General Nelson's Scout 36

General Nelson's Scout 36

CHAPTER XVII.

 

AFTER THE BATTLE.

 

 

The sun arose once more on Donelson. The storm of the elements, as well

as of battle, had passed away. But the horrors of war remained. On the

frozen ground lay the dead with white, pinched faces. Scores of the

wounded had perished from cold and exposure. Some who still breathed

were frozen to the ground in their own blood. The cold had been more

cruel than the bullets.

 

Fred rode over the battlefield seeking the body of an officer in one of

the Kentucky regiments whom he had seen fall. The officer was a friend

of his father's. Where the last fierce struggle took place before the

brigade fell back, Fred found him. He was half-reclining against a tree,

and from its branches the snow had sifted down, as though trying to blot

out the crimson with a mantle of white. The officer had not died at

once, for the frozen hand held a photograph in its iron grasp--that of a

happy, sweet-faced mother holding a cooing babe. It was the photograph

of his wife and child.

 

With a sob Fred turned away, sick--sick at heart. He was choking with

the horror that he saw.

 

Fred's gallant act in leading the charge had been noticed by General

Cruft, and at the first opportunity he highly complimented his youthful

aid. But to Fred it now all seemed like a dream--something not real.

Could it be that only yesterday he was in that hell of fire, eager only

to kill and maim! He sickened at the thought.

 

In the afternoon he went to see the prisoners mustered. As they marched

along with downcast eyes, Fred saw a well-known form among the officers

which sent every particle of blood from his face. Quickly recovering

himself, he sprang forward, exclaiming, "Uncle Charles!"

 

Major Shackelford looked up in surprise, a frown came over his face, but

he held out his hand, and said, "Fred, you here?"

 

"Is--is father--a--prisoner--or--killed?" Fred's voice trembled, then

broke; he could not articulate another word.

 

"Your father is not here, thank God!" replied his uncle. "He is with

Johnston at Bowling Green."

 

"Thank God!" echoed Fred.

 

He now noticed for the first time a young lieutenant, his neat uniform

soiled and torn, and his eyes red with watching.

 

"Why, Cousin George, you here, too?" exclaimed Fred, holding out his

hand.

 

The young lieutenant drew back haughtily.

 

"I refuse," said he, "to take the hand of a traitor to his State and

kindred."

 

The hot blood flew to Fred's face, and he was on the point of making an

angry retort, but controlling himself, he replied, "As you please," and

turned away.

 

"Uncle Charles," he said, "I know you will not be so foolish. I am

sorry--so sorry--to see you here. Can I do anything for you?"

 

The major groaned. "No, Fred, no. I am heartbroken. Oh! the disgrace of

it! the disgrace of it!"

 

"Of what, uncle?"

 

"Of the surrender."

 

"You surely fought like heroes," gently replied Fred. "There is no

disgrace in brave men bowing to the inevitable."

 

"And that fight was the worst of it," bitterly replied the major. "Every

noble life lost was a useless sacrifice, sacrificed to the imbecility of

our generals. But, Fred, this surrender means more; it means the giving

up of Nashville. Oh, my family! my family! What will become of them?

They will be wild with fear; they will flee penniless--flee I know not

where."

 

Fred remained in deep thought for a moment, then looking up, said:

"Uncle, do you really fear for Aunt Jennie and the children?"

 

"I do. Nashville will be wild--terror-stricken; there is no knowing what

will happen."

 

"Uncle, if you wish, I will go to Nashville. Even if the city is taken,

there will be no danger. Your property will be safe if not deserted. As

you say, the greatest danger is in flight."

 

"Can you reach Nashville, Fred?"

 

"I think I can."

 

"Then go, and God bless you. I will write a letter to Jennie."

 

"Also write a statement for me," said Fred, "saying I am your nephew,

and that I am trying to reach your family in Nashville. It may be useful

to me."

 

A little later the letters were placed in Fred's hands, and bidding his

uncle a most affectionate farewell, he went to make preparations for his

journey. The next morning, provided with an order from General Grant

giving him permission to pass outside of the lines, he started. When he

was well beyond the pickets, he tore up his pass, thus destroying any

evidence that he was ever connected with the Federal army.

