Castlemon Harry
Frank Before Vicksburg. The Gun-Boat Series

"Where's the colonel? Here's the torpedo, made fast to the bank. I wonder if there is any thing wrong?"

Frank and the mate at once became more cautious in their movements, but their approach had already been discovered, for the lieutenant called out:

"Who goes there?"

"Yankees," replied Frank, stepping out from the bushes, with a revolver in each hand. "Come out here, and surrender!"

The rebel was taken so completely by surprise that he seemed deprived of all power of action. He could hardly realize that he was a prisoner, until Frank repeated his order in a more decided manner, adding, "I'm a good shot at that distance." The lieutenant evidently did not doubt this, for he arose to his feet, and sprang out upon the bank. The prisoners having now all been secured, Frank collected his men and returned on board his vessel.

We will now pause to explain. Frank, as we have seen, had learned from the negro that one of the torpedoes would be finished by Friday night; that it was to be towed down the creek to the river by the colonel and major, who were to put it in working order, and deliver it to the lieutenant, who, with two negroes to row his boat, was to leave the plantation at half-past eight o'clock, to note the exact position of the Trenton, so that, after getting the torpedo into position, he could allow it to float down upon the vessel. The Frenchman was to be on board, and, with the assistance of the negroes, was to capture any who might escape the explosion. Frank had laid his plans to capture the lieutenant first; but, through fear of creating a disturbance, or being seen from the house, he had been compelled to abandon the idea, and had started half an hour earlier, that he might secure the lieutenant after the capture of the others had been effected, and before he would have time to discover that any thing was wrong. His plans had all worked so admirably, that he was not a little elated with his success. It was a happy moment for him when he brought his prisoners over the side of the vessel, and conducted them to the quarter-deck, where the captain and all the officers were waiting to receive them. The necessary explanations were soon given, after which the prisoners were ordered below, and Frank retired to his room, well satisfied with his night's work.

The next morning an expedition went ashore, accompanied by the captain. After destroying the torpedo which had been captured the night before, they were conducted by the negro to the place where several more were in process of completion. These also were demolished. While thus engaged, one of the sentinels, which Frank had posted a short distance up the road, fired his gun, and commenced retreating. Frank at once formed his men in line, in readiness for an attack. Shortly afterward a company of cavalry came galloping around a bend in the road, and fired their carbines at the sentinel, who ran for dear life. They halted, however, on seeing the preparations made to receive them, and the captain, taking advantage of this, ordered Frank to fire. The muskets cracked in rapid succession, and, when the smoke cleared away, the sailors saw several riderless horses galloping about, showing that their fire had been effective.

The rebels scattered in all directions, and, dismounting, concealed themselves behind logs and bushes, and commenced fighting in their regular Indian fashion. The captain, knowing that such an action would not result advantageously to him, and having accomplished the work for which he had set out, ordered the sailors to fall back slowly. As they obeyed, the rebels commenced pursuing; but the expedition reached the river without the loss of a single man. The officer in command of the vessel, hearing the firing, commenced shelling the woods, and under cover of this fire the sailors reached the ship in safety.

The work which had been assigned the Trenton had not been accomplished, but as the time allotted for her stay had expired, she started the next morning to join the fleet at Yazoo River. The prisoners were delivered over to the commanding naval officer – the admiral being below the batteries – to whom a flattering mention was made of Frank, and the skillful manner in which he had performed his work. The young officer received the assurance that his gallant exploit should not be overlooked.

CHAPTER XII
In the Trenches

The day after their arrival at Yazoo River an officer from the flag-ship came on board. After holding a short consultation with the captain, the order was given to get the ship under way, when, as soon as the anchor was weighed, they steamed down the river.What could be the meaning of this new move? Were their services needed below Vicksburg, and were they about to imitate the Queen of the West, and run by the batteries in broad daylight? That hardly seemed to be the case, for the men were not called to quarters, and the officers were allowed to remain on deck. Every one was excited, and many were the speculations indulged in as to what was to be the next duty the Trenton would be called on to perform. To the impatient men, the seven miles that lay between Yazoo River and Vicksburg seemed lengthened into a hundred; but at length they rounded the point above the mouth of the canal, and saw before them the Sebastopol of the Rebellion. It was the first time Frank had ever seen the city, and it was a sight that he would not have missed for a good deal. On the heights above the city, and even in the streets, the little mounds of earth thrown up showed where rebel cannon were mounted, and now and then a puff of smoke would rise from one of these mounds, and a shell would go shrieking toward the solid lines of the besiegers, which now completely inclosed the rebels, while an occasional roar of heavy guns told them that the iron-clads still kept close watch on the movements of the enemy below.

