University of Virginia Library

39. CHAPTER XXXIX.

I shall not detain the reader with a detail of
the farther particulars of this skirmish. Indeed we
hardly staid to acquaint ourselves with its exact
results. As at least half the men who had fought
under Douglas on that day had no intention to follow
him any farther, we left to them the care of the
killed, wounded, and prisoners. The body of Col.
Mason alone was selected for a more honorable
burial than the rude hands of the mountaineers could
bestow. It was dragged from beneath the incumbent
mass of men and horses, placed on a suitable
carriage, covered with the colors of his regiment,
and taken to Lynchburg, to be there restored to his
companions in arms. The band of his regiment
were also marched to that place to assist in rendering
the last honors to their late commander.

Having given the necessary orders, Douglas
snatched a moment to ride to Mr. Gordon's, where
he hoped to find his brother in a more reasonable
mood. The Colonel had been confined in a private
room; and, being treated with great courtesy and
respect, had lost nothing of his arrogance. Such is
always the effect of delicate attention to the undeserving.
A man of merit would have been softened
and melted by the deference with which Colonel
Trevor was treated. To him it seemed but that sort
of spontaneous homage to greatness which the heart
pays unconsciously. The effect of it was, that being
told by Mr. Gordon that his brother had come to
visit him in his room, he sent him the following
magnanimous note, pencilled on the back of a
letter:

“I am your prisoner. Do with me as you please.
Inflict on me any death, however cruel; but spare
me the sight of one whose treasons have dishonored
our common name, and who has deprived me of my
only chance to restore its former splendor.”

Douglas was inexpressibly shocked at this manifestation
of a temper at once savage and coldly
selfish. But he had no time to waste in parleying
with the ungoverned passions of his brother, and
wrote an answer in these words:

“You are my prisoner, and mine only, and shall
be treated with all tenderness and respect. I am
responsible to no one for your custody, and you shall

soon be at liberty. Go home. Go to our venerable
father, and comfort his declining years. If the instincts
of your heart do not restrain you from fighting
against your brothers, (for Arthur is with me,) let a
sense of honor make you regard yourself as a prisoner
on parole, not at liberty to fight again against
Virginia. Meantime your sword shall be restored,
and you shall be treated in all things as the brother
of D. T.”

While Douglas was engaged in this painful duty,
Arthur was employed in preparing a formal report of
the events of the day. This was signed by the
Chief on his return, and with it the young man was
despatched to B—, with instructions to ask his
orders, and return with them, unless another messenger
should be preferred. In the meantime all
things had been made ready for the march to Lynchburg.
I shall not give the history of this. It was
triumphal, as far as complete success and the applauding
gratulations of the people could make it so. We
had no difficulty in adding to our numbers as many
men as the fruits of our victory enabled us to supply
with arms. Some joined us instantly, and others
engaged to rendezvous at Lynchburg in a few days.

There was nothing to damp the pleasure of Douglas,
but the conduct of his perverse brother, and the
presence of the dead body of his old friend, Colonel
Mason. On our arrival before the camp at Lynchburg,
I received orders to present myself with a flag

before the gate, at the head of a detachment which
escorted the body, accompanied by the music of
his band, and all the sad and imposing insignia of a
military funeral.

An officer came out to meet us, and thus received
the first authentic history of the fate of the expedition.
I was instructed to deliver over the body of
Colonel Mason with every circumstance of respect
and courtesy. I was also charged to demand the
surrender of the entrenched camp, and of the garrison
as prisoners of war.

A negotiation ensued, which ended in a suspension
of arms for five days, and an agreement to surrender
if, in that time, no reinforcement arrived.

