THE REBEL FARM-HOUSE
Somers, besides the chagrin caused by his capture, was greatly disturbed by the astounding discoveries he had made in regard to Captain de Banyan. He was extremely anxious to obtain an opportunity to converse with him in relation to his disgraceful antecedents; but the presence of the rebel soldiers prevented him from saying a word. Yet his looks must have betrayed the distrust he felt in his companion; for De Banyan seemed to study his face more than the faces of their captors.
By this time, the six trusty soldiers who had been selected to participate in the enterprise must have given them up, and returned to the camp with the sad story of their capture. It was mortifying to Somers to have such a report carried to the general of the division; for it seemed to be an imputation upon his skill and tact; but he found some consolation in believing that he should not have been taken if it had not been for his unfortunate connection with Captain de Banyan, who was rash beyond measure in venturing within the rebel lines, unless he really meant to return to the Third Tennessee.
Whatever the captain was, and whatever he intended to do, Somers could not believe that his late friend had deliberately betrayed him into the hands of the enemy. It might be so; or it might be that to save himself from the consequences of his alleged desertion, he would claim to have been always a faithful adherent of the Southern Confederacy. Somers was perplexed beyond description by the perils and uncertainties of his situation. He had, in fact, lost confidence in his companion; and the result was, that he resolved to make his escape, if he could, from the hands of the rebels without him. Under other circumstances, he would have deemed it infamous to harbor, for an instant, the thought of deserting a friend in the hour of extremity; and nothing but the remembrance of the Third Tennessee could have induced him to adopt such a resolution. Having adopted it, he kept his eyes wide open for any opportunity which would favor his purpose. His curiosity, excited to the highest pitch to know what the captain could say in defense of the heinous charge which had been fastened upon him by the rebel cavalry officer, and which he himself had substantiated, rendered the intention to part company with him very disagreeable; but the terror of a rebel prison, and perhaps a worse fate, were potent arguments in its favor.
In the course of half an hour, the breakfast was ready, and the party sat down with a hearty relish to discuss it. The fried bacon and biscuit were luxuries to Somers, and he partook of them with a keener satisfaction than he did of the costly viands of the “Continental” and the “National;” but, deeply as he was interested in this pleasant employment, he hardly ceased for a moment to think of the grand project of making his escape. For the time, this had become the great business of existence, and he banished from his mind all minor questions.
Opportunity is seldom wanting to those who are resolutely determined to do great deeds. Only the slow-molded and irresolute want a time and a place. The breakfast was finished, and the troopers and their prisoners were on excellent terms with each other long before the conclusion of the repast. Eating and drinking promote the social feeling; and Captain de Banyan was as brilliant as he had ever been in the camps of the Chickahominy. He made the rebels laugh, and excited their wonder by the most improbable stories in which even he had ever indulged. It would have been impossible to distinguish between the captives and the captors; for the latter were extremely considerate, as they had probably been instructed to be by the captain of the company.
When the meal was finished, the troopers rose, and proposed to resume the journey. De Banyan paid the bill in gold; for there was still a small portion of the precious metal in the army.
“Now we are ready,” said the sergeant; “and we will get our horses. It’s a pity we haven’t horses for you; but, when you get tired, we will give you the use of the saddles for a time.”
“Thank you, my friend. That’s handsome. You remind me of a Russian major-general, who insisted that I should ride his animal while he walked by my side, after I was taken prisoner in the battle of Austerlitz.”
“He was a good fellow,” replied the sergeant, who probably did not remember the precise date of the celebrated battle quoted by the versatile captain. “We shall not be behind him; and, if you like, you shall have the first ride on my horse.”
“Thank you; but I couldn’t think of depriving you of your horse, even for a moment.”
“Well, we will settle all that by and by. Come with me now, if you please,” said the sergeant, as he led the way out of the house.
