The Soldier Boy; or, Tom Somers in the Army: A Story of the Great Rebellion, - [story reading .TXT] 📗

glanced at the wiry form of the young sailor. Better thoughts, or at least wiser ones, came to his aid.

“I can bring you to your senses in another way,” said he, dropping his whip, and getting into the chaise again. “You will hear from me before the week is out.”

“Let him go; don’t say a word, Tom,” added John.

“He will prosecute me, I suppose he means by that.”

“Let him prosecute and be hanged! I’ll bet by to-morrow morning he will think better of it. At any rate, he will find out what the people of Pinchbrook think of him.”

The boys resumed their walk, and soon reached the store, where they found the group of idlers, that always frequent shops in the country, busily engaged in discussing the affair in which Thomas had been the principal actor. As the boys entered, the hero of the Pinchbrook Battle was saluted with a volley of applause, and his conduct fully approved and commended, for a copperhead in that day was an abomination to the people.

Chapter III. Taming a Traitor.

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With the exception of Squire Pemberton, Pinchbrook was a thoroughly loyal town; and the people felt that it was a scandal and a disgrace to have even a single traitor within its border. The squire took no pains to conceal his treasonable sentiments, though the whole town was in a blaze of patriotic excitement. On the contrary, he had gone out of his way, and taken a great deal of pains, to condemn the government and the people of the North.

Squire Pemberton was a wealthy man, and he had always been a person of great influence in the place. He had occupied all the principal official positions in town and county. He had come to regard himself, as his townsmen were for the most part willing to regard him, as the social and political oracle of the place. What he thought in town meeting was generally the sense of his fellow-citizens, and when he expressed himself in words, his word was law.

When, on Sunday morning, with Fort Sumter in ruins, with the national flag trodden under the feet of traitors, with the government insulted and threatened, Squire Pemberton ventured to speak in tones of condemnation of the free North, the people of Pinchbrook listened coldly, at first, to the sayings of their oracle; and when he began to abuse the loyal spirit of the North, some ventured to dissent from him. The oracle was not in the habit of having men dissent, and it made him angry. His treason became more treasonable, his condemnation more bitter. Plain, honest men, to whatever party they might have belonged, were disgusted with the great man of Pinchbrook; and some of them ventured to express their disapprobation of his course in very decided terms. Some were disposed to be indulgent because the Squire had a sister in Georgia who had married a planter. But there was not found a single person, outside of his own family, who was mean enough to uphold him in his treacherous denunciation of the government.

The squire was too self-sufficient and opinionated to be influenced by the advice of friends or the warning of those who had suddenly become his enemies. He had so often carried the town to his own views, that, perhaps, he expected to manufacture a public sentiment in Pinchbrook that would place the town on the side of the rebels. All day Sunday, and all day Monday, he rode about the Harbor preaching treason. He tried to convince the people that the South had all the right, and the North all the wrong; but he had never found them so obstinate and incredulous before.

Towards night one of the ministers ventured to suggest to him that he was sowing the wind, and would reap the whirlwind. The good man even hinted that he had roused a storm of indignation in the town which he might find it difficult to allay.

The squire laughed at the minister, and told him he was not afraid of any thing. He intended to speak his honest sentiments, as every citizen had a right to do; and he would like to see any man, or any body of men, who would dare to meddle with him.

“I am afraid you will see them, Squire Pemberton,” added the minister.

“Let them come where they please and when they please.”

“What will you do? What is your single arm against scores of strong men?”

“Nothing, perhaps, but I don’t fear them. I am true to my convictions; why need I fear?”

“I think your convictions, as you call them, are deluding you. Do you think Benedict Arnold’s convictions, if he had any, would have saved his neck from the halter?”

“Do you mean to compare me to Benedict Arnold, sir?”

“I came to you, as a friend, to warn you of impending danger; and, as your friend, I am compelled to say that I don’t see much difference between your position and that of Benedict Arnold.”

“Do you mean to insult me?”

“Not at all, sir. I was only expressing my honest conviction. Instead of placing yourself on the side of your government, on the side of law and order, you are going about Pinchbrook Harbor denouncing the legitimate government of your country, and pleading the cause of rebels and traitors.”

“Am I not at liberty to say what I please of the government?”

“In ordinary times, you are. Just now, the country is in a state of war, and he who is not for the flag is against it. You may criticize the government as its friend, but not as its foe. When armed men conspire against the peace of the land, he who pleads their cause is a traitor—nay, sir, don’t be angry; these are my convictions.”

“Political parsons have been the ruin of the country,” sneered the squire. “That is my conviction.”

“Squire Pemberton, I beg you not to be rash. If you must cherish these pernicious views, I entreat you, keep them to yourself. You may think what you please, but the utterance of treason makes a traitor.”

“I shall proclaim my views from the housetop,” replied the squire, angrily, as he abruptly turned away from the minister.

The squire continued obdurate to the last. Neither the persuasions of his friends nor the threats of his enemies had any effect in silencing his tongue; and as late as sundown on that day of the Great Awakening he was pouring treachery and treason into the ears of a neighbor who happened to pass his house. Half an hour later in the day, there was a great gathering of men and boys at the bridge on the outskirts of the village. They were singing Hail Columbia and the Star-spangled Banner. Thomas and John Somers were there.

