Being further assured that this battery was to be at once sent to the front, I agreed to go along with him--_to get the money_. We found Elkton in our room, attending to the papers of some of the other recruits, and, at a favorable opportunity, I, with a trembling hand and a doubting heart, signed my assumed name to the papers, and by that act became a _Rebel soldier_. There was one great relief to my mind while performing this necessary act. It was distinctly understood that I was to be made the Corporal, and, as such, it would be my duty to sight and fire the gun of our section. I determined that if the occasion should arise before I could get away from them, when it would become my duty as a Rebel soldier to sight that gun, that it should _never be pointed in a way to do any damage_.

My object was to use this scheme as a disguise to again get to the front at Manassas, and find out what had been done _there_. I could not learn anything at Richmond, and once more in the Rebel Army at Manassas, disguised in a gray uniform, I would find some way to anticipate any forward movements. I would also be "handy" to our army, and be able to reach our pickets quickly.

If I were caught going over to the enemy, with a Rebel jacket on, I'd be shot as a deserter; but I had the consolation of knowing that, if I were caught in any other clothes, I should be hung anyhow. While this was not a very comforting thought, I knew it was true.

I did not care much for the money that was to be paid to me; and authorized Elkton to settle my bills at the hotel and to retain the balance for me. He furnished the Colonel and me some spending money, and together we went out to "make a night of it" in Richmond.

The Colonel and I went first to a theatre, located on the street on which stood the Exchange and Ballard Hotel.

One of the players sang with dramatic effect some words suitable to the time and people, which was adapted to the French air of "La Marseillaise." He waved in one hand a French flag and in the other the Confederate _bars_. At a certain point in the song, the fellow threw to the floor and stamped upon--old glory--the Stars and Stripes. The wild cheers of approval and howls of applause from the large audience that went up at this dastardly exhibition of American treachery sent the cold chills down my marrow bone. I wondered then, and have never ceased to wonder, at the frequent exhibitions of contempt and dishonor for their old flag that were so freely and heartily indulged in by the Southern people during the war.

It did not occur to me at the time that I might accidentally meet or, at least, be seen--in a crowded theatre--by some person who would know something of my past experiences.

As we were slowly edging through the crowd, after the curtain had fallen, I noticed a tall fellow in front of us, who turned around to look back. I thought I had seen his face before, but I had been seeing so many faces lately, that I paid but little attention to him. I observed that he said something to his companion, as both turned around facing me, but, as the crowd kept pressing down the narrow aisle, they did not have a good chance to scan me too closely.

Becoming aware of their scrutiny, my suspicions became aroused. I began to hasten along, and nervously nudged the Colonel to push ahead more rapidly. We passed the two men--one of whom was in uniform--and as we did so, I heard one of them, say:

"That's him, ain't it?"

I didn't linger to hear what reply the other made, but shoved on toward the door, and had reached the vestibule when the voice behind called out--_my right name_! I was startled, but did not turn, being intent only on getting to the street as quickly as possible.

The Colonel, who was with me, had not noticed the affair at all; and the calling out of my real name had not attracted his attention, as I was known to him only by the fictitious name that I had assumed.

As I reached the door, and was about to hurry down the front steps, a hand was laid on my shoulder. I have no doubt that it was a pale face which turned around, expecting to meet some one that I certainly did not desire to see at that time.

I did not know him, though his pleasant face, which was covered with a broad grin, seemed familiar.

"Ain't you Mr. O. K., that was out in Texas with Major J----?"

I suppose that my surprised appearance was misunderstood for an expression of offended dignity I had assumed. This had the effect of putting him in doubt as to my identity, as he eyed me more closely, and gave me his name, and remarked he was one of a regiment that had been organized in that part of Texas in which I had spent the winter preceding the war, and had probably known me there, as a stranger naturally becomes an object of curiosity in that country.

As I did not want to run the risk of meeting any of my Texas uncle's friends, who might know of my interest in the affair at Fort Pickens--as the Texas boy--I mildly resented the proposed acquaintance. His companion relieved the embarrassment by suggesting, politely, that it was simply a mistake. When I had recovered sufficiently, I gave my fictitious name and introduced the Colonel, as a sort of endorser for my statement.

It was accepted with hesitancy, and we parted without stopping to further explain the matter.

I was now, seemingly, to all intents and purposes, a _bona fide_ "rebel." The position in which I had almost involuntarily placed myself was such, that it put me in a dangerous attitude toward both sides, and would necessitate considerable explaining in certain events. It was, in fact, a "straddle," that caused me a good deal of annoyance and trouble that I had not counted on before I entered into the arrangement.