As very little attention seemed to be paid to Somers—for the rebels evidently did not regard him as either a slippery or a dangerous person—he was permitted to bring up the rear. Now, it is always mortifying to be held in slight esteem, especially to a sensitive mind like that of our hero; and he resented the slight by declining to follow the party. Near the outside door, as they passed out, he discovered another door, which was ajar, and which led up-stairs. Without any waste of valuable time, he slyly stepped through the doorway, and ascended the stairs. The rebels were so busy in listening to the great stories of Captain de Banyan, that they did not immediately discover the absence of the unpretending young man.
When our resolute adventurer saw the stairs through the partially open door, they suggested to him a method of operations. It is true, he did not have time to elaborate the plan, and fully determine what he should do when he went up-stairs; but the general idea, that he could drop out of a window and escape in the rear of the house, struck him forcibly, and he impulsively embraced the opportunity thus presented. The building was an ordinary Virginia farm-house, rudely constructed, and very imperfectly finished. On ascending the stairs, Somers reached a large, unfinished apartment, which was used as a store-room. From it opened, at each end of the house, a large chamber.
No place of concealment, which was apparently suitable for his purpose, presented itself; and, without loss of time, he mounted a grain chest, and ascended to the loft over one of the rooms; for the beams were not floored in the middle of the building. The aspect of this place was not at all hopeful; for there were none of those convenient “cubby holes,” which most houses contain, wherein he could bestow his body with any hope of escaping even a cursory search for him.
In the gable end, on one side of the chimney, which, our readers are aware, is generally built on the outside of the structure, in Virginia, was a small window, one-half of which, in the decay of the glass panes, had been boarded up to exclude the wind and the rain. The job had evidently been performed by a bungling hand, and had never been more than half done. The wood was as rotten as punk; and without difficulty, and without much noise, the fugitive succeeded in removing the board which had covered the lower part of the window.
By this time the absence of the prisoner had been discovered, and the rebels were in a state of high excitement on account of it; but Somers was pleased to find they had not rightly conjectured the theory of his escape. He could hear them swear, and hear them considering the direction in which he had gone. Two of them stood under the window, to which Somers had restored the board he had removed; and he could distinctly hear all that they said.
“Of course he did,” said one of them. “He slipped round the corner of the house when we came out.”
“If he did, where is he? It’s open ground round here; and he couldn’t have gone ten rods before we missed him.”
“The captain will give it to me,” replied the other, whose voice the fugitive recognized to be that of the sergeant.
“We shall find him,” added the other. “He can’t be twenty rods from here now.”
“I did not think of the young fellow running off, but kept both eyes on the other all the time; for I thought he wasn’t telling all those stories for nothing.”
“Maybe he is in the house,” suggested the other.
Somers thought that was a very bad suggestion of the rebel soldier; and, if there had been any hope of their believing him, he would himself have informed them that he was not in the house, and reconciled his conscience as best he could to the falsehood.
“Can’t yer find ’em?” demanded a third person, which Somers saw, through the aperture he had left between the board and the window, was the farmer.
“We haven’t lost but one.”
“He can’t be fur from this yere.”
“Isn’t he in the house?” demanded the sergeant anxiously.
“No; I saw them both foller yer out.”
“So did I,” added the farmer’s wife, who had come out to learn the cause of the excitement.
“Well, then, we must beat about here, and find him;” and the party beneath the window moved away in the rear of the house.
Thus far, the project was hopeful; but it was apparent to Somers that the rebels would not leave the place without searching the house, after they had satisfied themselves that the fugitive was not hidden in any of the out-buildings of the farm. If they did so, his situation would at once become hopeless, if he remained where he was. The remembrance of his former experience in a chimney, in another part of Virginia, caused him to cast a wistful eye at the great stone structure which adorned the end of the building. At that time, he had occupied his smoky quarters with the knowledge and consent of the lady of the house. But now his secret was lodged in his own breast alone; not even Captain de Banyan knew where he was, or what he proposed to do.
When the party beneath the window left the place, he carefully removed the board, and thrust out his head to reconnoiter the position. The only way by which he could enter the chimney, which his former experience and prejudice assured him was the only safe place in the vicinity, was by the top. To achieve such a result was a difficult piece of gymnastics, even if it could have been performed without reference to any spectators; but to accomplish it without being seen by any of the party below was as near an impossibility as any impracticable thing could be.
