activity of the Knights had aroused the Governor’s suspicions, and he was not long in finding out the cause. To locate and arrest the Southern officer who was causing the ferment, was his order to his detectives.
A large crowd attended the reception, and in such a gathering Calhoun felt in no danger. He saw in Morton a thickset, heavy man with a massive head and brain. He looked every inch the intellectual giant that he was.
“The grandest figure,” thought Calhoun, “that I have seen in the North. He is a man to beware of. No wonder the Knights stand in fear of him.”
When Calhoun, passing along in the throng, took the Governor’s hand, Morton bent his piercing look upon him, and the question came as if shot out of his mouth, “Where from, young man?”
The suddenness of the question threw Calhoun off his guard, and almost involuntarily he answered, “From Kentucky.”
“From Kentucky, eh! And how goes it down there?”
Calhoun was himself again. “Of course,” he answered, “we are greatly divided in that state, but all the powers of Jeff Davis cannot tear it from the Union.”
“Good, pass on,” and the Governor turned to the next in line.
But a feeling as of impending danger took possession of Calhoun. Why that question to him? He had heard it asked of no other. Could it be he was suspected? Forcing his way through the throng, he got out of the building as soon as possible.
It was well that he did so, for hardly had the Governor let go Calhoun’s hand, when he motioned to General Carrington, and whispered to him: “Arrest that young man. Do it as quietly as possible, but see he does not get away. He is the Southern officer we have been looking for, I am sure. I have a full description of him.”
General Carrington in turn whispered to a couple of quiet-looking men, dressed in citizen’s clothes who stood near the Governor. They nodded, and started after Calhoun, who was now nearly lost to view in the crowd.
Once out of the building Calhoun found that hundreds of spectators had gathered out of curiosity. They were hurrahing for Lincoln and Morton, and shouting for the Union, and some were singing, “We’ll hang Jeff Davis on a sour-apple tree.”
Rapidly pushing his way through this mob, he reached the outer edge of the circle. Here groups of men were standing, but they were not hurrahing. Instead, their looks were dark and surly, and it was plain they were not enjoying the proceedings. Just as Calhoun reached these groups, a heavy hand was laid on his shoulder, and a stern low voice said: “You are our prisoner; better come quietly and make no disturbance.” And in a trice Calhoun felt each of his arms grasped by strong hands. He was powerless in the iron grip by which he was held; if help there was, it must come from the outside.
“Oho ne! Oho ne! Oho ne!”
The despairing cry cleft the night air like a knife. It fell on the astonished ears of hundreds who did not understand it. But to those groups of silent, sullen-browed men it came as the call of a trumpet, summoning them to duty.
“Oho ne! Oho ne!” they answered, and before the surprised officers could draw a weapon, could raise a hand to defend themselves, they were beaten down, and their prisoner snatched from them.
The alarm was raised, and a company of soldiers came on the run, with fixed bayonets, scattering the crowd right and left. But when they reached the spot they found only a couple of half-dazed and bleeding officers. They could only say they had been set upon, knocked down, and their prisoner taken from them. By whom they did not know, for it was dark, and the crowd had dispersed.
When the onset came, Calhoun felt himself grasped by the arm, and a voice whispered, “Follow me, quick!”
Into the darkness Calhoun dashed, following his guide. In the shadow of buildings, through dark alleys, they ran. At last they came to a part of the city where only a lamp gleamed here and there. They stopped running, both exhausted, their breath coming in quick gasps.
“We are safe now,” said the guide, “but it was a close shave for you. What did they arrest you for?”
“To hang me,” answered Calhoun, with a shudder. “I am a Confederate officer.”
“I thought you must be some big gun, or old Morton wouldn’t have tried to arrest you in that crowd; but don’t worry, you are all right now.”
His guide, whose name proved to be Randall, soon came to a house which he said was his home, “and,” he exclaimed, “none of Abe Lincoln’s minions will ever find you here. I have sheltered more than one escaped Confederate prisoner from that infernal pen out there called Camp Morton. It should be called Camp Hades.”
Calhoun was ushered into the house, and shown a room. “Sleep soundly, and without fear,” said Mr. Randall.
Calhoun took his advice, but before he went to sleep he did not forget to return thanks for his escape, and he also had a great deal more respect for the Knights of the Golden Circle than he had had before. The next morning the papers came out with a full description of Calhoun, telling of his escape, and saying he was a famous spy. The article ended with the announcement that so important did the government consider his person that a reward of one thousand dollars would be paid for his recapture. Calhoun now knew that his work was done in the North. The only thing that remained for him was to get out of it as secretly as possible.
Two days afterwards he was conveyed out of the city concealed in a farmer’s wagon. He was passed on from the hands of one true Knight to another, and at the end of three days he found himself on the banks of the Ohio, a few miles above Madison. In the darkness of the night he was rowed over, and his feet once more pressed the soil of his native state. In his ecstasy he felt like kissing the ground, for was it not the soil of Kentucky?
At the house of a true Southerner he found refuge. His measure was taken into Carrolton, where a tailor made him a fine uniform. Purchasing a horse of the gentleman with whom he stayed, he bade him good-bye, and sprang into the saddle. The sun had just set, and the whole west glowed with the beauty which we ascribe to the Golden City. In the midst of the gold hung the new moon like a silver bow.
“See! see!” cried Calhoun, “the new moon, I saw it over my right shoulder. It means good luck.”
And while the happy omen still gleamed in the west, he galloped away.