This arrangement was by no means unwelcome to
Douglas. It gave him time to receive and organize
the new recruits that were pouring in, and to await
the return of Arthur. In the meantime, much of
that sort of intercourse which is common on such
occasions took place. There are few things in life
more pleasant than it is. There must be less of
malignity in human nature than is generally supposed,
or men would not seize, with so much eagerness,
on opportunities to lose the idea of public
hostility in the kindly interchange of courtesy and
good offices. Friendships are never formed more
suddenly and cordially than under such circumstances.
So we found it on this occasion. Major
Wood, the officer in command, was a gentleman

and soldier, honorable, frank, generous, and accomplished.
I was brought much into contact with
him, and found him enthusiastic in his acknowledgments
of the merits of Douglas, and eager to become
acquainted with him. But the time had not come
when he was willing to be known by his true name;
and besides that he was acquainted with the Major,
there were many others in the camp who would have
recognized him. He therefore confined himself to
his quarters, on various pleas of business; and, to
make his seclusion effectual, took lodgings in a house
in the suburbs of the town. By his advice, I mixed
much with the men; and, as I had acquitted myself
to their entire satisfaction in the late affair, I found
that I was in a fair way to be recognized as second
in command. Schwartz and Witt made a point of
consulting me publicly on all occasions; and this
circumstance, together with my daily attention to the
organization of the troops, obtained me full credit
for all my military skill, and a great deal more.

The five days passed away quite pleasantly. The
regulars, finding that they were not like to fall into
the hands of savages, were becoming reconciled to
the fate which now seemed inevitable; and we parted
on the last night of the truce, with no unpleasant
anticipations of the surrender which was to take
place the next day at noon.

The morning came, and our men paraded in high
spirits, and with considerable show of order and

discipline. This was particularly the case with a
small company which had been detailed for the service
of the artillery, who took their stand at the
guns with the air of men proud of their new acquirements.
I had indeed taken great pains to train and
exercise them, and, by universal consent, was recognized
as the immediate commander of this corps,
which was drawn up with the cannon planted directly
against the gate of the camp.

All this time Douglas did not make his appearance.
At length the hour approached for the garrison to
march out, and lay down their arms, when Schwartz
went to his quarters to receive his orders. He soon
returned, and taking me aside, told me that Douglas
was not at his quarters, and was nowhere to be
seen.

We had already observed appearances in the camp
not at all answerable to the expected surrender, and
I was now startled at this intelligence. The character
of Major Wood forbade indeed any suspicion of
foul play. But the time was near at hand when the
enemy should march out, and we heard nothing of
their drums, calling the men to parade. We determined,
therefore, to send a flag to the camp on some
pretext. The officer who carried it was immediately
warned off, and having said that he had a communication
for Major Wood, was told that that officer was
no longer in command, and that Col. Trevor would
receive no communication from rebels and traitors.

This was decisive. The quarters of Douglas were
not very distant from the enemy, and such had been
the appearance of perfect good faith in all their proceedings,
that our camp had been guarded even
more negligently than is common with militia. It
seemed, indeed, almost incredible that Col. Trevor
could have been guilty of an act of base treachery
against the life or liberty of his generous brother;
but to Schwartz and myself, who knew the connexion,
even this seemed hardly less extravagant than
his former conduct. That he had escaped, joined
the troops, and disclaimed the capitulation entered
into by Major Wood, was certain. To have surprised
and carried off Douglas could not be much worse.

We now consulted with Witt, to whom we communicated
our suspicions, at the same time disclosing
the true name of our young commander, and his
relation to Col. Trevor. What was suspicion with
us, was at once absolute certainty with him. I do not
think I ever witnessed such a change as our communication
made in the whole appearance and demeanor of
the man. Heretofore, I had always seen him cool,
cautious, deliberate, and thoughtful. There was,
besides, a prevailing tone of benevolence in all he
said, which, added to his sobriety and strong sense,
gave him some claim to the title of philosopher.
But now the expression of his countenance was terrible
and awful. He had made no show of regard
for Douglas; but his attachment was deep and

abiding, and his alarm for his safety was in the
same degree. He was impatient of a moment's
delay, sternly protested against wasting time in discussion,
and insisted on immediately storming the
camp.