Presently the assemblage began to move up the road which led to Squire Pemberton’s house, singing patriotic songs as they marched. It was a multitude of persons for Pinchbrook; and no doubt the obnoxious oracle thought so when he saw the sea of heads that surrounded his dwelling. If this was a mob, it was certainly a very orderly mob, for the crowd thus far had done nothing worse than to sing the national airs.

The arrangements had all been made before the multitude started from the place of rendezvous. Three gentlemen, the principal of whom was Captain Barney, had been appointed a committee to wait upon the squire, and politely request him to display the American flag on his premises.

In the road, in front of the house, a large fire had been kindled, which threw a broad, bright glare on the house and the surrounding grounds. It was as light as day in the vicinity when the committee walked up to the front door of the house and rang the bell. The squire answered the summons himself.

“Squire Pemberton,” said Captain Barney, “your fellow-citizens, about two hundred in number, have called upon you with a simple and reasonable request.”

“What is it?” demanded the squire.

“That you hoist the Stars and Stripes on your house.”

“I won’t do it!” roared the victim, as he slammed the door in the faces of the committee.

“That is insolence,” said Captain Barney, quietly. “We will go in.”

The captain led the way; but the door had been locked upon them. The shoulders of three stout men pressed against it, and the bolt yielded.

“What do you mean, you villains?” thundered the squire, as he confronted the committee in the entry.

“You were so impolite as to close the door in our faces before we had finished our story,” replied the immovable old sea captain.

“How dare you break in my door?” growled the squire.

“We shall do worse than that, squire, if you don’t treat us respectfully.”

“A man’s house is his castle,” added the squire, a little more moderately.

“That’s very good law, but there isn’t a house in Pinchbrook that is big enough or strong enough to shield a traitor from the indignation of his fellow-citizens. We do not purpose to harm you or your property, if you behave like a reasonable man.”

“You shall suffer for this outrage,” gasped the squire, whose rage was increased by the cool and civil manner of Captain Barney.

“When you closed the door in my face, I had intimated that your fellow-citizens wish you to display the national flag.”

“I refuse to do it, sir.”

“Consider, squire, what you say. The people have made up their minds not to tolerate a traitor within the corporate limits of the town of Pinchbrook.”

“I am no traitor.”

“That is precisely what we wish you to demonstrate to your fellow-citizens assembled outside to witness an exhibition of your patriotism.”

“I will not do it on compulsion.”

“Then, sir, we shall be obliged to resort to disagreeable measures.”

“What do you mean by that, sir?” asked the squire, who was evidently alarmed by the threat. “Do you mean to proceed to violence?”

“We do, Squire Pemberton,” answered Captain Barney, decidedly.

“O my country!” sighed the victim, “has it come to this? The laws will no longer protect her citizens.”

“That’s very fine, sir. Do you expect the laws to protect you while you are aiding and abetting those who are trying to destroy them? Is there any law to protect a traitor in his treason? But we waste time, Squire Pemberton. Will you display the American flag?”

“Suppose I refuse?”

“We will pull your house down over your head. We will give you a coat of tar and feathers, and remove you beyond the limits of the town. If you ever come back, we will hang you to the nearest tree.”

“Good Heaven! Is it possible that my fellow-citizens are assassins—incendiaries!”

“Your answer, squire.”

“For mercy’s sake, husband, do what they ask,” interposed his wife, who had been an anxious listener in the adjoining room.

“I must do it,” groaned the squire, speaking the truth almost for the first time in forty-eight hours. “Alas! where is our boasted liberty of speech!”

“Fudge! squire,” replied Captain Barney, contemptuously. “If your friend Jeff Davis should come to Massachusetts to-morrow, to preach a crusade against the North, and to raise an army to destroy the free institutions of the country, I suppose you think it would be an outrage upon free speech to put him down. We don’t think so. Up with the flag, squire.”

“Fred, you may hang the flag out at the front window up stairs,” said the squire to his son.

“All right, squire. Now a few words more, and we bid you good night. You may think what you please, but if you utter another word of treason in Pinchbrook during the term of your natural life, the party outside will carry out the rest of the programme.”

By this time Fred Pemberton had fastened the flag to one of his mother’s clothes poles, and suspended it out of the window over the porch. It was hailed with three tremendous cheers by the multitude who were in waiting to discipline the squire, and exorcise the evil spirit of treason and secession.

The work of the evening was finished, not wholly to the satisfaction, perhaps, of a portion of the younger members of the assemblage, who would gladly have joined in the work of pillage and destruction, but much to the gratification of the older and steadier portion of the crowd, who were averse to violent proceedings.

Chapter IV. The Committee come out, and Tom goes in.

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While the committee which the loyal citizens of Pinchbrook had appointed to conduct their case with Squire Pemberton were in the house, engaged in bringing the traitor to terms, the younger members of the assemblage were very impatient to know how matters were progressing. Thomas Somers was particularly anxious to have the affair brought to a crisis. In vain he and a few other of the young loyalists attempted to obtain a view of the interior of the house, where the exciting interview was in progress.

Captain Barney, on shore as well as at sea, was a thorough disciplinarian. Of course, he was aware that his proceedings were technically illegal; that in forcing himself into the house of the squire he was breaking