After the little incident at the theatre, the Colonel and I went straight to our room at the hotel. He wanted to run around town a little longer, but I was not in the humor for taking any further risks of meeting any more of my Southern acquaintances, and I prevailed upon him to go with me to bed. After the lights were out, I had an opportunity to think over the day's doings before I slept. It was arranged between us that we should travel together as a pair, or as a team of fresh Maryland colts, wherever we should go. We were both to be attached to the one gun of the Third Maryland Battery of Artillery. That is the name of the organization, as will be found upon a reference to the records, and I have no doubt my name is also set down there among the members of the company. Elkton was made the Lieutenant, while the "Colonel" was promoted to be Sergeant in charge of the piece, while I was Corporal and gunner.

[Illustration: RECOGNIZED BY TEXANS AT RICHMOND THEATRE.]

A majority of the other "refugees" belonging to this patriotic band of exiles were composed principally of recruits who had been recently drawn to Richmond from their shovel and pick employment on a railroad contract, on what is now the Chesapeake & Ohio Railroad. This sense of duty to the suffering and abused South of their adoption, was due to the fact, as we all understood it then, that the bounty and pay of the Maryland refugee was very much greater than that of a laborer in a ditch while the work was not nearly so fatiguing. In fact, and in brief, the refugee business was very much of a fraud on the Confederacy in our company. To be more explicit, I will enumerate, from memory, the several nationalities which were attached to our "piece," which may be considered a representative of the Maryland refugees in the Confederacy.

Our No. 1 and No. 2--which all old soldiers will remember, are the figures that represent the two men who stand at the muzzle of an old-fashioned gun, one of whom swabs her out, while the other rams the charge home--were two stalwart Irish brothers, Mike and Terry by name.

The former had been a boss of a wheelbarrow gang somewhere out on the railway in Virginia--one of those blustering Irish fellows who are so full of extravagant and positive talk. He was eternally and forever complaining about something or somebody, and I remember that he gave the officers and men more trouble on this account than all the rest. He had, as the leader of his gang, brought a dozen of his Irish recruits into our organization at one draft, and felt as if he must continue to be their boss. His men were also disposed to recognize "Mike's" authority, as being superior to that of the military officers. A good deal of discipline was necessary to explain to them the changed condition in their affairs. His brother Terry was a strapping big fellow, whose position at the gun was alongside of his brother. In disposition and temperament, Terry was the very opposite of Mike, being a quiet, sullen fellow, whom I do not remember to have heard speak a dozen words beyond mere monosyllables. He was, however, a tricky, treacherous fellow, and the pair of big gray mules gave the team of Maryland colts any amount of trouble and fun.

The man whose duty it was to prick the cartridge and attend the vent was a native of Richmond--a fat, boyish fellow of eighteen full of fun and laugh all the time. My recollection is, that he had been a butcher's clerk somewhere. He represented what may be called the "poor white trash," as it was termed by the Southern people.

He was probably attracted by the bounty and the chance to ride on a gun-carriage, as we found out very soon he was too blamed lazy to walk.

Another peculiarity of this recruit, that we subsequently discovered, and which made it interesting to the rest of us, was, that he was subject to epileptic fits, and probably for this cause he had been rejected by the more respectable Virginia regiments.

When he first took one of those spells, during the excitement occasioned by the drill-master hustling him around a little, we all felt that something dreadful had occurred in our midst, and every man in the camp was crawling over the other in their efforts to wait upon and assist the poor fellow. He lay on the ground, gnawing and twisting himself in the most horrible way, frothing at the mouth in the meanwhile in a frightful manner.

It was on such occasions as this that big Mike showed his usefulness in the company. He would grab the big Virginian lubber by each hand and hold him "steady," as if he was a mere baby in his hands, giving orders meanwhile, as if he was a captain on a man-of-war in a great storm.

The other fellow, who pulled the lanyard, was a slender, good-looking man, who had been a sailor who had traveled around the world, and did not seem to have any nationality. The war had found him blockaded at Norfolk, and, being unable to get out to sea, he had gravitated into Richmond, where he was induced to join the refugee band by the hard logic of an empty pocket, a hungry belly, and a show of money as bounty.

He and I became fast friends, and, as a singular coincidence, I mention here that we both joined that battery with the same intent--_i. e._, to use it as a means of escape North; and though we were together and slept together every night for months, neither knew the other's thoughts on the subject until the morning we met, accidentally, while both were escaping through the Rebel pickets.