Schwartz was nothing behind him in zeal, though
less disturbed by passion; and we presently determined
to bring matters to extremities. As soon,
therefore, as the hour appointed for surrender arrived,
our captive drummer was ordered to beat a parley.
To this the only answer was a general fire of
musketry from the whole line of the camp on that
side, by which a few men were hurt. But the
distance was too great for any serious mischief.
Enough, however, was done to excite the men to
fury; and without waiting for the word, they rushed
to the assault. Their movement determined me.
To rush up to the piqueted entrenchment, behind
which the enemy were in comparative safety, was to
expose themselves to destruction. It was indispensable
to open a way for them. This I effected
by a discharge of both pieces of artillery, which
tore the gate away, and pointed their attack to this
accessible point. The moment after, Colonel Trevor,
with his untractable rashness, appeared in
the gateway, shouting, and calling to his men to
sally forth against us. He was instantly recognized
by the incensed Witt, whose fatal aim brought him

to the ground. His men fell back; and in a moment
after, a white flag was raised.

It was no easy matter to prevail on our men to
pay any regard to this signal; but we succeeded in
restraining them before it was too late. Of course
we demanded the instant surrender of the place,
which was unhesitatingly given up. Major Wood
now came forward to apologize and explain. Col.
Trevor, having made his escape, had returned to the
camp soon after tattoo. His whole behavior was
that of a man beside himself, and actuated by some
inscrutable motive to some inscrutable purpose. Of
these he said nothing to his officers, but peremptorily
disclaiming the capitulation, gave orders that all
things should be prepared for a renewal of hostilities
the next morning. Nothing more was known but
that he had summoned to his quarters a favorite
sergeant of his own regiment, who had been left
sick in camp when he marched against Douglas.
This sergeant and four soldiers, as it seemed from
the morning report, had disappeared in the night.

Major Wood assured us, that all that had been
since done had taken place under the immediate
orders and superintendence of Colonel Trevor, and
in spite of his own most earnest remonstrances. In
proof of his sincerity, he appealed to the fact of his
unconditional surrender the moment he was apprised
of the fall of the Colonel. With all this I was perfectly
satisfied, and gladly returned him his sword,

with a proper acknowledgment of his gentlemanly
conduct.

“And now, Major,” said Schwartz, “there is
another matter we want to talk to you about. Do
you know any thing of our Captain?”

“Of Captain Douglas?” said the Major. “Certainly
not. But I hope I may now have the pleasure
of seeing him.”

“Look here, Major,” said Witt, whose eye still
glared with ferocity not at all abated by the fall of
Trevor; “that a'nt the thing; and we want a
straight answer. Captain Douglas is missing, and
we want to know what's become of him.”

“Missing!” said the Major, with unfeigned
amazement. “I assure you, upon my honor, I
know nothing of him.”

“Is there any body here that knows, or is like to
know?” said Schwartz.

“None that I can imagine,” was the reply.

“Is there not a Captain here,” asked Schwartz;
“a red-headed fellow, that commands the company
at Farmville?”

“Captain Cottle? Yes.”

“Well, I want to see him.”

He was immediately summoned, and presently
made his reluctant appearance. His alarm increased
on seeing Schwartz and Witt.

“See here, Mister,” said the former; “here is a
piece of villany that we want to know about; and

there is nobody, I reckon, so apt to tell us as
you.”

“Indeed, sir,” said Cottle, “I declare, sir, I
don't know a word about it.”

“You don't, eh!” said Schwartz. “Well, any
how, you are mighty quick to find out that you don't
know; that I must say for you.”

“Did you ever see me before?” said Witt, fixing
his terrible eye on the alarmed Captain. “Did you
ever see me before?” repeated he. “Do you remember
where it was? Do you remember your
business there; and did you ever hear of such a
thing as a man being hung for a spy?”

The collapse of deadly terror came over Cottle at
these dreadful words. His face, already pale, became
livid; his eye no longer blenched under the
fearful glance of Witt; but the lids opened as if
by mutual repulsion, while his lip and under jaw fell
powerless. He was roused from this state by
Schwartz, who asked him what had become of
Captain Douglas.

