General Nelson's Scout 38

General Nelson's Scout 38

"Allow me to congratulate you on your richly deserved promotion, and to

assure you that no one can feel more pleasure than myself."

 

Even General Halleck was at length convinced of the injustice he had

done Grant, and restored him to his command on March 13th.

 

In the mean time Grant's army, under Smith, had been gathering at

Pittsburg Landing, and Buell's army had been concentrated at Nashville.

The two armies were to concentrate at Pittsburg Landing, and then move

on Corinth, where the Confederates were gathering in force.

 

Not a thought seemed to have entered the minds of the Union generals

that the army at Pittsburg Landing might be attacked before Buell could

come up. Halleck, Grant, Buell, Smith, Sherman--all seemed to rest in

fancied security. If the possibility of an attack was ever spoken of, it

was passed by as idle talk.

 

General Buell commenced his forward movement from Nashville on March

15th. General A. D. McCook's division had the advance, General Nelson's

division came next. The bridge over Duck river near Columbia was found

burned. Buell set to work leisurely to rebuild it. It took days.

 

But to return to Fred. Just before the army left Nashville, General

Nelson placed in his hands a parchment.

 

"This," said Nelson, "is what General Buell and myself were talking

about in Louisville as a small reward for your service. Take it, my boy,

for you richly deserve it."

 

It was a commission as captain, and detailed him as an independent

scout, subject to the orders of General William Nelson.

 

"Why, General," stammered Fred, "I didn't want this. You know, you told

me it was better for me not to enlist."

 

"I know," responded Nelson, "but as you are with the army so much, it is

better for you to wear a uniform and have a rank that will command

respect."

 

So Fred became "captain" in earnest.

 

During his conversations with Nelson, Fred told him what he had heard

his father say to his aunt about Grant and Buell being crushed in

detail, and the general became thoroughly imbued with the idea that the

army at Pittsburg Landing was in grave danger. No other general shared

this fear. He chafed like a caged tiger at the delay in crossing Duck

river. At length he sought Buell, who laughed at his fears, and said

that he would not move until the bridge was completed. In vain Nelson

begged and pleaded.

 

"Why, Nelson, what's the matter with you any way?" at length asked

Buell.

 

"Matter? I will tell you," snapped Nelson. "Here we have been puttering

with this bridge for nearly a week, and all this time the force at

Pittsburg Landing is in danger of being attacked and annihilated."

 

Buell leaned back in his chair, and looking quizzically at Nelson, said:

 

"You seem to know more about it, General, than either Halleck or Grant.

Halleck telegraphed me that there is no danger of the force at Pittsburg

Landing being attacked."

 

"I don't care what Halleck telegraphs," roared Nelson, now thoroughly

aroused. "I tell you there is; I feel it, I know it."

 

"How do you know it?" asked Buell, showing considerable interest.

 

"Why sense tells me. Look at the situation. A small force encamped only

twenty miles from Corinth, where Johnston is concentrating his army.

Johnston is a fool if he doesn't attack, and no one yet has ever accused

him of being one. General, give my division the advance; let me ford

Duck river."

 

Buell was really fond of Nelson, despite his rough, overbearing ways,

and after some hesitation gave him the required permission. The life of

General Grant might not read as it does now, if that permission had been

withheld.

 

On the morning of March 29th Nelson's division forded Duck river, and

started on its forced march for Savannah, on the Tennessee river. On

this march Nelson showed no mercy to stragglers, and many were the

curses heaped upon his head. He was no favorite with his troops.

 

One day Fred found a boy, no older than himself, lashed behind a cannon.

The lad belonged to an Indiana regiment that in some manner had incurred

the displeasure of the general, and he was particularly severe on

members of this regiment if found straggling. The boy in question had

been found away from his command, and had been tied by his wrists to a

cannon. Behind this gun he had to march through the mud, every jolt

sending sharp pain through his wrists and arms, and if he should fall

life itself would be imperiled. It was a heartless, and in this case,

cruel punishment. Fred noticed the boy, and rode up to him and asked him

his name, and he gave it as Hugh Raymond. He was a fine-looking fellow,

and seemed to feel deeply his humiliation. He was covered with mud, and

the tears that he could not hold back had left their dirty trail down

his cheeks. Fred went to Nelson, begged for the boy's release, and got

it. It was but few requests that Nelson would not grant Fred.

 

When Nelson started on his march to Savannah he expected to reach that

place on April 7th. But once on the march his eagerness increased, and

he resolved to reach Savannah, if possible, by the 4th, or at least the

5th of the month.

