Books: With Lee in Virginia; A Story Of The American Civil War

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"That is true enough," General Lee said, "although it is not the way
men generally view the matter. Still, sir, if you volunteer for the
work, I do not feel justified in refusing the opportunity of
acquiring information that may be of vital consequence to us.
When will you start?"

"In half an hour, sir. I shall ride back to Richmond, obtain a
disguise there, and then go round by train to Burksville Junction
and then ride again until I get round behind their lines. Will you
give me an order for my horse and myself to he taken?"

"Very well, sir," General Lee said. "So be it. May God he with
you on your way and bring you safely back."

Vincent rode off to his quarters.

"Dan," he said, "I am going away on special duty for at least three
days. I have got a couple of letters to write, and shall be ready to
start in half an hour. Give the horse a good feed and have him at
the door again by that time."

"Am I to go with you, sah?"

"No, Dan; I must go by myself this time."

Dan felt anxious as he went out, for it was seldom that his master
ever went away without telling him where he was going, and he
felt sure that the service was one of unusual danger; nor was his
anxiety lessened when at the appointed time Vincent came out and
handed him two letters.

"You are to keep these letters, Dan, until I return, or till you hear
that something has happened to me. If you hear that, you are to
take one of these letters to my mother, and take the other yourself
to Miss Kingston. Tell her before you give it her what has
happened as gently as you can. As for yourself, Dan, you had your
letters of freedom long ago, and I have left you five hundred
dollars; so that you can get a cabin and patch of your own, and
settle down when these troubles are over."

"Let me go with you, master," Dan said, with the tears streaming
down his cheeks. "I would rather be killed with you a hundred
times than get on without you."

"I would take you if I could, Dan; but this is a service that I must
do alone. Good-by, my boy; let us hope that in three or four days
at the outside I shall be back here again safe and sound."

He wrung Dan's hand, and then started at a canter and kept on at
that pace until he reached Richmond. A train with stores was
starting for the south in a few minutes; General Lee's order enabled
Vincent to have a horse-box attached at once, and he was soon
speeding on his way. He alighted at Burksville Junction, and there
purchased some rough clothes for himself and some
country-fashioned saddlery for his horse. Then, after changing his
clothes at an inn and putting the fresh saddlery on his horse, he
started.

It was getting late in the afternoon, but he rode on by unfrequented
roads, stopping occasionally to inquire if any of the Federal
cavalry had been seen in the neighborhood, and at last stopped for
the night at a little village inn. As soon as it was daybreak he
resumed his journey. He had purchased at Burksville some
colored calico and articles of female clothing, and fastened the
parcel to the back of his saddle. As he rode forward now he heard
constant tales of the passing of parties of the enemy's cavalry, but
he was fortunate enough to get well round to the rear of the
Federal lines before he encountered any of them. Then he came
suddenly upon a troop.

"Where are you going to, and where have you come from?"

"Our farm is a mile away from Union Grove," he said, "and I have
been over to Sussex Courthouse to buy some things for my
mother."

"Let me see what you have got there," the officer said. "You are
rebels to a man here, and there's no trusting any of you."

Vincent unfastened the parcel and opened it. The officer laughed.

"Well, we won't confiscate them as contraband of war."

So saying he set spurs to his horse and galloped on with his troop.
Vincent rode on to Union Grove, and then taking a road at random
kept on till he reached a small farmhouse. He knocked at the door,
and a woman came out.

"Mother," he said, "can you put me up for a couple of days? I am a
stranger here, and all the villages are full of soldiers."

The woman looked at him doubtfully.

"What are you doing here?" she asked at last. "This ain't a time for
strangers; besides a young fellow like you ought to be ashamed to
show yourself when you ought to be over there with Lee. My boys
are both there and my husband. You ought to be ashamed of
yourself, a strong-looking young fellow like you, to be riding about
instead of fighting the Yankees. Go along! you will get no shelter
here. I would scorn to have such as you inside my doors."

"Perhaps I have been fighting there," Vincent said significantly.
"But one can't be always fighting, and there are other things to do
sometimes. For instance, to find out what the Yankees are doing
and what are their plans."

"Is that so?" the woman asked doubtfully.

