General Nelson's Scout 9

General Nelson's Scout 9

Meanwhile it looked as if there might be a riot. Some were hurrahing for

the boy; others were shaking their heads and demanding that Fred further

give an account of himself. He had been called a Lincolnite, and that

was enough to damn him in the eyes of many.

 

"What is all this fuss about?" cried a commanding looking young man,

dressed in the uniform of a lieutenant of the Confederate army, pushing

his way through the crowd.

 

"Oh, this hyear young feller struck Bill Pearson across the face with

his ridin'-whip for callin' him a Lincolnite and a liah," volunteered a

seedy, lank looking individual.

 

"Which seems full enough provocation for a blow. Bill is fortunate he

hasn't got a hole through him," responded the young lieutenant.

 

"But maybe he is a Lincolnite," persisted the seedy individual. "He

said Kentuck wouldn't 'cede, and that they was raisin' sogers to help

whip we 'uns."

 

"How is it, my boy?" asked the lieutenant, turning to Fred. "Who are

you, and where did you come from?"

 

Fred explained what had happened; how he had been asked for news from

Kentucky, and that he had told them only the truth. He then gave his

name, and said he was on his way to Nashville to visit his uncle,

Charles Shackelford.

 

"Fellow-citizens," said the young officer in a voice that at once

commanded attention, "this young man informs me that he is a nephew of

Major Charles Shackelford of Nashville, who is now engaged in raising a

regiment for the Confederate service. No nephew of his can be a

Lincolnite. (Here Fred winced.) As for the news he told, unfortunately

it's true. Kentucky, although thousands of her gallant sons have joined

us, still clings to her neutrality, or is openly hostile to us. It is

true, that a renegade Kentuckian by the name of Nelson is enlisting

troops for the Yankees right in the heart of Kentucky. But I believe,

almost know, the day is not distant, when the brave men of Kentucky who

are true to their traditions and the South will arise in their might,

and place Kentucky where she belongs, as one of the brightest stars in

the galaxy of Confederate States. In your name, fellow-citizens, I want

to apologize to this gallant young Kentuckian for the insult offered

him."

 

The young lieutenant ceased speaking, but as with one voice, the

multitude began to cry, "Go on! go on! A speech, Bailie, a speech!"

 

Thus abjured, Lieutenant Bailie Peyton, for it was he, mounted a

dry-goods box, and for half an hour poured forth such a torrent of

eloquence that he swayed the vast audience, which had gathered, as the

leaves of the forest are swayed by the winds of heaven.

 

He first spoke of the glorious Southland; her sunny skies, her sweeping

rivers, her brave people. He pictured to them the home of their

childhood, the old plantation, where slept in peaceful graves the loved

ones gone before.

 

Strong men stood with tears running down their cheeks; women sobbed

convulsively. "Is there one present that will not die for such a land?"

he cried in a voice as clear as a trumpet, and there went up a mighty

shout of "No, not one!"

 

He then spoke of the North; how the South would fain live in peace with

her, but had been spurned, reviled, traduced. Faces began to darken,

hands to clench. Then the speaker launched into a terrific philippic

against the North. He told of its strength, its arrogance, its

insolence. Lincoln was now marshaling his hireling hosts to invade their

country, to devastate their land, to desecrate their homes, to let loose

their slaves, to ravish and burn. "Are we men," he cried, "and refuse

to protect our homes, our wives, our mothers, our sisters!"

 

The effect was indescribable. Men wept and cried like children, then

raved and yelled like madmen. With clenched hands raised towards heaven,

they swore no Yankee invader would ever leave the South alive. Women,

with hysterical cries, beseeched their loved ones to enlist. They

denounced as cowards those who refused. The recruiting officers present

reaped a rich harvest. As for Fred, he stood as one in a trance. Like

the others, he had been carried along, as on a mighty river, by the

fiery stream of eloquence he had heard. He saw the Southland invaded by

a mighty host, leaving wreck and ruin in its wake. He heard helpless

women praying to be delivered from the lust of brutal slaves, and

raising his hand to heaven he swore that such things should never be.

 

Then came the reaction. His breast was torn with conflicting emotions,

he knew not what to think. In a daze he sought his horse. A pleasant

voice sounded in his ear.

 

"I think you told me you were going to Nashville." It was Bailie Peyton

who spoke.

 

"Yes, sir."

 

"It is getting late. Will you not go with me to my father's and stay all

night, and I will ride with you to Nashville in the morning?"

 

Fred readily consented, for he was weary, and he also wanted to see more

of this wonderful young orator.

 

Colonel Peyton, the father of Bailie Peyton, resided some three miles

out of Gallatin on the Nashville pike, and was one of the distinguished

men of Tennessee. He opposed secession to the last, and when the State

seceded he retired to his plantation, and all during the war was a

non-combatant. So grand was his character, such confidence did both

sides have in his integrity, that he was honored and trusted by both. He

never faltered in his love for the Union, yet did everything possible to

save his friends and neighbors from the wrath of the Federal

authorities. It was common report that more than once he saved Gallatin

from being burned to the ground for its many acts of hostility to the

Union forces. War laid a heavy hand on Colonel Peyton; and his son the

apple of his eye was brought home a corpse. Even then Colonel Peyton did

not complain. He bound up his broken heart, and did what he could to

soothe others who had been stricken the same as he.