he day after their arrival at Yazoo River an officer from the flag-ship came on board. After holding a short consultation with the captain, the order was given to get the ship under way, when, as soon as the anchor was weighed, they steamed down the river.

What could be the meaning of this new move? Were their services needed below Vicksburg, and were they about to imitate the Queen of the West, and run by the batteries in broad daylight? That hardly seemed to be the case, for the men were not called to quarters, and the officers were allowed to remain on deck. Every one was excited, and many were the speculations indulged in as to what was to be the next duty the Trenton would be called on to perform. To the impatient men, the seven miles that lay between Yazoo River and Vicksburg seemed lengthened into a hundred; but at length they rounded the point above the mouth of the canal, and saw before them the Sebastopol of the Rebellion. It was the first time Frank had ever seen the city, and it was a sight that he would not have missed for a good deal. On the heights above the city, and even in the streets, the little mounds of earth thrown up showed where rebel cannon were mounted, and now and then a puff of smoke would rise from one of these mounds, and a shell would go shrieking toward the solid lines of the besiegers, which now completely inclosed the rebels, while an occasional roar of heavy guns told them that the iron-clads still kept close watch on the movements of the enemy below.

The right of the army rested on the river, above the city, and here the Trenton landed, just out of range of the batteries. Preparations were at once made to move some of the guns on shore. The ones selected were those belonging to Frank's division, and they were to be mounted in the batteries above the city, and about a quarter of a mile from the river. It was something of a task to move the battery that distance, but Frank and his men worked incessantly, and on the second night the guns were brought to the place where it was proposed to mount them. The sailors, although almost exhausted, at once commenced throwing up a battery; but as soon as the day dawned, a couple of shells, whistling over their heads, admonished them that it was time to cease. After a hearty breakfast on the rations they had brought with them, the men lay down in the trenches, and, wearied with their night's work, slept soundly, in spite of the roar of cannon and the rattling of musketry that had commenced as soon as it became light enough for the combatants to distinguish each other. But life in the trenches was a new thing to Frank, and he walked through the rifle-pits, every-where cordially greeted by the soldiers, who liked the looks of these big guns, with which they knew he had something to do, and who made their boasts that, as soon as the "beauties" were mounted and in position, they would "square accounts" with the rebels. There was one gun in particular that annoyed the soldiers exceedingly, and prevented them from working on the trenches. Every time a shell flew over their heads, they would exclaim, "Shoot away there, for this is your last day;" and Frank was obliged to promise, over and over again, that his first care should be to dismount that gun.

Frank found that, the further he went, the nearer the rifle-pits approached to the city; and finally he came to a group of soldiers who appeared to be conversing with some invisible persons. As he approached, he heard a voice, which seemed to come from the ground, almost at his side, exclaim:

"I say, Yank, throw over your plug of tobacco, won't you?"

"Can't see it, Johnny," replied one of the soldiers. "You wouldn't throw it back again."

"Yes, I will, honor bright," answered the rebel.

"Why," exclaimed Frank, in surprise, "I didn't know that you had pushed your lines so close to the enemy's works!"

"Yes," said a lieutenant, who at this moment came up, "there's a rebel rifle-pit not four feet from you."

"Here," said a soldier, handing Frank his gun, "put your cap on this bayonet and hold it up, and you'll soon see how far off they are."

Frank did as the soldier suggested. The moment he raised his cap above the rifle-pit, a bayonet was suddenly thrust out, and when it was drawn in, his cap went with it.

"Now, look at that!" exclaimed Frank. "It's very provoking!"

"Aha, Yank! you're minus that head-piece," shouted a voice, which was followed by a roar of laughter from the rebels, and from all the soldiers in the rifle-pit who had witnessed the performance.

