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diff --git a/old/44132.txt b/old/44132.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e8bef22 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/44132.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6707 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Tom Strong, Lincoln's Scout, by Alfred Bishop Mason + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Tom Strong, Lincoln's Scout + +Author: Alfred Bishop Mason + +Release Date: November 8, 2013 [EBook #44132] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TOM STRONG, LINCOLN'S SCOUT *** + + + + +Produced by Matthias Grammel, Greg Bergquist and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + + + + + STORIES OF ADVENTURE IN THE + + YOUNG UNITED STATES + + _By ALFRED BISHOP MASON_ + + + TOM STRONG, + WASHINGTON'S SCOUT + + _Illustrated, $1.30 net_ + + + TOM STRONG, + BOY-CAPTAIN + + _Illustrated, $1.30 net_ + + + TOM STRONG, + JUNIOR + + _Illustrated, $1.30 net_ + + + TOM STRONG, + THIRD + + _Illustrated, $1.30 net_ + + + HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY + + Publishers New York + + + + + [Illustration: ST. GAUDENS' STATUE OF LINCOLN] + + + + + TOM STRONG, + LINCOLN'S SCOUT + + _A STORY OF THE UNITED STATES IN THE + TIMES THAT TRIED MEN'S SOULS_ + + + By + + ALFRED BISHOP MASON + + Author of "Tom Strong, Washington's Scout," "Tom Strong, + Boy-Captain," Tom Strong, Junior," and + "Tom Strong, Third" + + + ILLUSTRATED + + [Illustration] + + NEW YORK + HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY + 1919 + + + + + COPYRIGHT, 1919 + BY + HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY + + + The Quinn & Boden Company + BOOK MANUFACTURERS + RAHWAY NEW JERSEY + + + + + DEDICATED BY PERMISSION + + TO + + THEODORE ROOSEVELT + + INSPIRER OF PATRIOTISM, + A GREAT AMERICAN + + + + + OYSTER BAY + LONG ISLAND, N.Y. + + August 31st, 1917. + + Dear Mr. Mason: + + All right, I shall break + my rule and have you dedicate that book to + me. Thank you! + + Faithfully yours, + +[Illustration: Theodore Roosevelt signature] + + Mr. Alfred B. Mason, + University Club, + New York City. + + + + +FOREWORD + + +Many of the persons and personages who appear +upon the pages of this book have already +lived, some in history and some in the pages of +"Tom Strong, Washington's Scout," "Tom +Strong, Boy-Captain," "Tom Strong, Junior," +or "Tom Strong, Third." Those who wish to +know the full story of the four Tom Strongs, +great-grandfather, grandfather, father and son, +should read those books, too. + + + + +CONTENTS + + + CHAPTER I + PAGE + + TOM RIDES IN WESTERN MARYLAND--HALTED BY ARMED + MEN--JOHN BROWN--THE ATTACK UPON HARPER'S FERRY--THE + FIGHT--JOHN BROWN'S SOUL GOES MARCHING ON 3 + + + CHAPTER II + + OUR WAR WITH MEXICO--KIT CARSON AND HIS LAWYER, ABE + LINCOLN--TOM GOES TO LINCOLN'S INAUGURATION--S. F. B. + MORSE, INVENTOR OF THE TELEGRAPH--TOM BACK IN + WASHINGTON 22 + + + CHAPTER III + + CHARLES FRANCIS ADAMS--MR. STRONG GOES TO RUSSIA--TOM + GOES TO LIVE IN THE WHITE HOUSE--BULL RUN--"STONEWALL" + JACKSON--GEO. B. MCCLELLAN--TOM STRONG, SECOND-LIEUTENANT, + U. S. A.--THE BATTLE OF THE "MERRIMAC" AND THE "MONITOR" 40 + + + CHAPTER IV + + TOM GOES WEST--WILKES BOOTH HUNTS HIM--DR. HANS ROLF + SAVES HIM--HE DELIVERS DESPATCHES TO GENERAL GRANT 71 + + + CHAPTER V + + INSIDE THE CONFEDERATE LINES--"SAIREY" WARNS TOM--OLD MAN + TOMBLIN'S "SETTLEMINT"--STEALING A LOCOMOTIVE--WILKES + BOOTH GIVES THE ALARM--A WILD DASH FOR THE UNION LINES 90 + + + CHAPTER VI + + TOM UP A TREE--DID THE CONFEDERATE OFFICER SEE HIM?--THE + FUGITIVE SLAVE GUIDES HIM--BUYING A BOAT IN THE + DARK--ADRIFT IN THE ENEMY'S COUNTRY 117 + + + CHAPTER VII + + TOWSER FINDS THE FUGITIVES--TOWSER BRINGS UNCLE + MOSES--MR. IZZARD AND HIS YANKEE OVERSEER, JAKE + JOHNSON--TOM IS PULLED DOWN THE CHIMNEY--HOW UNCLE + MOSES CHOKED THE OVERSEER--THE FLIGHT OF THE FOUR 129 + + + CHAPTER VIII + + LINCOLN SAVES JIM JENKINS'S LIFE--NEWSPAPER ABUSE OF + LINCOLN--THE EMANCIPATION PROCLAMATION--LINCOLN IN HIS + NIGHT-SHIRT--JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL--"BARBARA + FRIETCHIE"--MR. STRONG COMES HOME--THE RUSSIAN FLEET + COMES TO NEW YORK--A BACKWOODS JUPITER 160 + + + CHAPTER IX + + TOM GOES TO VICKSBURG--MORGAN'S RAID--GEN. BASIL W. DUKE + CAPTURES TOM--GETTYSBURG--GEN. ROBERT E. LEE GIVES TOM + HIS BREAKFAST--IN LIBBY PRISON--LINCOLN'S SPEECH AT + GETTYSBURG 182 + + + CHAPTER X + + TOM IS HUNGRY--HE LEARNS TO "SPOON" BY SQUADS--THE BULLET + AT THE WINDOW--WORKING ON THE TUNNEL--"RAT HELL"--THE + RISK OF THE ROLL-CALL--WHAT HAPPENED TO JAKE JOHNSON, + CONFEDERATE SPY--TOM IN LIBBY PRISON--HANS ROLF ATTENDS + HIM--HANS REFUSES TO ESCAPE--THE FLIGHT THROUGH THE + TUNNEL--FREE, BUT HOW TO STAY SO? 213 + + + CHAPTER XI + + TOM HIDES IN A RIVER BANK--EATS RAW FISH--JIM GRAYSON + AIDS HIM--DOWN THE JAMES RIVER ON A TREE--PASSING THE + PATROL BOATS--CANNONADED--THE END OF THE VOYAGE 249 + + + CHAPTER XII + + TOWSER WELCOMES TOM TO THE WHITE HOUSE--LINCOLN + RE-ELECTED PRESIDENT--GRANT COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF--SHERMAN + MARCHES FROM ATLANTA TO THE SEA--TOM ON GRANT'S + STAFF--FIVE FORKS--FALL OF RICHMOND--HANS ROLF FREED--BOB + SAVES TOM FROM CAPTURE--TOM TAKES A BATTERY INTO + ACTION--LEE SURRENDERS--TOM STRONG, BREVET-CAPTAIN, + U. S. A. 265 + + + CHAPTER XIII + + THE ASSASSINATION OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN 307 + + + CHAPTER XIV + + TOM HUNTS WILKES BOOTH--THE END OF THE MURDERER--ANDREW + JOHNSON, PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES--TOM AND TOWSER + GO HOME 315 + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + + ABRAHAM LINCOLN _Frontispiece_ + St. Gaudens Statue, Lincoln Park, Chicago + PAGE + + JOHN BROWN 10 + + THE ATTACK UPON THE ENGINE HOUSE 17 + + BATTLE OF THE "MONITOR" AND THE "MERRIMAC" 66 + + ADMIRAL FARRAGUT 72 + + MISSISSIPPI RIVER GUNBOATS 85 + + THE LOCOMOTIVE TOM HELPED TO STEAL 106 + + TOWSER 157 + + GENERAL DUKE SAMPLES THE PIES 191 + + ARLINGTON 198 + + GEN. ROBERT E. LEE ON TRAVELER 201 + + LIBBY PRISON AFTER THE WAR 214 + + FIGHTING THE RATS 224 + + LIBBY PRISON AND THE TUNNEL 229 + + ABRAHAM LINCOLN IN 1864 269 + + GEN. W. T. SHERMAN 272 + St. Gaudens Statue, Central Park Plaza, New York + + BOB 275 + + GEN. PHILIP H. SHERIDAN 278 + Sheridan Square Statue, Washington, D. C. + + TOM TAKES A BATTERY INTO ACTION 292 + + THE MCLEAN HOUSE, APPOMATTOX COURTHOUSE 299 + + LEE SURRENDERS TO GRANT 302 + + GEN. U. S. GRANT 304 + + + MAP + + EASTERN HALF OF UNITED STATES 2 + + + + + TOM STRONG, LINCOLN'S SCOUT + + + + +[Illustration: THE EASTERN UNITED STATES + (Showing places mentioned in this book)] + + + + + TOM STRONG, LINCOLN'S SCOUT + + + + +CHAPTER I + + TOM RIDES IN WESTERN MARYLAND--HALTED BY ARMED MEN--JOHN BROWN--THE + ATTACK UPON HARPER'S FERRY--THE FIGHT--JOHN BROWN'S SOUL GOES + MARCHING ON. + + +On a beautiful October afternoon, a man and a boy were riding along a +country road in Western Maryland. To their left lay the Potomac, its +waters gleaming and sparkling beneath the rays of the setting sun. To +their right, low hills, wooded to the top, bounded the view. They had +left the little town of Harper's Ferry, Virginia, an hour before; had +crossed to the Maryland shore of the Potomac; and now were looking for +some country inn or friendly farmhouse where they and their horses could +be cared for overnight. + +The man was Mr. Thomas Strong, once Tom Strong, third, and the boy was +his son, another Tom Strong, the fourth to bear that name. Like the +three before him he was brown and strong, resolute and eager, with a +smile that told of a nature of sunshine and cheer. They were looking for +land. Mr. Strong had inherited much land in New York City. The growth of +that great town had given him a comfortable fortune. He had decided to +buy a farm somewhere and a friend had told him that Western Maryland was +almost a paradise. So it was, but this Eden had its serpent. Slavery was +there. It was a mild and patriarchal kind of slavery, but it had left +its black mark upon the countryside. Across the nearby Mason and Dixon's +line, Pennsylvania was full of little farms, tilled by their owners, and +of little towns, which reflected the wealth of the neighboring farmers. +Western Maryland was largely owned by absentee landlords. Its towns were +tiny villages. Its farms were few and far between. The free State was +briskly alive; the slave State was sleepily dead. + +The two riders were splendidly mounted, the father on a big bay +stallion, Billy-boy, and the son on a black Morgan mare, Jennie. +Billy-boy was a descendant of the Billy-boy General Washington had given +to the first Tom Strong, many years before. Jennie was a descendant of +the Jennie Tom Strong, third, had ridden across the plains of the great +West with John C. Fremont, "the Pathfinder," first Republican candidate +for President of the United States. + +"We haven't seen a house for miles, Father," said the boy. + +"And we were never out of sight of a house when we were riding through +Pennsylvania. There's always a reason for such things. Do you know the +reason?" + +"No, sir. What is it?" + +"The sin of slavery. I don't believe I shall buy land in Maryland. I +thought I might plant a colony of happy people here and help to make +Maryland free, in the course of years, but I'm beginning to think the +right kind of white people won't come where the only work is done by +slaves. We must find soon a place to sleep. Perhaps there'll be a house +around that next turn in the road. Billy-boy whinnies as though there +were other horses near." + +Billy-boy's sharp nose had not deceived him. There were other horses +near. Just around the turn of the road there were three horses. Three +armed men were upon them. Father and son at the same moment saw and +heard them. + +"You stop! Who be you?" + +The sharp command was backed by uplifted pistols. The Strongs reined in +their horses, with indignant surprise. Who were these three farmers who +seemed to be playing bandits upon the peaceful highroad? The boy glanced +at his father and tried to imitate his father's cool demeanor. He felt +the shock of surprise, but his heart beat joyously with the thought: +"This is an adventure!" All his young life he had longed for adventures. +He had deeply enjoyed the novel experience of the week's ride with the +father he loved, but he had not hoped for a thrill like this. + +Mr. Strong eyed the three horsemen, who seemed both awkward and uneasy. +"What does this mean?" he asked. + +"Now, thar ain't goin' to be no harm done you nor done bub, thar, +neither," the leader of the highwaymen answered, with a note almost of +pleading in his voice. "Don't you be oneasy. But you'll have to come +with us----" + +"And spend Sunday with us----" broke in another man. + +"Shet up, Bill. I'll do all the talkin' that's needed." + +"That's what you do best," the other man grumbled. + +"Well, Tom," said Mr. Strong, turning with a smile to his son, "we seem +to have found that place to spend the night." He faced his captors. +"This is a queer performance of yours. You don't look like highwaymen, +though you act like them. Do you mean to steal our horses?" he added, +sharply. + +"We ain't no hoss thieves," replied the leader. "You've got to come with +us, but you needn't be no way oneasy. You, Bill, ride ahead!" + +Bill turned his horse and rode ahead, Mr. Strong and Tom riding behind +him, the other two men behind them. It was a silent ride, but not a long +one. Within a mile, they reached a rude clearing that held a couple of +log huts. The sun had set; the short twilight was over. Firelight +gleamed in the larger of the huts. The prisoners were taken to it. A man +who was lounging outside the door had a whispered talk with the three +horsemen. Then he turned rather sheepishly; said: "Come in, mister; come +in, bub;" opened the door, called within: "Prisoners, Captin' Smith," +and stepped aside as father and son entered. + +There were a dozen men in the big room, farmers all, apparently. They +were all on their feet, eyeing keenly the unexpected prisoners. Their +eyes turned to a tall man, who stepped forward and held out his hand, +saying: + +"Sorry the boys had to take you in, but you and your hosses are safe and +we won't keep you long. The day of the Lord is at hand." + +There was a grim murmur of approval from the other men. The Lord's day, +as Sunday is sometimes called, was at hand, for it was then the evening +of Saturday, October 15, 1859. But that was not what the speaker meant. +He was not what his followers called him, Captain Smith. He was John +Brown, of North Elba, New York, of Kansas ("bleeding Kansas" it was +called then, when slaveholders from Missouri and freedom-lovers under +John Brown had turned it into a battlefield), and he was soon to be John +Brown of Harper's Ferry, Virginia, first martyr in the cause of Freedom +on Virginian soil. To him "the day of the Lord" was the day when he was +to attack slavery in its birthplace, the Old Dominion, and that attack +had been set by him for Sunday, October 16. His plan was to seize +Harper's Ferry, where there was a United States arsenal, arm the slaves +he thought would come to his standard from all Virginia, and so compass +the fall of the Slave Power. A wild plan, an impossible plan, the plan +of an almost crazy fanatic, and a splendid dream, a dream for the sake +of which he was glad to give his heroic life. + +He had rented this Maryland farm in July, giving his name as Smith and +saying he expected to breed horses. By twos and threes his followers had +joined him in this solitary spot, until now there were twenty-one of +them. The few folk scattered through the countryside had begun to be +suspicious of this strange gathering of men. All sorts of wild stories +circulated, though none was as wild as the truth. The men themselves +were tense under the strain of the long wait. They feared discovery and +attack. For the three days before "the day of the Lord" they had +patrolled the one road, looking out for soldiers or for spies. Tom and +his father had been their sole captives. + +John Brown was one of Nature's noblemen and among his friends in +Massachusetts and New York were some of the foremost men of their time, +so he had learned to know a real man when he met one. He soon found +out that Mr. Strong was a real man. He told him of his plans, and urged +him to join in the projected foray on Harper's Ferry. But when Mr. +Strong refused and tried to show him how mad his project was, the fires +of the fanatic blazed within him. + +[Illustration: JOHN BROWN] + +"Did not Joshua bring down the walls of Jericho with a ram's horn?" he +shouted. "And with twenty armed men cannot I pull down the walls of the +citadel of Slavery? Are you a true man or not? Will you join me or not? +Answer me yes or no." + +"No," was the response, quiet but firm. + +"You shall join me; you and your boy," thundered the crusader, hammering +the table with his mighty fist. "Here, Jim, put these people under guard +and keep them until we start." + + * * * * * + +Tom and his father were well-treated, but they were kept under guard +until the next night and were then taken along by John Brown's "army," +which trudged off into the darkness afoot, while Billy-boy and Jennie +and the other horses in the corral whinnied uneasily, sensing, as +animals do, the stir of a departure which is to leave them behind. In +the center of the little column the two captives marched the five miles +to Harper's Ferry and started across the bridge that led to that tiny +town. + +A brave man, one Patrick Hoggins, was night-watchman of the bridge. He +heard the trampling of many feet upon the plank-flooring. He hurried +towards the strange sound. + +"Halt!" shouted somebody in the column. + +"Now I didn't know what 'halt' mint then," Patrick testified afterwards, +"anny more than a hog knows about a holiday." + +But he had seen armed men and he turned to run and give an alarm. A +bullet was swifter than he, but not swifter than his voice. He fell, but +his shouts had alarmed the town. There were two or three watchmen at the +arsenal. They came forward, only to be made prisoners. The few citizens +who had been aroused could do nothing. The "army" seized the arsenal +without difficulty. + +Five miles from Harper's Ferry lived Col. Lewis W. Washington, +gentleman-farmer and slave-owner, great-grand-nephew of another +gentleman-farmer and slave-owner, George Washington. At midnight, +Colonel Washington was awakened by a blow upon his bedroom door. It +swung open and the light of a burning torch showed the astonished +Southerner four armed men, one of them a negro, who bade him rise and +dress. They were a patrol sent out by Brown. Their leader, Stevens, +asked: + +"Haven't you a pistol Lafayette gave George Washington and a sword +Frederick the Great sent him?" + +"Yes." + +"Where are they?" + +"Downstairs." + +His four captors tramped downstairs with him. Pistol and sword were +found. + +"I'll take the pistol," said Stevens. "You hand the sword to this +negro." + +John Brown wore this sword during the fighting that followed. It is now +in the possession of the State of New York. While its being sent George +Washington by Frederick the Great is doubtful--the story runs that the +Prussian king sent with it a message "From the oldest general to the +best general"--its being surrendered by Lewis Washington to the negro is +true. + +Lewis was then on the staff of the Governor of Virginia, and had +acquired in this way his title of Colonel. He was put into his own +carriage. His slaves, few in number, were bundled into a four-horse +farm-wagon. They were told to come and fight for their freedom. Too +scared to resist, they came as they were bidden to do, but they did no +fighting. At Harper's Ferry they and their fellow-slaves, seized at a +neighboring plantation, escaped back to slavery at the first possible +moment. Not a single negro voluntarily joined John Brown. He had +expected a widespread slave insurrection. There was nothing of the sort. +By Monday morning he knew he had failed, failed utterly. + +Before Monday's sun set, Harper's Ferry was full of soldiers, United +States regulars and State militia. Brown, his men and his white +captives, eleven of the latter, were shut up in the fire-engine house of +the armory. The militia refused to charge the engine-house, saying that +this might cost the captives their lives. Many of them were drunk; all +of them were undisciplined; their commander did not know how to command. +The situation changed with the arrival of the United States Marines led +by Lieut.-Col. Robert E. Lee, afterwards the famous chief of the army of +the Confederate States. + +By this time Tom was beginning to think he had had enough adventure. He +had enjoyed that silent tramp through the darkness beside his father. He +had enjoyed it the more because they were both prisoners-of-war. Being a +prisoner was an amazingly thrilling thing. He was sorry when brave +Patrick Hoggins was shot and glad to know the wound was slight, but +sharing in the skirmish, even in the humble capacity of a captive, had +excited the boy immensely. Now that there was almost constant firing +back and forth, when two or three wounded men were lying on the floor, +and when his father and he and Colonel Washington were perforce risking +their lives in the engine-house, with nothing to gain and everything to +lose, and when scanty sleep and little food had tired out even his stout +little body, Tom felt quite ready to go home and have his adored mother +"mother" him. His father saw the homesickness in his eyes. + +"Steady, my son," said Mr. Strong. "This won't last long. No stray +bullet is apt to reach this corner, where Captain Brown has put us. The +only other danger is when the regulars rush in here, but unless they +mistake us for the raiders, there'll be no harm done then. Steady." He +looked through a bullet-hole in the boarded-up window and added: "Here +comes a flag of truce. Listen." + +The scattering fire died away. The hush was broken by a commanding +voice, demanding surrender. + +"There will be no surrender," quoth grim John Brown. + +At dawn of Tuesday, two files of United States Marines, using a long +ladder as a battering ram, attacked the door. It broke at the second +blow. The marines poured in, shooting and striking. The battle was over. +John Brown, wounded and beaten to the floor, lay there among his men. +The captives were free. Their captors had changed places with them. + +[Illustration: THE ATTACK ON THE ENGINE-HOUSE] + +Colonel Washington took Mr. Strong and Tom home with him, for a rest +after the strain of the captivity. He was much interested when he found +out that Tom's great-grandfather had visited General Washington at Mount +Vernon and Tom was intensely interested in seeing the home and home life +of a rich Southern planter. The Colonel asked his guests to stay until +after the trial of their recent jailer. They did so and Mr. Strong, +after some hesitation, decided to take Tom to the trial and afterwards +to the final scene of all. He wrote to his wife: "Life is rich, my dear, +in proportion to the number of our experiences and their depth. +Ordinarily, I would not dream of taking Tom to see a criminal hung. But +John Brown is no ordinary criminal. He is wrong, but he is heroic. He +faces his fate--for of course they will hang him--like a Roman. I think +it will do Tom good to see a hero die." + +Whether or no his father was right, Tom was given these experiences. He +sat beside his father and Colonel Washington at the trial. He heard them +testify. He noted the angry stir of the mob in the court-room when Mr. +Strong made no secret of his admiration for the great criminal. + +Robert E. Lee, who captured Brown, said: "I am glad we did not have to +kill him, for I believe he is an honest, conscientious old man." +Virginia, Lee's State, thought she did have to kill this invader of her +soil and disturber of her slaves. + +November 2, John Brown was sentenced to be hung December 2. The next day +he added this postscript to a letter he had already written to his wife +and children: + + "P.S. Yesterday Nov. 2d I was sentenced to be hanged on Decem 2d + next. Do not grieve on my account. I am still quite cheerful. God + bless you all." + +Northern friends offered to try to help him to break jail. He put aside +the offer with the calm statement: "I am fully persuaded that I am worth +inconceivably more to hang than for any other purpose." + +December 2, John Brown started on his last journey. He sat upon his +coffin in a wagon and as the two horses paced slowly from jail to +gallows, he looked far afield, over river and valley and hill, and said: +"This _is_ a beautiful country." He was sure he was upon the threshold +of a far more beautiful country. The gallows were guarded by a militia +company from Richmond, Virginia. In its ranks, rifle on shoulder, stood +Wilkes Booth, a dark and sinister figure, who was to win eternal infamy +by assassinating Abraham Lincoln. Beside the militia was a trim lot of +cadets, the fine boys of the Virginia Military Institute. With them was +their professor, Thomas J. Jackson, "Stonewall" Jackson, one of the +heroic figures upon the Southern side of our Civil War. + +When the end came, Stonewall Jackson's lips moved with a prayer for John +Brown's soul; Colonel Washington's and Mr. Strong's eyes were wet; and +Tom Strong sobbed aloud. Albany fired a hundred guns in John Brown's +honor as he hung from the gallows. In 1859 United States troops captured +him that he might die. In 1899 United States troops fired a volley of +honor over his grave in North Elba that the memory of him might live. +Victor Hugo called him "an apostle and a hero." Emerson dubbed him +"saint." Oswald Garrison Villard closes his fine biography of John Brown +with these words: "Wherever there is battling against injustice and +oppression, the Charlestown gallows that became a cross will help men to +live and die." + + + + +CHAPTER II + + OUR WAR WITH MEXICO--KIT CARSON AND HIS LAWYER, ABE LINCOLN--TOM + GOES TO LINCOLN'S INAUGURATION--S. F. B. MORSE, INVENTOR OF THE + TELEGRAPH--TOM BACK IN WASHINGTON. + + +In 1846, Mr. Strong, long enough out of Yale to have begun business and +to have married, had heard his country's call and had helped her fight +her unjust war with Mexico. General Grant, who saw his first fighting in +this war and who fought well, says of it in his Memoirs that it was "one +of the most unjust ever waged by a stronger against a weaker nation." + +Much more important things were happening here then than the Mexican +War. In 1846 Elias Howe invented the sewing-machine. In 1847 Robert Hoe +invented the rotary printing press. Great inventions like these are the +real milestones of the path of progress. + +Mr. Strong served as a private in the ranks throughout the war. He +refused a commission offered him for gallantry in action because he knew +he did not know enough then to command men. It is a rare man who knows +that he does not know. His regiment was mustered out of service at the +end of the war in New Orleans. The young soldier decided to go home by +way of St. Louis because of his memories of that old town in the days +when he had followed Fremont. He went again to the Planters' Hotel and +there by lucky accident he met again the famous frontiersman Kit Carson. +Carson was away from the plains he loved because of a lawsuit. A sharp +speculator was trying to take away from him some land he had bought +years ago near the town, which the growth of the town had now made quite +valuable. Carson was heartily glad to see his "Tom-boy" once more. He +insisted upon his staying several days, took him to court to hear the +trial, and introduced him to his lawyer, a tall, gaunt, slab-sided, +slouching, plain person from the neighboring State of Illinois. +Everybody who knew him called him "Abe." His last name was Lincoln. + +"I'd heard so much of Abe Lincoln," said Carson, "that when this +speculator who's trying to do me hired all the big lawyers in St. Louis, +I just went over to Springfield, Illinois, to get Abe. When I saw him I +rather hesitated about hiring such a looking skeesicks, but when I came +to talk with him, he did the hesitating. I asked him what he'd charge +for defending a land-suit in St. Louis. He told me. I sez: 'All right. +You're hired. You're my lawyer.' + +"'Wait a bit,' sez he. + +"'What for?' sez I. 'I'll pay what you said.' + +"'That ain't all,' sez he. 'Before I take your money, Kit, I've got to +know your side of the case is the right side.' + +"'What difference does that make to a lawyer?' sez I. + +"'It makes a heap o' difference to this lawyer,' sez he. 'You've got to +prove your case to me before I'll try to prove it to the court. If you +ain't in the right, Abe Lincoln won't be your lawyer.' + +"Darned if he didn't make me prove I was in the right, too, before he'd +touch my money. No wonder they call him 'Honest Abe.'" + +It took Lincoln a couple of days to win Kit Carson's suit. During those +two days young Strong saw much of him and came to admire the sterling +qualities of the man. Lincoln, too, liked this young college-bred fellow +from the East, unaffected, well-mannered, friendly, and gay. There was +the beginning of a friendship between the Westerner and the Easterner. +Thereafter they wrote each other occasionally. When Lincoln served his +one brief term in Congress, Mr. Strong spent a week with him in +Washington and asked him (but in vain) to visit him in New York. + +So, when this new giant came out of the West and Illinois gave her +greatest son to the country, as its President, Mr. Strong went to +Washington to see him inaugurated and took with him his boy Tom, as his +father had taken him in 1829 to Andrew Jackson's inauguration. + +Washington was still a great shabby village, not much more attractive +March 4, 1861, than it was March 4, 1829. The crowds at the two +inaugurations were much alike. In both cases the favorite son of the +West had won at the polls. In both cases the West swamped Washington. +But in 1829 there was jubilant victory in the air. In 1861 there was +somber anxiety. Seven Southern States had "seceded" and had formed +another government. Other States were upon the brink of secession. Was +the great democratic experiment of the world about to end in failure? +Would there be civil war? What was this unknown man out of the West +going to do? Could he do anything? + +Mr. Strong and Tom, with a few thousand other people, went to the +reception at the White House on the afternoon of March fourth. President +Lincoln was laboriously shaking hands with everybody in the long line. +Almost every one of them seemed to be asking him for something. He was +weary long before Tom and his father reached him, but his face +brightened as he saw them. A boy always meant a great deal to Abraham +Lincoln. "There _may_ be so much in a boy," he used to say. He greeted +the two warmly. + +"Howdy, Strong? Glad to see you. This your boy? Howdy, sonny?" + +Tom did not enjoy being called "sonny" much more than he had enjoyed +being called "bub," but he was glad to have this big man with a woman's +smile call him anything. He wrung the President's offered hand, +stammered something shyly, and was passing on with his father, when +Lincoln said: + +"Hold on a minute, Strong. You haven't asked me for anything." + +"I've nothing to ask for, Mr. President. I'm not here to beg for an +office." + +"Good gracious! You're the only man in Washington of that kind, I +believe. Come to see me tomorrow morning, will you?" + +"Most gladly, sir." + +The impatient man behind them pushed them on. They heard him begin to +plead: "Say, Abe, you know I carried Mattoon for you; I'd like to be +Minister to England." + +Boys and girls always appealed to the President's heart. When there were +talks of vital import in his office, little Tad Lincoln often sat upon +his father's knee. At a White House reception, Charles A. Dana once put +his little girl in a corner, whence she saw the show. The father tells +the story. When the reception was over, he said to Lincoln: "'I have a +little girl here who wants to shake hands with you.' He went over to her +and took her up and kissed her and talked to her. She will never forget +it if she lives to be a thousand years old." + + * * * * * + +The next morning Tom followed his father into a room on the second floor +of the White House. Lincoln sat at a flat-topped desk, piled high with +papers. He was in his shirt-sleeves, with shabby black trousers, coarse +stockings, and worn slippers. He stretched out his long legs, swung his +long arms behind his head, and came straight to the point. + +"Strong, I'm going to need you. Your country is going to need you. I +want you to go straight home and fix up your business affairs so you can +come whenever I call you. Will you do it?" + +"Yes, sir." + +President and citizen rose and shook hands upon it. The citizen was +about to go when Tom, with his heart in his mouth, but with a fine +resolve in his heart, suddenly said: + +"Oh, Father! Oh, Mr. President----" + +Then he stopped short, too shy to speak, but Lincoln stooped down to +him, patted his young head and said with infinite kindness in his tone: + +"What is it, Tom? Tell me." + +"Oh, Mr. President, I'm only a boy, but can't I do something for my +country, right now? Can't I stay here? Father will let me, won't you, +Father?" + +Mr. Strong shook his head. The boy's face fell. It brightened again when +Lincoln told him: + +"When I send for your father, I'll send for you, Tom." + +With that promise ringing in his ears, Tom went home to New York City. +Home was a fine brick house at the northeast corner of Washington Place +and Greene Street. The house was a twin brother of those that still +stand on the north side of Washington Square. Tom had been born in it. +Not long after his birth, his parents had given a notable dinner in it +to a notable man. Tom had been present at the dinner, and he remembered +nothing about it. As he was at the table but a few minutes, in the arms +of his nurse, and less than a year old, it is not surprising that he did +not remember it. His proud young mother had exhibited him to a group of +money magnates, gathered at Mr. Strong's shining mahogany table for +dinner, at the fashionable hour of three P.M., to see another young +thing, almost as young as Tom. This other young thing was the +telegraph, just invented by Samuel F. B. Morse, at the University of the +City of New York, which then filled half of the eastern boundary of +Washington Square. + + * * * * * + +While Tom waited in the old brick house and played in Washington Square, +history was making itself. Pope Walker, first Secretary of War of the +Confederate States, sitting in his office at the Alabama Statehouse at +Montgomery, the first Confederate capital, said: "It is time to sprinkle +some blood in the face of the people." So he telegraphed the fateful +order to fire on Fort Sumter, held by United States troops in Charleston +harbor. Sumter fell. Lincoln called for 75,000 volunteers. Virginia, the +famous Old Dominion, "the Mother of Presidents"--Washington, Jefferson, +Madison, and Monroe were Virginians--seceded. The war between the States +began. + +Mr. Strong found in his mail one day this letter: + + "The Executive Mansion, + Washington, April 17, 1861. + + Sir: + + The President bids me say that he would like to have you come to + Washington at once and bring your son Tom with you. + + Respectfully, + + JOHN HAY, + Assistant Private Secretary." + +Tom and his father started at once, as the President bade them. At +Jersey City, they found the train they had expected to take had been +pre-empted by the Sixth Massachusetts, a crack militia regiment of the +Old Bay State, which was hurrying to Washington in the hope of getting +there before the rebels did. The cars were crammed with soldiers. A +sentry stood at every door. No civilian need apply for passage. However, +a civilian with a letter from Lincoln's secretary bidding him also hurry +to Washington was in a class by himself. With the help of an officer, +the father and son ran the blockade of bayonets and started southward, +the only civilians upon the train. It was packed to suffocation with +soldiers. Mr. Strong sat with the regimental officers, but he let Tom +roam at will from car to car. How the boy enjoyed it. The shining +gun-barrels fascinated him. He joined a group of merry men, who hailed +him with a shout: + +"Here's the youngest recruit of all." + +"Are you really going to shoot rebels?" asked Tom. + +"If we must," said Jack Saltonstall, breaking the silence the question +brought, "but I hope it won't come to that." + +"The war will be over in three months," Gordon Abbott prophesied. + +"Pooh, it will never begin,--and I'm sorry for that," said Jim Casey, +"I'd like to have some real fighting." + +Within about three hours, Jim Casey was to see fighting and was to die +for his country. The beginning of bloodshed in our Civil War was in the +streets of Baltimore on April 19, 1861, just eighty-six years to a day +from the beginning of bloodshed in our Revolution on Lexington Common. +Massachusetts and British blood in 1775; Massachusetts and Maryland +blood in 1861. + +When the long train stopped at the wooden car-shed which was then the +Baltimore station, the regiment left the cars, fell into line and +started to march the mile or so of cobblestone streets to the other +station where the train for Washington awaited it. The line of march was +through as bad a slum as an American city could then show. Grog-shops +swarmed in it and about every grog-shop swarmed the toughs of Baltimore. +They were known locally as "plug-uglies." Like the New York "Bowery +boys" of that time, they affected a sort of uniform, black dress +trousers thrust into boot-tops and red flannel shirts. Far too poor to +own slaves themselves, they had gathered here to fight the slave-owners' +battles, to keep the Massachusetts troops from "polluting the soil of +Maryland," as their leaders put it, really to keep them from saving +Washington. + +A roar of jeers and taunts and insults hailed the head of the marching +column. Tom was startled by it. He turned to his father. The two were +walking side by side, in the center of the column, between two companies +of the militia. He found his father had already turned to him. + +"Keep close to me, Tom," said Mr. Strong. + +The storm of words that beat upon them increased. At the next corner, +stones took the place of words. The mob surged alongside the soldiers, +swearing, stoning, striking, finally stabbing and shooting. The Sixth +Massachusetts showed admirable self-restraint, which the "plug-uglies" +thought was cowardice. They pressed closer. With a mighty rush, five +thousand rioters broke the line of the thousand troops. The latter were +forced into small groups, many of them without an officer. Each group +had to act for itself. Tom and his father found themselves part of a +tiny force of about twenty men, beset upon every side by desperadoes now +mad with liquor and with the lust of killing. Jack Saltonstall took +command by common consent. Calmly he faced hundreds of rioters. + +"Forward, march!" + +As he uttered the words, he pitched forward, shot through the chest. A +giant "plug-ugly" bellowed with triumph over his successful shot, yelled +"kill 'em all!" and led the mob upon them. But Mr. Strong had snatched +Saltonstall's gun as it fell from his nerveless hands, had leveled and +aimed it, and had shouted "fire!" to willing ears. A score of guns rang +out. The mob-leader whirled about and dropped. Half-a-dozen other +"plug-uglies" lay about him. This section of the mob broke and ran. Some +of them fired as they ran, and Jim Casey's life went out of him. + +"Take this gun, Tom," said Mr. Strong. + +The boy took it, reloading it as he marched, while his sturdy father +lifted the wounded Saltonstall from the stony street and staggered +forward with the body in his arms. Casey and two other men were dead. +Their bodies had to be left to the fury of the mob. Saltonstall lived +to fight to the end. As the survivors of the twenty pressed forward, the +mob behind followed them up. Bullets whizzed unpleasantly near. Twice, +at Mr. Strong's command, the men faced about and fired a volley. In both +these volleys, Tom's gun played its part. He had hunted before, but +never such big game as men. The joy of battle possessed him. Since it +was apparently a case of "kill or be killed," he shot to kill. Whether +he did kill, he never knew. The two volleys checked two threatening +rushes of the rioters and enabled Mr. Strong to bring what was left of +the gallant little band safely to the railroad station. An hour later +the Sixth Massachusetts was in Washington. During that hour Tom had been +violently sick upon the train. He was new to this trade of man-killing. + +At Washington, once vacant spaces were soon filled with camps. Soldiers +poured in on every train. Orderlies were galloping about. Artillery +surrounded the Capitol. And from its dome Tom saw a Confederate flag, +the Stars-and-Bars, flying defiantly in nearby Alexandria. + +Those were dark days. There were Confederate forces within a few miles +of the White House. Sumter surrendered April 15th. Virginia seceded on +the 17th. Harper's Ferry fell into Southern hands on the 18th. The Sixth +Massachusetts had fought its way through Baltimore on the 19th. Robert +E. Lee resigned his commission in our army on the 20th and left +Arlington for Richmond, taking with him a long train of army and navy +officers whose loyal support, now lost forever, had seemed a national +necessity. Lincoln spent many an hour in his private office, searching +with a telescope the reaches of the Potomac, over which the troop-laden +transports were expected. Once, when he thought he was alone, John Hay +heard him call out "with irrepressible anguish": "Why don't they come? +Why don't they come?" In public he gave no sign of the anxiety that was +eating up his heart. He had the nerve to jest about it. The Sixth +Massachusetts, the Seventh New York, and a Rhode Island detachment had +all hurried to save Washington from the capture that threatened. When +the Massachusetts men won the race and marched proudly by the White +House, Lincoln said to some of their officers: "I begin to believe there +is no North. The Seventh Regiment is a myth. Rhode Island is another. +You are the only real thing." They were very real, those men of +Massachusetts, and they were the vanguard of the real army that was to +be. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + CHARLES FRANCIS ADAMS--MR. STRONG GOES TO RUSSIA--TOM GOES TO LIVE + IN THE WHITE HOUSE--BULL RUN--"STONEWALL" JACKSON--GEO. B. + MCCLELLAN--TOM STRONG, SECOND LIEUTENANT, U. S. A.--THE BATTLE OF + THE "MERRIMAC" AND THE "MONITOR." + + +A few days passed before the President had time to see Mr. Strong and +Tom. When they were finally ushered into his working-room, they found +there, already interviewing Lincoln, the hawk-nosed and hawk-eyed +Secretary of State, William H. Seward of New York, scholar, statesman, +and gentleman, and a short, grizzled man, the worthy inheritor of a +great tradition. He was Charles Francis Adams of Boston, son and +grandson of two Presidents of the United States. He had been appointed +Minister to England, just then the most important foreign appointment +in the world. What England was to do or not do might spell victory or +defeat for the Union. Mr. Adams had come to receive his final +instructions for his all-important work. And this is what happened. + +Shabby and uncouth, Lincoln faced his two well-dressed visitors, nodding +casually to the two New Yorkers as they entered at what should have been +a great moment. + +"I came to thank you for my appointment," said Adams, "and to ask +you----" + +"Oh, that's all right," replied Lincoln, "thank Seward. He's the man +that put you in." He stretched out his legs and arms, and sighed a deep +sigh of relief. "By the way, Governor," he added, turning to Seward, +"I've this morning decided that Chicago post-office appointment. Well, +good-by." + +And that was all the instruction the Minister to Great Britain had from +the President of the United States. Even in those supreme days, the rush +of office-seekers, the struggle for the spoils, the mad looting of the +public offices for partisan purposes, was monopolizing the time and +absorbing the mind of our greatest President. There is a story that one +man who asked him to appoint him Minister to England, after taking an +hour of his time, ended the interview by asking him for a pair of old +boots. Civil Service Reform has since gone far to stop this scandal and +sin, but much of it still remains. Today you can fight for the best +interests of our beloved country by fighting the spoils system in city, +state, and nation. + +Adams, amazed, followed Secretary Seward out of the little room. Then +Lincoln turned to the father and son. + +Tom had more time to look at him now. He saw a tall man with a thin, +muscular, big nose, with heavy eyebrows above deep-set eyes and below a +square, bulging forehead, and with a mass of black hair. The face was +dark and sallow. The firm lips relaxed as he looked down upon the boy. A +beautiful smile overflowed them. A beautiful friendliness shone from the +deep-set eyes. + +"So this is another Tom Strong," he said. "Howdy, Tommy?" + +The boy smiled back, for the welcoming smile was irresistible. He put +his little hand into Lincoln's great paw, hardened and roughened by a +youth of strenuous toil. The President squeezed his hand. Tom was happy. + +"You're to go to Russia, Strong," Mr. Lincoln said to the father. +"England and France threaten to combine against us. You must get Russia +to hold them back. We'll have a regular Minister there, but I'm going to +depend upon you. See Governor Seward. He'll tell you all about it. Will +you take Mrs. Strong with you?" + +"Most certainly." + +"Well, I s'posed you would. And how about Tom here?" + +Tom's heart beat quick. What was coming now? + +"Mrs. Strong must decide that. I suppose he had better keep on with his +school in New York." + +"Why not let him come to school in Washington?" asked Lincoln. "In the +school of the world? You see," he added, while that irresistible smile +again softened the firm outlines of his big man's mouth, "you see I've +taken a sort of fancy to your boy Tom. S'pose you give him to me while +you're away. There are things he can do for his country." + +It was perhaps only a whim, but the whims of a President count. A month +later, Mr. and Mrs. Strong started for St. Petersburg and Tom reported +at the White House. He was welcomed by John Hay, a delightful young man +of twenty-three, one of the President's two private secretaries. The +welcome lacked warmth. + +"You're to sleep in a room in the attic," said Hay, "and I believe +you're to eat with Mr. Nicolay and me. I haven't an idea what you're to +do and between you and me and the bedpost I don't believe the Ancient +has an idea either. Perhaps there won't be anything. Wait a while and +see." + +The Ancient--this was a nickname his secretaries had given him--had a +very distinct idea, which he had not seen fit to tell his zealous young +secretary. Tom found the waiting not unpleasant. He had a good many +unimportant things to do. "Tad" Lincoln, though younger, was a good +playmate. The White House staff was kind to him. Even Hay found it +difficult not to like him. Then there was the sensation of being at the +center of things, big things. He saw men whose names were household +words. Half a dozen times he lunched with the President's family, a +plain meal with plain folks. Even the dinners at the White House, except +the state dinners, were frugal and plain. Lincoln drank little or no +wine. He never used tobacco. This was something of a miracle in the case +of a man from the West, for in those days, particularly in the +unconventional West, practically every man both smoked and chewed +tobacco. The filthy spittoon was everywhere conspicuous. We fiercely +resented the tales told our English cousins, first by Mrs. Trollope and +then by Charles Dickens, about our tobacco-chewing, but the resentment +was so fierce because the tales were so true. Those were dirty days. In +1860 there were few bathrooms except in our largest cities. Those that +existed were mostly new. In 1789, when the present Government of the +United States came into being, in New York City, there was not one +bathroom in the whole town. + +At these family luncheons, Tom was apt to become conscious that +Lincoln's eyes were bent beneath their shaggy eyebrows full upon him. +There was nothing unkind in the glance, but the boy felt it go straight +through him. He wondered what it all meant. Why was he not given more +work to do? Had he been weighed and found wanting? He waited in suspense +a good many months. + +The early months of waiting were not merry months. In July, 1861, the +first battle of Bull Run had been fought and had been lost. Our troops +ran nearly thirty miles. Telegram after telegram brought news of +disgrace and defeat to the White House. In the afternoon Lincoln went +to see Gen. Winfield S. Scott, then commander-in-chief of our armies. +The fat old general was taking his afternoon nap. Awakened with +difficulty, he gurgled that everything would come out well. Then he fell +asleep again. Before six o'clock it was known that everything had turned +out most badly. Washington itself was threatened by the Confederate +pursuit. Lincoln had no sleep that night. The gray dawn found him at his +desk, still receiving dispatches, still giving orders. When he left the +desk, Washington was safe. + +It was at the beginning of the battle of Bull Run, when the Confederates +came near running away but did not do so because the Union troops ran +first, that "Stonewall" Jackson got his famous nickname. The brigade of +another Southern soldier, Gen. Bernard Bee, was wavering and falling +back. Its commander, trying to hearten his men, called out to them: +"Look! there's Jackson standing like a stone wall!" The men looked, +rallied, and went on fighting. It may have been that one thing of +Jackson's example that turned the tide at Bull Run, gave the battle to +the South, and prolonged the war by at least two years. Stonewall +Jackson's soldiers were called foot-cavalry, because under his inspiring +leadership they made marches which would have been a credit to mounted +men. It was his specialty to be where it was impossible for him to be, +by all the ordinary rules of war. He was a thunderbolt in attack, a +stone wall in defense. + + * * * * * + +In November of that sad year of 1861, the President made another +noteworthy call upon the then commander-in-chief, Gen. George B. +McClellan. President and Secretary of State, escorted by young Hay and +younger Tom, called upon the General at the latter's house, in the +evening. They were told he was out, but would return soon, so they +waited. McClellan did return and was told of his patient visitors. He +walked by the open door of the room where they were seated and went +upstairs. Half an hour later Lincoln sent a servant to tell him again +that they were there. Word came back that General McClellan had gone to +bed. John Hay's diary justly speaks of "this unparalleled insolence of +epaulettes." As the three men and the boy walked back to the White +House, Hay said: + +"It was an insolent rebuff. Something should be done about it." + +Lincoln's almost godlike patience, however, had not been worn out. + +"It is better," the great man answered, "at this time not to be making a +point of etiquette and personal dignity." + +The President, however, stopped calling upon the pompous General. After +that experience, he always sent word to McClellan to call upon him. + + * * * * * + +One day, at the close of a family luncheon, the President said to Tom: +"Come upstairs with me." + +In the little private office, Lincoln took off his coat and waistcoat +with a sigh of relief and lounged into his chair. He bade Tom take a +chair nearby. Then he looked at the boy for a moment, while his +wonderful smile overflowed his strong lips. + +"I've been studying you a bit, Tom. I think you'll do. Now I'll tell you +what I want you to do." + +The smile died quite away. + +"Are you sure you can keep still when you ought to keep still? Balaam's +ass isn't the only ass that ever talked. Most asses talk--and always at +the wrong time." + +"The last thing Father told me," Tom answered, "was never to say +anything to anybody 'less I was sure you'd want me to say it." + +"Your father is a wise man, my boy. Pray God he does what I hope he will +in Russia." + +The serious face grew still more serious. The long figure slouching in +the chair straightened and stiffened. The sloping shoulders seemed to +broaden, as if to bear steadfastly a weight that would have crushed +most men. The dark eyes gleamed with a solemn hope. Tom longed to ask +what his father was to try to do, but he was not silly enough to put his +thought into words. Another good-by counsel his father had given him was +never to ask the President a question, unless he had to do so. There was +silence for a moment. Then Lincoln spoke again: + +"You're to carry dispatches for me, Tom. This may take you into the +enemy's country sometimes. If you were captured and were a civilian, it +might go hard with you. So I've had you commissioned as a second +lieutenant. If you should slip into a fight occasionally I wouldn't +blame you much. Mr. Stanton, the Secretary of War, kicked about it. He +said he didn't believe in giving commissions to babies. I told him you +could almost speak plain and could go 'round without a nurse. Finally he +gave in. I haven't much influence with this Administration"--here Tom +looked puzzled until the President smiled over his own jest--"but I did +get you the commission. Here it is." + +He laid the precious parchment on the desk, put on his spectacles, took +up his quill pen, and wrote at the foot of it + +[Illustration: Autograph, A. Lincoln] + +The boy's heart thrilled and throbbed. He had never dreamed of such an +opportunity and such an honor. He was an officer of the Union. He was to +carry dispatches for the President of the United States. His hand shook +a little as he took the commission, reverently. + +"You've been detailed for special service, Tom. Stanton wanted to know +whether your special service was to be to play with my boy, Tad. Stanton +was pretty mad; that's a fact. Well, well, you must do your work so well +that he'll get over the blow. You would have thought I was asking him +for a brigadier's commission for a girl. Well, well. Being a war +messenger is only one of your duties, son. You're to be my scout. Keep +your ears and eyes both open, Tom, and your mouth shut. Ever hear the +story of what Jonah said to the whale when he got out of him? The whale +said to Jonah: 'You've given me a terrible stomach-ache.' And Jonah +said: 'That's what you got because you didn't have sense enough to keep +your mouth shut.' But remember, Tom, to go scouting in the right way. +What I want is the truth. It's a hard thing for a President to get. I +don't want tittle-tattle, evil gossip, idle talk. When I was in +Congress, there was a fine old fellow in the House from Florida. I +remember he said once that the Florida wolf was 'a mean critter that'd +go snoopin' 'round twenty miles a night ruther than not do a mischief.' +Don't be a wolf, Tom,--but don't be a lamb either, with the wool pulled +over your eyes and ears. Here's your first job. This envelope"--Lincoln +took from the desk a sealed envelope, not addressed, and handed it to +the boy--"this envelope is for the commander of the 'Cumberland,' in +Hampton Roads. This War Department pass will carry you anywhere. When +Stanton signed it, he asked me whether he was to spend a whole day +signing things for you to play with. Mrs. Lincoln has had a uniform made +for you, on the sly. I rather think you'll find it in your room, Tom. +You'd better start tomorrow." + +"Mayn't I start this afternoon, Mr. President?" + +"Good for you. Of course you may. I'll say good-by to the folks for you. +God bless you, son." + +Lincoln waved a kindly farewell as Tom, with drumbeats in his young +heart, gave a fair imitation of an officer's salute--and strode out of +the room with what he meant to be a manly step. Once outside, the step +changed to a run. He flew along the halls and up the stairs to the +attic. He burst into his room. On his narrow bed lay his new uniform. +Mrs. Lincoln, kindly housewife that she was, had done her part in the +little conspiracy for the benefit of the boy who was Tad Lincoln's +beloved playmate. She had herself smuggled an old suit of Tom's to a +tailor, who had made from its measure the resplendent new blue uniform +that now greeted Tom's enraptured eyes. + +That afternoon, Lieutenant Tom Strong left the White House for Hampton +Roads. A swift dispatch boat carried him there. He reached the flagship +on a lovely, peaceful, spring day, and delivered his dispatches. The +boat that had taken him there was to take him back the next morning. He +was glad to have a night on a warship. It was a new experience. And his +father had told him that experience was the best teacher in the world. +The beautiful lines of the frigate were a joy to see. Her spick and span +cleanliness, the trim and trig sailors and marines, the rows of polished +cannon that thrust their grim mouths out of the portholes, these things +delighted him. He was standing on the quarter-deck with Lieutenant +Morris, almost wishing he could exchange his brand-new lieutenancy in +the army for one in the navy, when from the Norfolk navy yard a rocket +flared up into the air. + +"What is that, sir?" asked Tom. "Is it a signal to you?" + +"I fancy it is," Morris answered, "but it isn't meant to be. That's a +rebel rocket. You know we lost the navy-yard early in the war and we +haven't got it back--yet. That rocket went up from there. The Secesh are +up to some deviltry. They've been signaling a good bit of late. I wish +they'd come out and give us a chance at them. Hampton Roads is dull as +ditchwater, with not a thing happening." + +The gallant lieutenant yawned prodigiously. He little knew what terrible +things were to happen on the morrow. That rocket meant that the rebel +ram, the "Merrimac," the first iron-clad vessel that ever went into +action, was to sail down Hampton Roads, where nothing ever happened, the +next morning and was to make many things happen. The Confederates had +converted the old Union frigate, the "Merrimac," into a new, strange, +and monstrous thing. They had placed a battery of cannon of a size never +before mounted on shipboard upon her deck, close to the water-line; +they had built over the battery a framework of stout timbers, covered +with armor rolled from rails, and they had put a cast-iron bow upon this +marine marvel. A wooden ship was a mere toy to her. + +The next morning came--it was March 8, 1862--and the "Merrimac" came. As +she emerged from distance and mist, our scout-boats came racing to the +"Cumberland" with news of the danger that was fast nearing her. The news +was a tonic to officers and to men. Here at last was something to fight. +Here at last was something to do. They were all weary of having the +flagship lie, week after week, + + "As idle as a painted ship + Upon a painted ocean." + +The men sprang to quarters with a joyful cheer. The officers were at +their posts. The gun-crews waited impatiently for the order to fire. And +Tom, again upon the quarter-deck, thrilled with the thrill of all about +him, was glad to know that the dispatch boat would not sail until that +afternoon and that he could see the fight. Everyone around him was sure +of victory. The foe was soon to be sunk. The Stars-and-Bars, now flying +so impudently at her stern, was to be hung up as a trophy in the +ward-room of the "Cumberland." It never was. + +The ram steered straight for the flagship. She did not fire a shot, +though the flagship's cannon roared. A tongue of fire blazed from every +porthole of the starboard side, towards which she came, silently and +swiftly. Behind every tongue of fire there rushed a cannon-ball. Many a +ball hit the "Merrimac." A wooden ship would have been blown to bits by +the concentrated fury of the cannonade. Alas! the cannon-balls glanced +from her armored sides "like peas from a pop-gun." They rattled like +hail upon her and did her no more hurt than hail-stones would have done. +She came on like an irresistible Fate. There had been shouts of savage +joy below decks when the first order to fire had echoed through them. A +burst of wild cheering from the gun-crews had almost drowned the first +thunder of the guns. There were no shouts or cheers now. Sharp orders +pierced the clangor of artillery. + +"Stand by to board!" + +The marines formed quickly at the starboard bow of the "Cumberland." +Then at last the guns of the "Merrimac" spoke. She was close upon her +prey now. The sound of her first volley was the voice of doom. Her great +cannon sent masses of iron through and through the pitiful wooden walls +that had dared to stand up against walls of iron. The shrieks of wounded +men, of men screaming their mangled lives away, rolled up to the +quarter-deck. A messenger dashed up there. + +"Half the gun-crew officers are dead. Send us others!" + +"Go below," said Lieutenant Morris, turning to two young midshipmen who +stood near Tom, "keep the guns manned." + +The two middies bounded below and Tom bounded down with them. There was +no hope of victory now, but the fight must be fought to a finish. If +the cannon could still be served, a lucky shot might strike the foe in a +vital part, might disable her engines, might carry away her +steering-gear, might--there was a long chapter of possible accidents to +the "Merrimac" that might still save the "Cumberland" from what seemed +to be her sure destruction. As the three boys raced down to the +gun-deck, they saw a fearful scene. Dead and wounded men lay everywhere. +The sawdust that in those days used to be strewn about, before entering +action, in order to soak up the blood of the men who fell and keep the +decks from growing slippery with it, had soaked up all it could, but +there were thin red trickles flowing along the deck. Two or three of the +cannon had been dismounted. Crushed masses that had been human flesh lay +beneath them. A dying officer half raised himself to give one last +command and fell back dead before he could speak. The men were standing +to their task as American sailors are wont to do, but like all men they +needed leaders. Three leaders came. The two middies and Tom took +command of these officerless cannon. The other two boys knew their work +and did it. Tom knew that it was his business to keep his cannon at work +and he did it. He repeated, mechanically: + +"Load! Fire! Load! Fire!" + +His men responded to the command. The cannon roared once, twice. Then +there came a sickening shock. The rebel ram drove its iron prow home +through the side of the "Cumberland." The good ship reeled far over +under the deadly blow, righted herself, but began to sink. Her race was +run. The black bulk of the "Merrimac" was just opposite the porthole of +the gun Tom was handling. There was a last order. With the lips of their +muzzles wet with the engulfing sea, the cannon of the "Cumberland" +roared their last defiance of death. Down went the ship. The sea about +her was black with wreckage and with struggling men. Boats from other +ships and from the shore darted among them, picking them up. The +dispatch boat that had brought Tom down was busy with that good work. +The "Merrimac" could have sunk her without effort, but of course the +Confederates never dreamed of making the effort. Americans do not fire +at drowning men. When Tom jumped into the water, as the ship sank +beneath him, he swam to a shattered spar and clutched it. But other men +who could not swim clutched at it too. It threatened to sink with their +added weight and carry them down with it. So the boy, thoroughly at home +in the water, let go, turned upon his back, floated with his nose just +above the surface, and waited for the help that was at hand. A boat-hook +caught his trousers at the waist-band. He was pulled up to the deck of +the dispatch boat. It was not quite the way in which he had expected to +board her. From her bridge, with the deck below him crowded with the +rescued sailors of the "Cumberland," he saw the second sad act of that +day's tragedy. + +The "Merrimac" had backed away, after that terrible thrust of her iron +ram, until she was free from the ship she had destroyed. Then she laid +her course for the "Congress," invincible yesterday, today helplessly +weak in the face of this new terror of the seas. The "Congress" fought +to the last gasp, but that last gasp came all too soon. Raked fore and +aft by her adversary's guns, unable to fire a single effective shot in +reply, she ran upon a shoal while trying to escape from being rammed and +lay there, no longer a fighting machine, but a mere target for her foe. +Her captain could not hope to save his ship. The only thing he could do +was to save the lives of such of his crew as were still alive. And there +was but one way to do that. The "Congress" surrendered. The +Stars-and-Stripes fluttered down from her masthead. In place of the flag +of the free, the Stars-and-Bars, symbol of slavery, flew above the +surrendered ship. The "Cumberland," going down with her flag, had had +the better fate of the two. + +The "Merrimac," justly satisfied with her day's work and with the toll +she had taken of the Union squadron, steamed proudly back to Norfolk, to +repair the slight damages she had suffered and to make ready to +complete her conquest on the morrow. Three Union ships still lay in +Hampton Roads, great frigates, the finest of their kind then afloat, +perfectly appointed, fully manned,--and as useless as though they had +been the toy-boats of a child. The "Minnesota," now the flagship, +signaled Captain Lawrence's stirring slogan: "Don't give up the ship!" +It might have been called a bit of useless bravery, but no bravery is +useless. At least the officers and men of the three doomed ships would +fight for the flag until they died. It was just possible that one of the +three might so maneuver that she would strike the foe amidships and sink +with her to a glorious death. + +That night the wild anxiety at Hampton Roads was more than echoed at New +York and Washington. The wires had told the terrible tale of the +"Merrimac." It was thought she could go straight to New York, sink all +the shipping there, command the city and levy tribute upon it. Lincoln's +Secretary of the Navy, Gideon Welles of Connecticut, wrote in his diary +that night: "The most frightened man on that gloomy day was the +Secretary of War. He was at times almost frantic.... He ran from room to +room, sat down and jumped up after writing a few words, swung his arms, +and scolded and raved." Hay records that "Stanton was fearfully +stampeded. He said they would capture our fleet, take Fort Monroe, be in +Washington before night." + +Without consulting the Secretary of the Navy, Stanton had some fifty +canal-boats loaded with stone and sent them to be sunk on Kettle Bottom +Shoals, in the Potomac, to keep the "Merrimac" from reaching Washington. +The canal-boats reached the Shoals, but the order to sink them was +countermanded by cooler heads. They were left in a long row, tied up to +the river bank. + + * * * * * + +The three doomed ships at Hampton Roads soon knew that at nine o'clock +of that fateful night there had steamed in from the ocean a Union +iron-clad. Her coming, however, brought scant comfort. + +"What is she like?" asked the first captain to hear the news. + +"Like? She's like a cheese-box on a raft." + +[Illustration: THE BATTLE OF THE "MONITOR" AND THE "MERRIMAC"] + +It was not a bad description. She was the "Monitor," an unknown boat of +an unknown type that day, and on the morrow the most famous fighting +craft that ever sailed the seas. She was born of the brain of a +Swedish-American, Capt. John Ericsson, whose statue stands in Battery +Park, the southern tip of the metropolis, looking down to the ocean he +saved for freedom's cause. + +Lieut. A. L. Worden, commanding the "Monitor," was soon in consultation +with the other commanders. They scarcely tried to disguise their belief +that he had merely brought another predestined victim. His ship was +tiny, compared with the "Merrimac." She was not built to ram, as was her +terrible antagonist. Her guns were of a greater caliber, to be sure, +than any wooden ship mounted, but there were but two of them and they +could be brought to bear only by revolving the "Monitor's" turret,--a +newfangled device in everyday use now, but then unknown and consequently +despised. Men either fear or despise the unknown. They are usually wrong +in doing either. The council of captains agreed upon a plan for the next +day's fight. The plan was based upon the theory that the "Monitor" would +be speedily sunk. Nevertheless, she was to face the foe first of all. + +Again the next morning came and again there came the rebel ram. Decked +out in flags as if for a festival, proudly certain of victory, the +"Merrimac" steamed down Hampton Roads. The cheese-box on a raft steamed +out to meet her. It was David confronting Goliath. Goliath had fourteen +guns and David had two. The iron-clads came nearer and the most famous +sea-duel ever fought began. Tom saw it all from the bridge of the +"Minnesota." Both vessels fired and fired again, without result. Their +armor defied even the big guns they carried. Then the "Merrimac" tried +to bring her deadly ram into play. The "Monitor" dodged into shoal +water, hoping her foe would follow her and run aground. The "Merrimac" +did not fall into the trap. On the contrary, she left her adversary and +made a headlong course for the helpless "Minnesota." On board the +latter, drums beat to quarters, shrill whistles gave orders, and the +great ship moved forward to what seemed certain destruction. But the +"Monitor" slipped away from the shoals and made after the "Merrimac," +firing her guns as rapidly as her creaking turret could turn. The +"Merrimac" faced about, bound this time to make short work of this +wretched little gnat that was seeking to sting her. This time the two +came to close grips. Each tried to ram the other down. Each struck the +other, but struck a glancing blow. They lay almost alongside and pounded +each other with their giant guns. A missile from the "Monitor" came +through a porthole of the "Merrimac," breaking a cannon and dealing +death and destruction within her iron sides. She turned and ran for +safety to the shelter of the Confederate batteries at Norfolk. The +"Monitor" lay almost unharmed upon the gentle waves of Hampton Roads, +the ungainly master of the seas. The "Merrimac" never dared again to try +conclusions with her stout little rival. She stayed at her moorings +until she was blown up there just before the Union forces captured +Norfolk. The Union blockade was never broken. The "Monitor" survived the +fight only to founder later in "the graveyard of ships," off Cape +Hatteras. + +The wires had told the story of the famous fight before Tom reached +Washington, but he was the first eye-witness of it to reach there and he +had to tell the tale many and many a time. His first auditors were +Lincoln and Secretary Welles. The dispatch boat that carried him back +put him on board the President's boat, south of Kettle Bottom Shoals, on +the Potomac, in obedience to orders signaled to it. When he had finished +his story, there was silence for a moment. The boy saw Lincoln's lips +move, perhaps in prayer, perhaps in thanksgiving. Then the grave face +relaxed and the pathetic eyes twinkled with humor. The President laid +his hand upon the Secretary's arm and pointed to a long line of +stone-laden canal-boats that bordered the bank. + +"There's Stanton's navy," said Lincoln. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + TOM GOES WEST--WILKES BOOTH HUNTS HIM--DR. HANS ROLF SAVES HIM--HE + DELIVERS DISPATCHES TO GENERAL GRANT. + + +At the end of the next month, April, 1862, Admiral Farragut gallantly +forced open the closed mouth of the Mississippi. He took his wooden +ships into action against forts and iron-clad gunboats and captured New +Orleans. Within fifteen months thereafter, the North was in practical +control of the whole Mississippi. By July, 1863, the Confederacy had +been split into two parts, east and west of the "Father of Waters." That +was the poetic Indian name of the Mississippi. Farragut's fleet began +the driving of the wedge. Grant's army drove it home. When the driving +home had just begun, Tom, to his intense delight, was sent West with +dispatches for Grant. He left on an hour's notice. + +[Illustration: ADMIRAL FARRAGUT] + +During that hour, a colored servant employed in the White House, whose +heart was blacker than his sooty skin, had left the mansion, had sought +a tumble-down tenement in the slums, and had found there a vulture of a +man, very white as to face, very black as to the masses of hair that +fell to his shoulders. + +"Dat dar boy Strong, he's dun sure goin'," said the darkey, "wid papers +fur dat General Grant out West." + +"How do you know?" + +"Coz I listened to de door, when dey-uns wuz a-talkin'." + +"He'll have to go West by Baltimore," mused the white man. "The next +train leaves in half an hour. I can make it. Here, Reub, here's your +pay." + +He took a five-dollar gold piece from his pocket. The negro clutched at +it. Then what was left of his conscience stirred within him. He said, +pleadingly, hesitatingly: + +"Massa, you knows I'se doin' dis coz old Massa told me to. You ain't +a-goin' to hurt dat boy Strong, is you? He's a nice boy. Eberybody lubs +him up dar." + +"What is it to you, confound you!" snarled the man, "whether I hurt him +or not? What's a boy's life to winning the war? You keep on doing what +old Massa told you to do, or I'll cut your black heart out." + +With a savage gesture, he thrust the trembling negro out of the dingy +room. With savage haste, he packed his scanty belongings. With a pistol +in his hip pocket, with a bowie-knife slung over his left breast beneath +his waistcoat, with a vial of chloroform in his valise, Wilkes Booth +left Washington on the trail of Tom Strong. + + * * * * * + +Hunter and hunted were in the same car. Tom little dreamed that a few +seats behind him sat a deadly foe, who would stick at nothing to get the +precious papers he carried. Washington swarmed with Confederate spies. +The face of everybody at the White House was well known to every spy. +The hunter did not have to guess where the hunted sat. + +General Grant had begun his career of victory in the West. It was +all-important to the Confederacy to know where his next blow was to be +aimed. The papers in the scout's possession would tell that great +secret. Wilkes Booth meant to have those papers soon. As the train +bumped over the rough iron rails, towards Baltimore, Booth went to the +forward end of the car for a glass of water and as he walked back along +the aisle with a slow, lounging step, he stopped where Tom sat and held +out his hand, saying: + +"How do you do, Mr. Strong? I'm Mr. Barnard. I have had the pleasure of +seeing you about the White House sometimes, when I have been calling on +our great President. Lincoln will crush these accursed rebels soon!" + +It was a trifle overdone, a trifle theatrical. Wilkes Booth could never +help being theatrical. His greeting was one of the few times Tom had +ever been called "Mister." He felt flattered and took the proffered hand +willingly, but he searched his memory in vain for any real recollection +of the striking face of the man who spoke to him. There was some vague +stirring of memory about it, but certainly this had no relation to that +happy life at the White House. Something evil was connected with it. +Puzzled, he wondered. He had seen Booth under arms at John Brown's +scaffold, but he did not remember that. + +The alleged Mr. Barnard slipped into the seat beside him and began to +talk. He talked well. Little by little, suspicion fell asleep in Tom's +mind as his companion told of adventures on sea and land. Booth was +trying to seem to talk with very great frankness, in order to lure Tom +into a similar frankness about himself. He larded all his talk with +protestations of fervent loyalty to the Union. Tom bethought himself of +a favorite quotation his father often used from Shakespeare's great play +of "Hamlet." The conscience-stricken queen says to Hamlet, her son: + +"The lady doth protest too much, methinks." + +Wilkes Booth was protesting too much. The drowsy suspicion in Tom's mind +stirred again. But he was but a boy and Booth was a man, skilled in all +the craft of the stage. Once more his easy, brilliant talk lulled +caution to sleep. Tom, questioned so skillfully that he did not know he +was being drawn out, little by little told the story of his short life. +But the story ended with his saying he was going to Harrisburg "on +business." He was still enough on his guard not to admit he was going +further than Harrisburg. + +"You're pretty young to be on the way to the State Capitol on business," +said the skillful actor, hoping to hear more details in answer to the +half-implied sneer. But just then Tom remembered what his father had +advised: "Never say anything to anybody, unless you are sure the +President would wish you to say it." He shut up like a clam. Booth could +get nothing more out of him. But he meant to get those dispatches out of +him. They were either in the boy's pocket or his valise, probably in his +pocket. When he fell asleep, the spy's time would come. So the spy +waited. + +Darkness came. Two smoky oil-lamps gave such light as they could. The +train rumbled on in the night. There were no sleeping cars then. People +slept in their seats, if they slept at all. Booth's tones grew soothing, +almost tender. They served as a lullaby. Tom slept. The spy beside him +drew a long, triumphant breath. His time had come. + +Some time before, he had shifted his traveling-bag to this seat. Now he +drew from it, gently, quietly, the little bottle of chloroform and a +small sponge, which he saturated with the stupefying drug. Then he +slipped his arm under the sleeping boy's head, drew him a little closer +to himself, and glanced through the dusky car. Nearly everybody was +asleep. Those who were not were trying to go to sleep. No one was +watching. Booth pressed the sponge to Tom's nostrils. Tom stirred +uneasily. "Sh-sh, Tom," purred the actor, "go to sleep; all's well." The +drug soon did its work. The boy was dead to the world for awhile. Only a +shock could rouse him. + +The shock came. Booth's long, sensitive, skilled fingers--the fingers of +a musician--ransacked his coat and waistcoat pockets swiftly, finding +nothing. But beneath the waistcoat their tell-tale touches had detected +the longed-for papers. The waistcoat was deftly unbuttoned--it could +have been stripped off without arousing the unconscious boy--and a +triumphant thrill shot through Booth's black heart as he drew from an +inner pocket the long, official envelope that he knew must hold what he +had stealthily sought. He was just about to slip it into his own pocket +and then to leave his stupefied victim to sleep off the drug while he +himself sought safety at the next station, when one of those little +things which have big results occurred. The sturdy man who was snoring +in the seat behind this one happened to be a surgeon. He was returning +from Washington, whither he had gone to operate on a dear friend, a +wounded officer. Chloroform had of course been used, but the patient had +died under the knife. It had been a terrible experience for the +operator. It had made his sleep uneasy. A mere whiff from the sponge +Booth had used reached the surgeon's sensitive nostril. It revived the +poignant memories of the last few hours. He awoke with a start that +brought him to his feet. And there, just in front of him, he saw by the +dim light a boy sunk in stupefied slumber and a man glancing guiltily +back as he tried to thrust a stiff and crackling paper into his pocket. +The sponge had fallen to the floor, but its fumes, far-spreading now, +told to the practiced surgeon a story of foul play. He grabbed the man +by the shoulder and awoke most of the travelers, but not Tom, with a +stentorian shout: "What are you doing, you scoundrel?" + +The scoundrel leaped to his feet, throwing off the doctor's hand, and +sprang into the aisle, clutching the long envelope in his left hand, +while his right held a revolver. He rushed for the door, pursued by half +a dozen men, headed by the doctor. Close pressed, he whirled about and +leveled his pistol at his unarmed pursuers. They fell back a pace. He +whirled again, stumbled over a bag in the aisle, fell, sprang to his +feet once more. A brakeman opened the door. He was hurrying to see what +this clamor meant. Wilkes Booth fired at him pointblank. The bullet +missed, but it made the brakeman give way. Booth rushed by him, gained +the platform and leaped from the slow train into the sheltering night. + +The shock that waked Tom was the sound of the shot. Weak, dizzy, and +sick, he knew only that some terrible thing was happening. +Instinctively, his hand sought that inner