"That is so," he answered earnestly. "I am an officer in Wade
Hampton's cavalry, and, now Sheridan's troopers have cut off all
communication, I have come out to find for General Lee where the
Yankees are building their batteries before Petersburg."

"In that case you are welcome," the woman said. "Come straight
in. I will lead your horse out and fasten him up in the bush, and
give him a feed there. It will never do to put him in the stable; the
Yankees come in and out and they'd take him off sharp enough if
their eyes fell on him. I think you will be safe enough even if they
do come. They will take you for a son of mine, and if they ask any
questions I will answer them sharp enough."

"I wonder they have left you a feed of corn," Vincent said, when
the woman returned after taking away his horse.

"It's no thanks to them," she answered; "they have cleared out
everything that they could lay their hands on. But I have been
expecting it for months, and, as I have had nothing to do since my
man and boys went away, I have been digging a great pit in the
wood over there, and have buried most all my corn, and have
salted my pigs down and buried them in barrels; so they didn't find
much. They took the old horse and two cows; but I hope the old
horse will fall down the first time they uses him, and the cow meat
will choke them as eats it. Now, is there anything as I can do to
help you?"

"I want a basket with some eggs and chickens or vegetables to take
into their camp to sell, but I am afraid I have not much chance of
getting them."

"I can help you there too," the woman said. "I turned all my
chickens into the wood the day I heard the Yankees had landed.
They have got rather wild like; but I go out and give them some
corn every evening. I expect if we look about we shall find some
nests; indeed I know there are one or two of them sitting. So if
you will come out with me we can soon knock down five or six of
the creatures, and maybe get a score or two of eggs. As for
vegetables, a horde of locusts couldn't have stripped the country
cleaner than they have done."

They went out into the wood. Six hens were soon killed, and
hunting about they discovered several nests and gathered about
three dozen eggs. Vincent aided in plucking the chickens and they
then returned to the house.

"You had best take a bite before you go," she said.

It's noon now, and you said you started at daybreak. Always get a
meal when you can, say I."

She produced a loaf and some bacon from a little cupboard hidden
by her bed, and Vincent, who, now he thought of it, was feeling
hungry, made a hearty meal.

"I will pay you for these chickens and eggs at once," he said.
"There is no saying whether I shall come back again."

"I will not say no to your paying for the chickens and eggs," she
said, "because money is scarce enough, and I may have long to
wait before my man and the boys come back; but as to lodging and
food I would not touch a cent. You are welcome to all I have when
it's for the good cause." Vincent started with the basket on his arm,
and after walking three miles came upon the Federal camps.

Some of the regiments were already under canvas, others were still
bivouacked in the open air, as the store-ships carrying the heavy
baggage had not yet arrived. The generals and their staffs had
taken up their quarters in the villages. Vincent had received
accurate instructions from his hostess as to the position of the
various villages, and avoided them carefully, for he did not want to
sell out his stock immediately. He had indeed stowed two of the
fowls away in his pocket so that in case any one insisted upon
buying up all his stock he could place these in his basket and still
push on.

He avoided the camps as much as he could. He could see the
smoke rising in front of him, and the roar of guns was now close at
hand. He saw on his right an elevated piece of ground, from which
a good view could be obtained of the fortifications upon which the
Federals were working. A camp had been pitched there, and a
large tent near the summit showed that some officer of superior
rank had his quarters there. He made a detour so as to come up at
the back of the hill and when he reached the top he stood looking
down upon the line of works.

They were nearly half a mile distant. The intervening ground had
already been stripped of its hedges, and the trees cut down to form
gabions, fascines, and platforms for the cannon. Thousands of
men were at work; but in some parts they were clustered much
more thickly than in others, and Vincent had no difficulty in
determining where the principal batteries were in course of
construction along this portion of the position. He was still gazing
intently when two horsemen rode up from behind.

"Hallo you, sir! What are you looking at?" one of them asked
sharply. "What are you spying about here?"

Vincent turned slowly round with a silly smile on his lips.

"I am spying all them chaps at work," he said. "It reminds me for
all the world of an ant-hill. Never did see so many chaps before.
What be they a-doing? Digging a big drain or making a roadway, I
guess."

"Who are you, sir?" the officer asked angrily.

"Seth Jones I be, and mother's sent me to sell some fowls and eggs.
Do you want to buy any? Fine birds they be."

