A Lincoln Conscript Read online

  CHAPTER VIII

  A LETTER FROM THE FRONT

  There was consternation in the house of Bannister. The son of the househad disappeared over night. His mother was distracted, his father wasanxious and angry. The morning wore on and he did not return. No onehad seen him nor could any trace of him be found. Toward noon SethMills came over. He was able to quiet, to some extent, the apprehensionconcerning the boy. But he would not tell where Bob had gone.

  “The boy knows what he’s a-doin’,” said the old man, “and he’sperfectly safe. He won’t git back to-night. He may be back to-morrownight--I don’t know. Ef he don’t come till the day after, I’ll tell yemore about ’im. He’s on the right track an’ he’s able to take keer of’imself, an’ some day ye’re a-goin’ to be proud o’ that boy, both ofye. That’s what I say.”

  He stood up very straight and rapped his cane three times on the floorfor emphasis and turned toward the door. With this statement and thispromise the Bannisters had to be satisfied. They knew, from longexperience, that the old man could not be forced to tell more than hechose. So the day dragged on. Rhett Bannister had not been so unhappybefore in all his life. A dozen times he thought of starting out tofind his son, and a dozen times he abandoned the idea. A dozen times hefelt that he must go over and choke the truth out of old Seth Mills,and as often he restrained himself. He surmised something of what hadhappened, and what he surmised hurt and angered him.

  The day went by, and the night, and the next day, and Bob did notreturn. The next night a candle shone all night from the porch-window,that the boy might be guided safely to his door, if haply he shouldcome back, and all night Rhett Bannister lay sleepless and perplexed.The next morning he started out to find Seth Mills. It was the firsttime in two weeks that he had left his own premises. He met the old manin the road, hobbling toward the Bannister home.

  “Seth,” he said, “I want you to tell me where Robert has gone, and Iwant you to tell me now. Do you hear? _now!_”

  His voice rose in anger as he spoke, a look of determination was in hiseyes, and the old man knew that the time had come when he must revealhis secret.

  “Yes,” he replied deliberately, “I was jes’ comin’ over to tell ye.I think it’s time now ye ort to know. Well, sir, the night before heleft, Bob come an’ told me ’at he was a-goin’ to Easton to try topervail on the provost-marshal there to let him go as a substitute inyour place. Ef he ain’t back to-day I expect they’ve let him do it. Nowyou’ve got it, Rhett Bannister, straight from the shoulder; make themost of it.”

  For a moment Bannister did not reply. His worst fear had been realized.A great wave of indignation and anger swept over his soul. He stoodover the bent form of his old neighbor, white-faced and quivering.

  “And you!” he cried, “you of all men, to encourage him, to assist himin this rebellious, this disgraceful, this suicidal folly!”

  And again the old man stood up very straight.

  “I did encourage him,” he replied. “And I glory in his grit. And ef youhed one drop of human blood in your veins, you’d be the proudest fatheron the Lord’s footstool to-day.”

  Then, lest in his wrath he should wholly forget himself, Bannisterturned on his heel and strode away. But he did not go immediately tohis home. He felt that he could not yet trust himself to tell his wife.And when, finally, he did go to her he found that she already knew.Seth Mills had been there and told her that since he had seen herhusband he had received a letter from Bob, saying that he had beenrefused as a substitute, but that he was about starting to the frontwith Sergeant Anderson to enlist. Then Rhett Bannister lost entirecontrol of his tongue.

  “So,” he said, “the radicals have caught their prey at last. SuchLincoln bigots as Seth Mills and Henry Bradbury and Sarah Jane Starkhave drilled into the boy’s mind their brand of pestilent patriotismtill they have turned his head and sent him off on this wild-goosechase after glory. Little thought have they for his health or life orthe peace of mind of his parents. And when he dies, as die he will,in that awful struggle, his blood will be on their heads. Oh, it’shorrible! horrible!”

  He had not thought to give way, like this, to his passion, and thenext moment he had repented himself of his anger. His wife had thrownherself into a chair, and, resting her head on a table, was sobbinghysterically. He went over to her and put his arms about her shoulders.

