As I have before stated, our Captain frequently visited the War Office, and I was nearly always taken along him, as he, on account of the stiffness of one of his legs, was unable to mount or dismount his horse without assistance. I learned, through this association with him, that the influence which he controlled at headquarters, and which enabled him—a cripple—to obtain such a good and much-sought-after position in the army over the heads of others, was derived, in part at least, from some relationship with Mr. Judah P. Benjamin, the Secretary of War for the Confederates.
Mr. Benjamin, it will be remembered, was a close friend of Mr. Davis.
As the fall was now well advanced into winter, the weather was daily becoming colder, the rains were more frequent, and once or twice we had some signs of snow, and occasionally that most disagreeable of all weathers—sleet, rain and cold, all at the same time. We understood, generally, that it was now getting too late in the season for a fall or winter invasion of Maryland.
I had not learned enough of the art or science of war at that time to know that there were any seasons for Army operations.
One day, while standing in the hall door of the War Department Office, waiting, as was my custom, for the Captain to come around, I was aroused from the indifference, which had grown upon me, by overhearing two persons, who were passing me, talking together excitedly about Fort Pickens and Pensacola. As we had been hearing nothing at all about Fort Pickens during these summer and fall months, I had almost made up mind that the place had been overlooked.
As may be imagined, I was not anxious on my own account to have the subject revived during my stay in Richmond. When I heard the word "Pickens," which to my ears was like a shot in the rear, I was instantly on the alert, and watched most eagerly the movements of the two gentlemen, whose discussion had attracted my attention. They passed along out of the building and together walked up the street and were gone out of my sight. It was evident from their not paying any attention to my presence, that their conversation about Pickens did not have any reference to me or my connection with the affairs.
I felt the least bit uneasy, however, and, while I stood about the War Office in Richmond that day, the terrible thought passed through my brain, "Had I in any manner given myself away, and was I being taken to the Department by our Captain for the purpose of entrapping or identifying me?"
It does not take very long for these dreadful thoughts to get possession of one's brain, and they do grow most wonderfully into the wildest fears and fancies in less time than it takes to write the words that will explain the incident. I waited and watched most anxiously about the square in front of the office, where our horses were tied, for the appearance of our Captain. He was not in the building at that time, I learned upon inquiring of some of the clerks. He was most likely further down town, or with General Winder. It was our custom to hitch our horses at this same place every day, when, after dismounting, the Captain went his way, while I did as I pleased also, it being understood always that at or near a certain time we were to remount at this place and together return to Camp Lee.
That evening he was unusually late getting around, and when I saw him limping along, his cane pounding the pavement with more than ordinary vigor, I knew I should have to lift the old man bodily on to his horse. He was always more communicative at such times, and ready to tell all that he had learned during the day. To my own surprise I blurted out, without thinking of my words, so engrossed was my mind on this subject, as if determined to hear the worst at once:
"How about Fort Pickens?"