"Why, Sheridan," laughed the other officer, "this is a feather out of
your cap. I thought your fellows had cleared out every hen-roost
within twenty miles of Petersburg already."

"I fancy they have emptied most of them," the general said grimly.
"Where do you come from, lad?"

"I comes from over there," Vincent said, jerking his thumb back.
"I lives there with mother. Father and the other boys they have
gone fighting Yanks; but they wouldn't take me with them 'cause I
ain't sharp in my wits, though I tells them I could shoot a Yank as
well as they could if they showed me."

"And who do you suppose all those men are?" General Sheridan
asked, pointing toward the trenches.

"I dunno," Vincent replied. "I guess they be niggers. There be too
many of them for whites; besides whites ain't such fools to work
like that. Doesn't ye want any fowl?" and he drew back the cloth
and showed the contents of the basket.

"Take them as a matter of curiosity, general," the other officer
laughed. "It will be downright novelty to you to buy chickens."

"What do you want for them, boy?"

"Mother said as I wasn't to take less nor a dollar apiece."

"Greenbacks, I suppose?" the officer asked.

"I suppose so. She didn't say nothing about it; but I has not seen
aught but greenbacks for a long time since."

"Come along, then," the officer said; "we will take them."

They rode up to the large tent, and the officers alighted, and gave
their horses to two of the soldiers.

"Give your basket to this soldier."

"I want the basket back again. Mother would whop me if I came
back without the basket again."

"All right," the officer said; "you shall have it back in a minute."

Vincent stood looking anxiously after the orderly.

"Do you think that boy is as foolish as he seems?" General
Sheridan asked his companion. "He admits that he. comes of a
rebel family."

"I don't think he would have admitted that if he hadn't been a fool.
I fancy he is a half-witted chap. They never would have left a
fellow of his age behind."

"No, I think it's safe," Sheridan said; "but one can't be too
particular just at present. See, the trees in front hide our work
altogether from the rebels, and it would be a serious thing if they
were to find out what we are doing."

"That boy could not tell them much even if he got there," the other
said; "and from this distance it would need a sharp eye and some
military knowledge to make out anything of what is going on.
Where does your mother live, boy?"

"I ain't going to tell you," Vincent said doggedly "Mother said I
wasn't to tell no one where I lived, else the Yankee thieves would
be a-coming down and stealing the rest of our chickens."

The officers laughed.

"Well, go along, boy; and I should advise you not to say anything
about Yankee thieves another time, for likely enough you will get
a broken head for your pains."

Vincent went off grumbling, and with a slow and stumbling step
made his way over the brow of the hill and down through the
camps behind. Here he sold his last two fowls and his eggs, and
then walked briskly on until he reached the cottage from which he
had started.

"I am glad to see you back," the woman said as he entered. "How
have you got on?"

"Capitally," he said. "I pretended to be half an idiot, and so got
safely out, though I fell into Sheridan's hands. He suspected me at
first, but at last he thought I was what I looked-a fool. He wanted
to know where you lived, but I wouldn't tell him. I told him you
told me not to tell any one, 'cause if I did the Yankee thieves
would be clearing out the rest of the chickens."

"Did you tell him that, now?" the woman said in delight; "he must
have thought you was a fool. Well, it's a good thing the Yanks
should hear the truth sometimes. Well, have you done now?"

"No, I have only seen one side of their works yet; I must try round
the other flank to-morrow. I wish I could get something to sell that
wouldn't get bought up by the first people I came to, something I
could peddle among the soldiers."

"What sort of thing?"

"Something in the way of drinks, I should say," Vincent said. "I
saw a woman going among the camps. She had two tin cans and a
little mug. I think she had lemonade or something of that sort."

"It wouldn't be lemonade," the woman said "I haven't seen a
lemon for the last two years; but they do get some oranges from
Florida. Maybe it was that, or perhaps it was spirits and water."

"Perhaps it was," Vincent agreed; "though I don't think they would
let any one sell spirits in the camp."

"I can't get you any lemons or oranges neither," the woman said;
"but I might make you a drink out of molasses and herbs, with
some spirits in it. I have got a keg of old rye buried away ever
since my man went off, six months ago; I am out of molasses, but I
dare say I can borrow some from a neighbor, and as for herbs they
are about the only thing the Yankees haven't stole. I think I could
fix you up something that would do. As long as it has got spirits in
it, it don't much matter what you put in besides, only it wouldn't do
to take spirits up alone. You can call it plantation drink, and I don't
suppose any one would ask too closely what it's made of."