"I'm sorry, sir," said the soldier. "I did not want you to lose your cap." Then, raising his voice, he shouted – "Johnny, throw that cap back here!"

"O, no," answered the rebel; "but I'll trade with you. A fair exchange is no robbery, you know," and as he spoke a hat came sailing through the air, and fell into the rifle-pit. It was a very dilapidated looking affair, bearing unmistakable proofs of long service and hard usage.

"Say, Yank," continued the rebel, "do you see a hole in the crown of that hat?"

"Do you call this thing a hat?" asked Frank, lifting the article in question on the point of his sword, and holding it up to the view of the soldiers. "It bears about as much resemblance to a hat as it does to a coffee-pot."

"I don't care what you call it," returned the rebel; "I know it has seen two years' hard service. That hole you see in the crown was made by one of your bullets, and my head was in the hat at the time, too."

"Well, throw me my cap," said Frank; "I don't want to trade."

"What will you give?"

"We will return your hat, and give you a big chew of tobacco to boot," said the lieutenant.

"That's a bargain," said the rebel. "Let's have it."

"We are not doing a credit business on this side of the house," answered Frank. "You throw over my cap first."

"You're sure you don't intend to swindle a fellow? Upon your honor, now."

"Try me and see," replied Frank, with a laugh.

"Here you are, then;" and the missing cap was thrown into the rifle-pit, and a soldier restored it to its owner. It was rather the worse for its short sojourn in the rebel hands, for there was a bayonet hole clear through it.

"Say, you rebel," exclaimed Frank, "why didn't you tell me that you had stuck a bayonet into my cap?"

"Couldn't help it, Yank," was the answer. "Come now, I've filled my part of the contract, so live up to your promise. Remember, you said honor bright."

"Well here's your hat," replied Frank; and he threw the article in question over to its rebel owner.

"And here's your tobacco, Johnny," chimed in a soldier, who cut off a huge piece of the weed, and threw it after the hat.

"Yank, you're a gentleman," said the rebel, speaking in a thick tone, which showed that the much coveted article had already found its way into his mouth. "If I've got any thing you want, just say so, and you can have it; any thing except my weapons."

Frank, who was so much amused at what had just taken place that he laughed until his jaws ached, returned his mutilated cap to his head, and, in company with the lieutenant, continued his ramble among the rifle-pits, the latter explaining the operations of the siege, and the various incidents that had transpired since it commenced. The rifle-pits, the entire length of General Sherman's command, were close upon those of the rebels, and the soldiers of both sides were compelled to suspend operations almost entirely. If a man raised his head to select a mark for his rifle, he would find a rebel, almost within reach, on the watch for him. The soldiers were very communicative, and all along the line Frank saw groups of men holding conversation with their invisible enemies.

After viewing the works to his satisfaction, Frank accompanied the lieutenant to his quarters – a rude hut, which had been hastily built of logs and branches, situated in a deep hollow, out of reach of the enemy's shells. Here he ate an excellent dinner, and then retraced his steps, through the rifle-pits, back to the place where his battery was to be mounted. Throwing himself upon a blanket, he slept soundly until night.

As soon as it became dark, the work of mounting the guns commenced, and was completed in time to allow the weary men two hours' rest before daylight. Frank had charge of one of the guns, and an ensign attached to one of the iron-clads commanded the other. The whole was under the command of the captain of the Trenton. As soon as the enemy's lines could be discerned, Frank, in accordance with the promises made the day before, prepared to commence the work of dismounting the battery which had given the soldiers so much trouble. He pointed his gun himself, and gave the order to fire. With the exception of now and then a musket-shot, or the occasional shriek of a shell as it went whistling into the rebel lines, the night had been remarkably quiet, and the roar that followed Frank's order awoke the echoes far and near, causing many a soldier to start from his blanket in alarm. A shell from the other gun quickly followed, and the soldiers, as soon as they learned that the "gun-boat battery" had opened upon the rebel works, broke out into deafening cheers. They had great confidence in the "beauties," as they called the monster guns, for they had often witnessed the effect of their shells, and knew that those who worked them well understood their business. Frank had opened the ball, and in less than half an hour the firing became general all along the line. The gun against which their fire was directed replied briskly; but after a few rounds the battery got its exact range – an eight-inch shell struck it, and it disappeared from sight. Cheers, or, rather, regular "soldier-yells" – a noise that is different from every other sound, and which can not be uttered except by those who have "served their time" in the army – arose the whole length of the line, as the soldiers witnessed the effect of the shot, and knew that their old enemy would trouble them no more.

