The Soldier Boy; or, Tom Somers in the Army: A Story of the Great Rebellion by - (top 20 books to read .TXT) 📕

the attention which it deserved.

In the fields and forest he found a few berries; but all he could find made but a slight impression upon the neglected organ. If Tom was a philosopher, in his humble way, he was reasonable enough to admit that a man could not live without eating. At this point, therefore, the question of rations became a serious and solemn problem; and the longer it remained unsolved the more difficult and harassing it became.

After he had rested all the forenoon in a secluded spot, without interruption from man or beast, he decided to settle this question of rations once for all. If impudence had enabled him to pass a line of rebel sentries, it ought to furnish him with a dinner. Leaving his hiding place, he walked till he discovered a small house, at which he determined to apply for something to eat.

Chapter XVII. Dinner and Danger.

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The house at which Tom applied for food evidently did not belong to one of the “first families,” or, if it did, the owner’s fortunes had become sadly dilapidated. It was built of rough boards, with a huge stone chimney, which was erected on the outside of the structure. The humblest fisherman in Pinchbrook Harbor would have thought himself poorly accommodated in such a rough and rickety mansion.

If Tom’s case had not been growing desperate, he would not have run the risk of showing himself to any person on the “sacred soil” who was “to the manor born;” but his stomach was becoming more and more imperative in its demands, and he knocked at the front door with many misgivings, especially as his exchequer contained less than a dollar of clear cash.

The inmates were either very deaf or very much indisposed to see visitors; and Tom, after he had knocked three times, began to think he had not run any great risk in coming to this house. As nobody replied to his summons, he took the liberty to open the door and enter. The establishment was even more primitive in its interior than its exterior, and the soldier boy could not help contrasting it with the neat houses of the poor in his native town.

The front door opened into a large room without the formality of an entry or hall. In one corner of the apartment stood a bed. At one side was a large fireplace, in which half a dozen sticks of green wood were hissing and sizzling in a vain attempt to make the contents of an iron pot, which hung over them, reach the boiling point. No person was to be seen or heard on the premises, though the fire and the pot were suggestive of humanity at no great distance from the spot.

A door on the back side of the room was open, and Tom looked out in search of the occupants of the house. In the garden he discovered the whole family, consisting of a man and his wife, a girl of twelve, and a boy of ten. The man was digging in the garden, and the rest of the troupe seemed to be superintending the operation. The head of the family was altogether the most interesting person to Tom, for he must either shake hands or fight with him. He did not look like a giant in intellect, and he certainly was not a giant in stature. With the bayonet still in his belt, Tom was not afraid of him.

“How are you, people?” said Tom, as he walked towards the family, who with one accord suspended all operations, and gave their whole attention to the stranger.

“How are ye, yourself?” replied the man, rather gruffly.

“Do you keep a hotel?” demanded Tom, who concealed the anxiety of his heart under a broad grin.

“I reckon I don’t. What do you want here?”

“I want something to eat,” replied Tom, proceeding to business with commendable straight-forwardness.

“We hain’t got nothin’ here,” said the man, sourly. “That ain’t what ye come fur, nuther.”

“Must have something to eat. I’m not very particular, but I must have something.”

“You can’t hev it ’bout yere, no how. That ain’t what ye come fur, nuther.”

“If you know what I came for better than I do, suppose you tell me what it is,” added Tom, who was a little mystified by the manner of the man.

“You air one of them soger fellers, and you want me to ’list; but I tell yer, ye can’t do nothin’ of the sort. I’ll be dog derned if I’ll go.”

“I don’t want you to go,” protested Tom. “I’m half starved and all I want is something to eat.”

“Yer don’t reelly mean so.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Where d’yer come from?”

“From down below here. Have you seen any soldiers pass through this place?”

“I reckon I hev; but they hain’t seen me; and I reckon they won’t see me very soon;” and the man chuckled at his own cleverness in keeping clear of recruiting officers.

“I don’t want you, and if you will give me something to eat, you will get rid of me very quick.”

“Betsey, you kin feed the feller, if yer like, and I’ll go over and see whar the hogs is.”

The man dropped his shovel, and began to move off towards the woods, probably to see whether Tom would attempt to detain him. At the same time “Betsey” led the way into the house, and the visitor paid no further attention to the master.

“We hain’t got much to eat in the house,” said the woman, as they entered the room. “There’s some biled pork and pertaters in the pot, and we’ve got some bread, sech as ’tis.”

“It will do me very well. I’m hungry, and can eat any thing,” replied Tom.

The woman placed a tin plate on the table, and dished up the contents of the kettle on the fire. She added some cold hoe cake to the dinner, and Tom thought it was a feast fit for a king. He took a seat at the table, and made himself entirely at home. The food was coarse, but it was good, and the hungry soldier boy did ample justice to the viands. The boy and girl who had followed him into the house, stood, one on each side of him, watching him in speechless astonishment.

“Where did yer come from?” asked the woman, when Tom had about half finished his dinner.

“From down below,” replied Tom, rather indefinitely.

“Don’t b’long in these yere parts, I reckon?”