"Thank you, that will do capitally."

The next morning Vincent again set out, turning big steps this time
toward the right flank of the Federal position. He had in the
course of the evening made a sketch of the ground he had soon,
marking in all the principal batteries, with notes as to the number
of guns for which they seemed to be intended.

"Look here," he said to the woman before leaving. "I may not be
as lucky to-day as I was yesterday. If I do not come back to-night,
can you find any one you can trust to take this piece of paper round
to Richmond? Of course he would have to make his way first up
to Burksville junction, and then take train to Richmond. When he
gets there he must go down to Petersburg, and ask for General Lee.
I have written a line to go with it, saying what I have done this for,
and asking the general to give the bearer a hundred dollars."

"I will take it myself," the woman said; "not for the sake of the
hundred dollars, though I ain't saying as it wouldn't please the old
man when he conies back to find I had a hundred dollars stored
away; but for the cause. My men are all doing their duty, and I will
do mine. So trust me, and if you don't come back by daybreak
to-morrow morning, I will start right away with these letters. I will
go out at once and hide them somewhere in case the Yanks should
come and make a search. If you are caught they might, like
enough, trace you here, and then they would search the place all
over and maybe set it alight. If you ain't here by nightfall I shall
sleep out in the wood, so if they come they won't find me here. If
anything detains you, and you ain't back till after dark, you will
find me somewhere near the tree where your horse is tied up."

Provided with a large can full of a liquor that the woman
compounded, and which Vincent, on tasting, found to be by no
means bad, he started from the cottage. Again he made his way
safely through the camps, and without hindrance lounged up to a
spot where a large number of men belonging to one of the negro
regiments were at work.

"Plantation liquor?" he said, again assuming a stupid air, to a black
sergeant who was with them. "First-rate stuff; and only fifteen
cents a glass."

"What plantation liquor like?" the negro asked. "Me not know
him."

"First-rate stuff," Vincent repeated. "Mother makes it of spirit and
molasses and all sorts. Fifteen cents a glass."

"Well, I will take a glass," the sergeant said. "Mighty hot work dis
in de sun; but don't you say nuffin about the spirit. Ef dey ask you,
just you say molasses and all sorts, dat's quite enough. De white
officer won't let spirits be sold in de camp.

"Dat bery good stuff," be said, smacking his lips as he handed back
the little tin measure. "You sell him all in no time." Several of the
negroes now came round, and Vincent disposed of a considerable
quantity of his plantation liquor. Then he turned to go away, for
he did not want to empty his can at one place. He had not gone
many paces when a party of three or four officers came along.

"Hallo, you sir, what the deuce are you doing here?" one asked
angrily. "Don't you know nobody is allowed to pass through the
lines?"

"I didn't see no lines. What sort of lines are they? No one told me
nothing about lines. My mother sent me out to sell plantation
liquor, fifteen cents a glass."

"What's it like?" one of the officers said laughing. "Spirits, I will
bet a dollar, in some shape or other. Pour me out a glass. I will try
it, anyhow."

Vincent filled the little tin mug, and handed it to the officer. As he
lifted his face to do so there was a sudden exclamation.

"Vincent Wingfield!" and another officer drawing his sword
attacked him furiously, shouting, "A spy! Seize him! A
Confederate spy!"

Vincent recognized with astonishment in the Federal officer
rushing at him with uplifted sword his old antagonist, Jackson.
Almost instinctively he whirled the can, which was still half full of
liquor, round his head and dashed it full in the face of his
antagonist, who was knocked off his feet by the blow. With a yell
of rage he started up again and rushed at Vincent. The latter
snatched up a shovel that was lying close by and stood his ground.
The officers were so surprised at the suddenness of the incident
and the overthrow of their companion, and for the moment so
amused at the latter's appearance, covered as he was from head to
foot with the sticky liquor and bleeding from a cut inflicted by the
edge of the can, that they were incapable of interference.