pocket, only to find it empty. +Then, indeed, he was wide awake. The horror of his loss burned through +his brain. He shouted: "Stop him! Stop thief!" and collapsed again into +his seat. + +He was in fact a very sick boy. The dose of chloroform that had been +given him would have been an overdose for a man. Notwithstanding his +awakening, he might have relapsed into sleep and death, had not the +skillful surgeon been there to devote himself to him. An antidote was +forced down his throat. Willing volunteers, for of course the whole car +was now awake in a hurly-burly of question and answer, rubbed life back +into him. When he was a bit better, he was kept walking up and down the +aisle, while two strong men held him up and his head swayed helplessly +from side to side. But the final cure came when the surgeon who had kept +catlike watch upon him saw that he could now begin to understand things. + +"Here is something of yours," he whispered into the lad's +half-unconscious ear. "That scoundrel stole it from you. When he fell, +he must have dropped it on the floor. I found it there after he had +jumped off the platform." + +Tom's hand closed over the fateful envelope. His trembling fingers ran +along its edges. It had not been opened. He had not betrayed his trust. +A profound thankfulness and joy stirred within him. Within an hour he +was practically himself again. Then he poured out his heart in thanks to +the sturdy surgeon who had saved not only his life, but his honor. He +asked his name and started at his reply: + +"Dr. Hans Rolf, of York, Pennsylvania." + +"Dr. Hans Rolf," repeated Tom, "but perhaps you are the grandson of the +Hans Rolf I've heard about all my life. My father is always telling me +of things Hans Rolf did for my grandfather and great-grandfather." + +"And what is _your_ name?" queried the doctor, surprised as may be +imagined that this unknown boy should know him so well. + +"Tom Strong." + +"By the Powers," shouted the hearty doctor, seizing the boy's hand and +wringing it as his grandfather used to wring the hand of the Tom Strongs +he knew, "By the Powers, next to my own name there's none I know so well +as yours. My grandfather never wearied of talking about the two Tom +Strongs, father and son. The last day he lived, he told me how your +great-grandfather saved his life." + +"And you know he saved great-grandfather's, too," answered Tom, "and now +you have saved mine." + +He looked shyly at his preserver. He was still weak with the +after-effects of the drug that had been given him. The Hans Rolf he saw +was a bit blurred by the unshed tears through which he saw him. + +"Nonsense," said the surgeon, "whatever I've done is just in the day's +work. But you must stop at York and rest. I can't let my patient travel +just yet, you know. And this may be your last chance to see me at home. +I go into the army next month." + +However, Tom was not to be persuaded to stop. Duty called him Westward +and to the West he went, as fast as the slow trains of those days could +carry him. But when Hans Rolf and he parted, a few hours after they had +met, they were friends for life. + +It took Tom two days to get from Harrisburg to Cairo, the southernmost +town in Illinois. It lies at the junction of the Mississippi and Ohio +rivers. The latter pours a mass of beautiful blue water--the early +French explorers named the Ohio "the beautiful river"--into the muddy +flood of the Mississippi. For miles below Cairo the blue and yellow +streams seem to flow side by side. Then the yellow swallows the blue and +the mighty Mississippi rolls its murky way to the Gulf of Mexico. A +gunboat took the young messenger from Cairo to General Grant's +headquarters. + +[Illustration: MISSISSIPPI RIVER GUNBOATS] + +A Western gunboat was an odd thing. James B. Eads, an eminent engineer, +who after the war built the St. Louis bridge and the New Orleans +jetties, which keep the mouth of the Mississippi open, had launched a +flotilla of gunboats for the government within four months of the time +when the trees which went to their making were growing in the forests. +On a flat-boat of the ordinary Western-river type, Mr. Eads put a long +cabin, framed of stout timbers, cut portholes in the sides, front and +rear of it, mounted cannon inside it, covered it with rails outside +(later armor-plate was used), and behold, a gunboat. The one which sped +swiftly with Tom down the Mississippi and waddled slowly with him up the +Tennessee, against the current of the Spring freshets, finally landed +him at Grant's headquarters. + +Tom approached the tent over which headquarters' flag was flying with a +beating heart. It beat against the long envelope that lay in the inner +pocket of his waistcoat. He was about to finish his task and he was +about to see the one successful soldier of the Union, up to that time. +The Northern armies had not done well in the East--the defeat had been +disgraceful and the panic sickening with the raw troops at Bull Run, +Virginia, and little had been gained elsewhere--but in the West Grant +was hammering out success. All eyes turned to him. + + * * * * * + +Upon the top of a low knoll, half a dozen packing-boxes were grouped in +front of the tent. Two or three officers, most of them spick and span, +sat upon each box except one. Upon that one there lounged a man, +thick-set, bearded, his faded blue trousers thrust into the tops of +dusty boots, his blue flannel shirt open at the throat, his worn blue +coat carrying on each shoulder the single star of a brigadier-general. + +It was General Grant, Hiram Ulysses Grant, now known as U. S. Grant. +When the Confederate commander of Fort Donelson had asked him for terms +of surrender, he had answered practically in two words: "unconditional +surrender." The curt phrase caught the public fancy, and gave his +initials a new meaning. He was long known as "Unconditional Surrender" +Grant. + +Born in Ohio, he had been educated at West Point, had fought well in our +unjust war against Mexico, had resigned in the piping times of peace +that followed, had been a commercial failure, and was running an +insignificant business as a farmer in Galena, Illinois, an obscure and +unimportant citizen of that unimportant town, when the Civil War began. +Eight years afterwards, he became President of the United States and +served as such for eight years, doing his dogged best, but far less +successful as a statesman than he had been as a soldier. He was a +patriot and a good man. In the last years of his life, ruined +financially by a wicked partner and tortured by the cancer that finally +killed him, he wrote his famous memoirs, which netted his family a +fortune after the grave had closed upon this great American. He ran a +race with Death to write his life. And he won the grim race. + +The young second-lieutenant saluted and explained his mission. The long +envelope, deeply dented with the mark of Wilkes Booth's dirty thumb and +finger, had reached its destination at last. Grant took it, opened it, +read it without even a slight change of expression, though it contained +not only orders for the future, but Lincoln's warm-hearted thanks for +the past and the news of his own promotion to be major-general. Not only +Tom, but every member of his staff was watching him. The saturnine face +told no one anything. The little he said at the moment was said to Tom. + +"The President tells me he would like to have you given a glimpse of the +front. Have you had any experience?" + +"No, sir." + +"When were you commissioned?" + +"A week ago, sir." + +"Are all the Eastern boys of your age in the army?" + +"They would like to be, sir." + +"Well," said Grant, with a kindly smile, "perhaps a little experience at +the front may make up for the years you lack. Send him to General +Mitchell, Captain," he added, turning to a spruce aide who rose from his +packing-box seat to acknowledge the command. + +"Pray come with me, Mr. Strong," said the captain. + +Tom saluted, turned, and followed his guide. A backward glance showed +him the general, his eyes now bent sternly upon Lincoln's letter, his +staff eyeing him, a group of quiet, silent figures. And that was all +that Tom saw, at that time, of the greatest general of our Civil War. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + INSIDE THE CONFEDERATE LINES--"SAIREY" WARNS TOM--OLD MAN TOMBLIN'S + "SETTLEMINT"--STEALING A LOCOMOTIVE--WILKES BOOTH GIVES THE + ALARM--A WILD DASH FOR THE UNION LINES. + + +Three days afterwards, Tom found himself "on special service," on the +staff of Gen. O. M. Mitchell, whose troops were pushing towards +Huntsville, Alabama. They occupied that delightfully sleepy old town, +the center of a group of rich plantations, April 12, 1862, but Tom was +not then with the column. Five days before, with Mitchell's permission, +he had volunteered for a gallant foray into the enemy's country. He had +taken prompt advantage of Lincoln's hint that he might fight a bit if he +wanted to do so. He was to have his fill of fighting now. + +Tom was one of twenty-two volunteers who left camp before dawn on April +7, under the command of James J. Andrews, a daredevil of a man, who had +persuaded General Mitchell to let him try to slip across the lines with +a handful of soldiers disguised as Confederates in order to steal a +locomotive and rush it back to the Union front, burning all the railroad +bridges it passed. The railroads to be crippled were those which ran +from the South to Chattanooga, Tennessee, and from the East through +Chattanooga and Huntsville to Memphis. A few miles from camp, Andrews +gave his men their orders. They were to separate and singly or in groups +of two or three were to make their way to the station of Big Shanty, +Georgia, where they were to meet on the morning of Saturday, April 12. +Andrews took Tom with him. For two days they hid in the wooded hills by +day and traveled by night, guided by a compass and by the stars. Then +their scanty supply of food was exhausted and they had to take to the +open. Their rough clothing, stained a dusty yellow with the oil of the +butternut, the chief dye-stuff the South then had, their belts with +"C.S.A."--"Confederate States of America"--upon them, their Confederate +rifles (part of the spoils of Fort Donelson), and their gray slouched +hats made them look like the Confederate scouts they had to pretend to +be. + +Danger lurked about them and detection meant death. They did their best +to talk in the soft Southern drawl when they stopped at huts in the +hills and asked for food, but the drawl was hard for a Northern tongue +to master and more than one bent old woman or shy and smiling girl +started with suspicion at the strange accents of these "furriners." The +men of the hills were all in the army or all in hiding. On the fourth +day they reached a log-hut or rather a home made of two log-huts, with a +floored and roofed space between them, a sort of open-air room where all +the household life went on when good weather permitted. An old, old +woman sat in the sunshine, her hands busy with a rag quilt, her +toothless gums busy with holding her blackened clay pipe. Behind her sat +her granddaughter, busy too with her spinning wheel. The two women with +their home as a background made a pleasing and a peaceful picture. + +"Howdy," said Andrews. + +The wheel stopped. The quilt lay untouched upon the old woman's lap. She +took her pipe from her mouth. + +"Howdy," said she. + +The conversation stopped. The hill-folk are not quick of speech. + +"Please, ma'am, may I have a drink of milk?" asked Tom. + +"Sairey," called the old dame, "you git sum milk." + +Sairey started up from her spinning wheel, trying to hide her bare feet +with her short skirt and not succeeding, and walked back of the house to +the "spring-house," a square cupboard built over a neighboring spring. +It was dark and cool and was the only refrigerator the hill-folk knew. +While she was away, her grandmother began to talk. The man and boy would +much rather she had kept still. For she peered at them suspiciously, and +said: + +"How duz I know you uns ain't Yankees? I hearn thar wuz a right smart +heap o' Yankee sojers not fur off'n hereabouts." + +At this moment Sairey fortunately returned. She brought in her brown +hand an old glass goblet, without a standard, but filled to the brim +with a foaming mixture that looked like delicious milk. Alas! Tom, who +loathed buttermilk, was now to learn that in the hills "milk" meant +"buttermilk." He should have asked for "sweet milk." Sairey handed him +the goblet with a shy grace, blushing a little as the boy's hand touched +hers. He lifted it eagerly to his thirsty lips, took a long draught, and +sputtered and gagged. But the mistake was in his asking and the girl had +gone a hundred yards to get him what she thought he wanted. He was a +boy, but he was a gentleman. He swallowed the nauseous stuff to the last +drop, and made his best bow as he thanked her. Suddenly the old woman +said to him: + +"Where wuz you born, bub?" + +"New--New----" stammered Tom. His tongue did not lend itself readily to +a lie, even in his country's cause. When he was still too young to +understand what the words meant, his mother had told him: "A lie soils a +boy's mouth." As he grew older, she had dinned that big truth into his +small mind. Now, taken by surprise, the habit of his young life asserted +itself and the tell-tale truth that he had been born in New York was on +his unsoiled lips, when Andrews finished the sentence for him. + +"New Orleans," said Andrews, coolly. + +"He don't talk that-a-way," grumbled the old beldam. + +"He was raised up No'th," Andrews explained, "but soon as this yer +onpleasantness began, he cum Souf to fight for we-uns." + +Andrews had overdone his dialect. + +"Sairey," commanded the old woman, "put up the flag." + +"Why, granma," pleaded Sairey from where she had taken refuge behind her +grandmother's chair, "what's the use?" + +"Chile, you hear me? You put up the flag." + +From her refuge, Sairey held out her hands in a warning gesture, and +then, before she entered one of the log-houses, she pointed to a +cart-track that wound up the hill before the hut. She came out with a +Confederate flag, made of part of an old red petticoat with white +stripes sewn across it. It was fastened upon a long sapling. She put the +staff into a rude socket in front of the platform. As she passed Tom in +order to do this, she whispered to him: "You-uns run!" + +"What wuz you sayin' to Bub, thar?" her grandmother asked in anger. + +"I wuzn't sayin' nuthin' to nobuddy," Sarah replied. + +But Andrews' ears, sharper than the old woman's, sharpened by fear, had +caught the words. + +"We-uns'll haf to go," he remarked. "You-uns haz bin right down good to +us. Thanky, ma'am." + +"Jes' wait a minute," the old woman answered. "I'll give you somethin' +fer yer to eat as ye mosey 'long." + +She walked slowly, apparently with pain, into the dark log-room. Sairey +wrung her hand and whispered: "Run, run. Take the cart-track." Instantly +the grandmother appeared on the threshold, her old eyes flashing, a +double-barreled shot-gun in her shaking hands. She tried to cover both +man and boy, as she screamed at them: + +"You-uns stay in yer tracks, you Yankees! My man'll know what to do with +you-uns." + +Their guns were at her feet. There was no way to get them, even if they +would have used them against a woman. + +"Run!" shouted Andrews and bounded towards the cart-track. + +Tom sprang after him, but not in time to escape a few birdshot which the +old woman's gun sent flying after him. The sharp sting of them +redoubled his speed. The second barrel sent its load far astray. They +had run just in time, for from another hilltop behind the hut a dozen +armed men came plunging down to the house, shouting after the scared +fugitives. The raising of the flag had been the agreed-upon signal for +their coming. Sairey's father and several other men had taken to the +nearby hills to avoid being impressed into the Confederate army, but +they adored the Confederacy, up to the point of fighting for it, and +they would have rejoiced to capture Andrews and Tom. The old woman's +eyes and ears had pierced the thin disguise of the raiders. So she had +forced her granddaughter to fly the flag and the girl, afraid to disobey +her fierce old grandmother but loath to see the boy she had liked at +first sight captured, had warned him to flee. Man and boy were out of +gunshot, but still in sight, when their pursuers reached the house, +yelled with joy to see the abandoned guns, and ran up the cart-track +like hounds hot upon the scent. As Tom and Andrews panted to the +hilltop, they saw why Sairey had bidden them take the cart-track. At +the summit, it branched into half a dozen lanes which wound through a +pine forest. Lanes and woodlands were covered with pineneedles, the +deposit of years, which rose elastic under their flying feet and left no +marks by which they could be tracked. And beyond the forest was a vast +laurel-brake in which a regiment could have hidden, screened from +discovery save by chance. It gave the fugitives shelter and safety. Once +they heard the far-off voices of their pursuers, but only once. Ere many +hours they had the added security of the night. + +When they found a hiding-place, beside a tiny brook that flowed at the +roots of the laurel-bushes, Tom found that his wound, forgotten in the +fierce excitement of the flight, had begun to pain him. His left +shoulder grew stiff. When Andrews examined it, all it needed was a +little care. Three or four birdshot had gone through clothing and skin, +but they lay close beneath the skin, little blue lumps, with tiny smears +of red blood in the skin's smooth whiteness. They were picked out with +the point of a knife. The cool water of the brook washed away the blood +and stopped the bleeding. Andrews tore off a bit of his own shirt, +soaked it in the brook, and bandaged the shoulder in quite a good +first-aid-to-the-injured way. Tom and he were none the worse, except for +the loss of their guns. And that was the less serious because both +knives and pistols were still in their belts. + +They slept that night in the laurel-brake, forgetting their hunger in +the soundness of their sleep. Just after dawn, they were startled to +hear a human voice. But it was the voice of a gentle girl. It kept +calling aloud "Coo, boss, coo, boss," while every now and then it said +in lower tones: "Is you Yanks hyar? Hyar's suthin' to eat." At first +they thought it was a trap and lay still. Finally, however, spurred by +hunger, they crept out of their hiding-place and found it was Sairey who +was calling them. When she saw them, she ran towards them, while the +cows she had collected from their pasture stared with dull amazement. + +"Is you-uns hurt?" she asked, clasping her hands in anxiety. + +Reassured as to this, she produced the cold cornbread and bacon she had +taken from the spring-house when she left home that morning for her +daily task of gathering the family cows. Man and boy bolted down the +food. + +"You're good to us, Sairey," said Tom. + +"Dunno as I ought to help you-uns," the girl replied, peering slyly out +of her big sunbonnet and digging her brown toes into the earth, "but I +dun it, kase--kase--I jes' had to. Kin you get away today?" + +"We'll try." + +"Whar be you goin'?" + +Should they tell her where they were going? It was a risk, but they took +it. They were glad they did, for Sairey was not only eager to help them +on their way, but could be of real aid. Once in her life she had been at +Big Shanty. She told them of a short cut through the hills, by which +they would pass only one "settle_mint_," as the infrequent clearings in +the hills were called. + +"When you-uns git to Old Man Tomblin's settle_mint_," said Sairey, "I +'low you-uns better stand at the fence corner and holler. Old Man +Tomblin's spry with his gun sometimes, when furriners don't do no +hollerin'. But when he comes out, you-uns tell him Old Man Gernt's +Sairey told you he'd take care of you-uns. 'N he will. 'N you kin tell +Bud Tomblin--no, you-uns needn't tell Bud nothin'. Good-by." + +The hill-girl held out her hand. She looked up to Andrews and smiled as +she shook hands. She looked down at Tom--she was half a head taller than +he--and smiled again as she shook hands. Then suddenly she stooped and +kissed the startled boy. Then she fled back along the lane by which she +had come, leaving the placid cows and the thankful man and boy behind +her. With a flutter of butternut skirt and a twinkle of bare, brown +feet, she vanished from their sight. + +Thanks to her directions, they found Old Man Tomblin's settle_mint_ +without difficulty. They duly stood at the corner of the sagging rail +fence and there duly "hollered." Old Man Tomblin and Bud Tomblin came +out of the cabin, each with a gun, and were proceeding to study the +"furriners" before letting them come in, when Andrews repeated what Old +Man Gernt's Sairey had told them to say. There was an instant welcome. +Bud Tomblin was even more anxious than his father to do anything Sairey +Gernt wanted done. The fugitives' story that they had been scouting near +General Mitchell's line of march and had lost their guns and nearly lost +themselves in a raid by Northern cavalry was accepted without demur. Old +Mrs. Tomblin, decrepit with the early decrepitude of the hill-folk, +whose hard living conditions make women old at forty and venerable at +fifty, cackled a welcome to them from the corner of the fireplace where +she sat "dipping" snuff. "Lidy" Tomblin, the eldest daughter, helped and +hindered by the rest of a brood of children, took care of their comfort. +They feasted on the best the humble household had to offer. They slept +soundly, albeit eight other people, including Mr. and Mrs. Tomblin and +Lidy, slept in the same room. In the morning they were given a bountiful +breakfast and were bidden good-by as old friends. + +"I hate to deceive good people like the Tomblins," said Tom, when they +were out of earshot. + +"Sometimes the truth is too precious to be told," laughed Andrews. + +But Tom continued to be troubled in mind as he tramped along. He made up +his mind to fight for his country, the next time he had a chance, in +some other way. Telling a lie and living a lie were hateful to him. + +The next morning found them at Big Shanty, a tiny Georgia village, which +the war had made a great Confederate camp. It was the appointed day, +Saturday, April 12, 1862. Of the twenty-two men who had started with +Andrews, eighteen met that morning at Big Shanty. The train for +Chattanooga stopped there for breakfast on those infrequent days when it +did not arrive so late that its stop was for dinner. It was what is +called a "mixed" train, both freight and passenger, with many freight +cars following the engine and a tail of a couple of shabby passenger +cars. On this particular morning it surprised everybody, including its +own train-crew, by being on time. Passengers and crew swarmed in to +breakfast. The train was deserted. The time for the great adventure had +come. + +Before the train was seized, one thing must be done. The telegraph wire +between Big Shanty and Chattanooga must be cut. If this were left +intact, their flight, sure to be discovered as soon as the train-crew +finished their brief breakfast, would end at the next station, put on +guard by a telegram. To Tom, as the youngest and most agile of the +party, the task of cutting the wire had been assigned. He was already at +the spot selected for the attempt, a clump of trees a hundred yards from +the station, where the wire was screened from sight by the foliage. As +soon as the train came in, Tom started to climb the telegraph-pole. He +had just started when he heard a most unwelcome sound. + +"Hey, thar! What's you doin'?" + +He turned his head and saw a Confederate sentry close beside him. He +recognized him as a man with whom he had been chatting around a +camp-fire early that morning. His name was Bill Coombs. Tom's ready wit +stood by him. + +"Why, Bill," he said, "glad to see you. Somethin's wrong with the wire. +The Cunnel's sent me to fix it. Give me a boost, will ye?" + +The unsuspicious Bill gave him a boost and watched him without a thought +of his doing anything wrong while Tom climbed to the top of the rickety +pole, cut the one wire it carried, fastened the ends to the pole so that +from the ground nobody could tell it was cut, and climbed down. Bill +urged him to stay and talk awhile, but Tom reminded him that sentries +mustn't talk, then he strolled at first and soon ran towards the +station. He had to run to catch the train. The instant Andrews saw him +returning, he sprang into the cab of the locomotive. + +[Illustration: THE LOCOMOTIVE TOM HELPED TO STEAL] + +One of his men had already uncoupled the first three freight cars from +the rest of the train. All the men jumped into the cab or the tender or +swarmed up the freight-car ladders. Andrews jerked the throttle wide +open. The engine jumped forward, the tender and the three cars bounding +after it. The crowd upon the platform gaped after the retreating train, +without the slightest idea of what was happening under their very noses. +A boy came running like an antelope from the end of the platform. He +jumped for the iron step of the locomotive, was clutched by a half-dozen +hands and drawn aboard. But as he jumped, he heard a voice he had reason +to remember call out: + +"They're Yanks. That's Lieutenant Strong, a Yankee! Stop 'em! Shoot +'em!" + +Livid with rage, his long black hair streaming in the wind as he ran +after them, Wilkes Booth fired his pistol at them, while the motley +crowd his cry had aroused sent a scattering volley after the train. +Nobody was hurt then, but the danger to everybody had just begun. + +There was instant pursuit. The train-crew, startled by the sound of the +departing train, came running from the station. They actually started to +run along the track after the flying locomotive. They jerked a hand-car +off a siding and chased the fugitives with that. At a station not far +off, they found a locomotive lying with steam up. They seized that and +thundered ahead. Now hunters and hunted were on more even terms. The +hunters reached Kingston, Georgia, within four minutes after the hunted +had left. The latter had had to make frequent stops, to cut the wires, +to take on fuel, to bundle into the freight cars ties that could be used +to start fires for the burning of bridges, and to tear up an occasional +rail. This last expedient delayed their pursuers but little. When a +missing rail was sighted, the Confederates stopped, tore up a rail +behind them, slipped it into the vacant place, and rushed ahead again. + +Andrews was running the captured train on its regular time schedule, so +he could not exceed a certain speed. From Kingston, however, where the +only other train of the day met this one, he expected a free road and +plenty of time to burn every bridge he passed. He did meet the regular +train at Kingston, but alas! it carried on its engine a red flag. That +meant that a second section of the same train was coming behind it. +There was nothing to do but to wait for this second section. The +railroad was single-track, so trains could pass only where there was a +siding. But in every moment of waiting there lurked the danger of +detection. Southerners, soldiers, and civilians, crowded about the +locomotive as she lay helplessly still on the Kingston sidetrack, +puffing away precious steam and precious time. + +"Whar's yer passengers?" asked one man. "I cum hyar to meet up with +Cunnel Tompkins. Whar's he'n the rest of 'em?" + +"We were ordered to drop everything at Big Shanty," explained Andrews, +"except these three cars. They're full of powder. I'm on General +Beauregard's staff and am taking the stuff to him at Corinth. Jove, +there's the whistle of the second section. I'm glad to hear it." + +He was indeed glad. At one of his stops, he had bundled most of his men +into the freight cars. The cars were battered old things without any +locks. If a carelessly curious hand were to slide back one of the doors +and reveal within, not powder, but armed men, all their lives would pay +the forfeit. Andrews was in the cab with engineer, fireman, and Tom, who +had been helping the fireman feed wood into the maw of the furnace on +every mile of the run. His young back ached with the strain of the +unaccustomed toil. His young neck felt the touch of the noose that +threatened them all. + +"Tom, you run ahead and throw that switch for us as soon as the other +train pulls in," said Andrews. "We mustn't keep General Beauregard +waiting for this powder a minute longer than we can help. He needs it to +blow the Yankees to smithereens." + +So Tom ran ahead, stood by the switch as the second section came in, and +promptly threw the switch as it passed. But his train did not move and +a brakeman jumped off the rear platform of the caboose of the second +section, as it slowed down, told Tom he was an ass and a fool, pushed +him out of the way and reset the switch. + +"You plum fool," shouted the brakeman, after much stronger expressions, +"didn't ye see the flag fur section three?" + +Tom had not seen it, had not looked for it, but it was too true that the +engine of section two also bore the red flag that meant that section +three was coming behind it. + +Again there was a long wait, again the sense of danger closing in upon +them, again the thought of scaffold and rope, again the necessity of +playing their parts with laughter and good-natured chaff amid the foes +who thought them friends. The slow minutes ticked themselves away. At +last the third section came whistling and lumbering in. Thank fortune, +it bore no red flag. This time Tom threw the switch unchecked and then +jumped on the puffing engine as she reached the main-track and sped +onwards. + +"Free, by Jove!" said Andrews, with a deep breath of deep relief. "Now +we can burn Johnny Reb's bridges for him!" + + * * * * * + +Four minutes later, while section three of the train that had so long +delayed them was still at Kingston, a shrieking locomotive rushed into +the station. Its occupants, shouting a story of explanation that put +Kingston into a frenzy, ran from it to an engine that lay upon a second +sidetrack, steam up and ready to start. They had reached Kingston so +speedily by using their last pint of water and their last stick of wood. +They saved precious minutes by changing engines. + +Five seconds after their arrival, the station-agent had been at the +telegraph-key, frantically pounding out the call of a station beyond +Andrews's fleeing train. There was no reply. + +"Wire cut!" he shouted, running out of the station. Of course that had +been done by the fugitives just out of sight of Kingston. "Wire cut! I +kain't git no message through." + +"We'll take the message!" answered the Confederate commander, from the +cab of the locomotive that was already swaying with her speed, as she +darted ahead. + +They came near delivering the message within four miles of Kingston. +Andrews's men, with a most comforting sense of safety had stopped and +were pulling up a rail, when they heard the whistle of their avenging +pursuer. + +"Quick, boys, all aboard," Andrews called. "They're closer'n I like to +have 'em." + +Quickly replacing the rail, the Confederates came closer still. Around +the next curve, quite hidden from sight until close upon it, the +fugitives had put a rail across the track. It delayed the pursuit not +one second. Whether the cowcatcher of the engine thrust it aside or +broke it or whether the engine actually jumped it, nobody knew then in +the wild excitement of the chase and nobody knows now. The one thing +certain is that there was no delay. Very likely the rail broke. Rails +of those days were of iron, not steel, and throughout the South they +were in such condition that at the close of the Civil War one of the +chief Southern railroads was said to consist of "a right-of-way and two +streaks of rust." The locomotive whistled triumphantly and sped on. + +On the Union train, Tom had crept back to the rear car along the +rolling, jumping carroofs, with orders to set it on fire and stand ready +to cut it off. The men inside arranged a pile of ties, thrust fat pine +kindling among them, and touched the mass with a match. It burst into +flame as they scuttled to the roof and passed to the car ahead. A long +covered wooden bridge loomed up before them. Halfway across it, Andrews +stopped, dropped the flaming car, and started ahead again. In a very few +minutes the bridge would have been a burning mass, but the few minutes +were not to be had. The Confederate locomotive was now close upon them. +It dashed upon the bridge, drove the burning car across the bridge +before it, pushed it upon a neighboring sidetrack and again whistled +triumphantly as it took up the fierce chase. The two remaining cars were +detached, one by one, but in vain. The game was up. + +"Guess we're gone," said Andrews, tranquilly, as he looked back over the +tender, now almost empty of wood, to the smokestack that was belching +sooty vapor within a mile of them. "By this time, they've got a telegram +ahead of us. Stop 'round that next curve in those woods. We must take to +the woods. Don't try to keep together. Scatter. Steer by the North Star. +Make the Union lines if you can. We've done our best." + +The engine checked its mad pace, slowed, stopped. + +"Good-by, boys," shouted Andrews, as he sprang from the engine and +disappeared in the forest that there bordered the track. "We'll meet +again." + +Seven of them did meet him again. It was upon a Confederate scaffold, +where he and they were hung. The other six of the fourteen who were +captured were exchanged, a few months later. Three others reached the +Union lines within a fortnight, unhurt. But where was Tom Strong? + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + TOM UP A TREE--DID THE CONFEDERATE OFFICER SEE HIM?--A FUGITIVE + SLAVE GUIDES HIM--BUYING A BOAT IN THE DARK--ADRIFT IN THE ENEMY'S + COUNTRY. + + +At first, Tom was up a tree. When he jumped from the abandoned +locomotive, his mind was working as quickly as his body. He reasoned +that the Confederates would expect them all to run as fast and as far +away as they could; that they would run after them; that they would very +probably catch him, utterly tired out as he was, so tired that even fear +could not lend wings to his leaden feet; that the pursuit, however, +would not last long, because the Confederates would wish to reach a +station soon, in order both to report their success and to send out a +general alarm and so start a general search for the fugitives; and that +he would best hide as near at hand as might be. In other words, he +thought, quite correctly, that the best thing to do is exactly what your +enemy does not expect you to do. He picked out a big oak tree quite +close to the track, its top a mass of thick-set leaves such as a +Southern April brings to a Southern oak. He climbed it, nestled into a +sheltered crotch high above the ground, and waited. He did not have to +wait long. He could still hear the noise of his comrades plunging +through the woods when the Confederate engine drew up beneath his feet. +Before it stopped, the armed men who clustered thick upon locomotive and +tender were on the ground and running into the woods. A gallant figure +in Confederate gray led them. He heard the rush of them, then a shot or +two, exultant yells, and ere long the tramp of returning feet. They came +back in half a dozen groups, bringing with them three of his comrades in +flight, less fortunate than he, at least less fortunate up to that time. +Andrews was one of the prisoners. He had slipped and fallen, had +strained a sinew, and had lain helpless until his pursuers reached him. +Tom, peering cautiously through his leafy shelter, saw that his late +leader was limping and was held upright by a kindly Confederate, who had +passed his arm about him. + +"'Tain't fur," said his captor, cheerily, "hyar's the injine." + +"The Yank's goin' fur," sneered a soldier of another kind, "he's goin' +to Kingdom Cum, blast him!" He lifted his fist to strike the helpless +man, but the young officer in command caught the upraised arm. + +"None of that," he said, sternly. "Americans don't treat prisoners that +way. You're under arrest. Put down your gun and climb into the tender. +Do it now and do it quick." Sulkily the brute obeyed. "Lift him in," +went on the officer to the man who was supporting Andrews. This was +gently done. The other two captives climbed in. So did the Confederates. +Their officer turned to them. + +"You've done your duty well," he said. "You've been chasing brave men. +They've done their duty well too. + + "'For such a gallant feat of arms + Was never seen before.'" + +Tom started with surprise. The young officer was quoting from Macaulay's +"Lays of Ancient Rome." The boy had stood beside his mother's knee when +she read him the "Lays" and had often since read them himself. + +That start of surprise had almost been Tom's undoing. He had rustled the +leaves about him. A tiny shower of pale green things fell to the ground. + +"Captain, there's somebody up that tree," said a soldier, pointing +straight at the point where Tom sat. "I heard him rustle." + +The captain looked up. The boy always thought the officer saw him and +spared him, partly because of his youth--he knew the fate the prisoners +faced--and partly because of his admiration for "the gallant feat of +arms." Be that as it may, he certainly took no step just then to make +another prisoner. Instead he laughed and answered: + +"That's a 'possum. We haven't time for a coon-hunt just now. Get ahead. +We'll send an alarm from the next station and so bag all the Yankees." + +The engine, pushing the recaptured one before it, started and +disappeared around the end of the short curve upon which Andrews had +made his final stop. For the moment at least, Tom was safe. But he knew +the hue-and-cry would sweep the country. Everybody would be on the +lookout for stray Yankees. And as everybody would think the estrays +were all going North, Tom decided to go South. He slid down the +tree, looked at his watch, studied the sunlight to learn the points of +the compass, drew his belt tighter to master the hunger that now +assailed him, and so began his southward tramp, a boy, alone, in the +enemy's country. + +That part of Georgia is a beautiful country and Tom loved beauty, but it +did not appeal to him that afternoon. He was hungry; he was tired; the +excitement that had upheld him through the hours of flight on the +captured engine was over. He plodded through a little belt of forest +and found himself in a broad valley, with a ribbon of water flowing +through it. He stumbled across plowed fields to the little river. A +dusty road, with few marks of travel, meandered beside the stream. He +was evidently near no main highway. Not far away a planter's home, with +a stately portico, gleamed in the sunlight through its screen of trees. +In the distance lay a little village. There was food in both places and +he must have food. To which should he go? It was decided for him that he +was to go to neither. As he slipped down the river bank, to quench his +burning thirst and to wash his dusty face and hands, he almost stepped +upon a negro who lay full length at the foot of the bank, hidden behind +a tree that had been uprooted by the last flood and left stranded there. +The boy was scared by the unexpected meeting, but not half as much as +the negro. + +"Oh, Massa," said the negro, on his knees with outstretched hands, "don' +tell on me, Massa. I'll be your slabe, Massa. Jes' take me with you. +Please don't tell on me. You kin make a lot o' money sellin' me, Massa. +Please lemme go wid you." + +"What is your name?" asked Tom. + +"Morris, Massa." + +"Where did you come from?" + +"From dat house, Massa." He pointed to the big house nearby. + +"And what are you doing here?" + +Little by little, Morris (reassured when he found Tom was a Northern +soldier and like himself a fugitive) told his story. He had been born on +this plantation. Reared as a house-servant, he could read a little. He +had learned from the newspapers his master took that a Northern army was +not far away. He made up his mind to try for freedom. His master kept +dogs to track runaways, but no dog can track a scent in running water. +It was not probable his flight would be discovered until after +nightfall. So he had stolen to his hiding-place in the afternoon, +intending to wade down the tiny stream as soon as darkness came. Two +miles below, the stream merged itself into a larger one. There he hoped +to steal a boat, hide by day and paddle by night until he reached the +Tennessee. "Dat ribber's plum full o' Massa Lincum's gunboats," he +assured Tom. + +"How are you going to live on the journey?" asked the boy. + +"I spec' dey's hen-roosts about," quoth Morris with a chuckle, "and I'se +got a-plenty to eat to start wid. Dis darkey don' reckon to starve +none." + +"Give me something to eat, quick!" + +Morris willingly produced cornpone and bacon from a sack beside him. Tom +wanted to eat it all, but he knew these precious supplies must be kept +as long as possible, so he did not eat more than half of them. The two +agreed to keep together in their flight for freedom. As soon as it was +dark, they began their wading. The two miles seemed an endless distance. +The noises of the night kept their senses on the jump. Once a distant +bloodhound's bay scared Morris so much that his white teeth clattered +like castanets. Once the "too-whit-too" of a nearby owl sent Tom into an +ecstasy of terror. He fairly clung to Morris, who, just ahead of him, +was guiding his steps through the shallow water. When he found he had +been scared by an owl, he was so ashamed that he forced himself to be +braver thereafter. At last they reached their first goal, the larger +river. Here Morris's knowledge of the ground made him the temporary +commander of the expedition. He knew of a little house nearby, the home +of a "poor white," who earned part of his precarious livelihood by +fishing. Morris knew just where he kept his boat. There was no light in +the little house and no sound from it as they crept stealthily along the +bank to the tree where the boat was tied. Tom drew his knife to cut the +rope. + +"No, Massa," whispered Morris. "Not dat-a-way. Ef it's cut, dey'll know +it's bin tuck and dey'll s'picion us. Lemme untie it. Den dey'll t'ink +it's cum loose and floated away. 