These were the wild feelings that were swelling in my breast when I approached headquarters to meet General Patterson's appointment. I walked boldly up to a group of officers who were loafing around headquarters; a sentry challenged me; nothing daunted, I pointed to one of the group—the same officer who had directed me to call—and asked to see him.
My running into the sentry had made some little commotion, which served to call the attention of the officer, who recognized me and ordered the guard to allow me to pass. Meeting me half way, we walked to one side. I believe this officer was Fitz-John Porter, who was then Chief-of-staff—I am not positive; anyway, I was courteously received, and, after being seated, was put through a course of cross-examination as to my recent experience in the South, pretty much—as I now recall it—after the manner of a witness in his own defense.
Being satisfied that General Patterson had referred the whole subject to this officer for his action, I told him briefly and pointedly that I was willing and ready to undertake the service I proposed, and believed that it was possible to ascertain the movements, and perhaps the plans of General Johnston; that I could at least gather from their telegraph communications to Richmond and Manassas the purport of any instructions which were, of course, being sent to Johnston in that way over the wires. I was perfectly willing, for the good of the cause, to undertake the dangerous service of getting back through the lines with the information.
Whatever may have been thought of the feasibility or propriety of this project, Mr. Porter could scarcely have doubted my motive, but he apparently looked upon me as a youthful enthusiast, or, as we term it nowadays, a crank. He said:
"The General is not disposed to make much use of the service of scouts; he thinks it altogether unnecessary in this instance."
If Fitz-John Porter had dashed a bucket of cold water in my face, it would not at the time have had a more chilling effect than his few hard words he uttered in this contemptible manner.
My proposition was not visionary, but entirely practical, and I venture now the opinion that had the service been accepted in the proper spirit it is possible that the despised spy might have brought to his shiftless headquarters some reliable information of Johnston's proposed movement to Manassas, which might have prevented his escape, and thus have turned the tide of battle at Bull Run, which followed soon after the interview.
It is likely that the headquarters of the army were a little over-sensitive on account of the well-known or the imagined interference or meddling of the Washington authorities with their military prerogatives. It has been fully explained in the "Century" history, (since this story was first told) that General Scott, through the proper channels, had been for days urging General Patterson to look carefully after Johnston, and to prevent at all hazards his junction with Beauregard.
The urgency of the Washington officials, taken in connection with the letter I brought from the Secretary and Mr. Covode, may perhaps have caused them to infer that they were considered neglectful and needed some prompting and investigation; perhaps it may have been thought that I had been sent out as a spy in their own camps. Any way, I was not a willing party to any such schemes; my only object and desire was to accomplish something for the benefit of the cause, and in this I had not a thought of myself.
Returning sorrowfully and with my heart laden with disappointment to my bed, I pondered long before sleeping as to my proper course. The longer I considered all the circumstances connected with my being sent up there, I realized more clearly the real meaning of Covode's words: