Frank on the Lower Mississippi

CHAPTER XI.

The Rival Spies.

hey found the admiral at Natchez, and when Frank had reported his arrival, he was ordered to take his station at Gaines' Landing—a place noted for guerrillas—which they reached in safety. For two or three days, nothing worthy of note transpired, the rebels, if there were any about, being careful not to show themselves.

One night, while Frank was walking the deck, arm-in-arm with his cousin, the officer on watch approached, and said, in a low voice:

"Look there, sir! What kind of a craft is that?"

Frank looked in the direction indicated, and an object about the size of a man's head could be dimly seen in the water, silently but rapidly approaching the vessel. It came from toward the nearest shore, and the thought that it was a torpedo instantly flushed through his mind. Taking the spy-glass from the quarter-master, he leveled it at the object, and could distinctly see that it was a human head, and that it belonged to some one who was an excellent swimmer, for he was making rapid progress through the water.

"I don't see any torpedo there," said he, at length, handing the glass to his cousin, "for the fellow, whoever he is, is using both hands." Then raising his it voice, he called out, "Who comes there?"

"A friend," was the scarcely audible reply.

"Come on board here."

"That's just what I want to do," answered the man, who, with a few more strokes, was near enough to be seized by the quarter-master—who had ran below with a lantern—and lifted upon the guards.

"Who are you, and what are you doing here at this time of night?" asked Frank, as soon as the man had come on deck.

"My name is William Striker," was the answer, "and I am an escaped Union scout."

Frank took the lantern from the quarter-master's hand and held it up, so that he could obtain a good view of the man's face. He was certain he had seen it before, but could not remember where.

"I have a better memory than you, sir," said the man at length. "I have seen you before. I met you in the trenches at Vicksburg."

As the man spoke, he produced a bundle of wet papers, from which he selected one that he handed to Frank. It was the appointment of major, and addressed to William Striker, United States Scout. But this was no proof that the man was in reality what he professed to be, for Frank remembered that he had once passed himself off as Lieutenant Somers, of the rebel army, and had shown his appointment and orders to prove it. It was true that he wore the dress of a Union major, but that might have been obtained in the same manner that Frank once got his rebel uniform. There was something suspicious in a man's presenting himself on board the vessel at that time of night, and in so uncommon a manner.

"Well," said Frank, "if you were in the trenches at Vicksburg, tell me something that happened there."

The soldier then told Frank of the experiment of which the latter had made use to see "how far off the rebels were," during which he lost his cap, the rebel who captured it offering to "trade" for it a tattered slouch-hat with a bullet-hole in it, and informed him that he was the scout who had told him the story of his "partner" Sam, and their raid into the rebel camp, which resulted in the capture of Colonel Peckham. He also related other little incidents which Frank had not forgotten, and which proved that he was in reality the scout whom he had met in the trenches, and not a rebel spy, as he had at first feared. Being fully satisfied on this point, the major was conducted into the cabin, and while he was exchanging his wet clothes for some that Frank and Archie had provided for him, the former ordered his steward to prepare supper for their guest, for he knew, by experience, that a man who had been a prisoner among the rebels was hungry. The major sat down to the table with a most ravenous appetite, and the good things the steward had prepared rapidly disappeared. When he had finished his meal, in answer to Frank's inquiry how he came to be a prisoner, he gave the following account of his adventures, which he remarked were a "little ahead of any thing he had ever gone through."

"In the first place," said he, "I must tell you what became of my comrade, Sam, as it was in endeavoring to assist him that I was captured. His career as a scout, although an exciting one, full of stirring adventures and hair-breadth escapes, was brought to a close soon after the capture of Vicksburg.

"When the army again took up its line of march, we made several excursions into the rebel lines, and one night we stopped at a plantation-house to shelter ourselves from the rain, for it was storming violently, and also to see if we could not pick up some information that might be of use to us. The only inmate of the house was an old woman, who, believing us to be rebels, talked freely with us on all subjects; and during the conversation, which finally turned upon scouting, informed us that there was a scout in the rebel army who was far ahead of any "Yank" that ever lived. He was described as a daring, quick-witted fellow, and many a disaster that had befallen us was owing to him. As I listened to the stories told of him, I came to the conclusion that there was a good deal of truth in them, and that some spy must indeed have been in our camp, for the woman was acquainted with several moves we had made, and which had been defeated, the particulars of which, I thought, were known only to the general and his staff. This led me to believe that the scout, whoever he was, staid about head-quarters, else how could he obtain so much information.

"The woman seemed to be well acquainted with him and his movements, and told us of several of his exploits, which, if true, showed the spy to be a man admirably fitted for his position. I listened attentively to all she said, in hopes I should learn something of his personal appearance, for I had made up my mind that as soon as I could find out his movements, he and I would have a meeting, But all I could learn was that his name was Bob Cole.

"'Well,' said I,'do you know that as long as I have been in the army, I have never seen this man?'"

"'Haven't yer!' exclaimed the woman, in surprise. 'Wal, come to think, I don't know as that is so funny, arter all, 'cause he's in the Yankee camp most of the time, an', as they think he is one of them, he goes an' comes when he pleases, He's a smart one, I tell yer. Some of the boys told me that he is a goin' to bring in a prisoner this week, in the shape of a Yankee scout an' spy. Bill Striker is his name, I believe. Do yer know him?'

"I couldn't help starting when I found that I was known to this noted rebel; but the woman didn't notice it, and I replied:

"Oh, yes! I've heard of him.'

"'Cordin' to all accounts,' continued the woman, 'this Yankee an't much behind Bob, for he has often been in our camp, an' he don't allers go back empty-handed. If he ketches a feller in an out-of-the-way place, he is sartin to gobble him up. But his time is most up now, 'kase Bob never fails in any thing when he onct gets his mind sot on it, an' when I heerd that he was a goin' to ketch this Yank, I believed he would do it.

"It was very encouraging to sit there and listen to a person talk so confidently of my speedy capture; but, as it happened, I had been put on my guard, and another thing, I didn't have quite as much faith in Bob Cole as his rebel friends had, and was in no way concerned about his being able to fulfill his promise. It set me to thinking, however, and I determined I would not sleep sound until I had found him, and then there would be a prisoner taken, sure; but it wouldn't be Bill Striker.

"'What kind of a looking man is he?' I asked, at length.

"'Oh, he's a'—

"Just at this moment we heard several horsemen going by the house, and Sam exclaimed:

"'There are some of our boys now. Perhaps we are wanted.'

"I knew well enough what he meant. Although we had frequently met rebels while scouting about through their lines, we were not at all fond of them, and did not want to be in their company if we could help it.

"Those who had just gone by might at any moment return and enter the house; and besides, it occurred to me that if I was so well known to the rebel spy, I was not safe except in our own camp. I might, at any time, run into a trap he had laid for me. At any rate, we thought it best to get within our lines as soon as possible; so, without waiting to hear the woman's description of Bob Cole, we bid her good night.

"We reached our camp in safety, reported our return, and the next morning I walked up to headquarters, where I remained until dark, talking with the general's hostler, and keeping an ear open for news, but was obliged to go away without hearing any. The next day I was kept busy carrying dispatches, and when I returned at night, I learned that Sam had gone into the rebel camp, as they were making some movement, the particulars of which the general was anxious to learn. I thought nothing of it at the time, but when night came and he did not return, I began to fear that he had been captured or killed. It then occurred to me that if I could get back to the house where lived the woman who had told us of Bob Cole, I might learn something that would be to my advantage; so I put on my rebel uniform, and in a few moments was out of the lines. I reached the house in safety, and was delighted to find there were no rebels about. The woman seemed glad to see me, brought me a cup of water to drink, and after a few minutes' conversation exclaimed:

"'Wal, they've gobbled up one of them fellers!'

"'Which one?' I asked.

"'I don't know his name. Bob done it. He seed him leave the Yankee camp, an' follered him, an' while they were ridin' along together, he tuk out his pistol an' told the Yank to give up his we'pons; but the feller wouldn't do it, an' Bob had to shoot him. But he didn't kill him; he only shot him through the shoulder. He's sartin to be hung.'

"You can easily imagine my feelings as I sat there and listened to this. It required a strong effort to subdue my feelings.

"'How does Bob Cole disguise himself?' I asked, in as firm a voice as I could command. 'What does he do in the Yankee camp?'

"'That's what nobody, 'sides Bob an' the general, knows,' answered the woman. 'Didn't you never see him? He's a little man, has black hair and eyes, wears no whiskers, and allers rides a little gray horse. He's smart, I tell yer.'

"After talking awhile longer with the woman without learning any thing further, I mounted my horse and returned to camp. While I was eating my supper, I called to mind all the scouts with whom I was acquainted, but not one of them answered to the description of Bob Cole. There was one man in camp, however, who did answer the description, and that was the general's hostler. Could it be possible that he was the spy?

"At this moment an orderly entered to tell me that I was wanted at head-quarters. I followed him to the general's tent, received my orders, and began to get ready for the journey. As I came out of the tent I met the hostler, who inquired:

"'Are you off again to-night, Bill?'

"I replied in the affirmative, and he continued:

"'Well, good luck to you. Don't let the rebs get hold of you.'

"I mounted my horse and rode out of the camp, fully satisfied that if he was the spy I would soon know it.

"The night was very dark, but I had traveled the road often enough to be well acquainted with it, and in an hour after I left our camp, I had passed the rebel sentries, and was fairly within their lines. As I was riding quietly along, keeping a good look-out on all sides, and pausing now and then to listen, I suddenly heard the clatter of horses' hoofs behind me, and some one called out, in a low voice:

"Bill! Bill Striker!'

"I instantly stopped, and a moment afterward up galloped the hostler.

"'Don't make so much noise, Jim,' said I, nastily. 'But what on earth brings you here? Where are you going?'

"'I'm after you,' he replied. 'The general told me to overtake you, and say that he had neglected to give you some very important orders.'

"All this while he had been coming nearer and nearer to me, and having now got within reach, he suddenly seized my bridle, and presenting a revolver, exclaimed:

"'Bill Striker, your scouting is up now! You're my prisoner!'

"If he imagined that he had taken me by surprise he was very much mistaken. In an instant I had knocked aside the revolver, which exploded, sending the ball harmlessly past my head, and in a moment more I had wrested the weapon from him. Then, almost before he had time to think twice, I lifted him off his horse and laid him across my saddle, in front of me, as if he had been a bag of corn. He was very strong, as wiry as an eel, and struggled most desperately; but I had him at disadvantage, and when I thought of Sam, who was now a prisoner through the treachery of this fellow, I felt as if I had the strength of ten men. By the time I had fairly got hold of him, I was tearing down the road toward our lines, while his own horse had gone on toward the rebel camp. My only danger was in being cut off by the pickets. These passed, I would be safe, for I had no fears of being overtaken. There was no time to avoid them in jumping over fences and running through fields, for I knew that the report of the revolver had been heard, and that, unless I could reach our lines in a very few moments, Bob Cole would again be a free man and I would be the prisoner. I used my spurs freely, and my horse, which seemed to understand that he was called upon to make use of his best speed, carried us over the ground at a tremendous rate. In a short time I came within sight of a fire burning by the side of the road. I heard a loud command to halt, followed by the noise of a bullet as it whistled by my head, and the pickets were passed in safety. Half an hour afterward I dismounted in front of the general's tent, and delivered up my prisoner. You can't imagine how surprised our boys were to learn that we had had a rebel spy in our camp so long without knowing it. Bob Cole had played his cards remarkably well, and if Sam and I had not stopped at that house to get out of the rain, there's no knowing how much longer he would have been at liberty. But he was safe in the guard-house at last, and I must confess that I breathed more freely. If he was the only rebel who knew me, there was now no danger of running into a trap laid for my capture. My first hard work must be to attempt Sam's release. I knew it would be worse than useless to return to the rebel camp that night, for it had been aroused, and my own chances of escape would be none of the surest; so I let two days pass before setting out, and then I did not follow my usual course, but took a roundabout way to get behind their camp, where I would not run so much risk of meeting the pickets.

"I reached the lines in safety, and as I was riding along by the side of the road, keeping my horse on the grass, to make as little noise as possible, I heard horsemen approaching, and presently up galloped a party of rebels. I thought they would pass without discovering me, but was mistaken, for one of them drew in his horse and exclaimed—

"'Wal, ef here an't another,' and I was speedily surrounded, and commanded to 'hand over my we'pons.'

"'Look here, boys,' said I, 'I've got a pass,' and I made a motion to produce it.

"'Oh, we don't want to see your pass,' said the corporal who had charge of the squad; 'we've seed a dozen to-night that wasn't no 'count. You must go to the guard-house, 'cause you know it's the general's orders that nobody goes out o' camp.'