  “There, Mary,” he said, “there, never mind. We’ll get him back somehow.He’s too young to enlist. They can’t hold him against his will or ours.We’ll get him back.”

  And so, little by little, she was calmed and comforted.

  Seth Mills had told her that Bob would write as soon as he reachedhis destination. But the day went by and the night wore away and noletter came. Another day and another night dragged their long hoursout, and still there was no letter. Word reached Bob’s parents fromthose who had seen him on the way to Easton. Congratulations on theirson’s patriotism and bravery came to them in almost every mail. HenryBradbury wrote to Bannister:--

  “If you are not proud of your boy, you ought to be. I saw him when hestarted. A braver boy never left this town. If you hang for treason, hewill redeem your family from disgrace. Get down on your knees and thankGod for him.”

  And some of these darts sank deeply into Rhett Bannister’s sensitivesoul. At times he was wild with rage, at other times he was bowedand silent with grief and despair. His own fate mattered little tohim any more. His whole thought was as to when and by what method hecould rescue his son from the hateful hands into which he had fallen.But, even as he pondered and grieved, there crept into his heart asofter feeling toward the boy, an almost unconscious sympathy with theenthusiasm, the ambition, the noble unselfishness which had governedthe lad’s conduct, which had impelled him to seek his father’s welfareat peril of his own, which had led him willingly, gladly into theranks of the Union armies. Indeed, he went so far as to wonder if hehimself could by any possibility be mistaken in his attitude toward theFederal government, and his view concerning the conduct of the war.If, after all, there might not possibly be something back of all thisattempt at coercion, back of all these vast fighting armies in blue,back of all this lavish expenditure of blood and treasure, some greatprinciple, some high ideal, which his eyes had been too dim to see,but which appealed to the hearts and souls of large-minded men, andfervent patriotic youth, and led them into untold sacrifices that thatprinciple might be upheld and that ideal maintained.

  On the fifth day after Bob’s disappearance, the boy who brought mailfrom the post-office to the residents along the North and SouthTurnpike road, left a letter at the Bannister house, a letter which,at the first glance, Mrs. Bannister knew was from Bob. With tremblinghands she tore the envelope apart and drew forth the sheet of paperinclosed. In her calmer moments she could have read the letter withoutdifficulty. Now, the words, strangely twisted and distorted, swambefore her eyes, and the whole page was an unsolved mystery. She ran tothe door calling to her husband:--

  “Rhett! Rhett! Here’s a letter--from Rob--come quick!”

  At his bench in the shop he heard her, and hurried to her side. Shethrust the letter into his hands.

  “Read it!” she exclaimed. “Read it aloud!”

  So he read it.

  “IN CAMP AT TURKEY RUN, VA., _October 23, 1863_.

  “MY DEAREST FATHER AND MOTHER:--

  “I know I gave you a good deal of anxiety and distress. I am very sorry for that, but I thought I was doing what was right and now I know I was. I wrote Uncle Seth about it. I suppose he has told you. They wouldn’t take me as a substitute for father, so I thought I would enlist anyway, and I met Sergt. Anderson at Easton, and he brought me down here and got me into his company. The only regret I have is that father isn’t here with me as a soldier. I am so anxious and fearful about him. It is such a splendid thing to be a soldier of the United States. I am so happy, all ex
cept about father. We marched here to-day from Auburn. We are in camp here. They say Gen. Meade may take us on down to Fredericksburg and have a battle there. I am very well and happy. Oh, mother, do you remember how the boys wouldn’t have me in the company last summer, and how bad I felt about it? Well, they are still in Mount Hermon playing soldier with wooden swords and guns, and now I am in the army with a real musket and knapsack and canteen, and maybe to-morrow or next day I shall go into a real battle to fight for my country. Oh, mother, I’m so proud of being a soldier. I am in Col. Gordon’s regiment, Co. M, Army of the Potomac, Va. Please write to me. I am so sorry I gave you anxiety about me, but I couldn’t help it. If anything happens to father, tell me. If he could only be here and see things the way I do. Give my dear love to Dottie.