In obedience to the captain's order, the fire of the battery was then directed toward different parts of the rebel works. The "beauties" performed all that the soldiers had expected of them, for they were well handled, and the huge shells always went straight to the mark. At dark the firing ceased, and Frank, tired with his day's work, ate a hearty supper, and threw himself upon his blanket to obtain a few moments' rest.

The soldiers from all parts of the line at length began to crowd into the battery, examining every part of the guns, and listening to the explanations given by the old quarter-gunner, who, although almost tired out, was busy cleaning the guns, and could not think of rest until the battery had been put in readiness for use on the morrow. At length a man approached the spot where Frank was reposing, and, seating himself at his side, commenced an interesting conversation. Frank soon learned that his visitor was one of the most noted scouts in the Union army. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man, straight as an arrow, and evidently possessed a great deal of muscular power. Though ragged and dirty, like his companions, there was something about him that at once attracted Frank. His actions were easy and graceful, and he had an air of refinement, which was observed by every one with whom he came in contact. He was serving as a private in his regiment, and, although frequently urged to accept a command, always declined, for he despised the inactivity of camp life, and delighted in any thing in which there was danger and excitement. It was hinted that he had seen some hard times during his career as a scout. At length, when the conversation began to flag, one of the soldiers asked for a story, and the scout, after lighting his pipe, settled back on his elbow, and began as follows:

CHAPTER XIII
The Scout's Story

Boys, the life of a scout is the most fascinating, as well as the most dangerous one that I know of. It is a responsible one, too, for not unfrequently the safety and well-being of the entire army depends upon our reports. If, while we are roaming about the enemy's camp, we are deceived in regard to their numbers and position, and our commanding officer, judging by our reports, thinks himself able to surprise and defeat them, and if, upon making the attack, he finds that he has been misled, we are responsible; at least that is the way I have always looked at the matter; and many a time I have misrepresented cases, and have, no doubt, been the cause of allowing the rebels to escape, when they might easily have been beaten, knowing that our hot-headed commander would order an attack, no matter how small the chance for for success might be.

oys, the life of a scout is the most fascinating, as well as the most dangerous one that I know of. It is a responsible one, too, for not unfrequently the safety and well-being of the entire army depends upon our reports. If, while we are roaming about the enemy's camp, we are deceived in regard to their numbers and position, and our commanding officer, judging by our reports, thinks himself able to surprise and defeat them, and if, upon making the attack, he finds that he has been misled, we are responsible; at least that is the way I have always looked at the matter; and many a time I have misrepresented cases, and have, no doubt, been the cause of allowing the rebels to escape, when they might easily have been beaten, knowing that our hot-headed commander would order an attack, no matter how small the chance for for success might be.

"Just before we started on the campaign that resulted in the capture of Fort Donelson, I was detailed to scout for head-quarters; and one day, while lying in my tent, heartily wishing that a move would be made which would put an end to the lazy life I was compelled to lead, one of the general's staff-officers entered, accompanied by a youth, whom he introduced to me as Mr. Henderson, and informed me that he was to be my 'partner.'

"'He my partner!' I ejaculated. 'Is he a scout? What does he know about soldiering?'

"The new-comer was rather below the medium height, very slimly built, with soft, white hands, that looked as though they had never been accustomed to hard work, and a smooth, beardless face. He seemed very much out of place among our rough soldiers.

"'I don't know much about scouting, that's a fact,' said he, with a laugh. 'But I know every inch of the country, and can use a rifle. I have been knocked about considerably since the war commenced, and my father was hanged in Tennessee for being a Union man, and I suffered all sorts of hardships before I succeeded in making my escape.'