 

Fred was given a genuine Southern welcome at the hospitable mansion of

Colonel Peyton. As for Bailie, the younger members of the household went

wild over him, even the servants wore a happier smile now "dat Massa

Bailie had cum."

 

After supper the family assembled on the old-fashioned porch to enjoy

the cool evening air, and the conversation, as all conversations were in

those days, was on the war. Bailie was overflowing with the exuberance

of his spirits. He believed that the victory at Bull Run was the

beginning of the end, that Washington was destined to fall, and that

President Davis would dictate peace from that city. He saw arise before

him a great nation, the admiration of the whole world; and as he spoke

of the glory that would come to the South, his whole soul seemed to

light up his countenance.

 

Throughout Bailie's discourse, Colonel Peyton sat silent and listened.

Sometimes a sad smile would come over his features at some of his son's

witty sallies or extravagant __EXPRESSION__s.

 

Bailie seeing his father' dejection, turned to him and said:

 

"Cheer up, father; I shall soon be back in Nashville practicing my

profession, the war over; and in the greatness and grandeur of the South

you will forget your love for the old Union."

 

The colonel shook his head, and turning to Fred, began to ask him

questions concerning Kentucky and the situation there. Fred answered him

truthfully and fully to the best of his knowledge. Colonel Peyton then

said to his son:

 

"Bailie, you know how dear you are to me, and how much I regret the

course you are taking; yet I will not chide you, for it is but natural

for you to go with the people you love. It is not only you, it is the

entire South that has made a terrible mistake. That the South had

grievances, we all know; but secession was not the cure. Bailie, you are

mistaken about the war being nearly over; it has hardly begun. If

Beauregard ever had a chance to capture Washington, that chance is now

lost by his tardiness. The North has men and money; it will spare

neither. You have heard what this young man has said about Kentucky. He

has told the truth. The State is hopelessly divided. Neither side will

keep up the farce of neutrality longer than it thinks it an advantage to

do so. When the time comes, the Federal armies will sweep through

Kentucky and invade Tennessee. Their banners will be seen waving along

this road; Nashville will fall."

 

"What!" cried Bailie, springing to his feet, "Nashville in the hands of

the Lincolnites. Never! May I die before I see the accursed flag of the

North waving over the proud capitol of my beloved Tennessee."

 

He looked like a young god, as he stood there, proud, defiant, his eye

flashing, his breast heaving with emotion.

 

His father gazed on him a moment in silence. A look of pride, love,

tenderness, passed over his face; then his eyes filled with tears, and

he turned away trembling with emotion. Had he a dim realization that the

prayer of his son would be granted, and that he would not live to see

the Union flag floating over Nashville?

 

That night Frederic Shackelford knelt by his bedside with a trembling

heart. Bailie Peyton's speech, his enthusiasm, his earnestness had had a

powerful influence on him. After all, was the North wrong? Was the South

fighting, as Bailie claimed, for one of the holiest causes for which a

patriotic people ever combated; and that their homes, the honor of their

wives and daughters were at stake?

 

"Oh, Lord, show me the right way!" was Fred's prayer.

 

Then there came to him, as if whispered in his ear by the sweetest of

voices, the words of his mother, "_God will never permit a nation to be

founded whose chief corner-stone is human slavery._" He arose, strong,

comforted; the way was clear; there would be no more doubt.

 

The next morning the young men journeyed to Nashville together. On the

way Bailie poured out his whole soul to his young companion. He saw

nothing in the future but success. In no possible way could the North

subjugate the South. But the silver tones no longer influenced Fred;

there was no more wavering in his heart. But he ever said that Bailie

Peyton was one of the most fascinating young men he ever met, and that

the remembrance of that ride was one of the sweetest of his life.

 

When a few months afterward, he wept over Peyton's lifeless body

stretched on the battlefield, he breathed a prayer for the noble soul

that had gone so early to its Creator.

 

Fred found Nashville a seething sea of excitement. Nothing was thought

of, talked of, but the war. There was no thought of the hardships, the

suffering, the agony, the death that it would bring--nothing but vain

boasting, and how soon the North would get enough of it. The people

acted as though they were about to engage in the festivities of some

gala day, instead of one of the most gigantic wars of modern times. It

was the case of not one, but of a whole people gone mad.

 

Although Fred's uncle and family were greatly surprised to see him, he

was received with open arms. Mr. Shackelford was busily engaged in

raising a regiment for the Confederate service, and as Bailie Peyton had

said, had been commissioned as major. Fred's cousin, George Shackelford,

although but two years older than he, was to be adjutant, and Fred found

the young man a little too conceited for comfort.

 

Not so with his cousin Kate, a most beautiful girl the same age as

himself, and they were soon the closest of friends. But Kate was a

terrible fire-eater. She fretted and pouted because Fred would not abuse

the Yankees with the same vehemence that she did.

 

"What if they should come here?" asked Fred.

 

"Come here!" echoed Kate, with the utmost scorn. "We women would turn

out and beat them back with broomsticks."

 

Fred laughed, and then little Bess came toddling up to him, with "Tousin Fed, do 'ankees eat 'ittle girls?"