Our No. 5, whose duty it was to carry the cartridge from the caisson to the gun, was a queer character. He was a man of about forty-five years of age, tall and angular, with that odd cast of countenance that one often sees among the lower order of Germans. He was not exactly a German, but had an accent similar to the German; his face was broad and square, the lower part of it being apparently broader than the upper. I think he must have been a Russian or a Polander. He was not a successful No. 5, because his motions were too stiff and lumbering for that position; and, in consequence of his stupidity, he was being prodded all the time when on drill. He became, however, a very useful member to the company.

By some mysterious expressions from the officers, we were led to believe at first that he might have been a disguised "juke" or count, exiled from his native land, and who desired to serve his adopted home with this band of devoted refugees. We learned, however, that he had simply been a professor in his own country in--a barbershop. We were all glad enough to ascertain this fact; also, that he served his time as a tailor--to be sure his "time" as a tailor had been "put in" at a certain penitentiary--but he was a good and useful refugee all the same, because he was detailed to shave the company and, also, to do over the baggy gray uniforms which were furnished us.

The "Colonel" and I were the first to take advantage of this information, as to the "juke's" accomplishments, to have him refit the gray blouses and trousers which we were to wear. We procured some black stuff for trimming the cuffs of our coats, because one of the Lanyards'

lady friends had told him that the black and gray matched nicely together. We also had our Sergeant's and Corporal's stripes of bright red stitched on to our sleeves, and a narrow binding of red was sewed down in front of the coat. It was in this rather neatly-trimmed Rebel uniform that I boldly walked the streets of Richmond, and secured entrance to houses and places of interest, from which I had heretofore been excluded, during the rest of my eventful stay in that city.

It will be seen that, in this account of the personnel of one section of the so-called Maryland Battery, there was but the _one_ genuine Maryland refugee in its outfit, outside of Elkton, and that was the Sergeant, who is the "Colonel" of our story. I was, of course, supposed to be another Marylander, but it will be seen that the much-vaunted "flower of the South," which composed the Confederate armies, was very much like the "flower of the North" in its actual composition.

The other sections of our battery were composed principally of the aforesaid "recruits" from the railway laborers, who were mostly refugees from Ireland and Germany.

Our other lieutenant was a Mr. Claiborne, one of the genuine sons of the South, a native of Mississippi, and as clever and courteous a young gentleman as it has ever been my pleasure to meet. I recall my acquaintance with Lieutenant Claiborne, though formed in this surreptitious way, as one of the most agreeable in which I have ever shared. If it shall so happen that this writing may meet his own eye, or that of his family or friends--and I have given the correct name--he will understand some of my actions toward him, which were at the time, to say it briefly, inexplicable. Lieutenant Claiborne, I think, followed the Confederate fortunes to the end--I am sure he did so if he lived to see the end--for, without a doubt, he was earnestly, though quietly, sincere in his devotion to the cause of the South.

The Captain of the company had been, as I understood it, a lawyer from Baltimore. He was a small man in stature, small in mind, and about as _little_ and trifling in every way as any soldier that I have ever met.

Perhaps some allowance should be made for the Captain on account of the fact that he was a cripple. He was born, I believe, with one leg shorter than the other--wore what is known as a club foot; that is, one shoe was filled with a cork sole, which raised his foot three or four inches from the ground. He walked with a cane, and sometimes used two, and apparently walked with difficulty. His face wore an expression of pain or sourness that is peculiar to many persons whom I have met that are similarly afflicted.

In justice to the Captain, it may be inferred that, on account of his bodily infirmity, he had been reared in such a way that every whim was gratified, and he was petted and spoiled until he became in nature and disposition a veritable tyrant, as all pets are. We understood that he came of a first-class Maryland family, and that he had been highly educated at his home, where he had become a successful attorney. Our impressions in this regard were amply confirmed by our association; and the fact that our Captain had great influence at the Rebel War Department was undisputed. The Captain himself recognized his importance, and was of the temperament that inclined to make the most of his advantages.

There was a disposition on the part of our first Lieutenant, Elkton, to resist the Captain's severe exercise of his authority and overbearing manner; and in this rebellion within a rebellion, we of this section unanimously sustained our Lieutenant. Mr. Claiborne, the second Lieutenant, was also in constant friction with the Captain, and, as his squad sustained him, also, we were in hot water right along.

The Captain became a cross, surly, revengeful man. He knew nothing whatever of military drill and the requirements, and was narrow-minded enough to meddle and interfere with the trifling details, which should have been left to the subordinate officers.