"This showed me that I was not suspected of being a Federal, but was arrested as one of their own men who was endeavoring to get out of the lines.

"'I know it's mighty hard,' continued the corporal, 'not to let a feller go home, when p'rhaps it an't five miles off; but orders is orders, you know. Howsomever, you wont hev no trouble to get out o' the guard-house, 'cause—by gum! ef here an't some more,' and, as he spoke, he left me, and rode up to three men who were crouching in the fence-corner by the roadside. These were speedily secured, and we went on our way toward the guard-house. The rebel army, it appeared, was encamped in a part of the country where a number of regiments had been raised, and the men, anxious to see home and friends once more, were deserting by hundreds—'taking French,' as we call it. As we rode along, I learned something, from the conversation of my captors, that made me wish I had never taken Bob Cole prisoner, and that was, that Sam had died from the effects of the wound he had received while resisting the rebel. This was, perhaps, better than being hung, but how I wished I had known it before taking the spy to camp. I had put myself in danger without being able to be of any assistance to Sam, and I now set my wits to work to conjure up some plan for escape.

"Finally, after capturing one more rebel who was about to 'take French,' we reached the guard house, which was a rickety old barn. As we entered the door, the rebels, with whom the house was filled, greeted us with loud yells, and slapped us on our backs, as though they looked upon our capture as a most excellent joke. The majority of our fellow-prisoners were confined for attempting to leave the camp to visit their friends; but putting them in the guard-house was only a farce, for I had not been in the room fifteen minutes before I saw three men make their escape through a window. I determined to try the same thing; so, after waiting a few moments, to see that they were not brought back, I walked up to the window and looked out. A sentinel was standing at the corner of the building, but as soon as he saw me he shouldered his gun and walked off, whistling. It was plain that he had no objections to my making my escape if I wished to do so, and, as soon as he was out of sight, I crawled out of the window, dropped to the ground, and walked off with an appearance of unconcern I was very far from feeling.

"I had lost my horse, but that did not trouble me, for the camp was not far off, and I had no fears of pursuit. I had scarcely got safely out of their lines, however, before I became aware that I was followed. I turned and saw a party of men, who, keeping their horses on the grass at the side of the road, had succeeded in getting within pistol-shot before I heard them. As I sprang over a fence I heard my name pronounced, followed by the report of several revolvers and carbines, that sent the bullets about me altogether too close for comfort.

"Well, to make a long story short, I laid about in the woods for a month, making a raid now and then on a chicken-roost, to supply my commissary department; but all this while the rebels followed me like blood-hounds. I had gone miles out of my way—in fact, I did not know where I was, until one day I was in with a party of guerrillas. I told them I was a reb on French leave, and on my way to visit my friends, who lived on the opposite side of the river. From them I learned that the Mississippi was sixty miles distant, and was also informed that there was a gun-boat at Gaines's Landing, and was advised to keep out of her way. This was the best news I had heard in a long time, and I determined to make the best of my way here. I came off to the vessel in the night, because I did not know but there might be rebels on the watch, and as I was entirely unarmed, I did not want to run any risks. Since leaving our camp, I have traveled nearly two hundred miles without a weapon of any kind, not even a pocket-knife; and if either of you has ever been a prisoner, you can easily imagine that I am overjoyed to find myself safe among friends once more. And now, captain," continued the scout, "I have a proposition to make you. The leader of these guerrillas whom I met back in the country makes his head-quarters in a deserted plantation-house about forty miles from the river. He never has more than two or three men with him, the others being scattered over the country, stealing horses from both rebels and Union people. Now, I would like to help capture him and break up his band of guerrillas, for he's a perfect demon, and never takes any prisoners. There is a house about ten miles from here where we can get all the horses we need, and three or four men could do the job nicely. This guerrilla's brother was formerly the captain of the band, but he was killed by a party of rebels, just as he was about to hang a couple of Union prisoners he had taken—gun-boat men, I believe. His name is Thorne, and—what's the matter, captain?"

Frank had started upon hearing the name of the guerrilla chief at whose hands he and the mate had so nearly suffered death, and from which they were rescued by the Wild-cats, and just as he finished relating the story of the "Close Shave," the orderly entered the cabin and announced the dispatch-boat "General Lyon" approaching.