Democratic Sentinel, Volume 17, Number 38, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 6 October 1893 — THE FORTUNE OF WAR. [ARTICLE]

THE FORTUNE OF WAR.

The room was comfortable enough. It was the guest-room of an old Virginian farm-house on the James river; but the farmer whs away, fighting in Lee’s army for the defense of Richmond, and a halfsquadron of "Sheridan’s Horse, on outpost duty, occupied the building. The furniture of the room was old-fashioned, solid and substantial. The bed had curtains; the floor was oarpeted and prints hung upon the walls The last place in the world that the room resembled or suggested was a prison. Yet the man who walked perturbedly up and down the floor was a prisoner—a Confederate prisoner of war; and the other man, who paced the court-yard outside, beneath his window, was a Federal soldier guarding him. The prisoner had made no attempt to sleep. From 10 at night, when they had locked him there, till three in the morning, he had been feverishly striding to and fro almost without a break. When he had thrown himself, from time to time, upon the bed, it was to think and not to rest. Partly he was weighing chances, and wondering whether it was possible that Stuart’s Cavalry would swoop down suddenly and rescue him; but his mind mainly dwelt upon the one paramount horror of the position in which he found himself. His lamp was still burning, and there were pens, ink and paper lying on the table. He had asked for this favor, and his captors had granted it without demur. As they were going to shoot him at daybreak, they oould scarcely grudge him so trivial an indulgence. There was something which he wanted to write before he died, a last message to his mother m South Carolina, who was praying for his safe return. Three times already he had begun the letter, and then stopped and torn up what he had written. It was difficult to write with out telling either too little or too much. At first he had intended to suppress all that was really essential in the story.

But withiu the last hour something had happened which had ohanged his mind, and resolved him to write down the plain truth about the things that had befallen him. Cruel as the truth was, it was not dishonorable. Better, ho thought, that his mother should hear it, than that apocryphal, and perhaps calumnious, tales should reach her ears. 80, with an effort, he calmed himself, and took up his pen and wrote: "My Dearest Moturr: Whether this letter will ever reach you I cannot say, as I shall have to trust to the kind offices of the enemy for its safe transmission. In any case, before you recieve it you will have heard the worst. You will have beard that lam dead. At the moment

when I write this I have only two or three more hours to live, as I am sentenced to be shot at sunrise. If these lines reach you you will also know that you have no reason to be ashamed of me, or of my brother Jefferson, who is sleeping in the next room to me, and whose prisoner I am. “Jefferson’s prisoner ? That puzzles you, no doubt. Well, I will soon make you understand. It has happened very simply. "I wae serving, as you know, with Stuart’s cavalry. General Stuart wanted some information which could only be obtained by passing inside the Federal lines. Happening to know the country better than most, I volunteered for the service, and, disguised as a farm hand, made my way in the direction of Richmond. I obtained my information, but on the road back I was taken by two of Sheridan's troopers. They searched me, and, unfortunately, I had concealed about me some plans I had mode of the Federal defenses at Bermuda Hundred. So they brought me along to this farm house on the James river, where they are stationed under the command of my brother Jefferson Captain Jefferson Langley of the Federal Army. ‘‘l didn’t know any more than you did, that Jefferson was fighting for the North. I hadn’t seen him, any more than you have, since that day he ran away from home five years ago. I didn’t even know he was alive. But when the Sergeant marohed me in front of him I recognized him at onee. ■‘He wasn’t so quick at recognizing me; but that’s no wonder, for, as I told you, I was disguised, and I had a ten days’ beard on my face. He began questioning me: “ ‘You have been arrested within the Federal lines. Compromising documents have been found upon your person. You are accused of being a Confederate spy. Have you anything to say in your defpllflf ?’ “ * Nothing,’ I said. “Jefferson looked up. My voice seemed to remind him of something—he didn’t quite know what. Then he went on: “ *By military law the punishment of the crime of which you are accused is death.’ I know it,’ I said.

“Jefferson looked up again. “‘lf,’he said, ‘you are able to put me in pocsession of any valuable information respecting the movements of the Confederate forces, that punishment would be remitted.’ “ ‘ I have no such information to give you,’ I told him. •‘That time I was quite sure that Jefferson recognized me. I could see it in hie eyee. But he only said: “ ‘ Precisely. That is the exact lie I expected you to telL’ “Aed then he added: “ ‘Sergeant, take your men outside and leave Hie prisoner alone with me. 1 “The men filed out, and the Sergeant followed them end closed the door. As

soon as it was shut, Jefferson got up from the table where he was sitting and gripped me by the hand. “ ‘Arthur,’ he said, ‘I haven’t seen you these last five years. But I’m not mistaken. You are my brother Arthur, aren’t you?’ "I hadn’t meant to tell him who I was. You see he’d got to order me to be shot anyway, and it seemed better he shouldn’t know he was sentencing his own brother. But it wasn’t any use trying to deceive him then. He wouldn’t have believed it. So I owned up. " ‘Yes, Jefferson,’ I said. ‘l’m Arthur Langley right enough. I was in hopes you wouldn’t recognize me. But you have.’ “Then we sat down and talked of many things while the soldiers waited outside. “He asked me for news of you, and wanted to know if you had forgiven him for running away from home. I told him that you had, and that he must go back to you after the war was over; and he promised that he would. And then we both cursed the war that had brought us together so strangely and so terribly, and poor Jefferson seemed even more distressed than I was by our awful meeting. lie broke down and sobbed, poor boy.