Big Mike, of our section, was one of the fellows who had a grievance, because he had not been made sergeant in charge of the gun, with his own squad of Irish to work it, instead of my Colonel. He took every complaint to this sour-faced, crippled Captain, who, in an unmilitary manner, entertained his private growling complaint against the officers and the rest of the company. He would invite Mike into his quarters, where he would discuss with him the minor affairs of the company. Any old soldier will see how this sort of thing would work; and if any imagine for a moment that all the Southern soldiers were a "band of brothers," harmoniously bound together, fighting only against the Yankee invaders, they are very much mistaken.

I have seen more of the ugly, bitter jealousy between Rebel officers, and severe criticism of Jeff Davis and his generals, in an association of nine months among them, than I did subsequently in three years between Stanton and Halleck and all the commanders of the armies of the Potomac.

Our company was quartered in the Fair Grounds, on the outskirts of Richmond, which in after years became widely known as "Camp Lee." A high board fence enclosed several acres of ground; inside this enclosure were a number of temporary wooden sheds, which had been turned into barracks for the Confederate soldiers.

Troops were arriving at this camp from the South every day; and as fast as they were organized or suitably provided with arms and clothing, they were shipped on the cars, which ran right by the grounds, to the Rebel Army at Manassas or thereabouts. I was always glad to see the trains stop to load up some of the troops for the North, because I felt, every time I saw it, that our turn to go would soon come, and I should soon be at the front again, from whence I could easily skip over the line into Washington City.

The time, during these days, was usually occupied in a daily routine of military life. Officers and men occupied comfortable quarters at Camp Lee, in the barracks. There was a roll-call every morning, a very good breakfast, then a couple of hours' drill at the one old iron cannon, which was all that the entire camp possessed. Each of the sections took turns at this one piece. So it was, that, between us all, we managed to keep it hot pretty near all day. This drill was a regular circus. As the gunner, I did not have very much exercise. Lanyard, who stood by me, and I, had so much fun together over the two big Irishmen, who would so violently ram home the imaginary charges of powder and ball and swing the big swab around as wildly as if it was a little shilleleh. Fatty, the Virginia refugee, whose place was across from us, was full of fun himself, and kept us all amused by his antics during the drill--holding his fingers to his ears and winking and jumping as if a charge had actually been fired and the rebound was dangerous. The two big Irish brothers were always in a sweat and swearing at the disguised "juke,"

because he was so dignified in his bearing that he could not be made to see the necessity of rushing frantically from the limber, holding an imaginary cartridge in his hand. It, perhaps, seemed too absurd for a man of his dignity, age and clumsy bearing to be compelled to run around the gun holding out his empty hands, as if carrying a ten-pound shot in them, which he was supposed to deliver in like imaginary manner.

My duty was to sight the piece, and I learned to get that part of the drill down so fine that I was able, on short notice, to hit the same knot-hole in the fence, twenty feet distant, every time.

The number of Yankees that we killed with that gun--in imagination--far outnumbered all that were afterward slaughtered by all of General Alexander's Rebel Artillery. The Captain somehow got a notion that I was the only person in the company who could use pen and ink. This was not very complimentary to the rest of the company, because I've not, in all these years, learned how to write properly; but I was, in consequence, detailed as a company clerk, or as a private secretary to the Captain, and from this assignment, until we took the field, I had what is vulgarly called--a snap.

I was quartered thenceforth in the Captain's room, except when off duty, when I would quickly join the Colonel and Lanyard in their barracks. My duties were not at all onerous; on the other hand, I became relieved from all details for drill guard, police duty, and a hundred and one other little "turns" that catch everybody in the ranks, both in the Rebel and Union armies. It was my business to do all the company's clerical work: I filled out requisitions for commissary supplies, kept the roster, made a daily report for the Captain to somebody who was the General in command at the camp at that time.

One day the Captain notified the men, as we were at evening roll-call, that he had engaged a doctor for the exclusive benefit of the company, who would accompany us as our surgeon. Everybody was glad to hear this, as we had experienced a good bit of sickness already while in camp. The Captain wound up his speech with the incidental observation that a dollar or two would be retained from each man's pay to compensate this private surgeon. There was surprise, and the parade was dismissed and the men reassembled to growl. Big Mike then took a turn at making a speech, inciting rebellion against the Captain's arbitrary orders. It resulted in a regular Irish row upon the Captain ordering Mike's arrest and imprisonment in the guard-house. Before we got through with it, the whole of the bold refugees were under the guns of some of the other troops, that had been called upon to quell the disturbance.