'N dey'll not hurry after it. Dey'll +t'ink dey kin fin' it in some cove any time tomorrer." + +Morris was right. It did not take him long to untie the clumsy knot. +Three oars and some fishing-tackle lay in the flat-bottomed boat. They +got into it, pushed off, and floated down the current without a sound. +Morris steered with an oar at the stern. Once out of earshot, they rowed +as fast as the darkness, intensified by the shadows of the overhanging +trees, permitted. + +Just before they had pushed off, Tom had asked: + +"What is this boat worth, Morris?" + +"Old Massa paid five dollars fer a new one jest like it, dis lastest +week." + +Tom's conscience had told him that even though a fugitive for his life +in the enemy's country he ought not to take the "poor white's" boat +without paying for it. He unbuttoned an inside pocket in his shirt and +drew out a precious store of five-dollar gold pieces. There were twenty +of them, each wrapped in tissue-paper and the whole then bound together +in a rouleau, wrapped in water-proofed silk, so that there would be no +sound of clinking gold as he walked. He figured that the three oars and +the sorry fishing tackle could not be worth more than the boat was, so +he took out two coins and put them in a battered old pan that lay beside +the stump to which the boat was tied. There the "cracker"--another name +for the "poor white"--would be sure to see them in the morning. As a +matter of fact he did. And they were worth so much more than his +vanished property that he was inclined to think an angel, rather than a +thief, had passed that way. Tom's conscientiousness spoiled Morris's +plan of having the owner think the boat had floated away, but the +"cracker" was glad to clutch the gold and start no hue-and-cry. He was +afraid that if he recovered his boat, he would have to give up the gold. +It was much cheaper to make another. So he kept still. + +And still, very still, the fugitives kept as they paddled slowly down +the stream until the first signs of dawn sent them into hiding. They +hid the boat in the tall reeds that fringed the mouth of a tiny creek +and they themselves crept a few yards into the forest, ate very much +less than they wanted to eat of what was left of Morris's scanty store +of food, and went to sleep. They slept until--but that is another +story. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + TOWSER FINDS THE FUGITIVES--TOWSER BRINGS UNCLE MOSES--MR. IZZARD + AND HIS YANKEE OVERSEER, JAKE JOHNSON--TOM IS PULLED DOWN THE + CHIMNEY--HOW UNCLE MOSES CHOKED THE OVERSEER--THE FLIGHT OF THE + FOUR. + + +They slept until late in the afternoon. + +Then Morris woke up with a yell. A dog's cold nose was thrusting itself +against his cheek. He thought his master's bloodhounds were upon him and +that the whipping-post was the least he had to fear. As Tom, startled +from sound sleep by the negro's scream of terror, sprang to his feet, he +saw Morris crouching upon the ground, babbling "Sabe me, good Lord, sabe +old Morris!" The dog, a big black-and-yellow mongrel, a very distant +cousin of the bloodhound the scared darkey imagined him to be, was +looking with a grieved surprise at the cowering man. He was a most +good-natured beast, accustomed to few caresses and many kicks, and he +had never before seen a man who was afraid of him. As he turned to Tom, +he saw a boy who wasn't afraid of him. Tom, who had always been loved by +dogs and children, smiled at the big yellow mongrel, said "Come here, +old fellow," and in an instant had the great hound licking his hand and +looking up to him with the brown-yellow eyes full of a dog's faith and a +dog's fidelity. These are great qualities. A cynic once said: "The more +I see of men the more I like dogs." That cynic probably got from men +what he gave to them. But still it is true that the unfaltering faith of +a dog and a child, once their confidence has been won, is a rare and a +precious thing. Tom patted his new friend's head. The big tail wagged +with joy. The hound looked reproachfully at Morris, as much as to say: +"See how you misunderstood me; I want to be friends: but here"--he +turned and looked at the boy who was smiling at him--"here is my best +friend." + +He stayed with them an hour, contented and happy, humbly grateful for a +tiny piece of meat they gave him. Then, as dark drew near, he became +uneasy. Two or three times he started as if to leave them, turned to see +whether they were following him, looked beseechingly at them, barked +gently, put his big paw on Tom's arm and pulled at him. Evidently he +wanted them to come with him, but this they did not dare to do. + +"Ef we lets him go, he'll bring his folkses here," Morris whispered. + +"I suppose we must tie him up," Tom reluctantly assented. "I hate to +treat him that way, for he's a good dog. But if we leave him tied and +push off in the boat, he'll howl after a while and his master will find +him. Take a bit of fishing-line and tie him." + +Morris turned towards the hidden boat, but the hound, as if aware of +what they had said, suddenly started for his hidden home and vanished +into the underbrush before Tom could catch hold of him. When Tom called, +he stopped once and looked back, but he did not come back. He +shouldered his way into the bushes and trotted off, with that amusing +air of being in a hurry to keep a most important appointment which all +dogs sometimes show. And as he started, Morris appeared again, with a +shrill whisper: "De boat's dun sunk hisself." + +Tom ran to the bank of the creek. The news was too true. The boat had +sunk. The rotten caulking had dropped from one of the rotten seams. The +bow, tied to a tree in the canebrake, was high in air. The stern was +under five feet of water. The oars had floated away. The fishing-pole +was afloat, held to the old craft by the hook-and-line, which had caught +in the sunken seat. What were they to do? They felt as a Western trapper +used to feel, when he had lost his horse and saw himself compelled to +make his perilous way on foot through a country swarming with savage +foes. What to do? + +"We must raise the boat, Morris, get her on shore, turn her over, caulk +her with something, make some paddles somehow and get off." + +They did, by great effort and with much more noise than they liked to +make, drag the crazy old craft upon the bank of the creek. They turned +her bottom-side up. The negro plucked down a long, waving mass of +Spanish moss from a cypress that grew in the swampy soil. Children in +the South call this Spanish moss "old men's gray beards." Each long +drift of it looks as if it might have grown on the chin of an aged +giant. They were pressing it into the gaping seam with feverish haste, +listening the while for any sign of that dreaded coming of the big +hound's "folkses." The short twilight of Southern skies ended. A deep +curtain of darkness fell upon them. And through it they heard the nearby +patter of the dog's paws and the shuffling footfalls of a man. And they +saw the gleam of a lantern. + +"We'se diskivered, Massa Tom," old Morris whispered, "we'se diskivered." + +As he spoke, he slipped over the bank into the creek and lay in much his +attitude when Tom had first "diskivered" him, except that the water +covered all of him except mouth and nose and eyes. Tom bent down to him. + +"Hush," he said, "keep still. There's only one man coming. The dog's all +right. I'll meet the man. You stay here." + +Then he stepped into a circle of light cast by the lantern upon a mass +of underbrush and said, with a cheerful confidence he did not feel: + +"Howdy, neighbor?" + +The big yellow dog was fawning at his feet in a second. A quavering old +voice came from behind the light of the lantern. + +"Howdy, Massa," it said. "Is I intrudin' on you?" + +An old, old negro shambled up to him, the lantern in one hand, a ragged +hat in another. He bowed his crown of white kinky hair respectfully +before the white boy. There was no enemy to be feared here. The boy's +heart bounded with relief and he laughed as he answered: + +"No, Uncle, you're not intruding. I'm glad to see you. I'm sure you'll +help us. Come here, Morris." + +Morris scrambled up the bank, the wettest man in the world. His eyeballs +shone as he neared them. They shone still more as he stood before the +old negro, held out his hand, and said: + +"Unk' Moses, I'se po'erful glad to meet up wid you." + +Uncle Moses almost dropped his rude lantern in his surprise. + +"Well, ef it ain't Massa Pinckney's Morris! Howdy, Morris? How cum so as +you-uns is here, a-hidin'? I know'd de way dat ar Towser wuz a-actin' +when he dun cum home dat dere wuz sum-un in de bush out hyar, but I +neber s'picioned t'wuz you, Morris. Is you dun run away?" + +The situation was soon explained. Uncle Moses had already become +familiar with it. Hunted men, both white and black, were no novelty to +him by that time. He had helped many of them on their scared way. Too +old to work, he lived alone in a little cabin on the outskirts of his +owner's plantation. He tilled a tiny plot of vegetables when "de +rumatiz" permitted and with these and some rations from "de big house" +he eked out a scanty living. This owner's self-respect had not prevented +his working Moses through all a long life, with no payment except food +and lodging, and behind these always the shadow of the whip. But the +slave's self-respect required him to work for the hand that fed him, so +long as failing strength permitted. All he could do now was to scare +crows from the cornfield, but that he could do well, for his one suit of +the ragged remains of what had been several other people's clothes made +him a perfect scarecrow. Besides his vegetables, he had some chickens, a +sacred possession. "Old Unk' Mose" was known and respected through all +the countryside. No chicken-thief ever came to his cabin. The kind old +patriarch was reaping the reward of a kind long life. He dwelt in peace. + +He took Tom and Morris to the lonely cabin and treated them there with a +royal hospitality. Despite his protests, Tom was obliged to take the +one bed. Unk' Mose and Morris slept upon the floor. First, they had a +mighty dinner. Two of Moses's fattest chickens and everything Moses had +in the way of other food filled their starved stomachs. Then to sleep. +The last thing Tom heard that night was the swish of Towser's mighty +tail upon the earthen floor as the dog lay beside his cot. The last +thing of which he was conscious was Towser's gently licking the hand +that hung down from the cot. + +The next day they toiled with such feeble help as Moses could give them +upon their leaky boat. They put it in fair shape and then, with a rusty +ax which was one of Unk' Mose's most precious possessions, they +fashioned a couple of rough oars. Then they spent a day trying to +persuade Moses to seek freedom with them. It was in vain. + +"I'se too old, Massa Tom," said Uncle Moses. "Dey wuz timeses when I dun +thought all de days and dun prayed all de nights dat freedum'd cum along +or dat I cud go to freedum. It's too late nowadays. Unk' Mose mus' jes' +sot hyar, a-waitin'. P'raps, ef I keeps a-helpin' udder folkses to find +deir freedum, p'raps sum day, 'fore I'se troo' a-waitin', de angel ob de +Lawd'll cum a-walkin' up to my do' and he'll be a-holdin' by de han' ob +a great big udder angel 'n de udder angel he'll dun smile at me and say: +'Unk' Moses, I'se Freedum 'n I'se cum to you.' Den I'll say: 'Thank de +good Lawd,' and I'll be so happy I guess I'll jes' die 'n go to de great +White Throne, whar ebberybody's free." + +Late that afternoon when they had had to give up the hope of taking +Uncle Mose with them, they were making a bundle of the food he had given +them. It was a big bundle. He would have slaughtered his last chicken +for them, had they permitted it. Suddenly there came the sound of a +long, shrill whistle. Uncle Moses, tying up the bundle on his knees, +forgot "de rumatiz" and almost sprang to his feet. + +"Lawd-a-massy, dat's de oberseer! He's dun callin' de hands to de +quarters." The quarters were the slave-quarters which always clustered +at a respectful distance in the rear of a planter's home. "Dat ar +oberseer mebbe'll cum hyar. You folkses mus' hide." + +The whistle had sounded dangerously near. As they looked out of the one +door that gave light to the slave's cabin, they saw three horsemen +trotting towards it, two white men and a negro. They were Moses's +master, the dreaded overseer, and a groom. It was impossible to run +across the small cleared space about the cabin and seek the woods +without being seen. But where could they hide in a one-roomed hut? + +"De chimbley, quick, de chimbley," gasped Uncle Mose. + +A big chimney, full of the soot of many years of wood-fires on the broad +hearth below, filled half one side of the room. Tom and Morris rushed to +it, climbed up the rough stone sides, found a precarious footing just +above the fireplace, and waited. Fortunately the fire upon which the +food for the journey had been cooked had almost died down. A little +smoke floated up the wide opening. The smoke and the soot tickled the +boy's nostrils until it seemed to him that he must sneeze. A sneeze +might mean death. With a mighty effort he kept still for what seemed to +him an hour. It was really about five minutes. + +Mr. Izzard, owner of Uncle Moses and of some hundreds of other black +men, Jake Johnson, his overseer, a renegade Yankee, with a face that +told of the cruel soul within him, trotted up to the door, the black +groom a few yards behind them. Uncle Moses had thrust the bundle of food +far back under the bed. He stood respectfully in his doorway, bowing to +the ground. Towser cowered beside him. Towser had felt more than once +the sting of the long whip Jake Johnson carried. He feared and he hated +the overseer. + +"Howdy, Massa Izzard?" said Moses. "Howdy, Mista Johnsing? Will you-uns +light down 'n cum in?" + +"Howdy, Uncle Moses?" Mr. Izzard replied. He was a tall, pale, +well-born, well-bred, well-educated man, as kind a man as ever held his +fellowmen in slavery, and as sure that he was justified in doing so by +the laws of both God and man as the German emperor was that he ruled a +subject people by divine right. "No, we won't light down. We just came +to say howdy. Are you getting on all right? If you want anything, come +up to the big house and ask for it." + +He smiled and the overseer scowled upon the old negro as he stammered a +few words of thanks. Suddenly the overseer asked: + +"Have you seen anything of Mr. Pinckney's Morris, Mose?" + +"No, sah, Mista Johnsing, sah, I ain't seen hide nor har ob Morris. Has +dat fool nigger runned away?" + +Johnson looked at him sharply. + +"If I thought you knew already he had run away," said he, "I'd"--he +cracked his whip in the air to show what he would have done. + +Moses and Towser cowered. But Mr. Izzard told Johnson to stop +frightening "the best darkey on the place" and they rode away. Mose +dropped upon his one chair and was just about to give fervent thanks for +the escape from detection, when Johnson, who had turned a short distance +away and had galloped back, flung himself off his horse at the door and +strode into the dusky hut. + +"I b'lieve you know something about that Morris," he roared at the +shrinking old negro. "You looked guilty. Tell me what you know or I'll +thrash you within an inch of your black life." He cracked his dreaded +whip again. + +"I dun know nothin' 'bout him, Mista Johnsing," Moses pleaded. + +Alas, at that moment, smoke and soot proved too much for the overtried +nostrils of Tom. He sneezed with the vigor of a sneeze long held back. +His "at-choo! at-choo!" sounded down the chimney like a chorus of +bassoons. Johnson was across the room in a bound. He knelt upon the +hearth, groped up the chimney, caught the boy by the ankle and pulled +him down. The soot had made a negro of Tom. The overseer was sure he had +caught the fleeing Morris. + +At that terrible moment, when Johnson's throat was swelling for a yell +of triumph that would surely have brought Mr. Izzard back to the hut, +Uncle Moses cast the traditions of a life of servile fear of the white +man behind him. Never had he dreamed of laying a finger on one of his +owner's race, even in those long-ago days when stout thews and muscles +made him fit to fight. Now, in trembling old age, the truth of the +poet's saying, + + "Who would be free, himself must strike the blow," + +put spirit for a second into his old heart. He knew the danger that lay +in that yell. He meant to stop it, cost him what it might. Johnson was +still on his knees in the ashes, still clutching Tom's ankle, the boy +still sprawling on the hearth, half-dazed with the shock of discovery +and of his fall, when Uncle Moses's withered old body hurled itself upon +the overseer's broad back and his feeble fingers clutched the man's +windpipe and choked him into a second's silence. That second was enough. +Tom sprang to his feet and sprang at his foe like a wildcat, and good +old Towser, rejoicing in the vengeance that beckoned to him, sunk his +teeth in Johnson's shoulder and tore him down from the back while Tom +struck his strongest just below the overseer's chin and knocked him out +for the time being. Before he came to, he had been lashed hand-and-foot +into a long bundle, had been effectually gagged with his own whip, had +been blindfolded and had been rolled beneath the bed, from under which +the food had been hurriedly withdrawn. Meanwhile Morris had neither been +seen nor heard. Tom called up the chimney to him to come down. + +"I kain't, Massa Tom," said a stifled voice. It had never occurred to +Morris to slip down and help in the fight he heard going on below. His +one thought had been to escape himself. So he had climbed still higher +up the chimney and in his frantic haste he had so wedged himself into it +that it took Tom an hour to pull him down. It was a battered, bruised, +and bleeding negro who finally appeared. That was a very long hour. Mr. +Izzard might return in search of his overseer at any moment. The +overseer himself must be conscious by this time. His ears must have told +him much. Tom whispered to Morris and Moses to say nothing. His anxious +gesture toward the bed beneath which Johnson lay frightened both negroes +into scared silence. Fortunately for them the overseer's ears had told +him nothing. Towser's teeth had drawn so much blood--the mighty hound +had been pried off his foe with difficulty--that the man lay in a faint +until the four fugitives had fled. For there were four fugitives now. +Neither Moses nor Towser could stay to face the coming wrath. The rest +of Moses's chickens were killed, the rest of his vegetables gathered. +When darkness fell, the old flat-boat, laden until she had a scant two +inches of free-board above the water, was slipping down the river again. +Uncle Moses was no longer "a-waitin' fer freedum." He was going in +search of the freedom he had so long craved. He and his fellows had two +clear days in which to get away without pursuit, for Johnson lay in his +dark prison beneath the bed for fortyeight hours before he was found. +One of the ropes used to bind him had caught upon an old nail in the +wall. He was too weak to tear it away and so could not even roll himself +to the outer air. On the second day of his unexplained absence, Mr. +Izzard had sent all the negroes in search of him and had offered a +reward for his finding. The discovery of his horse in a distant part of +the plantation had concentrated the search there. The darkies who +finally got the reward did not rejoice much in it, for in finding the +overseer, they knew they were finding a cruel taskmaster and his cruel +whip. But the story of his discomfiture by three negroes, for he had +never known that Tom's sooty face was really white, soon spread through +the countryside. He became a neighborhood joke and in his wrath at being +made a butt he resigned as Mr. Izzard's overseer. Leaving this place +deprived him of his immunity from conscription. He was promptly seized +by the nearest Confederate officer and impressed into the army. The +Izzard negroes had the infinite joy of seeing their hated ex-overseer +marched off under guard to a Confederate camp, to serve as a private +soldier. + +Tom was destined to see Jake Johnson again. + + * * * * * + +Two nights they rowed down the river, almost without a word, afraid to +speak lest someone in the infrequent houses and still more infrequent +villages along the banks should hear them. Wise old Towser knew enough +not to bark when men about him kept so still. He lay always where with +nose or paw or tail he could touch Tom. The latter was the commander of +the expedition and Towser felt it and became his abject slave +accordingly. At the close of the second night they had reached the +Tennessee River. By day they camped upon shore in some hidden place, +first craftily secreting the boat amid rushes and reeds. From their +second hiding-place, they saw about noon a Confederate gunboat, a small +stern-wheel steamboat, with cotton-bales at her bow and stern screening +her two guns. Though she was making all possible speed up the current, +she moved but slowly. Her decks were thick with excited men. A babble of +voices reached the fugitives, peering at her behind a mass of bushes. +The few words that could be made out told them nothing. The sight of +her, however, warned them that a new danger might await them on the +traveled waters of the Tennessee. Their hearts would have beat higher, +had they known that General Mitchell had pushed south from Huntsville +and that Union forces were then encamped in strength upon the river, not +many miles below where they were cowering. The Confederate gunboat had +been steaming upstream to escape capture. + +When darkness came, they embarked again upon what proved to be the last +chapter in the history of the old flat-boat. The next morning, caught in +an eddy at the mouth of a small, swift tributary of the Tennessee, she +whirled about, the Spanish moss dropped out of her rotten seams, she +filled and sank. She dropped so swiftly beneath them that before they +realized their danger they were all floundering in water over their +heads. Tom could swim like a fish. That is one of the first things a boy +should learn to do. To his delight, he found Uncle Moses was also +surprisingly at home in the water, considering his years. Towser +accepted the situation as something he did not understand, but which was +doubtless entirely all right, as his lord and master, Tom, was in the +water too. Morris, however, could not swim a stroke and saw only certain +death before him. He gave a yell of terror as he went under. That yell +came near costing them dear. As he rose to the surface, Tom on one side +and Uncle Mose on the other, acting under Tom's instructions, edged a +shoulder under him, and started to swim to shore with him. Again he +yelled. This time Moses lost patience. + +"Shet up, you fool nigger. You sho'ly needs to be 'mersed." + +With this whispered menace, he reached up one hand and ducked Morris's +head quite under water. That stopped all further sound from him. And by +this time their feet had touched bottom. They waded ashore, with Towser +wagging a triumphant tail, shaking himself and sending showers of spray +over them. There they stood, wet as water-rats, with nothing in the +world except the dripping clothes they wore. And there was no +hiding-place near. For half a mile on either side of them a cleared +field lay open to the day and the day was upon them. They had tempted +Fate by rowing on too long after the first signs of dawn. Fate had +turned the trump upon them. The sun rolled up above the eastern horizon +at their back. It showed them, not half a mile away, a plantation house. +It showed them a swarm of field-hands coming to the day's toil. It +showed them a mounted overseer, only a few hundred feet away, riding up +to the flat range of the field from a ravine that had hidden him. He had +heard Morris's yells. He saw the three and rode furiously at them, +calling out: + +"What are you niggers doin' here?" + +Tom stepped forward to meet him. His two companions were useless in an +emergency like this. They cowered back and were dumb. Towser strode +ahead beside Tom and barked. The overseer pulled up short. He saw he was +dealing with a white man, or rather with a white boy. The circumstances +were suspicious. Who were these three dripping ragamuffins? But since +one of them was white, the man's tone changed and he modified his +question. + +"Who are ye? And what are ye doin' here?" + +"I am on my way to Vicksburg," Tom answered, "by the river. My boat sunk +just off shore here and we swam ashore. Can you give me another boat?" + +"I mout 'n I moutn't." + +"I am carrying dispatches," said Tom, sternly. "You will delay me at +your peril. I shall take one of those boats, whether you consent or +not." + +With this he pointed at the most encouraging thing the sunrise had shown +him. This was a line of three boats fastened to a wooden landing-place +by the river. + +"I b'lieve you're a Yankee," said the horseman, "and these are runaway +niggers. You and they must come up to the big house with me. If you're +all right, we'll send you on your way. If you're not, well, we know what +to do with Yanks and runaway niggers! March!" + +He slipped his hand behind him, as if to draw a pistol. Tom was already +making the same gesture. Neither of them had a pistol. Tom's had gone to +the bottom. It was pure bluff on both sides. And in a moment, seeing +this and being Americans, both laughed. But none the less the overseer +demanded that they should go to the big house. Tom, protesting, but +apparently half-yielding, edged along until he was near the +landing-platform. Then, shouting "Come on, boys!" he ran to it, the +frightened negroes following at his heels and Towser running ahead. He +hustled them into the boat at the eastern end of the pier, jumped in +himself, jerked the rope off the wooden peg that insecurely held it, and +pushed off. The overseer, angrily protesting, stood a moment watching +his prey escape and then galloped like mad for the big house, shouting +"Yanks! spies!! thieves!!! Yanks!!!!" He was met halfway by half a dozen +men in Confederate gray, roused by his yells. They were officers who had +spent the night at the hospitable house, had breakfasted at daybreak, +and were just about to mount for their day's march when the overseer +gave the alarm. It was lucky for the fugitives that officers do not +carry anything bigger than pistols. A fusillade of revolver-bullets all +fell short of the fleeing mark. Tom and Morris were pulling an oar +apiece--they had found but two in the boat--with a desperate energy. But +it was unlucky for the fugitives that they had not thought to steal or +to scuttle the other two boats. This was Tom's fault, for he was +captain. + +"I'll know better next time," said Tom to himself ruefully, as he saw +three men spring into each boat for the pursuit. "I'll know better next +time--if there ever is a next time." + +It did not seem likely that there would be a next time. One of the +pursuing boats fell behind, to be sure. In it, too, there were but two +oars and the men who plied them could not match the black man and the +white boy who rowed for freedom's sake and life's sake. But in the other +boat, two strong men each pulled two oars, while the third man crouched +in the bow, pistol in hand, calling out steering instructions. This boat +gained upon them, bit by bit. The fugitives could hear the lookout call +"Port, hard-a-port!" and could almost see the extra weight thrown into +the sweep of the starboard oars to send the boat's head the right way. +Once the man at the bow took a chance on a long shot. His bullet fell +harmlessly two hundred feet astern of Towser who stood in the stern of +the fleeing boat, barking savagely. Thrice they turned a sharp bend and +were out of sight of their enemy for a moment, but each time there was a +shorter interval before the enemy shot into sight behind them. A fourth +point lay just ahead. Tom looked back over his shoulder and measured the +distance with his eye. + +"We can just make that next point," he panted. "Soon as we do, we'll +land and run. It's our only chance." + +"I kain't run," said Uncle Moses, "but you'se right, Massa Tom. Dey'll +catch us ef we keep a-rowin'." + +They had almost reached the bend. Another strong pull would have sent +them around it. But the pursuers had now so gained upon them that the +lookout chanced another shot. By chance or by skill, it was a very good +shot. The bullet struck Tom's oar, just above the blade. The blade +dropped off as Tom was putting every ounce of his failing strength into +a prodigious pull. The handle, released from all pressure, flew through +the air and Tom rolled over backwards into Morris's lap. There was a +shout of triumph from astern. The rowers bent to their work with a +fierce vigor, feeling the victory won. Morris gave one last pull with +his one oar and it sent the boat around the bend. + +"And dere," as Uncle Moses with widespread arms used to tell the tale +thereafter, "and dere wuz Massa Lincum's gunboats, a-crowdin' ob de +ribber--'n de Stars-'n-Stripeses, dey jest kivered de sky!" + +[Illustration: TOWSER] + +And so Unk' Mose and Morris came to their freedom and Tom came to his +own. Towser became Tom's own. Uncle Moses insisted upon this and Towser +highly approved of it. The giant hound worshiped the boy. Morris was +speedily put to work driving a four-mule team for the commissary +department of General Mitchell's force. He was accustomed to having food +and lodging doled out to him, so it seemed quite natural to be given +sleeping quarters (usually under the canvas cover of the wagon he drove) +and rations, but it took him some months to recover from the shock of +actually being paid wages for his work. When this too became natural, he +felt that he was really free. Uncle Moses was too old for that sort of +thing. He was bewildered by the rough and teeming life of an army-camp. +He clung to Tom, was as devoted to him as Towser was, and much more +helpless than the dog was. Towser made friends and important friends at +once. It happened that food was rather short at headquarters the day +after the fugitives found safety. Tom, waiting for a chance to go North, +had been asked to share the tent of a staff-officer and to eat at +headquarters' mess. An hour before dinner, one of his hosts was +bewailing the scanty fare they were to have when Towser sidled around +the corner of the tent with a fat chicken in his mouth and laid it with +respectful devotion at his master's feet. There was a shout of applause +and a roar from the assembled officers of "Good dog, good dog, Towser, +do it again!" Whereupon, after some majestic wags of his mighty tail, he +disappeared for a few minutes and did do it again. When the second +chicken was laid at Tom's feet, Towser's position was assured. He was +named an orderly by acclamation and was given a collar made of an old +army belt, with the magic letters "U. S. A." upon it, a collar which he +wore proudly through his happy life. + +Tom, who felt quite rich when his arrears of pay were handed him, +decided to give himself a treat by making Uncle Moses happy. That is the +best kind of treat man or boy can give himself. Make somebody else happy +and you will be happy yourself. Try it and see. So, when he finally +started back for Cairo and Washington he took both Uncle Moses and +Towser with him. Neither of them had ever been on a railroad train +before. Equally bewildered and equally happy, they sped by steam across +the thousand miles between Cairo and Washington. In those days dogs +could travel with their masters, without being banished to the +baggage-car. As the three neared the latter city, the great dome of the +Capitol sprang into sight. Tom eagerly pointed it out. + +"Look, Uncle Mose, look, Towser, there's the Capitol." + +"Dat's Freedum's home," murmured Unk' Mose. + +And Towser, stirred by the others' emotion, barked joyfully. He felt at +home, too, because he was with Tom. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + LINCOLN SAVES JIM JENKINS'S LIFE--NEWSPAPER ABUSE OF LINCOLN--THE + EMANCIPATION PROCLAMATION--LINCOLN IN HIS NIGHT-SHIRT--JAMES + RUSSELL LOWELL--"BARBARA FRIETCHIE"--MR. STRONG COMES HOME--THE + RUSSIAN FLEET COMES TO NEW YORK--A BACKWOODS JUPITER. + + +Tom neared the White House with a beating heart. He had done what +Lincoln had bade him do. The dispatches had been carried safely and had +been put into General Grant's hands. But he had taken a rather large +advantage of the President's smiling suggestion that he might +occasionally slip into a fight if he wanted to do so. He had volunteered +to go with Andrews on the railroad raid, which was to take a week, and +he had been away for many weeks, during which he had been carried on the +army-rolls as "missing." Would the President think of him as a truant, +who had run away and stayed away from duty? John Hay's welcome of him +was frigid. The boy's heart went down into his boots. But it sprang up +into his mouth when he was ushered into Lincoln's room, to be greeted +with the winning smile he knew so well and to be congratulated both on +his bravery in going with Andrews and on his good fortune in finally +getting back to the Union lines. + +The President was not alone when Tom entered the room. There sat beside +the desk a middle-aged woman, worn and weary, her eyes red with weeping, +her rusty black dress spotted with recent tears. Her thin hands were +nervously twisting the petition someone had prepared for her to present +to the President. She looked at him with heartbroken pleading as he +turned to her from Tom and resumed his talk with her which Tom's +entrance had interrupted. + +"So Secretary Stanton wouldn't do anything for you, Mrs. Jenkins?" he +asked. + +"No, sir; no, Mr. President," sobbed the woman. "He said--he said it +was time to make an example and that my boy Jim ought to be shot and +would be shot at--at--sunrise tomorrow." + +The sentence ended in a wail and the woman crumpled up into a heap and +slid down to the floor at the President's feet. She had gained one +moment of blessed oblivion. Jim, "the only son of his mother and she a +widow," had overstayed his furlough, had been arrested, hurried before a +court-martial of elderly officers who were tired of hearing the +frivolous excuses of careless boys for not coming back promptly to the +front, had been found guilty of desertion, and had been sentenced to be +shot in a week. Six days the mother had haunted the crowded anteroom of +the stern Secretary of War, bent beneath the burden of her woe. Admitted +at last to his presence, her plea for her boy's life had been ruthlessly +refused. + +"The life of the nation is at stake, madam," Stanton had growled at her. +"We must keep the fighting ranks full. What is one boy's life to that +of our country? It is unfortunate," the grim Secretary's tones grew +softer at the sight of the mother's utter anguish, "it is unfortunate +that the life happens to be that of your boy, but an example is needed +and an example there shall be. I will do nothing. He dies at sunrise. +Good-day." + +He rang the bell upon his desk. The sobbing mother was ushered out and +the next person on the list was ushered in. An hour afterwards she was +with Lincoln. There was no six days' wait at the White House for the +mother of a Union soldier. + +When she fell to the floor in a faint, Tom sprang to help her, but the +President was quicker than he. Lincoln's great arms lifted her like a +child and laid her upon a sofa. He touched a bell and sent word to Mrs. +Lincoln asking her to come to him. When she did so, she took charge of +Mrs. Jenkins and speedily revived her. But it was the President, not his +wife, who completed the cure and saved the weeping woman's reason from +wreck and her life from long anguish. He pointed to the petition which +had fallen from her nerveless fingers to the floor. + +"Hand me that paper, Tom." + +He put on his spectacles and started to read it. The glasses grew misty +with the tears in his eyes. He wiped them with a red bandanna +handkerchief, finished reading the paper, and wrote beneath it in bold +letters: "This man is pardoned. A. Lincoln, Prest." Then he held the +petition close to the sofa so that the first thing Mrs. Jenkins saw as +she came back to consciousness in Mrs. Lincoln's arms was Jim Jenkins's +pardon. It was that blessed news which made her herself again. She broke +into a torrent of thanks, which Lincoln gently waved aside. + +"You see, ma'am," said the President, "I don't believe the way to keep +the fighting ranks full is to shoot one of the fighters, 'cause he's +been a bit careless. There's a Chinese proverb: 'Never drown a boy +baby.' I guess that means that if a boy makes a mistake, it's better to +give him a chance not to make another. You tell Jim from me to do +better after this. Tom, you take Mrs. Jenkins over to the Secretary and +show him that little line of mine. He won't like it very much. Usually +he has his own way, but sometimes I have mine and this happens to be one +of those times. Glad you came to see me, Mrs. Jenkins. There's lots of +things you can do to an American boy that are better than shooting him. +Here's a little note you can read later, ma'am. Hope it'll help you a +bit. Good-by--and God bless you." + +Tom took the widow Jenkins, dazed with her happiness, to the War +Department, where the formal order was entered that sent Jim Jenkins +back to the front, resolute to pay his country for the life the +President had given him. Only when the order had been entered did the +mother remember the envelope clutched in her hand which the President +had given her. It contained no words, unless it be true that "money +talks." It held a twenty-dollar bill. Mrs. Jenkins had spent her last +cent on her journey to Washington and her six days' stay there. Abraham +Lincoln's gift sent her safely back to home and happiness. When once +again she had occasion to weep over her son, a year later, her tears +were those of a hero's mother. For Jim Jenkins died a hero's death at +Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, on July 4, 1863, that day of "the high tide of +the Confederacy," when Robert E. Lee, the great Confederate commander, +saw the surge of his splendid soldiers break in vain upon the rocks of +the Union line, in the heart of the North. The bullet that killed Jim +Jenkins tore through the picture of Abraham Lincoln Jim always wore over +his heart. And Lincoln found time in that great hour of the country's +salvation to turn aside from the myriad duties of every day long enough +to write Jim Jenkins' mother a letter about her dead son's gift of his +life to his country, a letter of a marvelous sympathy and of a wondrous +consolation, which was buried with the soldier's mother not long +afterwards, when she rejoined in a world of peace her soldier son. + +Mrs. Jenkins's experience with Stanton was a typical one. Everybody +hated to come in contact with the surly Secretary. One day, when Private +Secretary Nicolay was away, Hay came into the offices with a letter in +his hand and a cloud on his usually gay brow. "Nicolay wants me to take +some people to see Stanton," he said. "I would rather make the tour of a +smallpox hospital." + +Lincoln always shrank from studying the records of court-martials, but +he often had to do so, that justice or injustice might be tempered by +mercy. He caught at every chance of showing mercy. A man had been +sentenced to be shot for cowardice. + +"Oh, I won't approve that," said the President. "'He who fights and runs +away, may live to fight another day.' Besides, if this fellow is a +coward, it would frighten him too terribly to shoot him." + +The next case was that of a deserter. After sentence, he had escaped and +had reached Mexico. + +"I guess that sentence is all right," Lincoln commented. "We can't catch +him, you see. We'll condemn him as they used to sell hogs in Indiana, +'as they run.'" + + * * * * * + +At this time the fortunes of war were not favoring the North. There were +days of doubt, days almost of despair. A shrill chorus of abuse of the +President sounded from many Northern newspapers. Its keynote was struck +by Horace Greeley, the editor of the New York _Tribune_ and the foremost +man in a group of great editors such as the country has never seen +since. They were Horace Greeley of the _Tribune_, Henry J. Raymond of +the _New York Times_, and Samuel Bowles of the Springfield (Mass.) +_Republican_. Bowles wrote: "Lincoln is a Simple Susan"; Raymond +demanded that he be "superseded" as President; and Greeley, in a letter +that was published in England and that greatly harmed the Union cause, +said Lincoln ruled "a bleeding, bankrupt, almost dying country." + +In Tom's boyhood, the names of the three were household words and names +by which to conjure. The arrows the three shot at Lincoln pierced his +heart, but his gentle patience never gave way. He bore with their +well-meant but unjust criticism as he bore with so much else in those +dark days, careless of hurt to himself, if he could but serve his +country and do his duty as he saw it to do. A clear light shone upon one +great duty and this he did. On September 22, 1862, he signed his famous +Emancipation Proclamation, which with its sequence the Thirteenth +Amendment to the Constitution of the United States ended forever slavery +wherever the Stars-and-Stripes waved. In the early days of that great +September, even a boy could feel in the tense atmosphere of the White +House that some great event was impending. Nobody knew upon just what +the master mind was brooding, but the whole world was to know it soon. +It was not until Lincoln had written with his own hand in the solitude +of his own room the charter of freedom for the Southern slaves that he +called together his Cabinet, not to advise him about it, but to hear +from him what he had resolved to do. The messenger who summoned the +Cabinet officials to that historic session was none other than Uncle +Moses. Tom of course had long since told the story of his flight for +freedom, including Unk' Mose's stout-hearted attack at the very nick of +time upon the overseer. Lincoln was touched by the tale of the old +negro's fine feat. He had Tom bring Moses to see him and Moses emerged +from that interview the proudest darkey in the world, for he was made a +messenger and general utility man at the White House. Part of his duty +was to keep in order the room where the Cabinet met and to summon its +members when a meeting of it was called. Uncle Moses, pacing slowly but +majestically from the White House to the different Departments, bearing +a message from the President to his Cabinet ministers, was a very +different person from the Unk' Mose who had cared for Tom and Morris in +the Alabama canebrake. The scarecrow had become a man. On these little +journeys, Tad Lincoln often went with him, his small white hand +clutching one of Mose's big gnarled, black fingers. Although Moses knew +nothing of it at the time, the day he bore the summons to the meeting at +which the Proclamation that freed his race was read was the great day of +his life. It is well for any man or boy even to touch the fringe of a +great event in the world's history. + +"I dun car'd de freedum Proc-a-mation," Uncle Moses used to say with +ever-deepening pride as the years rolled by. In his extreme old age, he +came to think he really had carried the Proclamation to the Cabinet, +instead of simply summoning the Cabinet to the meeting at which the +Proclamation was first read. Memory plays queer tricks with the old. So +Unk' Mose's tale lost nothing in the telling, year after year. + + * * * * * + +The next evening the Cabinet gathered at a small party at the residence +of Salmon P. Chase, Secretary of the Treasury. John Hay was there. He +wrote that evening in his diary: "They all seemed to feel a sort of new +and exhilarated life; they breathed freer; the President's Proclamation +had freed them as well as the slaves. They gleefully and merrily called +themselves Abolitionists and seemed to enjoy the novel accusation of +appropriating that horrible name." The Proclamation made it respectable +to be an Abolitionist. Every great reform is disreputable until it +succeeds. + + * * * * * + +The Proclamation seemed to have freed the President too. When a man has +made a New Year's gift of freedom to millions of men in +bondage--emancipation was to take place wherever the Stars-and-Stripes +flew on January 1, 1863--such a man must have a wonderful glow of +reflected happiness. Always gentle, he grew gentler. Always with a keen +eye for humorous absurdity, he grew still more fond of it. + +Tom was sent for one day and hurried to the President's office. Lincoln +was stretched out at full length, his body in a swivel-chair, his long +legs on the sill of the open window. He was holding a seven-foot +telescope to his eyes, its other end resting upon his toes. He was +looking at two steamboats puffing hard up the Potomac. What news did +they bring? As the boy knocked, the President, without turning his head, +called out: "Come in, Tommy." + +Tom opened the door and as he did so John Hay pushed excitedly by him, a +telegram in his hand, saying: + +"Mr. President, what do you think Smith of Illinois has done? He is +behaving very badly." + +"Smith," answered Lincoln, "is a miracle of meanness, but I'm too busy +to quarrel with him. Don't tell me what he's done and probably I'll +never hear of it." + +He knew how to disregard little men and their little deeds. + +That night Tom sat up late. Nicolay and Hay had asked him to spend the +evening, after the household had gone to bed, in their office. Crackers +and cheese and a jug of milk were the refreshments and John Hay's talk +was the delight of the little gathering. Midnight had just struck when +the door opened quietly and the President slipped into the room. Never +had Tom seen him in such guise. The only thing he had on was a short +nightshirt and carpet-slippers. He was smiling as he entered. + +"Hear this, boys," he said. "It's from the 'Biglow Papers.' That fellow +Lowell knows how to put things. Just hear this. He puts these Yankee +words into Jeff Davis's mouth: + + "'An' votin' we're prosp'rous a hundred times over + Wun't change bein' starved into livin' on clover. + + * * * * * + + An' wut Spartans wuz lef' when the battle wuz done + Wuz them that wuz too unambitious to run. + + * * * * * + + An' how, sence Fort Donelson, winnin' the day + Consists in triumphantly gettin' away!' + +And here," continued the President, utterly unaware of the oddity of his +garb, "and here is a good touch on the Proclamation. I wish all the +'cussed fools' in America could read it. Hear this: + + "'An' why should we kick up a muss + About the Pres'dent's proclamation? + It ain't a-goin' to lib'rate us + Ef we don't like emancipation. + The right to be a cussed fool + Is safe from all devices human. + It's common (ez a gin'l rule) + To every critter born o' woman.'" + +Lincoln strode out again, "seemingly utterly unconscious," says Hay's +diary, "that he, with his short shirt hanging about his long legs and +setting out behind like the tail feathers of an enormous ostrich, was +infinitely funnier than anything in the book he was laughing at." + +"That fellow Lowell" was James Russell Lowell, an American critic, poet, +and essayist, later our Minister to England. + + * * * * * + +One day Tom had a welcome letter from his father, saying he was on his +way home and would be in Washington almost as soon as his letter was. +The letter was written from St. Petersburg and had upon its envelope +Russian stamps. Tom had never seen a Russian stamp before. He showed the +envelope as a curiosity to little Tad Lincoln and at that small boy's +eager request gave it to him. Tom happened to lunch with the Lincoln +family that day. Tad produced his new possession at the table, crying to +his mother: + +"See what Tommy has given me." + +"Who wrote you from Russia?" asked Mrs. Lincoln. + +"My father," the boy answered. "He sent me good news. He's coming home +right away." + +"Your father sent me good news, too," said Mr. Lincoln from the head of +the table. + +"What was that?" interjected the first lady of the land. + +"You shall know soon, my dear." Then the beautiful smile came to the +President's firm lips and overflowed into his deep-set eyes as he said +to Tom: "The highest honor the old Romans could give to a fellow-citizen +was to decree that he had 'deserved well of the Republic.' That can be +said of your father now. He has deserved well of the Republic. Before +long, the world will know what he has done. Until then," he turned as he +spoke to his wife, "until then we'd better not talk about it." + +This talk was in early June of 1863. By September the whole world, or at +least all the governments of the world, did know what Mr. Strong had +done after Lincoln sent him abroad. The whole world saw the symbol of +his work, without in many cases knowing what the symbol signified. That +symbol was the famous visit of the Russian fleet to New York City in +September of 1863. + +The governing classes of both England and France were in favor of the +South during our Civil War. The English and French Empires were jealous +of the growth of the Republic and wished to see it torn asunder. France +hoped to establish a Mexican Empire, a vassal of France, if the +Confederacy won. England needed Southern cotton and could not get it +unless our blockade of Southern ports was broken. The people of both +France and England had little to say as to what their governments would +do. Many distinguished Frenchmen took our side and the mass of +Englishmen were also on our side, but the latter were helpless in the +grip of their aristocratic rulers. They testified to their belief, +however, splendidly. In the height of what was called "the cotton +famine," when the Lancashire mills were closed for lack of the fleecy +staple and when the Lancashire mill-operatives were facing actual +starvation, a tiny group of great Englishmen, John Bright and Thomas +Bayley Potter among them, spoke throughout Lancashire on behalf of the +Northern cause. There was to be a great meeting at Manchester, in the +heart of the stricken district. The cost of hall, lights, advertising, +etc., was considerable. Someone suggested charging an admission fee. It +was objected that the unemployed poor could not afford to pay anything. +Finally it was arranged to put baskets at the door, with placards saying +that anyone who chose could give something towards the cost of the +meeting. When it was over, the baskets were found to hold over four +bushels of pennies and ha'pennies. The starving poor of Lancashire had +given them, not out of their abundance, but out of their grinding want. + +This was the widow's mite, many times multiplied. + +The crafty Napoleon the Third, "Napoleon the Little," as the great +French poet and novelist, Victor Hugo, called him, asked England to +have the English fleet join the French fleet in breaking our blockade +and in making Slavery triumph. England hesitated before the proposed +crime, but finally said it was inclined to follow the Napoleonic lead, +if Russia would do likewise. Then the French Emperor wrote what is +called a holographic letter, that is, a letter entirely in his own +handwriting, to the then Czar of Russia, asking him to send part of his +fleet on the unholy raid that was in contemplation. + +Russia was then a despotism, with one despot. It was not only a European +and an Asiatic Power, but an American Power as well, for it did not sell +Alaska to the United States until 1867. Despotism does not like to see +Liberty flourish anywhere, least of all near itself. Liberty is a +contagious thing. Might not the American example infect Alaska, spread +through Siberia, even creep to the steps of the throne at St. +Petersburg? But this time, thanks to the work of our Minister to Russia +and of our extra-official representative there, the Hon. Thomas Strong, +Despotism stood by Liberty. The Russian Czar wrote the French Emperor +that the Russian fleet would not be a party to the proposed attack upon +the Northern navy, but that on the contrary it was about to sail for New +York in order that its commander might place it at the disposal of the +President of the United States in case any Franco-English squadron +appeared with hostile intent at our ocean-gates. + +This was the beginning of the traditional friendship between America and +Russia. It explains why New York and Washington went mad in those +September days of 1863 in welcoming the Russian fleet and the Russian +officers. It explains why Lincoln told Tom that his father had "deserved +well of the Republic." + + * * * * * + +It was at about this time that John Hay once asked Tom: + +"What do you think of the Tycoon by this time, my boy?" + +"Tycoon" and "the Ancient" were names his rather irreverent secretaries +had given Lincoln. Nevertheless they both reverenced and loved him. +Their nicknames for him were born of affection. + +"Why, why," Tom began. He did not quite know how to put into fitting +words all he felt about his chief. But John Hay, who was never much +interested in the opinion on anything of anybody but himself, went on: + +"I'll tell you what he is, Tom. He's a backwoods Jupiter. He sits here +and wields both the machinery of government and the bolts of war. A +backwoods Jupiter!" + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + TOM GOES TO VICKSBURG--MORGAN'S RAID--GEN. BASIL W. DUKE CAPTURES + TOM--GETTYSBURG--GEN. ROBERT E. LEE GIVES TOM HIS BREAKFAST--IN + LIBBY PRISON--LINCOLN'S SPEECH AT GETTYSBURG. + + +Late in June of 1863 Tom again left General Grant's headquarters. These +were then in the outskirts of Vicksburg, Mississippi. The long siege of +that town, held by a considerable Confederate force under General +Pemberton, was nearing its end. Tom longed to be in at the death, but +that could not be. He had been sent with dispatches to Grant and this +time there had been no suggestion by the President that he might fight a +bit if he felt like it. So he was now again on his way to Washington. He +was a long time getting there, nearly a year; and this was the way of +it. + +July 2, 1863, Gen. John H. Morgan, a brilliant and daring Confederate +cavalry commander, got his troops across the Cumberland River at +Burkesville, in southern Kentucky, on flat-boats and canoes lashed +together. None but he and his second in command knew whither the +proposed raid was to lead. People about their starting-point thought +Morgan was merely reconnoitering. An old farmer from Calfkills Creek +went along uninvited, because he wished to buy some salt at a +"salt-lick" a few miles north of Burkesville and within the Union lines. +He expected to go and come back safely with Morgan's men. After he had +been through a few marches and more fights and saw no chance of ever +getting home, he plaintively said: "I swar ef I wouldn't give all the +salt in Kaintucky to stand once more safe and sound on the banks of +Calfkills Creek." + +Tom Strong, second-lieutenant, U. S. A., had not reckoned upon John H. +Morgan, general C. S. A., when he planned his journey eastward from +Cairo. No one dreamed that Morgan would dare do what he did do. The +Confederate cavalry rode northward across Kentucky, with one or two +skirmishes per day to keep it busy. It crossed the Ohio and fought for +the South on Northern soil. It threatened Cincinnati. It threw southern +Indiana and Ohio into a frenzy of fear. It did great damage, but damage +such as the laws of civilized warfare permit. Morgan's gallant men were +Americans. No woman or child was harmed; no man not under arms was +killed. Military stores were seized or destroyed, food and supplies were +taken, bridges were burned, railroads were torn up, and a clean sweep +was made of all the horses to be found. The Confederate cavalry was in +sad need of new horses. The Union officer who led the pursuit of Morgan +said, in his official report: "His system of horse-stealing was +perfect." But so far as war can be a Christian thing Morgan made it so. + +Now the railroad which suffered most from the Confederate raid was the +one upon which Tom was traveling eastward. The train he had taken came +to a sudden stop at a way-station in Ohio, where a red flag was +furiously waved. + +"Morgan's torn up the track just ahead," shouted the man who held the +flag. + +Nothing more could be learned there and then. Of course the raiders had +cut the wires. By and by fugitives began to straggle in from the +eastward, farmers who had fled from their farms driving their horses +before them, villagers who feared the sack and ruin that really came to +no one, women and children on foot, on horseback, in carts, in wagons, +in buggies. Every fugitive had a new tale of terror to tell, but nobody +really knew anything. Tom questioned each newcomer. Piecing together +what they said, he concluded that Morgan had swept northward; that the +track had been destroyed for but a mile or so, possibly less: and that +the quickest way for him to get to Washington was to walk across the +short gap and get a train or an engine on the other side. He could find +no one who would go with him, even as a guide, but well-meant directions +were showered upon him. So were well-meant warnings, about ten warnings +to one direction. The railroad, however, was his best guide-post. He +started eastward, riding a horse he had bought from one of the +fugitives. The big bay brute stood over sixteen hands high, but the +price Tom paid for him was a good deal higher than the horse. + +All went well at first. He soon reached the place where the Confederates +had wrecked the railroad. Their work had been thorough. Every little +bridge or trestle had been burned. Rails and ties had been torn up, the +ties massed together and set on fire, the rails thrown upon the burning +ties and twisted by the heat into sinuous snakes of iron. Occasionally a +hot rail had been twisted about a tree until it became a mere set of +loops, never to serve again the purpose for which it had been made. The +telegraph poles had been chopped down and the wires were tangled into a +broken and useless web. In some places the rails had entirely +disappeared. Doubtless these had been thrown into the little streams +which the burned bridges had spanned. Altogether the road-bed looked as +if some highly intelligent hurricane and earthquake had co-operated in +its destruction. It would be many a day before a train could again run +upon it. Morgan's system of wrecking a railroad was almost as perfect as +his system of horse-stealing. + +A country-road wandered along beside where the railroad had been, so +Tom's progress was easy. Its bridges, too, had gone up in smoke, but the +little streams were shallow and could be forded without difficulty, for +June had been rainless and hot that year. The few houses the boy passed +were shut-up and deserted. The fear of Morgan had swept the countryside +bare of man, woman, and child. The solitude, the unnatural solitude of a +region normally full of human life, told on Tom's nerves. He longed to +see a human being. He had now left the gap in the railroad well behind, +but he was still in an Eden without an Adam or an Eve. So, as dusk came, +he rejoiced to see the gleam of a candle in a farmhouse not far ahead. +He was so sure Morgan's whole command was by this time far to the +northward that he galloped gayly up to the house--and, perforce, +presented to the Confederacy one of the best horses seized in the entire +raid. + +The gleam had come from a back window. The whole front of the house was +closed, but that is common in rustic places and Tom was sure he would +find the family in the kitchen, with both food and news to give him. +Instead he found just outside the kitchen, as he and the big bay turned +the corner, a group of dismounted cavalrymen in Confederate gray. A +mounted officer was beside them. Two mounted men, one carrying a guidon, +was nearby. Tom pulled hard on his right rein, to turn and run, and bent +close to his saddle to escape the bullets he expected. But one of the +men was already clutching the left rein. The horse reared and plunged +and kicked. The rider, to his infinite disgust, was hurled from the +saddle and landed on his hands and knees before the group. It was rather +an abject position in which to be captured. The Southerners roared with +good-humored laughter as they picked him up. Even the officer smiled at +the boy's plight. + +Before the men, on a table outside the kitchen door, lay a half-dozen +appetizing apple pies, evidently of that day's baking. The farmer's +wife, before she fled, had put them there with the hope that they might +propitiate the raiders, if they came, and so might save the house from +destruction. She did not know that Morgan's men did not make war that +way. Those of them who had come there suspected a trap in this open +offer of the pies. + +"They mout be pizened," one trooper suggested. + +At that moment, when they were hesitating between hunger and fear, Tom +butted in upon them and was seized. + +"Let the Yankee sample the pies," shouted a second soldier when the +little scurry of the capture was over. This met instant approval and +Tom, now upon his feet, was being pushed forward to the table when the +officer spoke, with a smiling dignity that showed he was the friend as +well as the commander of his rude soldiery. + +"I'll do the sampling," he said. "Give me a pie." + +He bit with strong white teeth through the savory morsel and detected no +foreign taint. The pies vanished forthwith, half of one of them down +Tom's hungry throat. Then the officer spoke to him. + +"Son," he said, "I suppose you borrowed that uniform somewhere, didn't +you? You're too young to wear it by right. Who are you?" + +He was a man of medium height, spare but splendidly built, with his face +bronzed by long campaigning in the open air, regular features, piercing +black eyes that twinkled, but could shoot fire, waving black hair above +a beautiful brow, dazzling white teeth--altogether a vivid man. His +mustache and imperial were black. He was as handsome as Abraham Lincoln +was plain, yet there was between the two, the one the son of a Southern +aristocrat, the other the son of a Southern poor white, an elusive +resemblance. It may have been the innate nobleness and kindliness of +both men. It may have been the Kentucky blood which was their common +portion. At any rate, the resemblance was there. + +[Illustration: From "Famous Adventures of the Civil War." The Century Co. + GENERAL DUKE SAMPLES THE PIES] + +Tom took one glance at the chief of his captors and then saluted with +real respect as he replied: + +"I am Thomas Strong, sir, second-lieutenant, U. S. A." + +"Upon my word, sir, I am sorry to hear it. We don't make war on boys. If +you had been, as I thought, just masquerading as a soldier, I would have +turned you loose at once. Now I must take you with us." + +Ten minutes afterwards, the little group with Tom, disarmed but unbound, +in the middle of it, was galloping northeastward. A few yards ahead of +it the officer rode with a free bridle rein, chatting with an aide +beside him. He rode like a centaur. Tom thought him one of the finest +soldiers he had ever seen. And so he was. He was Gen. Basil W. Duke, +brother-in-law, second in command, and historian of General Morgan. He +was a soldier and a gentleman, if ever God made one. + +A fortnight later, a fortnight of almost constant fighting, much of it +with home-guards and militia who feared Morgan too much to fight him +hard, but part of it with seasoned soldiers who fought as good Americans +should, Morgan crossed the Ohio again into the comparative safety of +West Virginia. He took across with him his few prisoners, including Tom. +Then, finding that the mass of his brigade had been cut off from +crossing, the Confederate general detached a dozen men to take the +prisoners south while he himself with most of the troopers with him +recrossed to where danger beckoned. On July 26, 1862, at Salineville, +Ohio, not far from Pittsburg, trapped, surrounded, and outnumbered, he +surrendered with the 364 men who were all that were left of his gallant +band. Our government made the mistake of treating him and his officers +not as captured soldiers but as arrested bandits. They were sent to the +Ohio State Penitentiary, whence Morgan made a daring escape not long +afterwards. He made his way to freedom on Southern soil. Meanwhile, Tom +had been taken to captivity on that same soil. He was in Libby Prison, +at the Confederate Capital, Richmond, Virginia. + +His journey thither had been long and hard and uneventful, except for +the gradual loss of the few things he had with him. His pistol and his +money had been taken when he was first captured. Now, as he was turned +over to one Confederate command after another, bit by bit his belongings +disappeared. His boots went early in the journey. His cap was plucked +from his head. His uniform was eagerly seized by a Confederate spy, who +meant to use it in getting inside the Union lines. When he was finally +turned over to the Provost Marshal of the chief Confederate army, +commanded by Gen. Robert E. Lee, he was bareheaded and barefoot and had +nothing to wear except an old Confederate gray shirt and the ragged +remains of what had once been a pair of Confederate gray trousers, held +about his waist by a string. He was hungry and tired and unbelievably +dirty. The one good meal he had had on his long march had been given him +at Frederick, Maryland, by a delightful old lady whom Tom always +believed to be Barbara Frietchie. + +It was August now. On July 4, Grant had taken Vicksburg and Meade had +defeated Lee at Gettysburg. The doom of the Confederacy had begun to +dawn. None the less Robert E. Lee's tattered legions, forced back from +the great offensive in Pennsylvania to the stubborn defense of Richmond, +trusted, worshiped, and loved their great general. + + * * * * * + +Meade, the Union commander, by excess of caution, had let Lee escape +after Gettysburg. He did not attack the retreating foe. Lincoln was +deeply grieved. + +"We had them within our grasp," he said, throwing out his long arms. "We +had only to stretch forth our hands and they were ours. And nothing I +could say or do could make our army move." + +Four days afterwards, General Wadsworth of New York, a gallant fighter, +one of the corps commanders who had tried to spur the too-prudent Meade +into attacking, came to the White House. + +"Why did Lee escape?" Lincoln eagerly asked him. + +"Because nobody stopped him." + +And that was the truth of it. If Lee had been stopped, the war would +have ended nearly two years before it did end. It is a wonderful proof +of Lincoln's wonderful sense of justice that though he repeated: "Our +army held the war in the hollow of their hand and they would not close +it," he added at once: "Still, I am very, very grateful to Meade for the +great service he did at Gettysburg." + + * * * * * + +Lee was a son of "Light-Horse Harry" Lee, the daring cavalry commander +of the Revolution and the author of the immortal phrase about +Washington: "First in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of +his countrymen." Robert E. Lee had had an honorable career at West Point +and in the war with Mexico and was Lieutenant-Colonel of Engineers in +the United States army when the war between the States began. He loved +his country and her flag, but he had been bred in the belief that his +loyalty was due first to Virginia rather than to the Union. When the Old +Dominion, after first refusing to secede, finally did so, Lieut.-Col. +Lee, U. S. A., became General Lee, C. S. A. Great efforts were made to +keep him on the Union side. It is said he was offered the chief command +of our army. Sadly he did his duty as he saw it. He put aside the offers +made him, resigned his commission, and left Arlington for Richmond. + +Arlington, now a vast cemetery of Union soldiers, crowns a hill on the +Virginia side of the Potomac. The city of Washington lies at its feet. +The valley of the Potomac spreads before it. From the portico of the +old-fashioned house, a portico upheld by many columns, one can look +towards Mt. Vernon, not many miles away, but hid from sight by +clustering hills. The house was built in 1802 by George Washington Parke +Custis, son of Washington's stepson, who was his aide at Yorktown in +1783, and grandson of Martha Washington. Parke Custis, who died in 1858, +directed in his will that his slaves should be freed in five years. Lee, +his son-in-law and executor, scrupulously freed them in 1863 and gave +them passes through the Confederate lines. He had already given freedom +to his own slaves. Long before the war, he wrote from Fort Brown, Texas, +to his wife: "In this enlightened age there are few, I believe, but will +acknowledge that slavery as an institution, is a moral and political +evil in any country.... I think it is a greater evil to the white than +the black race." + +[Illustration: ARLINGTON + Copyright by Underwood & Underwood. New York.] + +Robert E. Lee was one of the greatest four Virginians. He ranks with +George Washington, George Mason, and Thomas Jefferson. No praise could +be greater. When "the Lost Cause," as the Southerners fondly call their +great fight for what they believed to be right, reeled down to decisive +defeat, the general whom they had worshiped in war proved himself a +great patriot in peace. His last years were passed as President of +Washington and Lee University in Virginia. Long before his death, his +name was honored by every fair-minded man on the Northern as well as the +Southern side of Mason and Dixon's line. One of the noblest eulogies of +him was voiced upon the centennial of his birth, January 9, 1907, at +Washington and Lee University, by Charles Francis Adams. The best blood +of Massachusetts honored the best blood of Virginia. Our country was +then again one country and all of it was free. + + * * * * * + +Tom Strong was standing with a group of other prisoners, all Northern +officers, under guard, beside the Provost Marshal's tent at Lee's +headquarters. These were upon a little knoll, from which the eye ranged +over the long lines of rotten tents, huts, and heaps of brush that gave +such shelter as they could to the ragged, hungry, and undaunted legions +of the Confederacy. It was early in the morning. Scanty breakfasts were +cooking over a thousand fires. From the cook-tent at headquarters, there +came an odor of bubbling coffee that made the prisoners' hunger the +harder to bear. The whole camp was strangely silent. + +Then, in the distance, there was a storm of cheering. It gained in sound +and shrillness. The soldiers poured out of their tents by the thousand. +Those who had hats waved them; those who had not waved their arms; and +every throat joined in the famous "rebel yell." Through the shouting +thousands rode a half-dozen superbly mounted horsemen, at their head a +gallant figure, with close-cropped white beard, whiskers, and mustache, +seated upon a superb iron-gray horse, sixteen hands high, the famous +Traveler. + +[Illustration: GEN. ROBERT E. LEE ON TRAVELER] + +It was Robert E. Lee, the one hope of the Confederacy. Even his iron +self-control almost broke, as he saw the passionate joy with which he +was hailed by the survivors of the gallant gray army he had launched in +vain against the bayonet-crowned hills of Gettysburg. A flush almost as +red as that of youth crept across his pale cheeks and a mist crept into +his eyes. His charger bore him proudly up the grassy knoll where the +Union prisoners were huddled together. As his glance swept over them, +he noted with surprise the youthfulness of the boy who stood in the +front line. Many a boy as young as Tom or even younger was in the ranks +Lee led. Many an old man bent under the weight of his gun in those +ranks. The Confederacy, by this time almost bled white, was said to +have "robbed the cradle and the grave" to keep its armies at fighting +strength. The North, with many more millions of people, had not been +driven to do this. Tom was one of the few boys in the armies of the +Union. + +"Who is this?" asked Lee, as he checked Traveler before the group. + +"Thomas Strong, sir," answered the boy. + +"Your rank?" + +"Second-lieutenant, sir." + +"Where were you captured?" + +"In Ohio, sir, by General Morgan." + +Tom was faint with hunger as he was put through this little catechism. +As he made the last answer, he reeled against the next prisoner, Col. +Thomas E. Rose, of Indiana, who caught and held him. Lee misunderstood +the movement. His lip curled with disgust as he said: + +"Are you--a boy--drunk?" + +Tom was too far gone to answer, but Rose and a half-dozen others +answered for him. + +"Not drunk, but hungry, General." + +"I beg your pardon," the courteous Virginian replied, "but at least you +shall be hungry no longer. My staff and I will postpone our breakfast +until you have eaten. Pompey!" An old negro came out of the cook-tent. +He had been one of George Washington Parke Custis's slaves. When freed, +he had refused to leave "Marse Robert," whose cook he had become. He +wore the remains of a Confederate uniform. "Pompey, give these +gentlemen our breakfast. We will wait." + +"But--but--Marse Robert, I'se dun got real coffee dis mornin'." + +"Our involuntary guests," said Lee with a gentle smile as he turned to +the prisoners, "will, I hope, enjoy the real coffee." + +And enjoy it they did. It and the cornbread and bacon that came with it +were nectar and ambrosia to the hungry prisoners. The only fleck upon +the feast was when one of them, in his hurry to be served, spoke rudely +to old Pompey. The negro turned away without a word, but his feelings +were deeply hurt. When the Union officer hurled after him a word of foul +abuse, Pompey turned back, laid his hand upon his ragged uniform, and +said: + +"I doesn't objeck to de pussonal cussin', sah, but you must 'speck de +unicorn." + +After that the "unicorn" and the fine old negro who wore it were both +amply respected. When everything in sight had been eaten, the prisoners +were ordered to fall in line. Their guards stood in front of the little +column, beside it, behind it. + +"Forward, march!" + +They marched southward for a few miles, tramped through the swarming, +somber streets of Richmond, and reached Libby Prison. Its doors closed +behind them with a clang. Captivity in the open had been hard enough to +bear. This new kind of captivity, within doors, with barred windows, was +to be harder yet. Tom was to spend six weary months in Libby Prison. + + * * * * * + +It was while he was there that Abraham Lincoln made his wonderful +Gettysburg speech. + +The battlefield of Gettysburg was made sacred by the men who died there +for Freedom's sake and also by the men who died there for the sake of +what they honestly thought were the rights of the Slave States. Congress +made the battlefield a Soldiers' Cemetery. It was to be dedicated to its +great memories on November 19, 1863. The morning before a special train +left Washington for Gettysburg. It carried President Lincoln, Secretary +of State Seward, two other members of the Cabinet, the two private +secretaries, Nicolay and Hay, the distinguished Pennsylvanian, Wayne +MacVeagh, later U. S. Attorney-General and later still our Minister to +Italy, and others of lesser note. Among those latter was the Hon. Thomas +Strong, who had been made one of the party by Lincoln's kind +thoughtfulness. It was he who afterwards told his son the story of +Lincoln's Gettysburg speech, scarcely regarded at the moment, but long +since recognized as one of the masterpieces of English literature. + +The little town of Gettysburg was in a ferment that November night, when +the President's train arrived. It was full of people and bands and +whisky. Crowds strolled through the streets, serenading statesmen and +calling for speeches with an American crowd's insatiable appetite for +talky-talk. "MacVeagh," says Hay, "made a most beautiful and touching +speech of five minutes," but another Pennsylvanian made a most +disgusting and drunken speech of many minutes. Lincoln and most of his +party of course had no share in all this brawling merriment. He and +Seward had talked briefly to shouting thousands early in the evening. + +On the way up from Washington, the President had sat in a sad +abstraction. He took little part in the talk that buzzed about him. +Once, when MacVeagh was vehemently declaiming about the way the Southern +magnates were misleading the Southern masses, Lincoln said with a weary +smile one of those sayings of his which will never be forgotten. "You +can fool part of the people all the time; you can fool all the people +part of the time; but you can't fool all the people all the time." Then +he became silent again. He did not know what he was to say on the +morrow. The chief oration was to be by Edward Everett of Massachusetts, +a trained orator, fluent and finished in polished phrase. He had been +Governor of Massachusetts, Minister to England, Secretary of State, +United States Senator. He was handsome, distinguished, graceful. The +ungainly President felt that he and his words would be but a foil to +Everett and his sonorous sentences, sentences that were sure to come +rolling in like "the surge and thunder of the Odyssey." Everett had +graduated from Harvard, Lincoln from a log-cabin. Both must face on the +morrow the same audience. + +The President searched his pockets and found the stub of a pencil. From +the aisle of the car, he picked up a piece of brown wrapping paper, +thrown there by Seward, who had just opened a package of books in the +opposite seat. He penciled a few words, bent his head upon his great +knotted hand in thought, then penciled a few more. Then he struck out +some words and added others, read his completed task and did not find it +good. He shook his head, stuffed the brown wrapping paper into his +pocket, and took up again his interrupted talk with MacVeagh. + +At eleven the next morning, from an open-air platform on the +battlefield, Everett held the vast audience through two hours of fervent +speech, fervent with patriotism, fervent also with bitterness against +the men he called "the Southern rebels." His speech was literature and +his voice was music. As the thunder of his peroration ended a +thunderstorm of applause began. When it, too, died away, there shambled +to the front of the platform an ungainly, badly dressed man, contrasting +sharply and in every way disadvantageously with Everett of the silver +tongue. This man's tongue betrayed him too. He tried to pitch his voice +to reach all that vast audience and his first words came in a squeaking +falsetto. A titter ran through the crowd. Lincoln stopped speaking. +There were a few seconds of painful silence. Then he came to his own. +With a voice enriched by a passionate sincerity, he began again and +finished his Gettysburg speech. Here it is: + +"Fourscore and seven years ago, our fathers brought forth on this +Continent a new nation, conceived in liberty and dedicated to the +proposition that all men are created equal. Now we are engaged in a +great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation, so +conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great +battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of it as a +final resting-place for those who here gave their lives that that nation +might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this. +But in a larger sense we cannot dedicate, we cannot consecrate, we +cannot hallow, this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who +struggled here, have consecrated it far above our poor power to add or +to detract. The world will little note nor long remember what we say +here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us, the +living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they +who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to +be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us--that from these +honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they +here gave the last full measure of devotion--that we here highly resolve +that these dead shall not have died in vain; that this nation, under +God, shall have a new birth of freedom; and that government of the +people, by the people, for the people shall not perish from the earth." + +The President ceased to speak. There was no thunderstorm of applause +such as had followed Everett's studied sentences and polished periods. +There was no applause at all. One long stir of emotion throbbed through +the silent throng, but did not break the silence. Then the multitude +dispersed, talking of what Everett had said, thinking of what Lincoln +had said. Most of the notables on the platform thought the President's +speech a failure. Time has shown that it was one of the greatest things +even he ever did. + +Mary Raymond Shipman Andrews has written in her short story "The Perfect +Tribute" the history of the Gettysburg speech. The boy who would know +what manner of man our Abraham Lincoln was should read "The Perfect +Tribute." One of the characters in the story, a dying Confederate +officer, says to Lincoln without knowing to whom he was speaking: "The +speech so went home to the hearts of all those thousands of people that +when it ended it was as if the whole audience held its breath--there was +not a hand lifted to applaud. One might as well applaud the Lord's +prayer--it would be sacrilege. And they all felt it--down to the lowest. +There was a long minute of reverent silence, no sound from all that +great throng--it seems to me, an enemy, that it was the most perfect +tribute that has ever been paid by any people to any orator." + +The Gettysburg speech was not for the moment. It is for all time. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + TOM IS HUNGRY--HE LEARNS TO "SPOON" BY SQUADS--THE BULLET AT THE + WINDOW--WORKING ON THE TUNNEL--"RAT HELL"--THE RISK OF THE + ROLL-CALL--WHAT HAPPENED TO JAKE JOHNSON, CONFEDERATE SPY--TOM IN + LIBBY PRISON--HANS ROLF ATTENDS HIM--HANS REFUSES TO ESCAPE--THE + FLIGHT THROUGH THE TUNNEL--FREE, BUT HOW TO STAY SO? + + +When the war between the States began, Libby & Son were a thriving firm +of merchants in Richmond. They owned a big warehouse, which fronted on +Carey Street and extended back over land that sloped down to another +street, which occupied all the space between the southern wall of the +warehouse and the canal that here bordered the James River. The building +was full before the war of that rich Virginia tobacco which Thackeray +praises in "The Virginians" and which the worn-out lands of the Old +Dominion can no longer produce. + +[Illustration: LIBBY PRISON AFTER THE WAR] + +The prisoners in Libby had painfully little to eat. The whole South was +hungry. When Confederate soldiers were starving, Confederate prisoners +could not expect to fatten. Nor was this the only evil thing. The prison +was indescribably unclean. The cellar and the lower floor, upon which no +prisoners were allowed except in the dining-room in the middle of the +floor and the hospital, swarmed with huge rats which climbed upstairs at +night and nipped mouthfuls of human flesh when they could. There was no +furniture. The prisoners slept on the floor, so crowded together that +they had to lie spoon fashion in order to lie down at all. They had +divided themselves into squads and had chosen commanders. Tom found +himself assigned to Squad Number Four. The first night, when he had at +last sunk into uncomfortable sleep upon the hard floor, he was awakened +by the sharp command of the captain of his group: + +"Attention, Squad No. Four! Prepare to spoon! One, two, spoon!" + +The squad flopped over, from one weary bruised side to another. It +seemed to the worn-out boy that he had just "spooned," when again he +waked to hear the queer command and again he flopped. This was a sample +of many nights. + +On the following morning Tom had one of the narrow escapes of his life. +He was leaning against one of the barred windows, looking at the broad +valley of the James, when he was suddenly seized violently by the arm +and jerked to one side. His arm ached with the vice-like grip that had +been laid upon it and his knees, sticking through his torn trousers, had +been barked against the floor, as he was dragged back, but he turned to +the man who had laid hold of him, not with anger, but with thankfulness. +For, at the second he had been seized a bullet had whizzed through the +window just where his head had been. If he had not been jerked away, the +Chronicles of Tom Strong would have ended then and there. + +If Tom was not angry, the man was. He glared at him. + +"You little fool, don't you know better than that?" + +When the boy heard himself called a fool, he did become angry, but after +all this big person had saved his life, even if he did call him names. +So he swallowed his wrath--which is an excellent thing to do with +wrath--and answered quite meekly: + +"No, sir, I don't know better. Can't we look out of the windows?" + +"Hasn't anybody told you that?" + +"No, sir." + +"Then I shouldn't have called you a fool." Tom smiled and nodded in +acceptance of the implied apology. "The sentries outside have orders to +fire whenever they see anybody at a window. Last week two men were +killed that way. I thought you were a goner, sure, when I saw you +looking out. Sorry if I hurt you, but it's better to be hurt than to be +killed. Shake." + +The boy wrung the big man's hand and thanked him for his timely aid. +They strolled together up and down the big room now deserted by most of +its occupants, who had begun below their patient wait for dinner. The +man was Colonel Rose. He found Tom to his liking. And he needed an +intelligent boy in his business. Just then Colonel Rose's business was +to escape. This seemed hopeless, but the Colonel did not think so. Yet +it had been often tried and had always failed. When several hundred +intelligent Americans are shut up, through no fault of their own, in a +most unpleasant prison, with nothing to do, they are quite certain to +find something to do by planning an escape and by trying to make the +plan a reality. One trouble about the former plans at Libby had been +that the whole mass of prisoners had known about them. There must always +be leaders in such an enterprise, but hitherto the leaders had taken the +crowd into their confidence. Now there were Confederate spies in the +crowd, sham prisoners. The former plots had always been found out. Once +or twice they had been allowed to ripen and the first fugitives had +found their first free breath their last, for they had stumbled into a +trap and had been instantly shot down upon the threshold of freedom. +More often the ringleaders had disappeared, spirited away without +warning and probably shot, while their scared followers had been left to +despair. Rose had learned the history of all the past attempts. He +planned along new lines. He decided upon absolute secrecy, except for +the men who were actually to do the work. This work involved a good +deal of burrowing into holes that must be particularly narrow at first +and never very big. A strong, lithe boy could get into a hole where a +stout man could not go. Once in, he could enlarge it so that many men +could follow. Colonel Rose wanted a human mole. He had picked Tom Strong +for the job. Now, in whispered sentences, he told the boy of the plan +and asked his aid. Tom's shining eyes threatened to tell how important +the talk was. + +"Act as though you were uninterested, my boy," Colonel Rose warned him. +"Keep your eyelids down. Yawn occasionally." + +So Tom tried to look dull, which was not at all his natural appearance. +He studied the floor as if he expected to find diamonds upon it. He +yawned so prodigiously as to attract the attention he was trying to +escape. An amateur actor is apt to overact his part. And all the time he +was listening with a passionate interest to Colonel Rose's story of the +way to freedom. Of course he was glad to try to help make the hope a +fact. + +That night the work began. The kitchen dining-hall was deserted from 10 +P.M. to 4 A.M., so it was selected as the field of operation. Below the +kitchen was the carpenter-shop. No opening could be made into that +without instant detection. On the same floor with the kitchen and just +east of it was the hospital. That room must be avoided too. Below the +hospital was an unused cellar, half full of rotting straw and all full +of squealing rats. It was called "Rat Hell." Outside of it was a small +sewer that led to a larger one which passed under the canal and emptied +its contents into the James River. These sewers were to be the highway +to freedom. The first step must be to get from the kitchen to Rat Hell. +To do this it was necessary to dig through a solid stone wall a reversed +"S," like this: + +[Illustration: Reverse S] + +The upper end of the secret passage was to open into the kitchen +fireplace, the lower into Rat Hell. There were fourteen men in the +secret, besides Tom. Between them, they had just one tool, an old knife. +One of them owned a bit of burlap, used sometimes as a mattress and +sometimes as a bed-quilt. It had a new use now. It was spread upon the +kitchen hearth in the midnight darkness and a pile of soot was pulled +down upon it. Then the mortar between a dozen bricks at the back of the +fireplace was cut out with the knife and the bricks pried out of place. +This was done by Major A. G. Hamilton, Colonel Rose's chief assistant. +He carefully replaced the bricks and flung handfuls of soot over them. +He and Rose crept upstairs, carrying the sooty bit of burlap with them, +and slept through what was left of the night. The next day was an +anxious time for them. When they went down to the kitchen, where a +couple of hundred men were gathered, it seemed to them that the marks of +their toil by night were too plain not to be seen by some of them. Their +nervousness made them poor judges. Nobody saw what had been done. That +night, as soon as the last straggler left, Rose and Hamilton again +removed the bricks and attacked the stubborn stone behind the fireplace. +Fortunately the stones were not large. Bit by bit they were pried out of +the loosened mortar. + +Now came Tom's chance to serve the good cause. He was a proud boy, a few +nights later, when he was permitted to go down to the kitchen with the +Colonel and the Major, in order that he might creep into the hole they +had made and enlarge it. His heels wiggled in the air. He laid upon his +stomach in the upper part of the reversed "S" and plied the old knife as +vigorously as it could be plied without making a tell-tale noise. When +he had widened the passage, one of the men took his place in it and +drove it downward. One night Colonel Rose in his eagerness got into the +opening before the lower part of it had been sufficiently enlarged and +stuck there. It was only by a terrible effort that Hamilton and Tom +finally dragged him out, bruised, bleeding and gasping for breath. +Finally, after many nights, Rat Hell was reached. A bit of rope, stolen +from about a box of food sent a prisoner, had been made into a rope +ladder. It was hung from the edge of the hole. The three crept +cautiously down to Rat Hell. This haven did not seem much like heaven. +With squeals of wrath, the rats attacked the intruders and the intruders +fled up their ladder. They were no match for a myriad rats. Moreover +they feared lest the noise would bring into the basement the sentry +whose steps they could hear on the sidewalk outside. So they fled, +taking their rope-ladder with them, and again, as ever, they replaced +the bricks and painted them with the friendly soot. + +The next night, armed this time with sticks of wood, they fought it out +with the rats and made them understand their masters had come to stay. +Fortunately the fight was short. It was noisy and the sentry came. But +when he opened the door from the street and looked into the darkness of +the basement, the Union officers were safely hid under the straw and +only a few of the defeated rats still squealed. At last the tunnel to +the sewer could be begun. Colonel Rose had long since decided, by +forbidden, stealthy glances from an upper window, just where it was to +be. The measurement made above was now made below, the straw against +the eastern wall was rolled aside and the old knife, or what was left of +it after its battle with brick and stone, was put to the easier task of +digging dirt. + +[Illustration: FIGHTING THE RATS + +From "Famous Adventures of the Civil War." + +The Century Co.] + +Soon a new difficulty had to be met. Before the tunnel was five feet +long, the air in it became so foul that candles went out in it. So would +the lives of the diggers have gone out if they had stayed in it long. +Five of the fifteen now went down each night, so that everybody had two +nights' rest out of three. But the progress made was pitifully slow. Man +after man was hauled by his heels out of the poisonous pit, almost at +his last gasp. Once, when Hamilton had been brought out and was being +fanned back to life by Colonel Rose and Tom, the boy whispered: + +"Why not fan air into the tunnel?" + +Nobody had thought of that obvious plan. Like most great inventions it +was simple--when seen. Thereafter one or two men always sat at the end +of the tunnel fanning air into it with their hats. But even so, many a +candle went out and many a digger was pulled out, black in the face and +almost dead. + +The tunnel sloped downwards, of course, to reach the sewer. It sloped +too far down. It got below the water-level of the canal. Hamilton was +caught in it by the rush of water and almost drowned. So much work had +to be done over again. Then came a crushing blow. When the small sewer +was finally reached, it proved to be too small for a man to pass through +it. But it had a wooden lining, which was bit by bit taken off. When +this had been done to within a few feet of the main sewer, two men were +detailed to cut their way through. The next night was set as the time +for the escape. None of the thirteen slept while the two were cutting +away the final obstacle. The thirteen did not sleep the next night +either, for it was 36 hours before the two came back with their +heartbreaking news. They had found the last few feet of the sewer-lining +made of seasoned oak, three inches thick and hard as stone. The poor +old knife that had served them so long and so well, could not even +scratch the toughened oak. Thirty-nine nights of grinding toil had ended +in failure. + +Meanwhile the thirteen had had to face a new problem. There were two +roll-calls every day, at 9 A.M. and 4 P.M. How were the two absent men +to answer? At roll-call everybody stood in one long line and everybody +was counted. If the count were two short, there would be swift search +for the missing. And the beginning of the tunnel was hidden only by a +few bundles of straw. This was before they knew the tunnel was useless, +but had they known it they would have been scarcely less anxious, for +its discovery would have made all future attempts to escape more +dangerous and more doubtful. However, the roll-call problem was safely +solved. The thirteen crowded into the upper end of the line and two of +them, as soon as they had answered to their own names, dropped back, +crouched down, crept behind the backs of many men to the other end of +the line, slipped into place, and there answered for the missing men, +without detection. In the afternoon, they came very near being caught. +Some of the other prisoners thought this was being done just for fun, to +confuse the Confederate clerk who called the roll, and thought they +would take a hand in the fun too. There was so much dodging and double +answering that "Little Ross," the good-humored little clerk, lost his +temper and ordered the captives to stand in squads of ten to be counted. +By this time he had called the roll half a dozen times, with results +varying from minus one to plus fifteen. When he gave his order, an order +obedience to which would have certainly told the tale of two absentees, +he went on to explain why he gave it. + +"Now, gentlemen, there's one thing sho'; there's eight or ten of you-uns +yere that ain't yere." + +This remarkable statement brought a shout of laughter from the +Confederate guards. The prisoners joined in it. "Little Ross" himself +caught the contagion and also began to laugh. + +[Illustration: From "Famous Adventures of the Civil War." The Century Co. + + SECTIONAL VIEW OF LIBBY PRISON AND THE TUNNEL + + 1. Streight's room; 2. Milroy's room; 3. Commandant's office; 4. + Chickamauga room (upper); 5. Chickamauga room (lower); 6. + Dining-room; 7. Carpenter's shop (middle cellar); 8. Gettysburg + room (upper); 9. Gettysburg room (lower); 10. Hospital room; 11. + East or "Rat Hell" cellar; 12. South side Canal street, ten feet + lower than Carey street; 13. North side Carey street, ground + sloping toward Canal; 14. Open lot; 15. Tunnel; 16. Fence; 17. + Shed; 18. Kerr's warehouse; 19. Office James River Towing Co.; 20. + Gate; 21. Prisoners escaping; 22. West cellar.] + +The dreaded order was laughed out of court and forgotten. + +The two men crept upstairs early the next morning. The first night +daylight had caught them at work, so they had not dared to return, but +had stayed and had worked through the 36 hours. They brought back the +handle of the knife, with a mere stump of a blade, and the depressing +news of failure. But men who are fit for freedom do not cease to strive +for it. If one road to it is blocked, they seek another. That very day, +when the fifteen had gathered together and the two had told their tale, +a pallor of despair crept over some of the faces, but it was dispelled +by the flush of hope when Colonel Rose said: "If we can't go south, +we'll go east; we must tunnel to the yard beyond the vacant lot. We'll +begin tonight." + +"But," objected one doubting Thomas, "from the yard we'd have to come +out on the street. There's a gas-lamp there--and a sentry." + +"We can put out the lamp and if need be the sentry," Colonel Rose +answered, "when we get to them. The thing now is to get there. We have +fifty-three feet of tunnel to dig, if my figures are correct. That's a +job of a good many nights. This night will see the job begun." + +It was begun with a broad chisel kind Fate had put in their way and with +a big wooden spittoon, tied to a rope. This, when filled with earth, was +pulled out, emptied, and returned for a fresh load. A fortnight +afterwards the officer who was digging that night made a mistake in +levels and came too near the surface, which broke above him. Dismayed, +he backed out and reported the blunder. The hole was in plain sight. +Discovery was certain if it were not hidden. The story was but half told +when Colonel Rose began stripping off his blouse. + +"Here, Tom, take this. It's as dirty as the dirt and won't show. Stuff +it into the hole so it will lie flat on the surface. Quick!" + +Tom wriggled along the tunnel to the hole. There he smeared some more +dirt on the dirty blouse, put it into the hole with cunning care, and +wriggled back. That morning at sunrise, when they peeked down from +their prison windows into the eastern lot, even their straining eyes +could scarcely see the tiny bit of blouse that showed. No casual glance +would detect it. Of that they were sure. + + * * * * * + +Every few days new prisoners were thrust into Libby. Whenever this +happened it was the custom that on the first evening they should tell +whatever news they could of the outside world and of their own capture +to the whole prison community. One morning the keeper of Libby receipted +for another captured Yankee and soon Captain Jacob Johnson appeared in +the grimy upper rooms. He responded very cordially, rather too +cordially, to the greetings he received. It soon became understood that +he was only a guerilla captain from Tennessee. Now neither side was +overproud of the guerillas who infested the borderland, who sometimes +called themselves Unionists and sometimes Confederates, and who did more +stealing than fighting. So a rather cold shoulder was turned to the new +captive, though the community's judgment upon him was deferred until +after he should have been heard that evening. He seemed to try to warm +the cold shoulder by a certain greasy sidling to and fro and by attempts +at too familiar conversation. He began to talk to Colonel Rose, who soon +shook him off, and to sundry other persons, among whom was Tom. The boy +was not mature enough in the ways of the world to get rid of him. +Johnson spent some hours with him and bored him to distraction. There +was a mean uneasiness about him that repelled Tom. His face, an +undeniably Yankee face, awoke some unpleasant memory, from time to time, +but the boy could not place him and finally decided that this was merely +a fancy, not a fact. None the less the man himself was an unpleasant +fact. He peered about and sidled about in a way that might be due only +to Yankee curiosity, but Tom didn't like it. He disliked Johnson more +and more as the newcomer kept returning to him and growing more +confidential. His talk was on various natural enough themes, but it +kept veering back to the chances of escape. + +"I don't mean to stay in this hole long," Johnson whispered. "Pretty +mean-spirited in all these fellows to just hang around here, without +even trying to make a getaway. What d'ye say 'bout our trying it on, +son?" + +The familiar address increased the boy's dislike of the man, but he was +too young to realize that he was being "sounded" by a spy. He was old +enough, however, to know how to keep his mouth shut about the pending +plan for an escape. He thought Johnson got nothing out of him, but in +the many half-confidential talks the unpleasant Yankee forced upon him, +perhaps he had revealed something after all. Perhaps, however, the +newcomer got such information as he did from other men in the secret. +Certainly he got somewhere an inkling of the plan of escape. + +That evening, when he stood in a circle of sitting men to tell his +story,--a simple tale of Northern birth, of a Southern home, of belief +in the Union, of raising a guerilla company to fight for it, of capture +in a raid on a Confederate supply-depot,--the unpleasant memory which +had been troubling Tom came back and hammered at his head until +suddenly, as if a flashlight had been turned on the scene, he saw +himself sprawling on the hearth of Uncle Mose's slave-cabin, with this +man's hand clutching his ankle. He was sitting on the floor beside +Colonel Rose. He leant against him and whispered: + +"That man didn't come from Tennessee. He was overseer on a plantation in +Alabama. He 'most captured me once. I b'lieve he's a spy." + +Johnson caught the gleam of Colonel Rose's eye fixed upon him. He had +seen Tom whisper to him. He faltered, stopped speaking, and sat down. +Rose walked across the circle and sat beside him. He had snapped his +fingers as he walked and half a dozen men had answered the signal and +were now close at hand. + +"What did you do before you turned guerilla?" asked Colonel Rose. + +"I don't know that that's any of your darned business," said Johnson. + +"Answer me." + +The stronger man dominated the weaker. The spy sulkily said: + +"I kept a general shop in Jonesboro', Tennessee." + +"Ever live anywhere else in the South?" + +"No." + +"Ever do anything else in the South?" + +"No, sirree. What's the good of asking such questions?" + +The Colonel rose to his feet and said aloud: + +"Major Hamilton." + +"Here, sir," answered the Major. + +"Didn't you live in Jonesboro', Tennessee, before the war?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"How long?" + +"Seven years." + +"Who kept the general store there?" + +"Hezekiah Butterworth, from Maine." + +"Did you know him?" + +"Rather. We were chums. He and I left Jonesboro' together to join the +army." + +"Is this man he?" + +Rose pointed to where Jake Johnson sat at his feet, cowering, covering +his face with his hands. Other hands not too gently snatched Jake's +hands from his face. Hamilton looked at him. + +"He's no more Hezekiah Butterworth than he's General Grant." + +By this time the whole prison community was crowded about Colonel Rose. +The latter called again: + +"Mr. Strong." + +"Here, sir," Tom's voice piped up. + +"Do you know this man?" + +"Yes, sir." Tom told the story of Jake Johnson on the Izzard plantation. + +There was an ominous low growl from the audience. Yankee overseers of +Southern plantations were not exactly popular in that crowd of Northern +officers. And evidently this particular overseer had been lying. But +Colonel Rose lifted his hand and said: + +"Silence. No violence. What we do will be done decently and in order." +After this impressive speech, he suddenly yelled: "Ah, you would, would +you?" and choked Johnson with every pound of strength he could put into +the process. He had just seen him slip a bit of paper into his mouth and +he meant to know what that paper was. It was plucked out of the spy's +throat as he gasped for air. Upon it the spy's pencil had written: + +"Plot to escape. Lieutenant Strong knows about it. Think Colonel Rose +heads it." + +It was to have been Jake Johnson's first report in his new business of +being a spy. It put an end to all business on his part forever. Gagged +and tied, he was pushed across the big room, while Tom watched +uncomprehendingly, wondering what was to be done with the writhing man. +Suddenly he understood, for he saw it done. Johnson was pushed into a +window. Two kneeling men held his legs and another, standing beside him +but screened by the wall, pushed him in front of the window. The +Confederate sentry below obeyed his orders. There was no challenge, no +warning. He aimed and fired at the prisoner who was breaking the laws of +the prison by looking out of the window. What had been Jake Johnson, +Yankee, negro-overseer, Confederate conscript, volunteer spy, fell in a +dead heap to the floor of Libby. Gag and bonds were quickly removed, so +there was nothing to tell the Confederates the real cause of the man's +death when they came to remove the body. They had unwittingly executed +their own spy. + + * * * * * + +It was right that the man should die, but the shock of seeing him done +to death was too much for Tom. Weakened by the fatigues and hardship of +the long captivity during which he had been carried from Ohio to +Virginia and worn out by the sufferings of life in Libby and by the toil +of the tunnel, the boy collapsed when Jake Johnson did and for a few +moments seemed as dead as the man was. He was taken to the +hospital-room, but the hospital in Libby was usually only the anteroom +of the graveyard at Libby. One of the scarcest things in the +Confederacy, the home of scarcity, was a good doctor. The armies in the +field needed far more doctors than there were in the whole South, at the +outbreak of the war. Medical schools were quickly created, but the +demand for doctors so far outran the supply that by this time ignorant +country lads were being rushed through the schools, with reckless haste, +so that they were graduated when they knew but little more than when +they began. A so-called surgeon was handling his scalpel six months +after he had been handling a plow. Some of them barely knew how to read +and write. It was inevitable that the prison hospitals should be manned +by the poorest of the poor among the graduates of these wretched +schools. A fortunate chance, fortunate that is for Tom, gave him, +however, care that was both skilful and tender. + +A few hours after the righteous execution of Jake Johnson there had been +thrust into Libby a fresh group of prisoners, captured but fortyeight +hours before. Among them towered a jovial, bearded giant, an army +surgeon, Major Hans Rolf. Libby was ringing of course with talk of what +had happened there that day. The new prisoners quickly heard of Johnson +and of Tom Strong. Within an hour, Hans Rolf had given his parole not to +try to escape and had been allowed to station himself beside Tom's bed. +Through that night and through the next day, he fought Tom's battle for +him, doing all that man could do. When the boy struggled out of his +delirium and saw Rolf's kind eyes beaming upon him, his first thought +was that he was still in the clutches of Wilkes Booth in the railroad +car. His right hand plucked feebly at his left side, where he had then +carried the dispatches Booth sought. Hans Rolf saw and understood the +movement. + +"It's all right, Tom," he said. "Everything's all right. Go to sleep." + +And Tom, still a bit stupefied, thought everything was all right and +that he was home in New York, with Rolf somehow or other there too. A +gracious and beautiful Richmond woman, who gave her days to caring for +her country's enemies, bent over him with a smile. The boy's eyes +gleamed with a mistaken belief. + + * * * * * + +"Oh, Mother!" gasped Tom. He smiled back and sank gently into a profound +sleep, from which he awoke to life and health. Again a Hans Rolf had +saved a Tom Strong's life. + +Night after night passed, one night of work by each man followed by two +of such rest as lying spoon fashion upon a hard floor allowed. On the +seventeenth night of the new tunnel work, Colonel Rose was digging away +in it. It was over fifty feet long. His candle flickered and went out. +The foul air closed in upon him. Hats were fanning to and fro, back in +Rat Hell, fifty feet away, but the fresh air did not reach him. He felt +himself suffocating. With one last effort he thrust his strong fists +upward and broke through the surface. Soon revived by the rush of fresh +air into the tunnel, he dragged himself out and found himself in the +yard that had been their aim. The tunnel had reached its goal. He +climbed out and studied the situation. A high fence screened the yard +from Libby. A shed with an easily opened door screened it from the +street. At three A.M., February 6, 1864, Colonel Rose returned to +prison. + +That morning he told his news. Most of the men wanted to try for freedom +the next night, but there was much to do to erase all traces of their +work, so that, if the tunnel were not forthwith discovered after their +flight, it could be used later by other fugitives. With a rare +unselfishness, they waited for sixty hours. Meanwhile each of the +fifteen had been authorized to tell one other man, so that thirty in all +could make their escape together. Colonel Rose felt that this was the +limit. A general prison-delivery would, he believed, result in a general +recapture. Such a secret, however, was too mighty to keep a whisper of +it spread through the prison. + +When Hans Rolf had saved Tom's life, he had been at once taken into the +inner councils of the tunnel group. He had not expressed as much joy in +the plan as Tom had expected. The reason of this was now revealed. He +declined to go. + +"You see," he explained to Colonel Rose and Tom, "I gave my parole not +to try to escape when Tom here was sick. I had to do so in order to be +allowed to take care of him. I made up my mind not to ask to be relieved +from it because if I had the Confeds. might have suspected some plan to +escape was on hand. And they seem to have forgotten all about it, for +they haven't cancelled it. So you see I'm bound in honor not to go. +Don't bother, Tom." The boy's face showed the agony he felt that Hans +Rolf's kindness to him should now bar Hans Rolf's way to freedom. "Don't +bother. 'Twon't be long before I'll be exchanged. And p'raps I can save +some lives here by staying. Don't bother. It's all right. I rather like +this boarding-house." + +The giant's great laugh rang out. The heartiness of it amazed the weary +men scattered about the room. It brought smiles to lips that had not +smiled for many a day. Laughter that comes from a clean heart does good +to all who hear it. + +It was clear that Rolf could not go. He was an officer and a gentleman. +Honor forbade it. Sadly, Tom left him. + +On Tuesday evening, February 9, 1864, when the chosen thirty had crawled +down the inverted "S" and the rope-ladder to Rat Hell, Col. H. C. +Hobart, who knew the secret, but had gallantly offered to stay behind, +so that he could replace the tell-tale bricks in the fireplace, replaced +them. But before he could get upstairs, some hundreds of men had come +down. The secret was a secret no longer. There was a fierce struggle to +get to the fireplace, a struggle all the fiercer because it had to be +made in grim silence, for there was a sentry but a few feet away, on the +other side of the wall, in the hospital. The bricks were taken out +again. In all, one hundred and nine Union officers got through the hole. +Then, warned by approaching daylight, the less fortunate in the fight +for freedom put back the bricks and crept stealthily upstairs, resolved +to try their luck the next night, if the tunnel were not before that +discovered. + +Tom had wormed his way through the inverted "S" among the first fifteen. +On the rope ladder he lost his hold and fell in a heap upon the floor of +Rat Hell. The huge rodents swarmed upon him, squealing and biting. He +almost shrieked with the horror of it, but he sprang to his feet, threw +off his tormentors, and ran across the room to the opening of the +tunnel. His ragged clothes were still more ragged and his face and hands +were bleeding from rat-bites, but he cared nothing for all this. Was he +not on his way to freedom? On his way, yes; but the way was a long one. +He might never reach the end. When he had pushed and pulled himself +through the tunnel; when he had come out into the yard and gone through +the shed; and when, at the moment the sentry in the canal street was at +the further end of his beat, he had slipped out of the doorway and +turned in the opposite direction,--when all this had happened, he was +out of prison, to be sure, but he was in the heart of the enemy's +country, with all the risks of recapture or of death still to be run. + +The men had all been cautioned to stroll away in a leisurely fashion, on +no account to run or even to walk fast, and not to try to get away in +groups of more than two or three. It was hard to walk slowly to the next +corner. The boy made himself do so, however. Half a block ahead of him +on the side street, he saw a couple of men walking with a somewhat +faster stride. He hurried ahead to join them. A Confederate patrol +turned the corner of Carey Street. He heard the two men challenged and +he heard the little scuffle as they were seized. Their brief moment of +freedom had passed. He stepped to one side of the wooden sidewalk and +crawled under it. There was just space enough for him to lie at full +length. Hurrying feet, the feet of men hunting other men, trampled an +inch above his nose. His heart beat so that he thought it must be heard. +The patrol reached the street along the canal and peered into the +darkness there, a darkness feebly fought by one flickering gas-lamp. +Fortunately, nobody came out of the shed just then. The sentry happened +to be coming towards it and the men inside were waiting for him to turn. +The patrol had no thought of a general jail-delivery. It turned back +with its two prisoners, tramped back over Tom's head to Carey Street, +and took its captives to the prison. The boy crawled out from under the +sidewalk as the next batch of fugitives, three of them, reached the +corner. He ran down to them and warned them of the Carey Street patrol. +The three men turned with him and walked along the canal. It was just +after midnight. Not a soul was stirring. Not a light showed. As they +walked unquestioned, their spirits rose. How fine to be free. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + TOM HIDES IN A RIVER BANK--EATS RAW FISH--JIM GRAYSON AIDS + HIM--DOWN THE JAMES RIVER ON A TREE--PASSING THE PATROL + BOATS--CANNONADED--THE END OF THE VOYAGE. + + +Tom had made up his mind how he would try to reach the Union lines. As +he had escaped before from the locomotive-foray by pushing boldly into +the enemy's country, so he would do now. He would try his luck in +following the James River to the sea, for off the river's mouth he knew +there lay a squadron of Northern ships, blockading Hampton Roads. The +"Merrimac's" attempt of March, 1862, had never been repeated. Our flag +was still there, in these February days of 1864, and Tom knew it. He had +resolved to seek it there. + +He explained his plan to his three comrades. They would steal a boat, +row or drift down the James by night, hide and sleep by day, forage for +food upon the rich plantations, many of them the historic homes of +Virginia, that bordered the broad river, and finally float to freedom +where our war-ships lay. But the three men would have nothing to do with +it. By land the Union lines were much nearer. They meant to stick to the +land. They asked the boy to go with them, but he stuck to his plan. So, +with hearty handshakes and a whispered "good luck!" he left them, went +over a canal-bridge, and found himself upon the bank of the river. He +was again alone. + +Of his three temporary companions, one finally reached our lines, one +was shot within a few hundred yards of his goal, and one was recaptured. +Of the 109 who escaped from Libby, 48 were caught and thrust back into +prison. + +Tom walked along the river bank, prying in the welcome darkness for a +boat. It would not have been difficult to steal it, if he could have +found it. But at this point the James is wide and shallow and full of +miniature rapids. It was utterly bare of boats. The boy's search could +not be carried on after dawn. He spent that day hidden in a clump of +willows by the waterside. The excitement of the night had kept him up. +Now the reaction from it left him limp and miserable and hungry as he +never remembered being hungry before. It was hard work to "grin and bear +it," but at least he tried to grin and he reminded himself a thousand +times through that long, long day that he was much better off than if he +were still a prisoner in Libby. + +That night he followed the bank until he was below the city, still +without finding a boat. There had been plenty of boats along this part +of the river the morning before, but as soon as the escape from Libby +had been discovered, all boats had been seized by the military +authorities, to prevent their being used by the fugitives. They had been +taken to a point below the town. As Tom wormed himself cautiously near +this point, very cautiously, for he heard voices upon the bank above his +head, and also the crackle of a camp-fire, he saw in the gray dawn a +flotilla of boats just below him. At first sight, his heart leaped into +his mouth with joy. At the second sight, it sank down into his boots. +For above the boats he saw a big Confederate camp and beyond them he saw +a half-dozen small craft, negroes at the oars and armed men at bow and +stern, patrolling the river. Hope left him. He crawled into a +hiding-place in the bank. He was so hungry that he cried. But not for +long. Stout hearts do not yield to such weakness long. If he could not +escape in a boat fashioned by man's hands, why not in one fashioned by +God? The early spring freshets of the James were making the river higher +every hour. He saw in cautious peeps from the hole where he had hidden +great trees from far-off forests, uprooted there by the high water, come +plunging down mid-channel like battering rams. He noted that the +patrol-boats gave these dangerous monsters a wide berth. If a trunk of a +tree were to ram them or if the far-flung branches were to strike them, +their next patrol would be at the bottom of the river. On a sandbank not +a hundred yards from the boy's lair a big oak had stranded. It lay +quite still now, but it evidently would not do so for many hours, for +the rising water lapped higher and higher against it. Tom made up his +mind that that tree should be his boat--if only it were still there when +it was dark enough for him to swim out to it. Through the daylight hours +he watched it with lynx eyes, fearing lest it were swept along towards +the sea before he could shelter himself in it. And through these +daylight hours he grew ever more faint with hunger, until he told +himself that he must have food, at any risk, at any cost. Without the +strength it would give, he felt he could not possibly swim even the +hundred yards that lay between him and the now tossing tree. There is +truth in the line: + + "Fate cannot harm me; I have dined today." + +It is too much to do to face Fate on an empty stomach. Napoleon said +that an army traveled on its belly. Men must have food if they are to +march and fight. + +A Confederate soldier sauntered along the shore and stopped just in +front of the boy's hiding-place. He had a rude fish-pole. Either he knew +how to fish, or the James River fish were very hungry. A string of a +dozen hung from his shoulder. The sight of them was too much for Tom to +stand. A raw fish seemed to him the most toothsome morsel in the world. +He knew he was courting certain capture, but he was starving. He would +pretend to be a Confederate himself. He spoke to the soldier, not out of +the fullness of his heart, but out of the emptiness of his stomach. + +"I'm hungry," he said, "give a fellow a fish, will you?" + +The soldier turned with a start. He was a tall, gaunt man, an East +Tennessee mountaineer, who had started to join the Union army when a +Confederate conscript-officer seized him and sent him South, under +guard, to serve the cause he had meant to fight against. East Tennessee +was, as a rule, loyal to the Union. The men from there who were found in +the Confederate army were like the poor peons who are supposed to +"volunteer" in the Mexican army. "I send you fifty volunteers," wrote a +Mexican mayor to a Mexican general, "please return me the ropes." Jim +Grayson had not been tied up with a rope, but he had had a bayonet +behind him, when he was put into the Confederate ranks. He was a man of +intelligence and of rather more education than most of his fellow +mountaineers. Many of them could not even read and write. Grayson had +learned both at a "deestrik skule" and had actually had a year, a +precious year, at a "high skule." The last thing he had read before +starting to fish that morning had been the printed handbills that had +been flung broadcast by the Confederate authorities, announcing the +escape of 108 men and one boy from Libby Prison and offering rewards for +their recapture. And the first thing he thought as he saw Tom in his +hole in the bank was that he was probably the boy of the handbills. He +meant to give the fellow a fish, of course, but if he found the fellow +was that boy he also meant to do what he could to help him go where he +himself wanted to go, to the Union lines. + +"Sholy, I'll give you a fish," he said. "You can have all you want. I'll +light a fire and cook some for you." + +"I can't wait," gasped Tom, wolf-hunger in his gleaming eyes. "I'm +starving." + +He tried to reach out for the fish and collapsed in utter weakness. With +food at last within his grasp, he was too far gone to take it. Jim +Grayson had been very hungry more than once in his thirty years of hard +life. He saw that Tom was telling the truth. + +"Hush," he whispered, for he had caught sight of some fellow soldiers on +the bank, not a hundred feet away. "Hush, sumbuddy's comin'. You mus' +take little pieces first. I'll cut one up for you." + +He was drawing out his knife from a deep pocket when the soldiers +stopped on the bank above their heads and shouted down, asking him to +give them some fish too. + +"Sholy," laughed Jim. "Here's some for you-uns." + +He tossed half a dozen up to them and then sat down at the mouth of the +hole that sheltered Tom, thinking to hide him in case the others came +down the bank. His back was towards the boy. What was left of his catch +hung within two inches of Tom's nose. That was Tom's chance. He tore off +a couple of little fish and tore them to bits with his teeth. His first +sensation was one of deathly sickness; his next one of returning +strength. Grayson twitched the remaining fish into his lap. He knew the +boy had already had too much food, for a first meal. Meanwhile he was +chatting cheerily with his fellow soldiers, who fortunately did not come +down the bank and soon moved off, leaving Jim and Tom alone. Now was the +time for explanations. + +"Don't be afeard," said Jim, with a kindly smile. "I 'low you be Tom +Strong, bean't you? I guess you was in Libby day afore yisterday. I +ain't goin' to give you up. I'm Union, I be, ef I do wear Secesh gray. +How kin I help you?" + +The sense of safety, safety at least for the moment, was too much for +Tom. He could not speak. + +"Thar, thar," Jim went on, "it's all right. Jes' tell me what I can do. +I'll bring you eatins soon ez night comes, but what'll you do then?" + +Tom told him what he hoped to do then. It was a wild scheme to float +down nearly two hundred miles of river through a hostile country, but +yet it offered a chance of success. And if there was a chance of success +for the boy, why not for the man? + +"Ef so be's ez you'se sot on it," Jim said, at the end of the talk, "I +vum I'll run the resk with you. You ain't no ways fit to start off +alone. Ef you have to hist that thar tree into the James River, you +cudn't a-do it. I kin. 'N ef you wuz all alonst, you mout fall off'n be +drownded. We-uns'll go together. 'N then I'll hev a chanst to fight fer +the old Union." + +Tom was only too glad of the promised company. It was arranged that Jim +was to come to him as soon as possible after nightfall, with whatever +provisions he could lay his hands upon, and that then they were to get +away on the queer craft Providence seemed to have prepared for them, +provided only that Providence did not send the big tree swirling +southward to the sea before they could reach it. The river was now +considerably higher. It was tugging hard at its prey. Sometimes the tree +shook with the impact of the rushing waves as if it had decided to let +go the sandbank forthwith. If it did go before nightfall, they must try +to find another. There were always others in sight, but they were far +away in mid-channel, floating swiftly seaward. How could one of these be +reached, if their fellow on the sandbank joined them? There was nothing +to be done, however, except to wait. Tom's waiting was solaced by the +eating of the rest of the fish. Man and boy agreed that the man must +loiter there no longer. Making a fire would delay him beyond roll-call. +So Jim went and Tom again ate raw fish, trying to do so slowly, but not +making a great success of that. He felt as if he could eat a whale. + +Darkness came only a few minutes before Jim Grayson did. He brought with +him a bundle of food, upon part of which Tom forthwith supped. He also +brought his gun. "I'm a deserter now, you see," he explained to the boy, +"and I'll be shot ef so be I'm caught. But ef I be caught, I'll shoot +some o' they-uns fust." + +They could dimly see the outlines of the big tree, now tossing in the +waves that broke above the submerged sandbank, as if it were struggling +to be free. They swam out to it, Jim strongly, Tom weakly. They reached +it none too soon. Ten minutes later it would have started of its own +accord. Jim's task in "histing" it was easy. They were afloat at once. +The top of the tree, a mass of bare branches, for the tiny tender leaves +of the early Southern spring had been swept away by the water, formed +the bow of their craft. They both perched far back, leaning against the +tangled roots. Jim gave a final push with one dangling foot and they +were off. That was all Tom knew for some time. He had fallen asleep as +soon as he had snuggled securely into his place. He did not know it when +they swept through the cordon of patrol-boats below, which hastened to +give room to the vast battering ram. He did not even know that Jim's arm +held him in place as the tree lurched and wobbled on its downward road. +A few hours afterwards, he awoke, refreshed and hopeful, a new man, or +rather a new boy. The night was clear. The outlines of both shores were +visible. A young moon added its feeble light to the brilliant radiance +of the stars. + +"Where are we?" whispered Tom. He knew the human voice carries a great +distance over water and while there seemed to be no one who could +overhear, he would run no unnecessary risk. + +"I never sailed no river before," Jim cheerily answered, "'n I dun know +nothin' 'bout the Jeems River, but I 'low we've come 'bout a thousand +mile. 'N it's nigh sun-up. How'll we-uns git to sho' 'n hide?" + +"If we did that," said Tom, "we'd have to give up our ship. Don't let us +do that. Let's say what Captain Lawrence said: 'Don't give up the ship!' +We'll call her the 'Liberty' and sail her down to Hampton Roads. We can +hide in the branches or the roots if we meet anybody on the river. +Everybody will give us a wide berth. We have some food, thanks to you. +Forty-eight hours more will see us through." + +"All right, Captain," Jim Grayson replied. "You're the commander." + +Up to that time, the Confederate private had been in command of the +expedition, but now that the Union officer was himself again, he took +charge of everything, much to Jim's content and also, we must admit, +much to Tom's content. + +The good ship "Liberty," Tom Strong, captain, Jim Grayson, mate, made a +prosperous voyage. Its crew was thoroughly scared three or four times by +the sight of Confederate craft, small and large. When a gunboat selected +it as a floating target and plumped half-a-dozen cannon balls around it, +the crew thought the end had come. But nobody on the gunboat saw the +two people cowering amid the branches of the tree. The gunners were +untrained. Their aim was poor. And powder and cannon-balls were not so +abundant in the Confederacy that the practice-firing could continue +long. Early on the third morning of the voyage, they were in Hampton +Roads, borne by the ebbing tide towards the Union squadron that lay +under the guns of Fortress Monroe. As the sun rose above the horizon, +our flag sprang to the mastheads of the ships. Tom felt like echoing +Uncle Mose's triumphant phrase: "De Stars 'n de Stripeses, dey jest +kivered de sky." + +The "Liberty" would have gone straight out to sea, so far as any control +by its crew was concerned. It did go out to sea, indeed, but not until +after Tom and Jim had been taken from it by a boat from the Admiral's +ship. Jim had fired off his gun to attract attention, as the "Liberty" +neared the squadron, and then he and Tom had both stood up on the +teetering trunk of their tree and shouted and waved their shirts, which +they had taken off for that purpose, as they had nothing else to wave, +until help came. The "Liberty" had brought them to liberty. They said +good-by to her almost with regret. But their joy was deep when they +stood on the deck of the flagship, under the flag of the free. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + TOWSER WELCOMES TOM TO THE WHITE HOUSE--LINCOLN RE-ELECTED + PRESIDENT--GRANT COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF--SHERMAN MARCHES FROM ATLANTA + TO THE SEA--TOM ON GRANT'S STAFF--FIVE FORKS--FALL OF + RICHMOND--HANS ROLF FREED--BOB SAVES TOM FROM CAPTURE--TOM TAKES A + BATTERY INTO ACTION--LEE SURRENDERS--TOM STRONG, BREVET-CAPTAIN U. + S. A. + + +The warmest welcome Tom had at the White House was given him by Towser. +The next warmest was given him by Uncle Moses and the next by Lincoln. +The staff was glad to see him back, but many of them were jealous of the +President's evident liking for him and would not have sorrowed overmuch +if he had not come back at all. The patient President found time, amid +all his myriad cares, to listen to Tom's story and to make Secretary +Stanton give a captain's commission to Jim Grayson, who was sent to his +own mountains to gather recruits for the Union army. For Towser, time +existed only to be spent in welcoming his young master home. He clung +close to him, with slobbering jaws and thumping tail, through the first +day, and the first night he managed to escape from Uncle Mose's care in +the basement and to find Tom's attic room. Thenceforth, as long as Tom +stayed at the White House, Towser stretched his yellow bulk across the +threshold of his door every night and slept there the sleep of the +utterly happy. + +There were no utterly happy men under the White House roof. Lincoln's +presidential term was drawing to a close. He was renominated by the +Republicans, but his re-election at times seemed impossible. The +Democrats had put forward Gen. George B. McClellan, once chief commander +of the Union forces, but a pitiful failure as an aggressive general. A +discontented wing of the Republicans had nominated Gen. John C. +Fremont. Fremont had not fulfilled the promise of his youth. At the +beginning of the war, he had been put in command at St. Louis, had +proved to be incompetent, and had been retired. He was still strong in +the hearts of many people, but Lincoln feared the success, not of +Fremont, but of McClellan. John Hay once said to the President: + +"Fremont might be dangerous if he had more ability and energy." + +"Yes," was the reply, "he is like Jim Jett's brother. Jim used to say +that his brother was the greatest scoundrel that ever lived, but in the +infinite mercy of Providence he was also the greatest fool." + +Family sayings, when they are not loving, are apt to be bitter. One of +the Vanderbilts said of a connection of his by marriage that he was +"more kinds of a fool to the square inch than anybody else in the +world." + +McClellan, who seemed practically certain of success in August, 1864, +was badly beaten in November, when the battle of parties was fought out +at the polls. Fremont had retired from the contest early in the +campaign. At the first Cabinet meeting after the election, November 11, +1864, the President took a paper out of his desk and said: + +"Gentlemen, do you remember last summer I asked you all to sign your +names to the back of a paper, of which I did not show you the inside? +This is it. Now, Mr. Hay, see if you can get this open without tearing +it." + +Its cover was so thoroughly pasted up that it had to be cut open. This +done, Lincoln read it aloud. Here it is: + + "Executive Mansion, + Washington, August 23, 1864. + + "This morning, as for some days past, it seems exceedingly probable + that this Administration will not be re-elected. Then it will be my + duty to so co-operate with the President elect as to save the Union + between the election and the inauguration; as he will have secured + his election on such ground that he cannot possibly save it + afterwards. + + A. LINCOLN." + +In that memorandum is the sign-manual of a great soul. Lincoln, +believing his own defeat was written in the stars, thought, not of +himself, but of how he, defeated, could best save the cause of the Union +from defeat. A small man thinks first of himself. A big man thinks first +of his duty. + +Life was happy at the White House now. The President had been re-elected +and it was clear that long before his second term was over, he would +have won a victorious peace. The South was still fighting with all the +energy brave men can show for a cause in the righteousness of which they +believe, but after all the energy was that of despair. Grant was now in +supreme command of the Union forces, East and West. He had been +commissioned Lieutenant-General and put in command March 17, 1864. In +commemoration of this event, the turning point in the great struggle, +Lincoln had had a photograph of himself taken. But two copies of it were +printed. One Lincoln kept himself. One he gave Grant. Here is the one +given Grant. + +[Illustration: ABRAHAM LINCOLN] + +The new Lieutenant-General was hammering away at Richmond. The +Mississippi, now under Union control, cut the Confederacy in two. All +the chief Southern seaports, except Savannah and Charleston, had been +captured. And in this same month of November, 1864, Gen. William +Tecumseh Sherman, who ranked only second to Grant in the United States +army, cut loose from Atlanta, Georgia, captured two months before and +began his famous march to the sea, with Savannah as his destination. He +illustrated his own well-known saying: "War is hell." If it was hell in +Sherman's time, what word can describe the horror of it in our day? He +swept with sword and fire a belt of fertile country, sixty miles wide, +from Atlanta to the sea. He found it smiling and rich; he left it a bare +and blackened waste. He had destroyed the granary of the Confederacy and +before the next month ended he had made his country a Christmas present +of the remaining chief Southern seaport, Savannah. He wrote to Lincoln: +"I beg to present to you as a Christmas gift the city of Savannah, with +one hundred and fifty heavy guns and plenty of ammunition and also +twenty-five thousand bales of cotton." Cotton was worth a dollar a pound +in those days. + +Early in 1865 Sherman swung northward from Savannah, forced the +surrender of Charleston, South Carolina, and joined Union forces +advancing from the North at Goldsboro', North Carolina, March 23. Six +days later Grant began the final campaign against the Confederacy. Six +days before, Lincoln had said to the boy: + +"Tom, would you like to see some more fighting?" + +"Yes, Mr. President; very much." + +"Well, you needn't tell anybody, but I guess there'll be some to see +before long near Richmond. I've had you ordered from special service at +the White House to special service with the Lieutenant-General. Here's +the order and here's a letter to General Grant. I wouldn't wonder if he +put you on his staff." + +"How can I thank you, Mr. Lincoln?" + +"The best way to thank anybody is to do well the work he gives you to +do. Good-by, my son, and good luck." + +[Illustration: GEN. W. T. SHERMAN + St. Gaudens' Statue, New York] + +With a pressure of Lincoln's huge hand Tom was sped on his rejoicing +way. Two days later he was at Grant's headquarters, at City Point, +Virginia, near Fortress Monroe. He saluted and handed the General +Lincoln's letter. The soldier sat, a silent sphinx, for a moment. Then +he looked up at Tom with a quizzical but not unkindly smile, and said: + +"Have you learned anything since you brought me dispatches at Fort +Donelson and Vicksburg?" + +"I hope so, General." + +"Sometimes the President sends me people for political reasons. I +suppose he has to. But I don't take them if I know it. Have you any +political influence behind you?" + +"Not a bit, sir." Tom laughed at the thought. + +"You laugh well. You and Horace Porter ought to get on together. He +laughs well, too. You can serve on my staff. + +"I thank you, General." + +Tom saluted and walked away, to find Horace Porter, whom he found to be +a very nice fellow indeed. One of the first things the nice fellow did +for him was to get him a good horse. There was no lack of horses at +headquarters. The difficulty was not to find one, but to choose the best +of many good ones. Tom, who had a good eye for a horse, found one that +exactly suited him except as to color. He was of a mottled gray. The boy +did not much care for such a color, but he knew it had its advantages. +It does not advertise its presence. Where a black, a white or a bay +horse would stand out and make a mark for hostile sharpshooters, a +mottled gray might well elude their view. And the horse, apart from +this, was just what he wanted. He paced fast, he galloped fast, and he +walked fast, which is a rare and precious accomplishment in a horse. The +average horse walks, as a rule, slower than the average man. In an hour, +he covers a quarter-of-a-mile less ground. One question remained to be +settled. + +"Can he jump?" asked Tom. + +"Jump, is it?" answered the soldier-groom. "Shure, the cow that jumped +over the moon couldn't lift a leg to him." + +"You bet your life he can jump," said Horace Porter. "General Grant has +ridden him twice and I saw him put Bob over a fence or two." + +[Illustration: BOB] + +Not long afterwards Tom did bet his life on Bob's jumping. He was named +Bob before the United States took him. He had been captured the month +before and had come across the lines with his name embroidered by some +woman's hand on his saddle-blanket and with his late owner's blood upon +his saddle. He was a tall, leggy animal who showed a trace of Arabian +blood and who needed to be gentled a bit to get his best work out of +him. His mouth was appreciative of sugar and his eyes were appreciative +of kindness. + +Both dogs and horses talk with their eyes. + +"I like my new master," was what Bob's eyes said to Tom. + +It was through a chance suggestion of Colonel Porter that the boy saw +most of what he did see of the final fight for freedom. Porter had +presented Tom to Gen. Philip H. Sheridan, who was then at City Point, +receiving Grant's final instructions for the twelve-day campaign that +ended in the fall of Richmond and the surrender of Lee's brave army. +Sheridan was a stocky, red-faced young Irishman, a graduate of West +Point, and a born leader of men, especially of cavalrymen. He liked the +clear-eyed lad who stood respectfully before him. He had done too much +in his own youth to think Tom was useless because he was so young. +Porter saw that the boy had made a good impression. He ventured a +suggestion. + +"Why don't you take young Strong with you, General?" + +Sheridan turned sharply to Tom, asking: + +"Can you ride?" + +"Oh, yes, sir. I've ridden ever since I can remember." + +"Well, that's not so very long a time. But I'll take your word for it. +Would you like to go with me?" + +"I'd like it better than anything else in the world, General." + +Tom had rejoiced in the idea of being with Grant, but he knew that the +commander-in-chief must stay behind his lines and that his staff could +catch but glimpses of the fighting, when they were sent forward with +orders, whereas with Sheridan he might be in the very thick of the +fighting itself. His ready answer and the joy that beamed in his eyes +pleased the fighting Irishman. + +"Can I borrow him of General Grant?" Sheridan asked Porter. + +"I'll answer for that," Porter replied. "The General told me to put +Strong to whatever work I could find for him to do." + +"Come ahead," said Sheridan. "You'll see some beautiful fighting!" + +Sheridan loved fighting, but he made no pretense of never being afraid. +He thought a general should be close to the front, to keep his soldiers' +spirits high. + +"Are you never afraid?" Charles A. Dana, then Assistant Secretary of +War, once asked him. + +"If I was, I should not be ashamed of it. If I should follow my natural +impulse, I should run away always at the beginning of the danger. The +men who say they are never afraid in a battle do not tell the truth." + + * * * * * + +March 29, 1865, the twelve-day campaign began. The cavalry swung out +towards Five Forks, where Lee's right wing lay behind deep +entrenchments. April 1, Sheridan attacked in force. Americans fought +Americans with stubborn bravery on both sides. The issue was long in +doubt. Sheridan and his staff were close to the firing-line, so that Tom +had but a few hundred yards to gallop under fire when his general said +to him: + +[Illustration: STATUE OF GEN. PHILIP H. SHERIDAN + Sheridan Square, Washington, D. C. + Copyright by Underwood & Underwood, New York.] + +"Tell General Griffin to charge and keep charging." + +Griffin's order to his troops was so quickly given that it seemed an +echo of the order Tom brought him. It was the boy's business to return +forthwith and report upon his mission, but he simply couldn't do it. +There were the Confederate lines manned with hungry soldiers in the +remnants of their gray uniforms, the Stars-and-Bars flying above them. +And there were battalions of blue-clad cavalry, men and horses in prime +condition, straining to start like hounds upon a leash. Griffin's order +was the electric spark that fired the battery. The men shouted with joy +as they spurred their horses into a mad gallop. The shout was answered +by the shrill "rebel yell" from the dauntless foe in the trenches. The +charging column shook the ground. In its foremost files rode +Second-lieutenant Tom Strong, forgetful of everything else in the world +but the joy of battle. Musketry and artillery tore bloody lanes in the +close-packed column. Men and horses fell in heaps upon the blood-stained +ground. But the column went on. At dusk of that April day it poured over +the parapets so bravely held. Even then the fight was not over. There +was still stout resistance. The two armies were a mass of struggling +men, shooting, stabbing, striking. The battle had become a series of +duels man to man. Tom, pistol in hand, rode at a big Kentuckian, but the +gray-clad giant dodged the bullet, caught his own unloaded musket by the +muzzle, and dealt the boy a blow with its butt that knocked him off his +horse and left him senseless on the ground. + +A few minutes later, when he came to his senses, he felt as if he were a +boy annexed to a shoulder twice as big as all the rest of his body. It +was on his shoulder that the blow of the clubbed musket had gone home. +The fall from his horse had stunned him. Bob was standing over him, as +Black Auster stood over Herminius, nuzzling at the outstretched hand of +this silent, motionless thing that had been his master. They had been +together for less than a week, but a day is often long enough for a +horse to find out that his master is his friend. Tom had been more +careful of his horse's comfort than of his own. Now the good gray had +stood by him and over him, perhaps saving him from being trampled to +death in that fierce last act of the Drama of Five Forks. Bob whinnied +with joy as Tom's eyes slowly opened again. He thrust his muzzle down +along the boy's cheek and the boy caught hold of the flowing mane with +his right hand and pulled himself upon his feet again. His left arm hung +useless by his side. One glance told him the battle was won. The duels +were over. The Confederates were in full retreat. A stream of prisoners +was already flowing by him. He mounted and followed it to Sheridan's +headquarters. There the skillful fingers of a surgeon found that no +bones were broken. The swollen shoulder was dressed and bandaged. The +healthy blood that filled Tom's veins did much to make a speedy cure. +So did the joy of victory. Sheridan had done what Grant had given him to +do. He had driven back Lee's right flank and cut the railroad by which +Lee must escape from Richmond, if escape he could. + +Richmond was doomed. The next morning, Sunday, April 2, 1865, Jefferson +Davis, President of the Confederate States of America, sat in his pew in +St. Paul's Church, Richmond. The solemn service began. Soon there was a +stir at the door, a rustle, a turning of heads away from the chancel, +where the gray-haired rector stood. Swiftly a messenger came up the +aisle. Davis rose from his knees to receive the message. The service +stopped. Every eye was bent upon the leader of the Lost Cause. He put on +his spectacles, opened the missive, and read it amid a breathless +silence. It told him that the Cause was lost indeed. It was from Lee, +who wrote: "My lines are broken in three places. Richmond must be +evacuated this evening." There was no sign of feeling upon Jefferson +Davis's impassive face, as he read the fateful dispatch. Without a +word, without a sign, he left the church with the wife whose utter +devotion had helped him bear the burden of those terrible years, during +which proud hope gradually gave way to sickening fear. Davis was not of +those weak men who despair. There was still a little hope in his heart, +despite the tremendous blow Lee's letter had dealt him. He walked down +the aisle with head as high as though he were marching to assured +victory. But through the congregation there ran the whisper "Richmond is +to be evacuated." A panic-stricken mob poured out of the church with +faltering steps behind Jefferson Davis's firm, proud ones. Early that +afternoon the Confederate Government fled. Early the next morning, +Monday, April 3, 1865, Gen. Godfrey Weitzel marched his negro troops +into the Confederate capital. The flag of the free floated from the dome +of the Statehouse, which almost from the earliest days of the war had +sheltered what was now indeed the Lost Cause. It was raised there by +Lieut. Johnston L. De Peyster, a youth of eighteen, who had carried it +wrapped around the pommel of his saddle for some days, hoping for the +chance that now came to him. The second Union flag that was raised that +day in Richmond was over Libby. The prison gates gave up their prey. The +prisoners poured out, some too weak to do more than smile, others in a +frenzy of joy. Major Hans Rolf, reduced by hunger to a long lath of a +man, had lost none of his spirit. + +"Now, boys," he shouted, "three times three for the old flag!" + +The cheers rang out in a feeble chorus and then there rang out Han's +contagious laughter. + +"Ha! ha!" he roared. "We're free, boys, we're free." + +By that Sunday night, the fate of Petersburg was sealed. +Grant had ordered an assault in force at six o'clock Monday morning, but +the Confederates abandoned their works in the gray dawn and our troops +met little resistance in taking over the town. "General Meade and I," +says General Grant in his "Personal Memoirs," "entered Petersburg +on the morning of the third and took a position under cover of a house +which protected us from the enemy's musketry which was flying thick and +fast there. As we would occasionally look around the corner, we could +see ... the Appomattox bottom ... packed with the Confederate army.... I +had not the heart to turn the artillery upon such a mass of defeated and +fleeing men and I hoped to capture them soon." + +"Let us follow up Lee," Meade suggested. He was a better follower than a +fighter. He had followed Lee before, from Gettysburg to Richmond, +without ever attacking him. + +"On the contrary," Grant replied, "we will cut off his retreat by +occupying the Danville railroad and capture him. He must get to his food +to keep his troops alive. We will get between him and his food." + +With constant fighting this was done. By Wednesday, April 5, the Union +lines were drawn about the Confederate army. Sheridan, hampered by +Meade's slowness, was urgent that Grant should come to the front. He +sent message after message to that effect to Grant on Wednesday. A +scout in gray uniform was entrusted with the second message. He was made +up to look like a Confederate scout, but he was Tom Strong. He had put +on his disguise at Sheridan's headquarters. As he stood at attention to +receive his orders, Sheridan laughed and said: + +"You make a good 'Johnny Reb.' Do you chew tobacco?" + +Surprised at the question, Tom said he didn't. + +"Well, you may have to begin the habit today. You're to take this +message to General Grant. If you're caught, chew it--and swallow it +quick." + +He handed the boy a bit of tinfoil. It looked like a small package of +chewing-tobacco, but it contained a piece of tissue-paper upon which +Sheridan's message was written. + +The ride from the left flank to the center was not without danger. Tom, +duly provided with the password, could go by any Union forces without +difficulty, but the country swarmed with Confederates, some of them +deserters, many of them straggling detachments cut off from the main +army and seeking to rejoin it, all of them more than ready to capture a +Union soldier and his horse. + +The boy climbed a little clumsily into the saddle. His left shoulder +still felt like a big balloon stuffed full of pain. But there was +nothing clumsy in his seat, as Bob shot off like an arrow at the touch +of Tom's heel on his flank. It was a beautiful, bright April morning, +too beautiful a day for men to be killing each other. Evidently, +however, it did not seem so to the commander of a company of Confederate +cavalry, who had laid an ambush into which Tom gayly galloped. He heard +a sharp order to halt. He saw men ride across the road in front of him. +He whirled about, only to see the road behind him blocked. He was fairly +trapped. But there was one chance of escaping from the trap and Tom took +it. His would-be captors had come from the left of the road, its +northern side, for he was traveling east. On the south was a high +rail-fence, laid in the usual zigzags, one of the few which had not fed +the camp-fires of Northern Virginia. It was a good five feet high; it +was only a few feet away; Bob was standing still for a second in +slippery mud. It was not at all the kind of place to select for a jump, +but the Confederates had selected the place, not Tom. He remembered +Colonel Porter's saying "You can bet your life Bob can jump," and he bet +his life on Porter's being right. He put Bob at the fence. The gallant +gray, as if he sensed his master's danger, took one bound toward the +rails, gathered himself together into a tense mass of muscle, and rose +into the air like a bird. As he flew over the top-rail, carbines cracked +behind him, but as he leaped southward across the countryside, a ringing +cheer followed him too. The brave Southerners rejoiced in the brave feat +that took their captive into freedom. Their jaded horses could not +follow. There was no pursuit. + +It took Tom some hours to double back towards Grant's headquarters. He +met long lines of Union cavalry, infantry, and artillery pressing +forward to strengthen Sheridan's forces. They were going west and they +choked every road and lane and path by which the boy sought to go east. +They had begun their march at three o'clock that morning. They had had +no breakfast. They carried no food. Their wagon-trains were miles in the +rear. It was their fourth day of continuous fighting. They had a right +to be tired, but they were not tired. They had a right to be hungry, but +they were not hungry. When the air was full of victory, what did an +empty stomach matter? Cheering and singing, they swept along. The end of +four years' fighting was in sight. The hunted foe was trying to slink +away to safety, as many a fox, with hounds and huntsmen closing in upon +him, had tried to do on these Virginian fields. Never were huntsmen more +anxious to be "in at the death" than were those joyous Union soldiers on +that memorable April day. + +It was nearly night when the boy reached headquarters, saluted the +commander-in-chief, said "A message from General Sheridan," and handed +over the little tinfoil package. + +"You can go back with me," said Grant. "That horse of yours is Bob, +isn't it?" Grant never forgot a horse he had once ridden. + +Within an hour the General and his staff, with a small cavalry escort, +started for Sheridan's headquarters. By ten that night the two were +together. Sheridan was almost crying over the orders Meade had given +him. By midnight Sheridan was happy. "I explained to Meade," say the +"Personal Memoirs," "that we did not want to follow the enemy; we wanted +to get ahead of him; and that his orders would allow the enemy to +escape.... Meade changed his orders at once." + +That change of orders incidentally put Tom Strong the next day into the +hottest fight of his life. This was the battle of Sailor's Creek, almost +forgotten since amid the mightier happenings of that wonderful April +week, but never forgotten by Tom Strong. Our forces had attacked Lee's +retreating legions, retreating toward the provision trains that were +their only hope of food. The fight was fierce. We had attacked with +both infantry and cavalry, but our gallant fellow-countrymen held their +lines unbroken. Then with a thunder of wheels our field artillery came +into action. The Confederate guns were shelling the hillside up which +the plunging horses drew our cannon. There were six horses in each team, +an artilleryman riding each near horse and holding the off horse of the +pair by a bridle. Tom had come up with orders and was standing by +General Wright as the guns bounded up the hillside. Bob stood behind his +master, whinnying a bit with excitement. + +General Wright snapped his watch shut impatiently. + +"They're ten minutes late," he complained. "We're beaten if we don't get +'em into action instantly. Good Heavens! there goes our first gun to +destruction!" + +A Confederate shell had struck and burst close to the leaders. A +fragment of it swept the foremost rider from his seat and from life. The +two horses he had handled reared, plunged, jumped to one side. The six +horses were huddled into a frightened heap. The two other soldiers could +do nothing with the leaders out of control. The gun stopped short. And +behind it stopped all of one of the two lines of advancing artillery. + +"Take that gun into action!" + +Tom heard the General's brief command and ran toward the huddled horses. +He sprang into the saddle, seized both bridles, and drove on. As he did +so, another Confederate shell burst beside the off horse. Its fragments +spared the foremost rider this time, but they dealt death to one of his +two comrades. The man in control of the wheelers threw his right arm out +and toppled over into the road, dead before the heavy cannon-wheel +crashed and crushed over him. The leaders, so skillfully handled that +their very fear made them run more madly into danger, tore ahead, +keeping the other four horses galloping behind them, until the gun was +in position. It roared the news of its coming with a well-aimed shot +into the midst of the enemy's forces. + +[Illustration: TOM TAKES A BATTERY INTO ACTION] + +Its fellows fell into line and followed suit. The infantry and cavalry +attacked with renewed spirit. Sullenly and savagely, fighting until +darkness forbade more fighting, Lee's troops withdrew towards the west, +with the Union forces pounding away at them. They left a mass of dead +upon the battlefield, lives finely lost for the Lost Cause, and they +also left as prisoners six general officers and seven thousand men. More +than a third of all the prisoners taken in the battles before the final +surrender were taken at the battle of Sailor's Creek. Tom had stuck to +his new arm of the service through the three hours of fighting. The guns +had been continually advanced as the Southerners retreated. They had +been continually under fire. Nearly half the gunners had been killed or +wounded. When the fight was over, Tom remembered for the first time his +own wounded shoulder. He had never thought of it from the moment when he +had sprung upon the artillery horse. Now it began to throb with a +renewed and a deeper pain, as if resenting his ignoring of it so long, +but the new pain also vanished when he rejoined General Wright and heard +him say: + +"Mr. Strong, you helped to save the day. I shall recommend you for +promotion for distinguished bravery under fire." + +The boy saluted, his heart too full to speak. As he rode away upon Bob, +some of the joy in his heart must have got into Bob's heels, for Bob +pirouetted up the main street of the little town of Farmville, late that +night, as though he were prouder than ever of his master. + +Farmville was now headquarters. Grant was there, in a bare hotel, not +long before a Confederate hospital. It was from the Farmville hotel that +he wrote to Lee a historic note. It ran thus: + + "Headquarters Armies of the U. S. + 5 P.M., April 7, 1865. + + "General R. E. Lee, + Commanding C. S. A.: + + The results of the last week must convince you of the hopelessness + of further resistance on the part of the Army of Northern Virginia + in this struggle. I feel that it is so, and regard it as my duty to + shift from myself the responsibility of any further effusion of + blood by asking of you the surrender of that portion of the + Confederate States army known as the Army of Northern Virginia. + + U. S. GRANT, + Lieut.