The rebels, both civil and military, were now out of sight; but he doubted not from his eyrie on the ridge-pole of the house, if he could reach it, they could all be seen. Somers was as prudent as he was bold, and he decided not to run any risks until necessity should absolutely compel such a course. Quietly ensconcing himself beneath the window, where he could hear what transpired below, he waited the issue; but he had studied out the precise steps which it would be necessary for him to take in order to reach the roof of the house. He knew exactly where his right and his left foot were to be successfully planted to achieve his purpose, when it could no longer be postponed. But he indulged a faint hope that the rebels would widen the area of their search, and finally abandon it when it should be unsuccessful.
A long quarter of an hour elapsed—long enough to be an hour’s time as its ordinary flow is measured; so burdened with intense anxiety was each second that made up its sum total. The rebels, assisted by the farmer and his wife, who were now hardly less zealous than the soldiers, had examined every hole and corner in the vicinity of the house, without finding the escaped prisoner.
“I tell you, he must be in the house,” said the sergeant, as the party paused under the window on their return to the front of the house.
“Of course, ye kin look in the house if yer like; but I see ’em both go out of the door with yer,” persisted the farmer.
“We will search the house,” added the sergeant resolutely.
“Yer kin, if yer like; but I hope yer won’t lose the other feller while ye’re looking for this one.”
“I told Gordon to shoot him if he attempted to get away; and I can trust Gordon.”
They passed out of hearing, and Somers felt that his time had come. But, as we have several times before had occasion to remark, strategy is successful in one only by the blunders and inertness of the other; and he cherished with increased enthusiasm his project of hiding in the chimney. Neither the farmer nor the soldiers were trained detectives, and the blunder they made which rendered Somers’s strategy more available was in hunting in crowds instead of singly. They all entered the house together; and even Gordon, in charge of the other prisoner, conducted him to the interior, that he might have the pleasure of seeing the fugitive unearthed.
Taking down the board, Somers emerged from the little window, and, by the steps which he had before marked out, ascended to the roof; a difficult feat, which would have been impossible to one whose father was not the master of a vessel, and who had not explored a ship from the step to the truck of the mainmast. It was done, safely done, and without much noise, which would have been as fatal as a fall. As he sprang from the window still to a projecting stone in the chimney, he heard the steps of the whole party on the stairs below. He was not an instant too soon in the execution of his project; and, when he reached the ridge-pole of the house, he paused to recover the breath which he had lost by excitement and exertion.
The pursuers occupied some time in examining the store-room and the adjoining chambers, and he had a sufficient interval for rest before he renewed his labors. But in a few moments he heard the noise caused by the party ascending to the loft over the room beneath him, and the movement could no longer be delayed.
“I tell yer, sergeant, the feller isn’t in here!” protested the farmer violently, and in a tone loud enough for Somers to hear him on the roof. “Be keerful there, or you’ll break down the plastering.”
Somers could not hear what the sergeant said in reply; but the farmer was so earnest in his protest against any further search of his house, that the fugitive was almost willing to believe that the protester knew he was in the house, was his friend, and meant to save him from the hands of his enemies. But this supposition was too absurd to be tolerated, for the farmer could have no possible interest in his welfare.
While watching, he had taken off his shoes, and thrust one into each side-pocket of the old blouse he wore, partly to save noise, and partly to prevent his feet from slipping on the smooth stones of the chimney. Thus prepared, he climbed to the top, and commenced the descent of the smoky avenue. He found the opening much smaller than that of his previous experience in chimneys; and, after he had descended a few feet, the place became inconveniently dark. He could no longer hear the steps or the voices of his pursuers; and he had begun to congratulate himself on the ultimate success of his stratagem, when his foot struck upon something which moved out of his way. It was an animal—perhaps a cat. He moved on.
“Quit! Lemme alone!” said a snarling voice beneath him.