 

He had not ridden many miles before he began to overtake straggling

Confederate soldiers who had escaped from Donelson. Along in the

afternoon he suddenly came upon three cavalrymen. The horse of one had

given out, and the three were debating what was best to do. Seeing Fred,

and noticing that he was well mounted, one of them said: "There comes a

boy, a civilian, on a fine hoss. Why not confiscate him for the good of

the cause?"

 

"Just the thing!" exclaimed the other two. Without warning, Fred found

himself covered by three revolvers.

 

"Come, young man," said one of the soldiers, threateningly, "off of

that hoss, and be quick about it, too."

 

"What does this mean?" said Fred, trying to keep cool.

 

"It means the Confederate States of America have use for that hoss; so

climb down quick, and none of your lip."

 

"But, gentlemen----"

 

"No buts about it," broke in the soldier fiercely. "Do you mean to say

you refuse to contribute a hoss to the cause? You ought to be in the

ranks yourself instead of whining about a hoss. You must be a Lincolnite

or a coward. Get off, or I will let daylight through your carcass."

 

There was no use parleying; so without saying a word Fred dismounted.

The soldier in great glee, congratulating himself on his good fortune,

mounted. Prince laid back his ears, and a wicked gleam came into his

eyes, but as Fred said nothing, the horse made no objection.

 

"Say, boy," exclaimed the soldier, "you can have my hoss there; it's a

fair trade, you see," and with a laugh and a jeer they rode away.

 

Fred let them go a short distance, when he suddenly gave a peculiar

short whistle. Prince gave a great bound, then wheeled as quick as

lightning. His rider was thrown with prodigious force, and lay senseless

in the road. At full speed the horse ran back and stopped by the side of

his owner, quivering with excitement. Fred vaulted into the saddle, and

with a yell of defiance dashed back in the direction he had come.

Coming to a cross road, he followed it until he came to a road leading

in the direction he wished to go.

 

"Hi! Prince, old fellow, that was a trick those fellows weren't on to,"

said Fred, patting the glossy neck of his horse. "You did it capitally,

my boy, capitally."

 

Prince turned his head and whinnied as if he knew all about it.

 

Towards evening Fred fell in with some of Forest's troopers who had

escaped from Donelson and were making their way to Nashville.

 

The officer in command asked Fred who he was and where he was going, and

was frankly told.

 

"I know Major Shackelford well," replied the officer, "an honorable man

and a gallant soldier. I shall be happy to have you accompany us to

Nashville."

 

Fred preferred to make more haste, but remembering his adventure,

resolved to run no more risk, and so gladly accepted the invitation.

 

The news of the surrender of Fort Donelson had become known, and the

whole country was wild with terror. Consternation was depicted in every

countenance. For the first time the people of the South began to realize

that after all they might be defeated.

 

When Fred entered Nashville the scene was indescribable. The whole city

was terror-stricken. Women walked the streets wringing their hands in

the agony of despair. Every avenue was blocked with vehicles of all

kinds, loaded with valuables and household goods. The inhabitants were

fleeing from what they considered destruction. Sobs and groans and

piteous wails were heard on every side. Could this be the same people he

had seen a few months before? Through the wild confusion, Fred rode

until he reached the door of his uncle's house. He found the family

preparing for hasty flight.

 

"Aunt Jennie, how are you?" exclaimed he, holding out his hand.

 

Mrs. Shackelford gave a shriek, and then exclaimed: "Fred Shackelford!

where did you come from?"

 

"From Donelson and Uncle Charles," replied Fred.

 

Mrs. Shackelford turned as white as death, tottered, and would have

fallen if Fred had not caught her.

 

"Is--is--Charles killed?" she gasped.

 

"Calm yourself, Aunt Jennie; both Uncle Charles and George are well."

 

"Why--why did you come then? What has happened?"

 

"They are prisoners."

 

"Prisoners!" wailed Mrs. Shackelford, and tears came to the relief of

her pent-up feelings. "Oh! they will die in some Northern prison, and I shall never see them again."