An Old Acquaintance.
hey found that the rebels had captured nearly twenty of their men, several of them badly wounded, and, as there was no surgeon with the enemy, the poor fellows were suffering intensely. Frank shuddered when he thought of the inhuman treatment to which his wounded companions had been subjected by the very men in whose power they now were, on the march from Vicksburg to Shreveport; and he knew, from the scenes through which he had just passed, that the Wild-cats had not grown more lenient in their treatment of those who were so unfortunate as to fall into their power. As soon as they were placed under guard, Jack's hands were unbound, and he seated himself on the ground beside his officer, in no very amiable mood.
"It isn't for myself that I care, sir," said he; "but I am afraid that the treatment you will receive will be a heap worse nor keel-haulin' on a cold winter's mornin'."
"Don't talk so loud, Jack," whispered Frank, glancing toward the guard, who was walking his beat but a short distance from them. "I've been in just such scrapes as this before, and I'm not going to be strung up. If they give me the least chance for life, I'm going to take advantage of it."
"There comes a boat from the ship, sir," said the mate. "If we could only give them the slip now."
"No, sit still; we are watched too closely; wait until to-night."
In a short time the cutter reached the shore, and an officer, whom they recognized as the gunner, sprang out with a flag of truce in his hand. He walked straight up to Colonel Harrison. After a short conversation with that individual, he handed him a letter, and, accompanied by a rebel officer, approached the place where Frank was sitting.
"Well, old fellow," he said, as he came up, "I'm sorry to see you in this fix. But I've got good news for you. The colonel has given me permission to inform you that you will be well treated as long as you remain a prisoner. You see, we happen to have a prisoner who belongs to this regiment on board the flag-ship, and the captain is going to ask the admiral to exchange him for you. So keep a stiff upper lip. Don't think of trying to escape, and we shall see you on board of the ship again in less than a week. Good-by."
Frank and the mate shook hands with the gunner, who walked back to the place where he had left his men, and set them to work collecting and burying the dead.
After considerable trouble, an agreement was entered into between Captain Wilson and the colonel, and all the prisoners, with the exception of Frank and the mate, were paroled and allowed to return on board the vessel, after which the Wild-cats mounted their horses and commenced marching back into the country. While the fight had been raging, their horses were safely hidden in the woods, out of range of the Ticonderoga's guns; and when they were brought out, Frank, although he had not seen either a dead or wounded rebel, was able to judge pretty accurately of the number that had been disabled in the struggle, by counting the empty saddles. What had been done with the dead and wounded he could not ascertain; but the probability was, that the latter had been carried on in advance of the main body of the regiment, and the former hastily buried on the field. The prisoners were each given a horse, and Frank was a good deal surprised to find that although the mate was closely watched, scarcely any attention was paid to himself; his captors, no doubt, thinking that he would prefer waiting to be exchanged, rather than run the risk of the punishment that had been threatened in case he was detected in any attempt at escape. He was given to understand that it was useless to think of flight, for he would certainly be recaptured, even if he succeeded in getting outside of the pickets, and that he would be shot down without mercy. But Frank, who well knew that the rebels would not willingly lose an opportunity of regaining one of their officers, was not at all intimidated by these threats; and, as he had not bound himself to remain a passive prisoner, he commenced laying his plans for escape, intending to put them into operation at the very first opportunity which offered.
Just before dark the column halted in front of a plantation, and commenced making its camp on each side of the road. While the men were making their preparations for the night, the colonel, who evidently preferred more comfortable quarters than could be found in the open air, repaired to the house, where he was cordially greeted by its inmates.
Frank and the mate lay down on the ground by the side of the road, and were talking over the incidents of the day, when a dashing young lieutenant stepped up, and inquired:
"Yanks, don't you want something to eat? Come into our mess; we want to talk to you. I'll hold myself responsible for their safe return," he continued, turning to the guard.
This individual, after a few moments' consideration, concluded that the "Yanks could pass," and the prisoners followed the lieutenant to the place where the members of the mess to which he belonged were seated on the ground, eating their suppers.
"Sit down, Yanks, at the very first good place you can find," said their host. "Our chairs have been sent on board one of your gun-boats to be repaired, and the sofa hasn't come in yet. Do you ever have as good a supper as this on board your men-o'-war?"