"The officer left us together, and, in spite of the chagrin I felt that a mere stripling had been sent to me for an associate, I was soon deeply interested in him, for with his almost childlike simplicity there was mingled an air of confidence in his own powers which drew me irresistibly toward him. He told me his history, and when he dwelt on the cruelty with which the rebels had treated Union men in Tennessee, and related, in a subdued voice, the particulars of his father's death, his slight frame quivered with excitement, and his fingers twitched convulsively, as if he felt the perpetrators of the deed in his grasp. He seemed to have the real grit in him, and I finally came to the conclusion that I had mistaken my man. I soon learned it was so, for, the very first time we got on a scout together, I found that he was made of the right stuff, and I began to have a great deal of confidence in my youthful companion. I don't believe he knew what fear was. He was a splendid shot and an excellent rider; in fact, he seemed to be out of his element unless he was in the saddle.

"The first time that Sam (for that was my companion's name) had a chance to show his qualities was after the battle of Pittsburg Landing. One night, just after dark, we set out on horseback to watch the movements of the enemy. We were dressed in our rebel uniform, and provided with passes which would carry us through our lines. The night was dark and cloudy, but Sam, who knew the road like a book, took the lead. We had proceeded in this manner about four miles, scarcely saying a word to each other, when suddenly, as we came around a bend in the road, we found ourselves close upon a picket station. Several men were lying around a fire, eating their supper; and the reason why we had not discovered them sooner was on account of the thick trees and bushes, which completely concealed the glare of the fire from any one coming down the road. How we had succeeded in passing the sentries, which were posted some distance from the station, is still a mystery to me. Either our advance had been so still that they had not heard us, or else the sentries were asleep; at any rate, we were in the enemy's lines before we knew it, and in something of a scrape. If we undertook to retreat, besides running the risk of being shot by the men at the fire, we should be obliged to pass the sentries, and we might not succeed, for the clatter of our horses' hoofs would certainly alarm them. The only way was to ride up to the fire and put a bold face on the matter, which we did, the rebels supposing that, as we had passed the sentries, we were all right. They at once took us for some of their scouts, and one of them inquired:

"'How are the Yanks?'

"'They're there,' I replied. 'And you'll have to haul in these picket posts before long, or I am mistaken.'

"'How is that sentry out there?' asked the lieutenant in command.

"'O, he's all right,' I answered, and seating myself at the fire, began to pitch into the eatables. Sam followed my example, and we enjoyed a very good meal, after which we smoked a pipe, and talked with our companions about the probability of soon thrashing the Yankees soundly, and wishing that we were in the Eastern army, that we might have the honor of carrying the secesh rag into Philadelphia and all the other large cities at the North. We also received some very valuable information in regard to the rebels and their intended movements; and finally, concluding that the general must be looking for us, we bade the pickets good-by, mounted our horses, and galloped down the road toward the rebel camp. As soon as we thought we had gone far enough to deceive the pickets, we turned off from the road and started through the woods, intending to take a wide circuit, pass the pickets, and start back for our own camp. We stumbled about through the woods for nearly an hour, and finally struck a road that appeared to run at right angles with the one we had just left. This we followed at a rapid gallop for about a mile, when Sam pointed out a light that appeared to be shining in the window of a house ahead of us. We at once determined to reconnoiter, and rode slowly forward for that purpose, walking our horses on the grass at the side of the road, so that our advance would be noiseless. We had gone but a short distance when we were halted. To the challenge, 'Who comes there?' Sam replied, 'Scouts,' and throwing me his rein, he swung himself from his saddle, whispering:

"'Hold on a minute, Bill! Let me manage that fellow;' and before I could say a word he had disappeared in the darkness.

"Several moments passed, when I again heard his voice, and riding forward, wondering how he had 'managed' the sentinel, I was surprised to see him with a musket in his hand, pacing back and forth across the road. I instantly understood what had transpired, and leading the horses cautiously into the bushes at the side of the road, I fastened them there, and then returned to Sam.

"'I couldn't help it, Bill,' he whispered, as I came up. 'I meant to capture him, and compel him to give us some information; but he fought so desperately that I had to settle him to save myself.'