Blinded with rage, and with the liquid streaming into his eyes,
Jackson rushed at Vincent. The latter caught the blow aimed at
him on the edge of the shovel, and then swinging his weapon
round smote his antagonist with all his strength, the edge of the
shovel falling fairly upon his head. Without a cry the traitor fell
dead in his tracks. The other officers now drew their swords and
rushed for-ward. Vincent, seeing the futility of resistance, threw
down his shovel. He was instantly seized.

"Halloo there!" the senior officer called to the men, who had
stopped in their work and were gazing at the sudden fray that had
arisen, "a sergeant and four men." Four of the negro soldiers and a
sergeant at once stepped forward. "Take this man and conduct
him to the village. Put him in a room, and stay there with him. Do
you, sergeant, station yourself at the door, so that I shall know
where to find you. Put on your uniforms and take your guns." The
men put on their coats, which they had removed while at work,
shouldered their muskets, and took their places, two on each side
of the prisoner. The officers then turned to examine their prostrate
comrade.

"It's all over with him," one said, stooping down; "the shovel has
cut his skull nearly in half. Well, I fancy he was a bad lot. I don't
believe in Southerners who come over to fight in our ranks;
besides he was at one time in the rebel army."

"Yes, he was taken prisoner," another said. "Then his father, who
had to bolt from the South, because, he said, of his Northern
sympathies, but likely enough for something else, came round,
made interest somehow and got his son released, and then some
one else got him a commission with us. He always said he had
been obliged to fight on the other side, but that he had always been
heart and soul for the North; anyhow, he was always
blackguarding his old friends. I always doubted the fellow. Well,
there's an end of him; and anyhow he has done useful service at
last by recognizing this spy. Fine-looking young fellow that. He
called him Vincent Wingfield. I seem to remember the nanie;
perhaps I have read it in some of the rebel newspapers we got hold
of; likely enough some one will know it. Well, I suppose we had
better have Jackson carried into camp."

Four more of the negroes were called out, and these carried the
body into the camp of his regiment. Au officer was also sent from
the working party to report the capture of a spy to his colonel.

"I will report it to the general," the latter said; "he rode along here
about a quarter of an hour ago, and may not be back again for
some hours. As we have got the spy fast it cannot make any
difference."

As he was marched back to the village Vincent felt that there was
no hope for him whatever. He had been denounced as a spy, and
although the lips that had denounced him had been silenced
forever, the mischief had been done. He could give no satisfactory
account of himself. He thought for a moment of declaring that a
mistake had been made, but he felt that no denial would
counterbalance the effect of Jackson's words. The fury, too, with
which the latter had attacked him would show plainly enough that
his assailant was absolutely certain as to his identity, and even that
there had been a personal feud between them. Then he thought
that if he said that he was the son of the woman in the lint she
would bear him out in the assertion. But it was not likely that this
would be accepted as against Jackson's testimony; besides, inquiry
among her neighbors would certainly lead to the discovery that she
was speaking an untruth, and might even involve her in his fate as
his abettor. But most of all he decided against this course because
it would involve the telling of a lie.

Vincent considered that while in disguise, and doing important
service for his country, he was justified in using deceit; but merely
for the purpose of saving his own life, and that perhaps uselessly,
he would not lie. His fate, of course, was certain. He was a spy,
and would be shot for it. Vincent had so often been in the
battlefield, so often under a fire from which it seemed that no one
could come alive, that the thought that death was at hand had not
for him the terrors that possess those differently circumstanced. He
was going to die for the Confederacy as tens of thousands of brave
men had died before, and he rejoiced over the precaution he had
taken as to the transmission of his discoveries on the previous day,
and felt sure that General Lee would do full justice to his memory,
and announce that he had died in doing noble service to the
country.

He sighed as he thought of his mother and sisters; but Rose had
been married in the spring, and Annie was engaged to an officer in
General Beauregard's staff. Then he thought of Lucy away in
Georgia and for the first time his lip quivered and his cheek paled.

The negro guards, who had been enlisted but a few weeks, were
wholly ignorant of their duties, and having once conveyed their
prisoner into the room, evidently considered that all further
necessity for military strictness was at an end. They had been
ordered to stay in the room with the prisoner, but no instructions
had been given as to their conduct there. They accordingly placed
their muskets in one corner of the room, and proceeded to chatter
and laugh without further regarding him.

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