-General." + +Under a flag of truce, this note reached General Lee that evening, so +near together were the headquarters of the contending armies in those +last days. His letter in reply, asking what terms of surrender were +offered, reached Grant the next morning while he was talking on the +steps of the Farmville hotel to a Confederate Colonel. + +"Jes' tho't I'd repo't to you, General," said the Colonel. + +"Yes?" + +"You see I own this hyar hotel you're a-occupyin'." + +"Well, sir, we shall move out soon. We are moving around a good deal, +nowadays. Why aren't you with your regiment?" + +"Well, you see, General, I am my regiment." + +"How's that?" + +"All the men wuz raised 'round hyar. A few days ago they jes' begun +nachally droppin' out. They all dun dropped out, General, so I jes' +tho't there wan't any use being a cunnel without no troops and I dun +dropped out too. Here I be? What you goin' to do with me, General?" + +"I'm going to leave you here to take care of your property. Don't go +back to your army and nobody'll bother you." + +That was a sample of the way in which the beaten army was melting away. +Not even the magic of Lee's great name could hold it together now. But +the men who did not drop out fought with heroism to the bitter end. + +The next day, Saturday, April 8, 1865, Sheridan captured some more of +Lee's provision trains at Appomattox Station and on Sunday, April 9, +Lee's whole army attacked there, still seeking to cut its way out of +its encircling foes. Its brave effort was in vain. Held in a vice, it +threw up its hands. A white flag flew above the Confederate lines. + +Grant had spent Saturday night struggling with a sick headache, his feet +in hot water and mustard, his wrists and the back of his neck covered +with mustard-plasters. On Sunday morning, still sick and suffering, he +was jogging along on horseback towards the front, when a Confederate +officer was brought before him. He carried a note from Lee offering to +surrender. "When the officer reached me," writes Grant, "I was still +suffering with the sick headache; but the instant I saw the contents of +the note, I was cured." The ending of the war ended Grant's headache. + + * * * * * + +The two commanders met at Appomattox Court House, a sleepy Virginian +village, five miles from the railroad and endless miles from the great +world. It lies in a happy valley, not wrapped in happiness that April +day, for Sheridan's forces held the crest at the south and Lee's were +deployed along the hilltop to the north. A two-hour armistice had been +granted. If that did not bring the end desired, that end was to be +fought out with all the horrors of warfare amid the peaceful houses that +had straggled together to make the peaceful little town. + +At the northern end of the village street, surrounded by an apple +orchard, stood a two-story brick house with a white wooden piazza in +front of it. It was the home of Wilmer McLean, a Virginia farmer upon +whose farm part of the battle of Bull Run had been fought at the +outbreak of the war. Foreseeing that other battles might be fought +there--as the second battle of Bull Run, in 1862, was--he had sold his +property there and had moved by a strange chance to the very village and +the very house in which the final scene of the great tragedy of this war +between brothers was to be played. Here Lee awaited Grant. + +The Union general had gone to Sheridan's headquarters before riding up +to the McLean house. Sheridan and his staff had gone on with him. Least +important of the little group of Union officers who followed Grant into +the presence of Lee was Tom Strong, but the boy's heart beat as high as +that of any man there. + +[Illustration: THE McLEAN HOUSE, APPOMATTOX COURTHOUSE] + +It was in the orchard about the house that the myth of "the apple-tree +of Appomattox" was born. Millions of men and women have believed that +Lee surrendered to Grant under an apple tree at Appomattox. That apple +tree is as famous in mistaken history as is that other mythical tree, +the cherry tree which George Washington did not cut down with his little +hatchet. Washington could not tell a lie, it is true, but he never +chopped down a cherry tree and then said to his angry, questioning +father: "Father, I cannot tell a lie; I cut it down with my little +hatchet." That fairy story came from the imagination of one Parson +Weems, who did not resemble our first President in the latter's +inability to tell lies. Perhaps the myth of the apple tree will never +die, as the myth of the cherry tree has never died. In 1880, when +Grant's mistaken friends tried to nominate him for a third Presidential +term, other candidates had been urged because this one, it was said, +could carry Ohio, that one Maine, and so on. Then Roscoe Conkling of New +York strode upon the stage to nominate Grant and declaimed to a hushed +audience of twenty thousand men: + + "And if you ask what State he comes from, + Our sole reply shall be: + HE comes from Appomattox + And the famous apple tree!" + +The twenty thousand were swept off their feet by the magic of that myth. +Grant was almost nominated--but not quite. + +The historic interview began in the room to the left of the front door +in the McLean house. Two very different figures confronted each other. +Grant had not expected the meeting to take place so soon and had left +the farmhouse where he had spent the night before in rough garb. He +writes: "I was without a sword, as I usually was when on horseback in +the field, and wore a soldier's blouse for a coat, with the +shoulder-straps of my rank to indicate to the army who I was.... General +Lee was dressed in a full uniform, which was entirely new, and was +wearing a sword of considerable value, very likely the sword which had +been presented by the State of Virginia.... In my rough traveling suit, +the uniform of a private with the straps of a lieutenant-general, I must +have contrasted very strangely with a man so handsomely dressed, six +feet high and of faultless form. But this was not a matter that I +thought of until afterwards." + +Lee requested that the terms to be given his army should be written out. +Grant asked General Parker of his staff, a full-blooded American Indian, +for writing materials. He had prepared nothing beforehand, but he knew +just what he wanted to say and he wrote without hesitation terms such as +only a great and magnanimous nation could offer its conquered citizens. +After providing for the giving of paroles (that is, an agreement not to +take up arms again unless the paroled prisoner is later exchanged for a +prisoner of the other side) and for the surrender of arms, artillery, +and public property, he added: "This will not embrace the sidearms of +the officers nor their private horses or baggage. This done, each +officer and man will be allowed to return to their homes, not to be +disturbed by United States authority so long as they observe their +paroles and the laws in force where they reside." There are some +mistakes in grammar in these words, but there are no mistakes in +magnanimity. When Lee, having put on his glasses, had read the first +sentence quoted above, he said with feeling: + +[Illustration: LEE SURRENDERS TO GRANT] + +"This will have a happy effect upon my army." + +He went on to say that many of the privates in the Confederate cavalry +and artillery owned their own horses; could they retain them? Grant did +not change the written terms, but he said his officers would be +instructed to let every Confederate private who claimed to own a horse +or mule take the animal home with him. "It was doubtful," writes Grant, +"whether they would be able to put in a crop to carry themselves and +their families through the next winter without the aid of the horses +they were then riding." Again Lee remarked that this would have a happy +effect. He then wrote and signed an acceptance of the proposed terms of +surrender. The war was over. The first act of peace was our issuing +25,000 rations to the army we had captured. For some days it had lived +on parched corn. + +[Illustration: GEN. U. S. GRANT] + +The news of the surrender flashed along the waiting lines like wildfire +and the Union forces began firing a salute of a hundred guns in honor of +the victory. "I at once sent word," says Grant, "to have it stopped. The +Confederates were now our prisoners and we did not want to exult over +their downfall." This was the spirit of a great man and of a great +nation. It was not the soldiers who fought the war who kept its rancors +alive after peace had come, It was the politicians, who tore open the +old wounds and kept the country bleeding for a dozen years after the +Lost Cause was lost. + +On the morning of Tuesday, April 10, 1865, Grant and Lee again met +between the lines and sitting on horseback talked for half an hour. Then +Grant began his journey to Washington. His staff, including Tom, went +with him. When they reached their goal, Second-Lieutenant Strong found +he was that no longer. For General Wright had done what he had told Tom +he meant to do. The recommendation had been heeded. Lincoln himself +handed the boy his new commission as a brevet-captain. + +"I was glad to sign that, Tom," the President told him, "and even +Stanton didn't kick this time." + +"You don't know how glad I am to get it, Mr. President," was the reply. +"Now I'm a boy-captain, as my great-grandfather was before me." + +"I'm not much on pedigrees and ancestry and genealogical trees, my boy," +answered Lincoln. "Out West we think more of trees that grow out of the +ground than we do of trees that grow on parchment. But you're right to +be proud of an ancestry of service to your country. When family pride is +based on money or land or social standing, it is one of the most foolish +things God Almighty ever laughed at, but when it is based on service, +real service, to your country, to your fellowmen, to the world, why, +then, Tom, it's one of the biggest and best things in God's kingdom. But +remember this, son,"--Lincoln's eyes flashed in their deep sockets--"if +a boy has an ancestor who has done big things, the way to be proud of +him is to do big things yourself. Living on the glory of what somebody +else has done before you is a mighty poor kind of living. I never knew +but one man that was perfect and I'd never have known he was if he +hadn't told me so. Nobody else ever found it out. But if we can't be +perfect, we can grow less imperfect by trying every day to serve our +fellowmen. Remember that, Tom." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE ASSASSINATION OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN + + +On the evening of Good Friday, April 14, 1865, Laura Keene, an English +actress of great repute in America, was to play _Our American Cousin_ at +Ford's Theater, the chief place of amusement for war-time Washington. + +That afternoon, Assistant-Secretary-of-War Dana was notified by wire +that Jacob Thompson of Mississippi, once Secretary of the Interior under +our poor old wavering President, Buchanan, afterwards a leading +Secessionist, would take a steamship for England that evening at +Portland, Maine. + +"What shall I do?" Dana asked Stanton. + +"Arrest him! No, wait; better go over and see the President." + +So Dana went to the White House. Office-hours were over. He found +Lincoln washing his hands. + +"Halloo, Dana!" was Lincoln's greeting. "What's up?" + +The telegram was read aloud. + +"What does Stanton say?" + +"He says to arrest him, but that I should refer the question to you." + +"Well, no, I rather think not. When you have got an elephant by the hind +legs and he's trying to run away; it's best to let him run." + +Dana reported this to Stanton. + +"Oh, stuff!" said Stanton. + +But Thompson was not arrested, so that the last recorded act of Lincoln +as President was one of mercy. + + * * * * * + +In the upper stage-box, to the right of the audience, that evening, sat +Abraham Lincoln, President of the United States, Mrs. Lincoln, a friend, +Miss Harris, and an officer, Major Henry R. Rathbone. The cares of State +seemed to have slipped for the moment from Lincoln's shoulders. He had +bowed smilingly from the box in response to the cheers of the packed +audience in the body of the house. He had followed intently the action +of the amusing play, constantly smiling, often applauding. The eyes of +the little party of four were bent upon the stage, about ten o'clock, +when the door of the box was jerked violently open behind them. As they +turned at the noise, Death stalked in upon them. + + * * * * * + +Five minutes before, Tom Strong had been idly strolling along Tenth +Street and had paused at the theater door to read the play-bills posted +there. A small group of belated play-goers was at the ticket-booth. A +man shoved roughly through them. A woman's "Oh!" of surprise and protest +drew Tom's attention to the man. He had seen him but thrice before, yet +the man's face was engraved upon his memory. Once, at Charlestown, +Virginia, Wilkes Booth had stood in the ranks of the militia, eagerly +awaiting the execution of John Brown. Once, upon a railroad train north +of Baltimore, Wilkes Booth had drugged the boy and left him, as the +scoundrel thought, to die. Once, upon a railroad platform at Kingston, +Alabama, Wilkes Booth had recognized him and had again sought his death. +Whose death did he seek to compass now? What was the Confederate spy +doing here? Tom had scarcely glimpsed the hawk-like features, the pallid +face, the flowing black hair of his foe, when Booth disappeared from his +sight in the crowded lobby of the theater. + +Instantly Tom pursued him. But he was delayed by the little group +through whom Booth had elbowed his rough way. And when he reached the +ticket-window, he found no money in his pocket with which to buy +admittance. He had put on civilian clothes that evening and had left his +scanty store of currency in his uniform. The wary ticket-seller, used to +all sorts of dodges by people who wanted to get in without paying, +laughed at his story and refused to give him a ticket on trust. Tom's +claim that he was an officer caused especial amusement. + +"That won't go down, bub," said the ticket-seller. "Try to think up a +better lie next time. And clear out now. Don't block up the +passageway." + +"I _must_ get in," said Tom. + +"You shan't," snarled the man, sure that he was being imposed upon. + +The doorkeeper, attracted by the little row, had come towards the +ticket-window. He swung his right arm with a threatening gesture. As Tom +started towards him he struck the threatened blow, but his clenched fist +hit nothing. The boy had ducked under his arm and had fled into the +theater. The doorkeeper pursued him. But Tom was now making his way like +a weasel through the crowd. He had caught sight of Wilkes Booth nearly +at the top of the right-hand staircase that led to the aisle from which +the upper right-hand box was reached. Without any actual premonition of +the coming tragedy which was to echo around the world upon the morrow, +he still felt that Booth had in mind some evil deed and that it was his +duty to prevent him. As he struggled toward the foot of the stairway, +Booth saw him, recognized him and smiled at him, a smile of triumphant +hideous evil. Tom yelled: + +"Spy! Confederate spy! Stop him! Let me follow!" + +Upon the startled crowd there fell a sudden stillness. Nobody laid hand +upon Booth, but everybody made way for the frantic boy who rushed up the +stairway as the scoundrel he chased ran down the corridor. He clutched +the newel post at the head of the stairway just as Booth flung open the +door of the box. Tom ran towards him. + + * * * * * + +The door of the box was violently jerked open. Wilkes Booth sprang +across the threshold. He put his pistol close to the head of the unarmed +man he meant to murder. He fired. The greatest American sank forward +into his wife's arms. High above her shrieks rose the actor's trained +voice. He leaped upon the balustrade of the box, shouted "_Sic semper +tyrannis!_" and jumped down to the stage. He was booted and spurred for +his escape. His horse was held for him near the stage-door. One of his +spurs caught upon the curtain of the box, so that he stumbled and fell +heavily. But he had played his part upon that stage many a time before. +He knew every nook and cranny of the mysterious labyrinth behind the +footlights. He rose to his feet, disregarding a twisted ankle, and +rushed to safety--for a few hours. He reached his horse and galloped +into the calm night of God, profaned forever by this hideous crime of a +besotted fanatic. + + * * * * * + +The martyred President was taken to a neighboring house, No. 453 Tenth +Street. In a back hall bedroom, upon the first floor, that that was +still Abraham Lincoln, but was soon to cease to be so, was laid upon a +narrow bed. Tom had helped to carry him there. Wife and son, John Hay, +Secretary-of-War Stanton, and a few others crowded into the tiny room. +Doctors worked feverishly over the dying man. Their skill was in vain. +The slow and regular breathing grew fainter. The automatic moaning +ceased. A look of unspeakable peace came to the face the world now knows +so well. In a solemn hush, at twenty-two minutes after seven in the +morning of Saturday, April 15, 1865, the great soul of Abraham Lincoln +went back to the God Who had given him to America and to the world. A +moment later Stanton spoke: + +"Now he belongs to the ages." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + TOM HUNTS WILKES BOOTH--THE END OF THE MURDERER--ANDREW JOHNSON, + PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES--TOM AND TOWSER GO HOME. + + +The assassination of Lincoln was not the only crime that stained that +memorable night. Secretary-of-State Seward was stabbed in his sick-bed +by one of Booth's co-conspirators. Attempts were made upon the lives of +other Cabinet ministers. Many arbitrary arrests had been made during the +war by Secretary Stanton. It had been said that whenever Stanton's +little bell rang, somebody went to prison. That little bell had little +rest this Saturday. Wholesale arrests were made of suspected Southern +sympathizers who might have known something of the hideous conspiracy of +murder. Stanton put all the grim energy of him into the pursuit of the +leading criminals. He was said never to forget anything. One of the +things he had not forgotten was that Tom Strong knew Wilkes Booth by +sight. He sent him from Lincoln's bedside, hours before Lincoln died, to +join a troop of cavalry that was to pursue Booth. The road by which the +murderer had left Washington was known. Hard upon his heels rode the +avengers of crime. Wherever there was a light in one of the few houses +along the lonely road, often where there was no light, the occupants +were seized, questioned, sometimes sent to Washington under guard, +sometimes released and sternly bidden to say nothing of the midnight +ride. Piecing together scraps of information gathered here and there, +studying every crossroad for possible hoof-marks of flight, the silent +commander of the cavalrymen at last convinced himself that he was on the +trail of the quarry. The troops broke into full gallop. A few minutes +before dawn they reached a small village on the bank of the Potomac, +where the fires of a smithy gleamed. They pulled up short as the +startled blacksmith came out of his sooty shed. + +"What are you doing here?" demanded the captain. + +"I've been--I've been--putting on a horseshoe, sir." + +"For what kind of a looking man?" + +"He said his name was Barnard." + +"I beg your pardon, sir," said Tom from his saddle, "but Barnard was the +name Wilkes Booth once gave me for his own." At the beginning of the +ride, Tom had described Booth's appearance to the captain. + +"Was the man pale? Did he have long black hair?" + +"Long black hair," answered the blacksmith, "but his cheeks were red. He +seemed excited. While I was replacing the shoe his horse had cast, he +kept drinking brandy from a bottle he carried. He never gave me none of +it," the man added with an injured air. + +"Did he say anything?" + +"Yes, sir. He said I'd hear great news later today, that the +Southerners had won their greatest victory. I asked him where and he +swore at me and told me to shut up. But he gave me a silver dollar. +Perhaps it's bad. Is it?" + +The blacksmith pulled out of his grimy pocket a dollar and showed it to +the captain. + +"Do you know who that man was?" was the stern command. + +"No, sir, o' course I don't. I s'pose he was Mr. Barnard." + +"He was Judas. He has murdered Abraham Lincoln. And he has given you one +of the forty pieces of silver." + +With wild-eyed horror, the smith started back. He flung the accursed +dollar far into the Potomac. + +"God's curse go with it," he cried. "Captain, the man went straight down +the river road. He gave his horse a cut with his whip 'n he yelled +'Carry me back to ole Virginny!' and he went off lickety-split. He ain't +half-an-hour ahead of you." + +No need to command full speed now. Every man was riding hard. Every +horse was putting his last ounce of strength into his stride. Within an +hour, the hounds saw the slinking fox they chased. Booth, abandoning his +exhausted steed, took refuge in a tumble-down barn. A cordon was thrown +about it and he was called on to surrender. The reply was a shot. Tom +heard the whiz of the bullet as it tore by him. The cavalry pumped lead +into the barn. Once, twice, thrice they fired. At the first volley, the +trapped murderer had again fired. There was no answer to the second and +third. With reloaded carbines, the troopers charged, burst open the +barred door, and rushed into the rickety shed. A man lay on the earthen +floor, breath and blood struggling together in his gaping mouth. As they +gathered about him, the Captain asked: + +"Do you know this man, Captain Strong?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Who is he?" + +"Wilkes Booth, sir." + +The sound of his own name half recalled Booth to life. He looked up at +the boy who stood beside him and recognized him. Ferocious hate filled +the glazing eyes. Then Wilkes Booth went to his eternal doom, hating to +the end. + +"Is he dead?" said the Captain, turning to a major of the medical +service, who had galloped beside Tom on that fierce ride of the +avengers. A big, bearded man knelt beside the body of Wilkes Booth, put +his finger where the pulse had been and laid his hand where the heart +had once beat. + +"He is dead," answered Major Hans Rolf. + +His body was thrust somewhere into the earth he had disgraced or else +was flung, weighted with stones, into the river, all the flood tides of +which could not wash away the black guilt of him. No man knows where the +body of Wilkes Booth was buried. + + * * * * * + +"The king is dead! Long live the king!" + +When Tom rode sadly up Pennsylvania Avenue, with a crape-laden flag at +half-mast over the Capitol, glad for the stern justice that had been +dealt out to the murderer he loathed, but bowed down with grief for the +murdered President he had loved, Abraham Lincoln was no longer President +of the United States. In his stead, our uncrowned king was Andrew +Johnson, of Tennessee, a Southern Unionist who had been elected Vice +President when the people chose Lincoln a second time for their ruler. +Johnson had been born to grinding poverty in a rough community where +"skule-l'arnin'" was not to be had. He was a grown man, earning a scanty +livelihood as a village tailor, when his wife taught him to read and +write. He worked his hard way up in life, became a man of prominence in +his village, in his county, in his State, until he was chosen for +Lincoln's running-mate as a representative Southern Unionist. He was of +course a man of native force, but he sometimes drowned his mind in +liquor. That fatal habit pulled him down. He was a failure as a +President, though thereafter he served his State and his country well +as a United States Senator from Tennessee. + +The White House was changed under its new ruler. John Hay, full of cheer +and wit, was abroad as a secretary of legation. Nicolay, his superior +officer, was a consul in Europe. The Lincoln family had gone West +through a sorrowing country, bearing the body of the martyr-President to +its burial-place in Springfield, Illinois. For a while some familiar +faces were left. At first, the same Cabinet ministers served the new +President. For some time, Uncle Moses had to learn no new names as he +carried about the summons to the Cabinet meetings. But the visitors to +the White House had changed mightily. Rough men from Tennessee and the +other Border States, some of them diamonds in the rough, swarmed there. +Lincoln had never used tobacco. The new-comers both smoked and chewed. +Clouds of smoke filled the lower story and giant spittoons lined the +corridors and invaded the public rooms. Gradually the Republican leaders +ceased to wait upon the President. + +Among the people who left the White House soon after Lincoln left it was +Tom Strong. On a bright May morning he walked across the portico, where +Towser was eagerly awaiting him and where Uncle Moses followed him. Unk' +Mose lifted his withered black hands and called down blessings on the +boy who had been his angel of freedom and had led him out of bondage. + +"De good Lawd bress you, Mas'r Tom. And de good Lawd bress dat dar +wufless ol' houn' dawg Towser, too. 'Kase Towser, he lubs you, Mas'r +Tom,--and so duz I," Uncle Moses shyly added. + +The venerable old negro and the white boy shook hands in a long farewell +upon the steps of the White House. Then Tom turned away from the +historic roof that had so long sheltered him and walked to the railroad +station, to take the train for New York. Towser trotted stiffly by his +side, trying at every step to lick his master's hand. + +Tom Strong studied hard at home and then went to Yale, as his father +had done before him. + +Towser could not go with him. The laws of Yale forbade it. That is one +of the chief disadvantages of being a dog. Soon after Tom went to New +Haven, Towser went to heaven. At least, let us hope he did. He deserved +to do so. One of the human things about Martin Luther, the stern founder +of Protestantism in Germany in the Sixteenth Century, was that he once +said to a tiny girl, weeping over the death of her tiny dog: "Do not +cry, little maid; for you will find your dog in heaven and he will have +a golden tail." + + + THE END + + +[Illustration: TOWSER + "MAY HE REST IN PEACE"] + + + + + BOOKS FOR YOUNG FOLKS + + + THE DOGS OF BOYTOWN + + By WALTER A. DYER + + _Author of "Pierrot, Dog of Belgium," etc._ + _Illustrated. $1.50 net_ + + _New York Sun_: "It takes the cake--in this case, of course, a dog + biscuit.... It is the most unusual book of its kind.... Dyer enters a + new field for boys ... all boys will want to know about Dogs--their ways + and habits, their histories and origins.... Threaded through this + wonderful textbook on dogs is the story of adventures of two boys ... + shows the reader where to find out about everything from bench shows and + the care of puppies to fleas...." + + + THE FIVE BABBITTS AT BONNYACRES + + By WALTER A. DYER + + _Illustrated, by J. O. Chapin. $1.50 net_ + + A back-to-the-farm story for young folks based on actual experience. The + farm problems and results are such as could actually occur on thousands + of American farms. + + + MAGIC PICTURES OF THE LONG AGO + + By ANNA CURTIS CHANDLER + + _With some forty illustrations. $1.30 net_ + + Each recounts the youth and something of the later life of some striking + character in art, history, or literature, and is made very vivid by + reproductions of famous pictures, etc. + + + BLUE HERON COVE + + By FANNIE LEE MCKINNEY + + _Author of "Nora-Square-Accounts."_ + + _Illustrated. $1.35 net_ + + Tells how Blue Heron Island and its seafaring folks change "a little + German countess in white satin" into "a real, authentic American girl." + + + THE GUN BOOK + + By THOMAS H. MCKEE + + _Profusely illustrated. $1.60 net_ + + A book about guns for boys of all ages. The history is accurate; boys + will remember the anecdotes; and the technical parts are sensibly + adapted to show "just how it works." + + + HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY + PUBLISHERS NEW YORK + + + + + COMPANION STORIES OF COUNTRY LIFE + + FOR BOYS By CHARLES P. BURTON + + + THE BOYS OF BOB'S HILL + + Illustrated by GEORGE A. WILLIAMS. 12mo. $1.35 net. + + A lively story of a party of boys in a small New England town. + + "A first-rate juvenile ... a real story for the live human boy--any + boy will read it eagerly to the end ... quite thrilling + adventures."--_Chicago Record-Herald_. + + + THE BOB'S CAVE BOYS + + Illustrated by VICTOR PERARD. $1.35 net. + + "It would be hard to find anything better in the literature of New + England boy life. Healthy, red-blooded, human boys, full of fun, + into trouble and out again, but frank, honest, and clean."--_The + Congregationalist._ + + + THE BOB'S HILL BRAVES + + Illustrated by H. S. DELAY. 12mo. $1.35 net. + + The "Bob's Hill" band spend a vacation in Illinois, where they play at + being Indians, hear thrilling tales of real Indians, and learn much + frontier history. A history of especial interest to "Boy Scouts." + + "Merry youngsters. Capital. Thrilling tales of the red men and + explorers. These healthy red-blooded, New England + boys."--_Philadelphia Press._ + + + THE BOY SCOUTS OF BOB'S HILL + + Illustrated by GORDON GRANT. 12mo. $1.35 net. + + The "Bob's Hill" band organizes a Boy Scouts band and have many + adventures. Mr. Burton brings in tales told around a camp-fire of La + Salle, Joliet, the Louisiana Purchase, and the Northwestern + Reservation. + + + CAMP BOB'S HILL + + Illustrated by GORDON GRANT. $1.35 net. + + A tale of Boy Scouts on their summer vacation. + + + THE RAVEN PATROL OF BOB'S HILL + + Illustrated by GORDON GRANT. $1.35 net. + + The account of a camping trip of the Raven Patrol of the Boy Scouts to + the Massachusetts coast, with much real boy fun and wholesome + adventure. + + + HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY + PUBLISHERS NEW YORK + + + + + BY ALICE CALHOUN HAINES + + _For Young Folks from 9 to 16 Years old._ + + + PARTNERS FOR FAIR + + With illustrations by FAITH AVERY. $1.35 net + + A story full of action, not untinged by pathos, of a boy and his + faithful dog and their wanderings after the poor-house burns down. + They have interesting experiences with a traveling circus; the boy is + thrown from a moving train, and has a lively time with the Mexican + Insurrectos, from whom he is rescued by our troops. + + + THE LUCK OF THE DUDLEY GRAHAMS + + Illustrated by FRANCIS DAY. 300 pp., 12mo. $1.35 net. + + A family story of city life. Lightened by humor and an airship. + + "Among the very best of books for young folks. Appeals especially + to girls."--_Wisconsin List for Township Libraries._ + + "Promises to be perennially popular. A family of happy, healthy, + inventive, bright children make the best of restricted conditions + and prove themselves masters of circumstances."--_Christian + Register._ + + "Sparkles with cleverness and humor."--_Brooklyn Eagle._ + + + COCK-A-DOODLE HILL + + A sequel to the above. Illustrated by FRANCIS DAY. + + 296 pp., 12mo. $1.35 net. + + "Cockle-a-doodle Hill" is where the Dudley Graham family went to live + when they left New York, and here Ernie started her chicken-farm, with + one solitary fowl, "Hennerietta." The pictures of country scenes and + the adventures and experiences of this household of young people are + very life-like. + + "No better book for young people than 'The Luck of the Dudley + Grahams' was offered last year. 'Cock-a-Doodle Hill' is another of + similar qualities."--_Philadelphia Press._ + + + HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY + PUBLISHERS NEW YORK + + + + + By ALFRED BISHOP MASON + + + TOM STRONG, WASHINGTON'S SCOUT + + Illustrated. $1.30 net. + + A story of adventure. The principal characters, a boy and a trapper, + are in the Revolutionary army from the defeat at Brooklyn to the + victory at Yorktown. + + + TOM STRONG, BOY-CAPTAIN + + Illustrated. $1.30 net. + + Tom Strong and a sturdy old trapper take part in such stirring events + following the Revolution as the Indian raid with Crawford and a + flat-boat voyage from Pittsburgh to New Orleans, etc. + + + TOM STRONG, JUNIOR + + Illustrated. $1.30 net. + + The story of the son of Tom Strong in the young United States. Tom + sees the duel between Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr; is in + Washington during the presidency of Jefferson; is on board of the + "Clermont" on its first trip, and serves in the United States Navy + during the War of 1812. + + + TOM STRONG, THIRD + + Illustrated. $1.30 net. + + Tom Strong, Junior's son helps his father build the first railroad + in the United States and then goes with Kit Carson on the Lewis and + Clarke Expedition. + + + TOM STRONG, LINCOLN'S SCOUT + + Illustrated. $1.30 net. + + Serving under President Lincoln, the fourth Tom Strong becomes an + actor in the most stirring events of the Civil War. + + + HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY + PUBLISHERS NEW YORK + + + + + _STANDARD CYCLOPAEDIAS FOR YOUNG OR OLD_ + + + CHAMPLIN'S + + Young Folks' Cyclopaedias + + By JOHN D. CHAMPLIN + + _Late Associate Editor of the American Cyclopaedia_ + + Bound in substantial red buckram. Each volume complete in itself + and sold separately. 12mo, $3.00 per volume, net. + + + COMMON THINGS + + New, Enlarged Edition, 850 pp. Profusely Illustrated + "A book which will be of permanent value to any boy or girl to whom + it may be given, and which fills a place in the juvenile library, + never, so far as I know, supplied before."--_Susan Coolidge._ + + + PERSONS AND PLACES + + New, Up-to-Date Edition, 985 pp. Over 375 Illustrations + + "We know copies of the work to which their young owners turn + instantly for information upon every theme about which they have + questions to ask. More than this, we know that some of these copies + are read daily, as well as consulted; that their owners turn the + leaves as they might those of a fairy book, reading intently + articles of which they had not thought before seeing them, and + treating the book simply as one capable of furnishing the rarest + entertainment in exhaustless quantities.--_N. Y. Evening Post._ + + + LITERATURE AND ART + + 604 pp. 270 Illustrations + + "Few poems, plays, novels, pictures, statues, or fictitious + characters that children--or most of their parents--of our day are + likely to inquire about will be missed here. Mr. Champlin's + judgment seems unusually sound."--_The Nation._ + + + GAMES AND SPORTS + + By JOHN D. CHAMPLIN and ARTHUR BOSTWICK + + Revised Edition, 784 pp. 900 Illustrations + + "Should form a part of every juvenile library, whether public or + private."--_The Independent._ + + + NATURAL HISTORY + + By JOHN D. CHAMPLIN, assisted by FREDERICK A. LUCAS + + 725 pp. Over 800 Illustrations + + "Here, in compact and attractive form, is valuable and reliable + information on every phase of natural history, on every item of + interest to the student. Invaluable to the teacher and school, and + should be on every teacher's desk for ready reference, and the + children should be taught to go to this volume for information + useful and interesting."--_Journal of Education._ + + + HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY + PUBLISHERS NEW YORK + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Tom Strong, Lincoln's Scout, by Alfred Bishop Mason + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TOM STRONG, LINCOLN'S SCOUT *** + +***** This file should be named 44132.txt or 44132.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/4/4/1/3/44132/ + +Produced by Matthias Grammel, Greg Bergquist and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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