  “Your affectionate son,

  “ROBERT BARNWELL BANNISTER.”

  When he had finished reading the letter, the man held it in his handand said nothing. Neither did he see anything in the room about him.His eyes were piercing the distance, gazing on a blue-coated striplingin Meade’s army down among the Virginia hills.

  The woman was the first to speak. There was no longer in her face thestrain of grief or anxiety, the steady look of pain. Her eyes wereshining and tearless. Her hands were clasped.

  “Rhett,” she said, “I’m proud of him. He’s the bravest boy in theworld. What a splendid, splendid letter!”

  For one moment the mother’s pride in her offspring asserted itself,the spirit of her Kentucky ancestors shone forth in her countenance,and she spoke the words that came straight from her heart to her lips.Then, suddenly realizing that for the first time in all their twentyyears of married life, she had expressed a thought in direct antagonismto the opinion of the husband whom she honored and loved, she sankback into a chair, pale-faced and silent, and let her hands falldejectedly to her side.

  But there was no protest from him. Instead, with a look in his eyeswhich she could not quite fathom, he came over and sat down by her andkissed her and said:--

  “We are both proud of his spirit, Mary, however mistaken his conduct.But he is too good a boy for us to permit him to be lost and destroyedin this awful whirlpool of war. We must get him back.”

  Late in the evening of that day there came a knock at the kitchen doorof the Bannister house. When the door was opened some one from theouter darkness thrust in a scrap of paper and disappeared. On the paperwas scrawled:--

  “Rounding-up squad expected at Scranton to-night. Look out!”

  When Rhett Bannister read the warning, he said:--

  “It makes little difference now. It simply hastens my departure.Doubtless the end will be the same.”

  To his wife he added:--

  “I start to-morrow morning to try to reach Robert. The probability isthat I shall not succeed. But the least I can do is to make the effort.”

  Then, gently, calmly, carefully, he outlined to his wife the plan thathe had in mind, and explained to her why there was nothing left for himto do but to try to reach and save the boy. The effort might cost himhis life, but to stay at home was likely also to cost him his life, andto attempt to escape from the Federal authorities was utterly useless.There was a wild possibility, the thousandth part of a chance, that hemight get to Bob and be able to take the boy’s place in the ranks. Thatwas all. And when it was all said, he did not find her nerveless, orhysterical, or in tears, as he had expected and feared, but, instead,in her eyes there was a look of resolution and bravery, across hergentle lips there was drawn a line of courage and determination suchas, in all their married life, he had never seen there before.

  “I am content,” she said. “I believe you are doing right. Rhett, dear,no matter what happens now, come life or death or desolation, I shallhave two heroes to worship and dream of as long as I live.”

  Strange it is, and divine, that in a woman so weak so strong a spiritwill develop when the right hour strikes.

  So, in the bleak darkness of the next morning, at the same hour onwhich his son had left home scarcely a week before, Rhett Bannisterkissed his wife and his sleeping child good-by, and set forth on amission which, even in his most hopeful moments, promised him onlybitter and disastrous failure.

  Up the dark road, in the face of the chill October wind, he hurried,into the streets of Mount Hermon, past the home of Sarah Jane Stark,making the same détour around the village that Bob had made, comingout into the main road where he had come, hurrying on in the graylight of the morning, toward his hoped-for destination. But, fartheron, he left the main highway and struck off across the country by alittle-traveled road, expecting to reach a way station on the railroada few miles beyond Carbon Creek, and there meet the morning train.

  In this effort he was successful. He met no one on the way, nor didany one at the station recognize him. But he had no sooner boardedthe train than that happened which he might have expected. Soldiersin uniform arose mysteriously and one stood guard at each door of thecar, and another one, followed by an officer, came down the aisle andstopped at the conscript’s seat.

  “Is your name Bannister?” inquired the officer.