“ ‘God knows, Arthur,’ he said, ‘l'd let you go right away back to Stuart’s camp if I could. But I can’t.’ “And he couldn’t, mother. “ ‘I know you can’t do it, Jefferson,’ I told him. ‘You’re men wouldn’t let you. If you tried they’d mutiny.’ “He allowed that it was more than likely. “ ‘Likely?’ I said. ‘lt’s a dead certainty. I’d be shot just the same if you tried; and your second in command would put you under arrest, and your Colonel would see that you were shot, too. No, Jefferson, you’ve got it to do, and you’d best get it done right away.’ “The poor boy sat down and covered his face with his hands, sobbing, ‘Oh, my God! my God 1’ “I tried to calm him a bit, telling him that it was only the fortune of war, and that when I started I knew I was taking my life in my hands. But it didn’t seem to comfort him. He kept pacing up and down the room saying, ‘I can’t do itl I can’t do it 1 ’

“ But I told him that lie must do it—there was no way out of it. Then he made a great effort and calmed himself. He sat down at the table and struck the gong, and then the sergeant came into the room again. “ ‘ Sergeant, ’ he said, ‘the prisoner will be shot at daybreak. For the present you will lock him in the room opposite to mine.’

“ And «o they brought me up here and left me.” There was a break in the letter here. Arthur Langley began several sentences, only to strike his pen through them again. But presently he went on thus: “You will be angry with Jefferson, mother. You will think that lam making excuses for him, and that he might have saved me if he’d liked. Then read on, mother. I have something else to tell you. When you have read it you will never think badly of Jefferson again. “Two hours ago I heard some one tapping gently at my door, nnd a voice— it was Jefferson’s voice—spoke to me in a whisper.

“ ‘Arthur! Arthur!’ he said. 'Don’t nnswer me, Arthur, or some one may hear you, but listen carefully to what I say.’ “I listened, and this was what he said: “ ‘lf you put your hand into your wash-hand jug you will find a key that will unlock your door. In ih; passage you will see a Federal unifor.n and an overcoat. Put them on and walk right out through the front door, and make straight for the clump of trees to the west. Button your coat well over your face, nnd you will be mistaken for me. I usually visit the sentries about this time. If you are challenged, imitate my voice and give the password “Petersburg.” Good-by, Arthur, and God bless you. ’

“ There, mother! you see what Jefferson was willing to do for me. I wonder if you understand why I’m not going to let him do it? It is because I know just what the offer means. It means that Jefferson will be arrested for conniving at my escape and shot instead of me. I musn’t allow that to happen, must 17 “Jefferson and I weren’t as good friends as wc should have been in the old times; but I always allowed there was grit in him, and now I know it. I hope there’s grit enough in me to stand out against this temptation. It’s a temptation to think that there’s that uniform waiting for me all the while, and I’ve only to put it on and get clear away. I wonder

Once again he stopped writing. The temptation had been a real one; for life is very sweet at two-and-twenty, and it is hard to let it go by merely sitting still and refusing to accept a sacrifice. Moreover, the words which Arthur Langley had just put on paper struck back nto his brain, and once more set him thinking. In a sort of delirious fancy he saw himself yielding to the temptation, and putting on that uniform, and walking away safely into the open. It seemed so easy and so simple. Fatigue and sleeplessness had broken down his nerves, aud an irresistible power impelled him to the action.

“By God!” he whispered hoarsely, “I will do it. I must do it.” He held the letter he had just written over the lamp, and let it burn away to cinders. Then he drew the key from its hiding-place and undid the door, and stepped out silently into the passage. The promised uniform was in readiness for him and he bent down to pick it up. The door of the room opposite, where his brother, the Federal officer, slept, was open. Driven by a sudden impulse, he stepped up to it on tiptoe, and looked in. Jefferson LaDglev was sleeping quietly, with the moon shining through the window on his handsome, boyish face, and making a glitter on his golden hair. His sleep was the calm and peaceful sleep of One who has done his duty, and has no more cares upon his mind. Arthur Langley stood as it were spellbound. and gazed at him. The infinite peacefulness of the face at first perplexed him. But presently he grew to understand it; and a great shame for his own contemplated cowardice stole over him. Gradually his muscles relaxed. Silently, and without a word, he gathered up the uniform and carried it to a spot where it might lie without exciting any one’s suspicions. Having done this he crept back to his room and looked himself in again, and hid the key where none were likely to discover it. Then, feeling « great weight lifted from his mind, he threw himself down upon the bed, and slept dreamlessly, like his brother, till the dawn.

“Aren’t you ready yet?" “I couldn’t find my hair." “We’ll miss the train. Switches always seem to delay traffic."