 

On the morning of the third day's march Fred met with an adventure that

haunted him for years afterward. He never thought of it without a

shudder, and over and over again he lived it in his dreams, awaking with

a cry of agony that sounded unearthly to those who heard it.

 

General Nelson and staff had put up at the commodious house of a planter

named Lane. They were most hospitably entertained, although Mr. Lane

made no secret of the fact that he was an ardent sympathizer with the

South.

 

In the morning, as Fred was about to mount his horse to resume the

march, he discovered that he had left his field-glass in the room he had

occupied during the night. On returning for it, he heard voices in the

next room, one of which sounded so familiar that he stopped a moment to

listen, and to his amazement recognized the voice of his cousin Calhoun.

What could it mean? What was he doing there? One thing was certain; he

had been exchanged and was once more in the army. Calhoun and Mr. Lane

were engaged in earnest conversation, and Fred soon learned that his

cousin had been concealed in the house during the night.

 

"Have you learned what you wished?" Fred heard Mr. Lane ask.

 

"I have," replied Calhoun, "thanks to your kindness. I heard Nelson say

he would rush his division through, and that he wanted to be in Savannah

by the 5th. That is two days sooner than we expected. Johnston must,

shall strike Grant before that time. I must be in Corinth within the

next twenty-four hours, if I kill a dozen horses in getting there. Is

my horse where I left him, at the stable in the woods?"

 

"He is," replied Mr. Lane; "and well cared for and groomed. But

breakfast is ready; you must eat a hearty meal before you start."

 

Fred realized that the fate of an army was at stake. Something must be

done, and that something must be done quickly. Slipping out of the

house, he took a look around. Back of the house about a half a mile

distant was a thick piece of wood. A lane led through the fields to this

wood. No doubt it was there that Calhoun's horse was concealed.

 

Fred quickly made up his mind what to do. Mounting his horse, he rode

rapidly away until out of sight of the house; then, making Prince jump

the fence, he rode through the field until he reached the wood, and then

back nearly to the lane he had noticed. Tying his horse, he crept close

to the path, and concealed himself. He had not long to wait. He soon saw

Calhoun coming up the path with quick, springing steps. To Fred's great

joy he was alone. He let him pass, and then stealthily as an Indian

followed him. Calhoun soon reached the rude stable, and went in.

 

"Now, my hearty," said he, as he patted his horse, "we have a long hard

ride before us. But we carry news, my boy--news that may mean

independence to the Sunny South."

 

Strong arms were suddenly thrown around him, and despite his desperate

resistance and struggles, he soon found himself lying on his face, his

hands held behind his back and securely tied. His ankles were then

firmly bound together. When all this was done he was raised to his feet

and a voice said:

 

"Sorry, Cal, but I had to do it," and to Calhoun's amazement his cousin

stood before him, panting from his exertion.

 

For a moment Calhoun was speechless with astonishment; then his rage

knew no limit, and bound as he was, he tried to get at his cousin.

 

"I reckon," said Fred, quietly, "that I must make you more secure," and

taking a stout strap he lashed him securely to a post.

 

"Is this the way you keep your oath?" hissed Calhoun, and he spat at

Fred in his contempt. "Loose me, you sneaking villain, loose me at once,

or I will raise an alarm, and Mr. Lane and his men will be here, and

they will make short work of you."

 

Just then the notes of a bugle, sweet and clear, came floating through

the air.

 

"Do you hear that, Cal?" answered Fred. "You had better raise no alarm;

McCook's division is passing, and I have but to say a word and you

swing."

 

Calhoun ground his teeth in impotent rage. At last he asked:

 

"Fred, what do you want? Why do you use me so? Have you not sworn to

guard my life as sacredly as your own?"

 

Fred stood looking at his cousin a moment, as if in deep thought; then

an __EXPRESSION__ of keenest pain came over his face, and he said in a

strained, unnatural voice:

 

"Calhoun, believe me, I would I were dead instead of standing before you

as I do now."

 

"I should think that you would, if you have a vestige of honor left,"

answered Calhoun, with a sneer. "An oath, which an honorable man would

hold more sacred than life itself seems to be lightly regarded by you."

 

"I shall come to that directly," replied Fred, in the same unnatural

tone. To him his voice sounded afar off, as if some one else were

talking.

 

"Now, Calhoun, listen; you have a secret, a secret on which the fate of

an army depends."

 

"How do you know that?" asked Calhoun.

 

"I know. I heard you and Mr. Lane talking. Calhoun, you have been

playing the spy again. Hark! do you hear the tramp of McCook's columns.

If I did my duty I would cry, 'Here is a spy,' and what then?"Calhoun's face grew ashen; then his natural bravery came to his rescue.