  “It is,” responded the man. “Rhett Bannister of Mount Hermon, at yourservice; drafted by the government, classed as a deserter, and on myway to join the Army of the Potomac in Virginia.”

  “Good! you are our prisoner. Have you any arms about you?”

  The officer hastily and skillfully examined the prisoner’s clothing.

  “I am unarmed and defenseless,” replied Bannister. “I will go with youwillingly. I am not disappointed nor surprised. I only ask to be heardby any officer in authority before whom you take me.”

  The mode of capture had been simple enough. The provost-guard had onlyto follow the conscript’s trail, to board the train at Carbon Creek,and be ready to apprehend him when he should appear. They did nothandcuff him. He was entirely in their power, and it was apparent thathe would make no resistance.

  And so the notorious copperhead, the man who had denounced AbrahamLincoln, who had ridiculed the draft, who had defied the Federal army,was at last a prisoner of the United States. Within five minutes thefact of his identity was known to every person on the train. Men hissedand jeered at him as he was taken into an adjoining car, and womenlooked on him with detestation. At a station where a change of cars wasmade, a sympathizer, with more zeal than discretion, attempted, in aloud voice, to argue justification for the prisoner. But his oratorywas soon drowned in a storm of protest, and he himself was buffeted bythe crowd till he was glad to escape.

  So, all the way to Easton, the despised conscript was mocked andfrowned upon. Accustomed as he had been to condemnation by his fellowmen, the experience of this day was the most bitter and degrading thathis life had thus far known. With little to eat, and no comfortableresting-place, he passed a sleepless night. In the morning he wasbrought before the provost-marshal.

  “Captain Yohe,” said the officer in charge, “this is Rhett Bannister,the Mount Hermon deserter.”

  The provost-marshal laid down his pen and looked the prisoner in theface.

  “Your son,” he said, “was before me a few days ago seeking to besubstituted in your place. Were you aware of that fact?”

  “I have since learned it, sir.”

  “I understand that he afterward enlisted and is now at the front. Isthat true?”

  “I believe it is.”

  “How is it that so unpatriotic a father can have so patriotic a son?”

  “I hold myself to be as much of a patriot, sir, as any man in thisstate. The boy and I take different views of the same matter, thatis all. He is young, barely seventeen, and easily influenced byprofessions of loyalty and the glitter of arms. He has no business tobe in the ranks. His place is at home with his mother. I am willing, Idesire, to be substituted for him.”

  “I see. The scheme is a pretty one, but we cannot per
mit you topurchase immunity from punishment in that way. Neither your son’s age,nor his patriotism, nor his bravery can serve to effect your release.You have the standing only of a deserter, you must be dealt with assuch. I shall remand you to the officers of the division and regimentto which, as a drafted man, you were assigned. They may shoot you, orhang you, or do what they will with you. I am through with you. In myjudgment no power on earth can save you from the extreme penalty metedout to deserters unless it be Abraham Lincoln himself. At any rate, Ido not want you longer on Pennsylvania soil. Remove the prisoner.”

  No wonder Rhett Bannister received little sympathy or consideration atthe hands of his captors after that condemnation. Between two soldiersunder orders to deliver him to the commander of the regiment to whichhe had been assigned, he was hustled and hurried on board train, and sooff toward Washington.

  The soldier guard, at the first opportunity, purchased a pack of cardsand a bottle of whiskey. At the station where the next change of carswas made another bottle of whiskey was obtained. The smoking-car inwhich they sat, and up and down the aisle of which they reeled, wasfilled with the noise of their harsh orders, their rude quarreling witheach other, and their coarse jests at the expense of their prisoner.To Rhett Bannister it was a bitter, a humiliating, a degrading night.But long before the train rolled into the station at Washington, bothdrunken soldiers had fallen into a heavy sleep. Nor did they awakenwhen the brakeman announced the station and cried, “All out!”

  The few passengers remaining in the car rose to leave. Bannister rosewith them. Not so much because he desired to escape from the custody ofthe Federal authorities, as because he wished to relieve himself of theodious and repellent society of his drunken and disreputable guards.