"O yes," replied Frank, glancing at the different dishes that were scattered about over the ground, which contained corn-bread just raked out from the ashes, salt pork, onions, and boiled chicken, the latter evidently the fruits of a raid on some well-stocked hen-roost. "O yes, we live very well on board our boats. There is nothing to hinder us, if we have a caterer worth a cent."
"Where do you get your grub?" asked the lieutenant. "We steal every thing along the shore that we can lay our hands on, just to keep it away from you, and there are no provisions at the North."
"Well, you need not believe any such story as that," answered Frank, who could not help laughing outright at the idea of the people at the North having no provisions to spare. "I never knew a gun-boat to be short of rations, except down the Yazoo Pass."
"Well, then, some of our folks tell what is not the truth," said one of the officers, who had not yet spoken. "But, to change the subject, how many men did you lose in the action to-day?"
"I am not able to tell," replied Frank. "I see that you have taken good care to hide your loss. I haven't seen a single wounded man since I have been with you, and I know I saw several drop during the fight."
"Yes, we did lose a few men," said the lieutenant; "how many, you will never know. But, to change the subject again, what did you come down here to fight us for?"
"Now, see here," said Frank, setting down his plate, which had been plentifully supplied by the lieutenant, "you were kind enough to ask me here to get some supper, and I don't want to spoil a good meal by entering into a political discussion; for, if I answer your question, I shall tell you some pretty plain things, and I know you will get provoked at me."
"O no, we are not as unreasonable as that," replied the man. "Answer my question."
"Well, then," said Frank, "I will make the same reply as I once did to that question in the prison at Shreveport. It is this: I believe that if ever there was a lot of men in the world who need a good, sound thrashing, you rebels do."
"That's the truth, sir," said Jack, talking as plainly as a mouthful of salt pork would permit. "Stand up for the old flag, sir."
The discussion thus commenced was maintained for an hour, the rebels evincing the utmost ignorance in regard to the principles for which they were fighting; and the manner in which Frank knocked their flimsy arguments right and left, and the fearlessness with which he upheld the course the government has pursued, and predicted the speedy overthrow of the rebellion, excited their respect and admiration.
At length bedtime came, and, just as Frank and the mate were about to be conducted back to the guard, Colonel Harrison, accompanied by two ladies and a strange officer, walked up.
"Here, Yank," he exclaimed, addressing Frank, "here's an old acquaintance of yours. Come here."
As Frank obeyed the order, the strange officer advanced to meet him, and he recognized Lieutenant Somers. He was not at all pleased to see him, for the lieutenant, doubtless, had not forgotten the circumstances connected with his capture, and although he could not remember of ever having treated him badly, still he feared he might harbor some feelings of malice, and might see fit to take a summary revenge upon him. To his surprise, however, the rebel eagerly advanced to meet him, and, extending his hand, greeted him with:
"How are you, Nelson? You're in a fix, I see. I am the free man now, and you the prisoner."
"Yes," answered Frank, "I'm in for it again. Although I was captured in violation of all the rules of war, I suppose I must submit to it for awhile."
The lieutenant passed nearly an hour in conversation with him, talking over all the little incidents that had happened while he was a prisoner in the hands of Frank and his fellow-fugitives, and was compelled to pilot them through the country, and ended by saying:
"Although you were sometimes obliged to use me rather roughly, you did the best you could under the circumstances, and I shall let you see that I don't forget favors. I'll speak to the colonel, and get him to furnish you with quarters at the plantation to-night."
The lieutenant then left them, and shortly afterward a corporal and his guard came up, and conducted Frank and the mate to the plantation, where they were confined in a deserted negro cabin. A few blankets had been spread out on the floor to serve as a bed, and, had they been among friends, they could have passed a very comfortable night.
As soon as the corporal had locked the door and retired, the mate, who had been examining their quarters, said:
"I wish, sir, that lieutenant hadn't taken so much interest in you, 'cause we're in Darby now, sure."
"We are much better off than we would be out in the camp," answered Frank. "Try that window-shutter—carefully, now."
The mate did as he was ordered, and, to Frank's joy, reported that it was unfastened.
"Now," said the latter, "the next thing is to ascertain where the sentries are posted."
"There's one out aft here," replied the mate, "'cause I can see him; and there's one at the gangway for'ard, 'cause I heered the corporal tell him to keep a good look-out."