He was now effectually scared out of all thought
of concealment, and answered without prevarication
that Captain Douglas had been surprised, during the
night, by the order of Col. Trevor, and sent away
immediately under the guard of a sergeant and four
men, across the river. He could not say, certainly,
where he was gone; but he suspected to Wasington,
as Col. Trevor appeared to have been writing busily

all the time the party were engaged in the capture of
Douglas. It was vain to attempt concealing that he
had a hand in this, though the disclosure was made
with great reluctance. It appeared, moreover, that
he had been anxious to accompany the prisoner,
supposing him to be ordered for Washington; but
Col. Trevor had refused to send him. Indeed, he
sent none but those who had not been engaged in
the action at the ford, and was certainly right not to
trust the vain babbler, whose idle garrulity could
hardly have failed to rub off any gloss he might
have thought fit to spread over the affair.

“How did they get across the river?” asked
Schwartz. “We have a strong guard on the other
side, and they had orders to keep a strict watch.”

“Col. Trevor told the sergeant,” replied Cottle,
“just to float quietly down the river and land away
below; and a handkerchief was tied over the Captain's
mouth to keep him from making a noise, and
if he did, they were ordered to shoot him.”

I have no words to express the horror with which
I heard this last circumstance. I trusted, and indeed
Major Wood seemed to be of that opinion, that Col.
Trevor had really been beside himself; but regarding
his conduct even as the effect of frenzy, it was
hardly less shocking. From Schwartz the communication
only called forth some pithy expressions of
detestation, without seeming to interrupt the working

of his thoughts, which were at once busy to
devise some remedy for the evil.

Witt was differently affected. His whole frame
and countenance assumed an appearance of stony
rigidity, betokening fixed and fearful purpose. He
turned his glaring eye to the spot where Col. Trevor
had fallen, with an expression that showed his
vengeance quite unsatisfied. A glance of fierce
scorn fell for a moment on Cottle; and then, with a
searching look, he addressed himself to Major Wood.

“Major Wood,” said he, with a voice whose
deep, stern tones, demanded the truth and the whole
truth, “did you know any thing of this business?”

“Upon my honor, I did not; and Captain Cottle,
who did know, will tell you so.”

“I would hardly take his word against himself,”
said Witt, with cold contempt, and not even turning
his eye on Cottle. Then pausing a moment, he
added, with the same look of severe scrutiny, “Major
Wood, do you know who Captain Douglas is?
Do you know that he is Col. Trevor's own brother?”

“Great God!” exclaimed the Major. “Douglas
Trevor! That fine, intelligent, accomplished, noble
young man!—”

“Did you know him?” asked the other.

“I did,” said Wood, “and loved him well. Poor
fellow! Poor fellow! His doom is sealed.”

“That's enough,” said Witt. “I see now that
you had no hand in it. But is it not your duty,

Major Wood, to bring back Captain Douglas and
set him at liberty?”

“Would to God that I could,” said the Major;
“but he is quite beyond my reach before this.”

“See here, Major,” said Schwartz; “write an
order to that sergeant to bring him back, and give
me a pass to follow him without being stopped, and
I will have him back in no time. Them fellows lost
ground here crossing the river, and I can catch
them.”

“That might do,” said the Major, hesitatingly;
“and I am bound in honor to do it, because his
capture was a breach of my truce. But I shall never
be forgiven. No matter; it shall be done if they
break me for it.”

“You may thank the Major,” said Witt, turning
his implacable eye on Cottle, “for that word; for it
has given you a chance for your life. But for that,
you would have been hanging like a dog in half an
hour. Now, Major, I don't want you to come to
any harm; and so you shall have a fair excuse.
Bring Captain Douglas back to us, and we will let
this fellow go. But if the Captain is not here before
the week is out, then, as sure as there is a God
in Heaven, he shall be hanged for a spy, as he is.”

There is a difference between the certainty of
being hanged in half an hour, and a chance of escape,
however unpromising. To Captain Cottle,
who had not ventured nearer to Jones's Ford than

the rear of the dragoons, and who was now in greater
peril than he had ever willingly encountered, the
difference was of great importance. Yet his hopes
were faint, for he had heard the orders of Trevor,
which enjoined despatch; and he was equally earnest
in hurrying the Major and Schwartz. His impertinence
was cut short by ordering him to close
custody in jail; and the credentials of Schwartz
being soon prepared, he set out on his journey.