  One man, looking at him askance, said:--

  “He ought not to be allowed to get away like that.”

  And another one replied:--

  “Let him go. After such a night as he has had he deserves his freedom.But I hope his guards will be court-martialed and shot.”

  After that no one attempted to detain him, and Rhett Bannisterstepped down from the car, a free man. He walked leisurely up thetrain platform, across the lobby, through the waiting-room, and outinto the street. Over the roofs of the houses to the east the sky wasbeginning to show the first faint streaks of morning gray. An all-nightrestaurant at the corner attracted his attention, and it occurredto him that he should be hungry. He knew that he was very tired. Heentered, and the sleepy and sullen waiter served him with a sandwichand a cup of coffee. Refreshed, he went out once more into the street.It was very quiet in the city at this hour. Only a few stragglers wereabroad and they did not notice him.

  When he reached Pennsylvania Avenue he turned up toward the Treasurybuilding and sauntered slowly on. Not that he cared particularly whichdirection he took. But, in other days, he had been familiar with thestreets of Washington, and some trend of mind or instinct of memory ledhis steps that way. He knew that he could not permanently escape, that,sooner or later, he would be recaptured and put to his punishment, andthat his punishment would be the more hasty and severe because of histemporary freedom.

  The hope that he had dared to entertain on leaving home, that hemight be permitted to take his son’s place in the ranks, had nowquite vanished. Before him lay only disgrace and death and a stainon his family name in the North for generations. It was the darkest,most desolate hour his life had known. A small squad of soldiers, incommand of an officer, approached him, marching up the street throughthe crisp morning air in brisk time, swinging their arms in unison asthey came, and the thought entered his mind that the best thing hecould do would be to surrender himself to them. But when he met them hepassed without speaking, and they paid no attention to him. A littlefarther on a crippled veteran with crutches sat on the curb and askedalms as Bannister passed by. And this hater of the Federal blue thrusthis hand into his pocket, drew forth a liberal sum, and gave it to theuniformed beggar, without a word. The man was probably a fraud, butwhat did it matter? It was doubtless a doomed man’s last opportunity todo a charitable deed. So he passed on, up around the Treasury buildingand along the front of the White House. It was almost daylight now, butthe street-lamps had not yet been extinguished, and in the President’smansion two windows were still brilliantly illuminated.

  As Bannister reached the corner by the War Department building heturned and looked back at the White House. There lived the man whom hehad ridiculed as a buffoon, whom he had denounced as a tyrant, whom hehad decried as a malefactor. And the remark made by Captain Yohe theday before at Easton came back into his mind: “No power on earth cansave you from the extreme penalty meted out to deserters unless it beAbraham Lincoln himself.”

  So this man held also in his hands dominion over life and death. Athis word, spoken or withheld, he, Rhett Bannister, would live or die.At his word, spoken or withheld, soldiers by the thousands had givenand would still give their lives that his counsels and his judgmentsmight prevail. What an awful responsibility! How it must weigh on aman’s soul! How it must sober him and search him, and drive from hisheart all forms of avarice and selfishness and hatred and hypocrisy!How could this man Lincoln, by any human possibility, be anything buthonest and humble and God-fearing, with such an awful load upon hismind and heart!

  Involuntarily, as he pondered, Bannister had turned into the park lyingbetween the White House and the War Department and was saunteringleisurely up the path. There was no purpose in it. Doubtless, histhoughts being upon Abraham Lincoln, he was drawn unconsciously towardthe physical abiding-place of the man.

  And then, suddenly, he became aware that some one was coming toward himdown the walk. In the gray light of the morning, under the frost-bittenfoliage, a man, tall, bent, with a high black hat on his head, and agray plaid shawl thrown about his shoulders to protect him from thechill October air, came shuffling down the path. One glance at theuncouth figure, at the deep-lined, careworn face, into the sad andmeasureless depths of the never-to-be-forgotten eyes told Bannisterthat the man who approached him was Abraham Lincoln.