“No, marm.”

“Where are ye gwine?”

“Going to join my regiment.”

“Where is yer rigiment?”

“That’s more than I know, marm.”

“How long yer been travelling?” persisted the woman, who was perhaps afraid that the guest would eat up the whole of the family’s dinner, if she did not make some kind of a feint to attract his attention.

“Only a few days, marm.”

“Kin yer till me what all thet noise was about day ’fore yesterday?”

“Yes, marm; it was a big battle.”

“Gracious me! Yer don’t say so! Whar was it?”

“Down below Centreville.”

“Which beat?”

“The Confederates drove the Yankees off the field,” answered Tom, suspending business long enough to glance at the woman, and see how the intelligence was received.

“Yer don’t! Then they won’t want my old man.”

Tom was unable to determine whether his hostess was Union or “Secesh” from her words or her looks. He could not inform her whether they would want her old man or not. When he had eaten all he could, he proposed like an honest youth to pay for what he had eaten; but Betsey had the true idea of southern hospitality, and refused to receive money for the food eaten beneath her roof. She had a loaf of coarse bread, however, in which she permitted Tom to invest the sum of six cents.

“I am very much obliged to you, marm; and I shall be glad to do as much for you, any time,” said Tom, as he went towards the front door.

As he was about to open it, his ears were startled by an imperative knock on the outside. He stepped back to one of the two windows on the front of the house, where he discovered an officer and two “grayback” soldiers. The ghost of his grandmother would not have been half so appalling a sight, and he retreated to the back door with a very undignified haste.

“Gracious me!” exclaimed the lady of the house. “Who kin thet be?”

“An officer and two soldiers,” replied Tom, hastily.

“Then they are arter my old man!” said she, dropping into the only chair the room contained.

“Don’t say I’m here, marm, and I’ll help your husband, if they catch him. Tell them he has gone off to be absent a week.”

“He’d be absent more’n thet if he knowed them fellers was arter him.”

The woman moved towards the front door, and Tom through the back door; but as he was about to pass into the garden, he caught a glimpse of one of the graybacks in the rear of the house. For a moment his case seemed to be hopeless; but he retreated into the room again, just as the woman opened the front door to admit the officer. He could not escape from the house, and his only resource was to secure a hiding place within its walls. There were only two which seemed to be available; one of these was the bed, and the other the chimney. If any search was made, of course the soldiers would explore the bed first; and the chimney seemed the most practicable.

There was no time for consideration, for the woman had already opened the door, and was answering the questions of the Confederate officer; so Tom sprang into the fireplace, and, by the aid of the projecting stones, climbed up to a secure position. The chimney was large enough to accommodate half a dozen boys of Tom’s size. The fire had gone out, and though the stones were rather warm in the fireplace, he was not uncomfortable.

The fears of the lady of the house proved to be well grounded this time, for the party had actually come in search of her “old man;” and what was more, the officer announced his intention not to leave without him.

“He’s gone away fur a week, and he won’t be hum before the fust of August, no how,” said the woman resolutely, and adopting Tom’s suggestion to the letter.

“All nonsense, woman! He is about here, somewhere, and we will find him.”

“You may, if you kin.”

The officer then went out at the back door, as Tom judged by his footsteps, and the woman asked one of the children what had become of the other soldier man. The boy said he was up chimney. She then told them not to tell the officer where he was.

“What shell I do?” said she, placing herself before the fireplace.

“Don’t be alarmed. He will keep out of their way,” replied Tom.

“But the officer man said he was gwine to stay ’bout yere till he gits hum,” moaned the poor woman.

“He will not do any such thing. Your husband has the woods before him, and he won’t let them catch him.”

“Deary me! I’m ’feared they will.”

“Where are they now?”

“They’re gone out to look for him.”

The officer and his men returned in a few moments, having satisfied themselves that the proprietor of the place was not on the premises.

“Now we’ll search the house,” said the officer; and Tom heard them walking about in the room.

Of course the militia man could not be found, and the officer used some very unbecoming language to express his disapprobation of the skulker, as he called him.

“Woman, if you don’t tell me where your husband is, I’ll have you arrested,” said he, angrily.

“I don’t know myself. He’s gone off over the mountains to git some things. Thet’s all I know about it, and if yer want to arrest me, yer kin.”

But the officer concluded that she would be a poor substitute for an able bodied man, and he compromised the matter by leaving one of the privates, instructing him not to let the woman or the children leave the house, and to remain till the skulker returned.

This was not very pleasant information for Tom who perceived that he was likely to be shut up in the chimney for the rest of the day, and perhaps be smoked or roasted out at supper time. Climbing up to the top of his prison house, he looked over, and saw the officer and one private disappear in the woods which lay between the house and the railroad. Looking over the other way, he saw the coveted recruit approaching the house from beyond the garden.

Chapter XVIII. The Rebel Soldier.

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Tom Somers was not very well satisfied with his situation, for the soldier who had been left in possession of the house was armed with a musket, and the prospect of escaping before night was not very flattering. The patriarch of the family, who had such a horror of recruiting officers, was approaching, and