"'It can't be helped; such things are not uncommon in war times. Now you play the part of sentry here until some one passes, and you can find out what the countersign is. Then I'll go up to the house and reconnoiter.'

"I then lay down by the side of the road, and in a few moments Sam whispered:

"'Bill, I wonder what's the number of this post?'

"'I'm sure I don't know,' I replied.

"'Well, how am I going to find out?' he inquired. 'If some one should happen to come along without the countersign, and I should want to call the corporal, I would be in a nice fix, wouldn't I?'

"Sam said this in such a perfectly cool and unconcerned manner, that I could not help admiring him.

"Just then I heard a faint shout:

"'Twelve o'clock! Number one. All's well.'

"'There,' I whispered; 'the sentries are passing the call. Now look sharp.'

"The call passed the round of the sentinels, until number eight was called, but a short distance from us. Then came a pause.

"'Sam, you're number nine,' I hurriedly whispered.

"'Number nine; and all's well!' shouted Sam at the top of his lungs. 'So far, so good,' he continued, in a low voice. 'Now I guess we're all right. Halt!' he shouted, hearing the sound of horses' hoofs rapidly advancing. The horseman at once drew rein, and at Sam's challenge, answered:

"'Colonel Peckham.'

"'Dismount, Colonel Peckham, and give the countersign.'

"'Look here, my man, just let me pass, will you? Don't detain me, for I am on important business, and am in a great hurry.'

"'Halt,' shouted Sam again; 'dismount.'

"'I tell you I am Colonel Peckham, commanding – '

"'I don't care what you command. Just climb down off that horse instantly, or I'll fire on you. You shouldn't go by me if you were President Davis himself.'

"The colonel, seeing that entreaty was in vain, reluctantly dismounted and gave the countersign, 'Virginia.'

"'The countersign is correct. Pass, Colonel Peckham,' said Sam, bringing his musket promptly to a shoulder arms.

"After the rebel had mounted and disappeared, I whispered:

"'Now, Sam, I'm going up to that house. Keep a sharp look-out.'

"After shaking his hand I started toward the place where I had seen the light. Walking carelessly up toward a group of soldiers who were lounging about on the ground, I glanced in at the window, and saw several officers seated around a table, apparently engaged in earnest debate. I listened for a few moments to the conversation of the men, and found that I was two miles inside of the rebel lines. This knowledge was something that would not have pleased me had I been alone, for I was wholly unacquainted with the country, but, knowing that I had a friend on whom I could rely, I looked upon it as merely a little difficulty, from which I could extricate myself as soon and as easily as I pleased.

"I lounged about, picking up a good deal of information, until I heard the relief called, and knowing that, unless we beat a hasty retreat, we would be discovered, I hastened back to the place where I had left Sam, and found him industriously pacing his beat. I was about to bring out the horses, when we heard the clatter of hoofs coming up the road from toward the house, and I at once concealed myself. The answer to the challenge was Colonel Peckham, who was returning to his command. As he was about to pass, I, thinking that it would not look well to go back to the camp empty-handed, sprang out of my concealment and seized his reins, while Sam, who instantly comprehended what was going on, placed his bayonet against his breast.

"'What means this?' asked the colonel.

"'Don't talk so much,' replied Sam. 'A blind man could see that you are a prisoner. So hand over your weapons, and don't make any fuss.'

"As Sam spoke, he proceeded to 'sound' the colonel, and the search resulted in the transfer of two revolvers to his belt. Then, throwing away his musket and cartridge-box, he sprang upon his horse, which I had by this time brought out, and, seizing the colonel's reins, we started down the road at a full gallop.

"We had proceeded scarcely a quarter of a mile when we heard several musket-shots behind us, and we knew that the relief had found No. 9 post vacant, and were alarming the camp. Sam, still holding fast to the colonel's horse, at once turned off into the woods, through which we with difficulty worked our way. At length, however, we reached an open field, which we crossed at a gallop, and, leaping our horses over the fence, found ourselves in the road again. We had struck it just outside of the rebel pickets, who, hearing us gallop away, fired at us; but the bullets all went wide of the mark, and in less than an hour we reached our own camp, and the prisoner was delivered over to the general."