"We must wait until the camp is still," said Frank, "and then we will make the attempt."
For two long hours the prisoners sat on their rough bed—the mate, in accordance with the discipline to which he had been accustomed from boyhood, waiting for his officer to speak, and Frank listening for the advent of that silence which should proclaim that the time for action had arrived.
Eleven o'clock came at length, when, just after the sentry's cry of "All's well," Frank arose to his feet, and cautiously approaching the window, pushed open the shutter and looked out. The sentry was seated on the ground at the corner of the cabin, holding his musket across his knees, now and then stretching his arms, and yawning. Jack remained seated on the bed, while Frank debated long and earnestly with himself as to what course it was best to pursue. Should they spring out and overpower the sentry where he sat? This could not be accomplished without a fight, for the sentry was a large, powerful-looking man, and, without doubt, possessed of great strength; besides, if a struggle did ensue, the noise would attract the attention of the guard at the other side of the cabin, who would lend prompt assistance, and, with these two men opposed to them, escape would be impossible. Still, there seemed to be no other course for them to pursue, and Frank had already proposed the plan to the mate, and was about to push open the shutter and make the attempt, when he noticed that the sentinel had leaned his head against the cabin, and was sleeping soundly.
"Jack," he whispered, "get out of this window quickly, and make the best of your way into those bushes," pointing to a thicket that stood about twenty feet from the cabin. "As soon as I see you safe, I will follow. Don't make any noise now."
The mate touched his cap, lingered for an instant to press Frank's hand, then mounted lightly into the window, reached the ground without arousing the rebel, and, in a moment more, disappeared in the bushes. Frank was about to follow when the sentry suddenly awakened, rubbed his eyes, gazed vacantly about him, and then sank back to his former position. As soon as Frank felt certain that he was asleep, he again opened the shutter, descended noiselessly to the ground, and, after carefully closing the window, sprang into the bushes.
"Shiver my timbers, sir," whispered Jack, seizing his officer's hand, "that was well done. Won't the Johnnies be surprised when they call all hands in the morning, and find us missin'?"
But the fugitives were by no means safe, neither had their escape been accomplished. They were still inside of the lines, and might, at any moment, stumble upon a picket. But it was necessary that they should get as far away from the camp as possible before their escape became discovered, and Frank, without waiting to receive the congratulations of the mate, who now looked upon their escape as a certain thing, threw himself on his hands and knees, and moved slowly across a field that extended a mile back of the cabin, and which must be crossed before they could reach the woods. Their progress was slow and laborious, and it was two hours before they reached a road which ran in the direction in which they supposed the river to lie. Not having seen any pickets, and now feeling quite certain that they were outside of the lines, they arose to their feet, and commenced running at the top of their speed. The road ran through a thick woods, but they had no difficulty in following it, as the moon was shining brightly. Just before daylight, they arrived at the Mississippi. It was a pleasant sight to their eyes, and both uttered a shout of joy when they found themselves standing on its banks. But their spirits fell again, when, on glancing up and down the river as far as their eyes could reach, they could not see a vessel of any kind in sight. They were not yet at their journey's end. There might be a gun-boat close by, hid behind one of the numerous points that stretched out into the river, or there might not be one within a hundred miles. They must not linger, however, for they were not free from pursuit until they were safe on board some vessel.
Sorrowfully they bent their steps down the river, listening for sounds of pursuit, and eagerly watching for signs of an approaching steamer; but the day wore away, and the fugitives, who began to feel the effects of hunger, halted, and were debating upon the means to be used in procuring food, when, to their joy, they discovered smoke around a bend, and, in half an hour, a transport, loaded with soldiers, appeared in sight. They at once commenced waving their hats, to attract the attention of those on board, who evidently saw them, but being suspicious that it was a plan of the rebels to decoy them into shore, turned off toward the opposite bank.
"I should think they ought to see us," said Frank, and he commenced shouting at the top of his lungs. A moment afterward a puff of smoke arose from the forecastle, and a twelve-pounder shot plowed through the water, and lodged in the bank at their very feet. It was then evident to them that they had been taken for rebels. After watching the boat until it disappeared, they again turned their faces down the river. Night overtaking them without bringing any relief, the fugitives, hungry and foot-sore, lay down in the woods and slept.