Little did Calhoun think that before many days they would meet again, and that that meeting would nearly mean for him the ignominious death of a spy. A few days after his return from Columbia, he asked the permission of Morgan to visit Nashville. "I would like to see," said he, "what our friends, the enemy, are doing in that city."
Morgan shook his head. "I don"t want to see you hanged," he replied.
But Calhoun argued so zealously, that at last Morgan"s scruples were overcome, and he gave his consent, but added, "If you should be captured and executed, I would never forgive myself."
Calhoun looked upon it as a mere holiday affair; he had pa.s.sed through too many dangers to be terrified. Taking half a dozen of his trusty scouts with him, he had no trouble in reaching the c.u.mberland River a few miles above Nashville. The few scouting parties of the enemy they met were easily avoided. He ordered his scouts to remain secreted in a thick wood near by a friendly house, from which they could obtain food for themselves and provender for their horses.
"If I am not back in three days," said he, "return to Morgan, and tell him I have been captured."
His men pleaded with him to let at least one of them accompany him, but this he refused, saying it would but add to his danger.
From the gentleman who resided in the nearby house he secured a skiff which had been kept secreted from the lynx-eyed Federals. In this Calhoun proposed to float down to Nashville.
Night came dark and cloudy. It was just such a night as Calhoun wished.
Clad in a suit of citizen"s clothes, and with m.u.f.fled oars, he bade his comrades a cheerful good night, and pushed out into the river, and in a moment the darkness had swallowed him up. He floated down as noiselessly as a drifting stick.
In an hour"s time the lights of Nashville came in view; the dangers of his trip had just commenced. He knew that the banks of the river would not only be strongly patrolled, but the lights from the sh.o.r.e and from the steamers moored at the wharfs shone across the stream in places, making it impossible for an object the size of his boat to pa.s.s without being noticed.
But Calhoun was prepared for just such an emergency. He was a capital swimmer, and had no fears of the water. He had weighted his skiff with stones, bored a hole in the bottom, and filled it with a plug which could easily be removed. When he had drifted as far as he dared, he removed the plug. The skiff gradually filled and at last sank. If any person had looked after it disappeared, all he would have seen would have been the small branch of a tree, covered with leaves, floating down with the current.
When Calhoun was well down abreast of the city, and coming to a place where shadows covered the river, he turned toward the bank. Fortunately he landed near a dark alley which led down to the water. Listening intently, he heard nothing, and making his way up the alley, he soon came to a street. A violent storm came on, which was of advantage to him, for if he met any one, it would account for his dripping clothes. It also had the effect of driving the patrol guards into shelter.
Calhoun was no stranger in the city. He had visited it frequently when a boy, for he had an uncle residing there, now a colonel in the Confederate army. But his family still resided in the old home, and he knew that there he would find a haven of safety. Carefully making his way, and dodging the few guards that he met, he soon reached the house. The yard was inclosed with a high iron fence, the pickets provided with sharp points. But Calhoun had been in the army too long to be baffled by any such obstacle.
He mounted the fence with but little trouble and dropped down into the yard.
Making his way to the rear of the house, he found refuge in a small shed.
The night had turned cool and he shivered with the cold. But he durst not arouse the household, for the alarm might be heard outside. The hours pa.s.sed wearily by, but at last morning came. He looked eagerly for some of the family to appear, but only the colored servants pa.s.sed in and out. To escape being seen he had hidden behind a large box in the shed.
He heard the call for breakfast, and concluded he had never been so hungry before in his life. After a while his patience was rewarded. A young lady came out of the house, and entering the shed, began looking around, as if searching for something. It was his cousin Kate.
"Kate!" he whispered.
The girl started and looked wildly around.
"Kate!"
She uttered a little scream and turned as if to flee.
"Kate, don"t be afraid. It is I, your cousin Calhoun Pennington."
"Where? Where?" she half-whispered, looking eagerly around and poised as if still for flight.
"Here behind the box. Come close. There, don"t ask a question. Get the servants out of the way and smuggle me into the house unseen. I am wet, cold, and hungry."
Kate flew to do his bidding. In a few moments she came out and beckoned to him, and right gladly he followed her into the house. One risen from the dead would hardly have created more surprise than did his appearance. His aunt and Kate persisted in embracing him, wet and dirty as he was.
To their eager questions, he said: "Dry clothes first, Auntie, and breakfast. I am famished. I will then talk with you to your heart"s content."
Mrs. Shackelford had had a son about the size of Calhoun killed in the army, and our hero was soon arrayed in a nice dry suit, and seated before a substantial breakfast, upon which he made a furious a.s.sault. When his hunger was fully appeased, he informed his aunt and Kate he was ready to talk. And how they did talk! They had a thousand questions to ask, and he had full as many.
To his surprise and joy he learned that his cousin, Fred Shackelford, had not been killed by his fall over the cliff, as Major Hockoday reported.
Instead he was alive and well, was with the army at Murfreesboro, and frequently visited them.
"He has been a good friend to us," said Mrs. Shackelford, "but at one time he was nearly the death of Kate."
"Why, how was that?" asked Calhoun.
Then for the first time he heard of Forrest"s plot to capture Nashville, and of Kate"s part in it, of her condemnation, and imprisonment as a spy, and how Fred had secured her pardon.(2)
Calhoun listened to the story in wonder. When it was finished, he exclaimed: "Why, Kate, you are a heroine! I am proud of you."
"I am not proud of myself," answered Kate. "I blush every time I think of how-how I lied and deceived."
"Oh! that is a part of war," laughed Calhoun. "If Morgan didn"t lie about the number of men he had, the Yanks would gobble him up in no time. We don"t call such things lying; it"s a righteous deceiving of the enemy."
"But I am ready to sink into the earth with shame every time I think of Ainsworth," sighed Kate.
"That"s rich," laughed Calhoun; "crying because you broke the heart of a Yankee! Kate, I have a mind to send you into the enemy"s lines. If Cupid"s darts were only fatal, your bright eyes would create more havoc than a battle."
"No use sending her away," broke in Mrs. Shackelford; "there are more Federal officers buzzing around her now than I wish there were."
"Mighty useful to worm secrets from," exclaimed Kate; "but I make no promises to any of them."
"That"s right, Kate, get all the secrets from them you can," said Calhoun; "that is what I am in Nashville for. Can any one get around the city without much danger?"
"Oh, yes, in the daytime; but there is always more or less danger to strangers. Business is going on as usual. The city is lively, livelier than before the war; but it is soldiers-soldiers everywhere."
"And you have to have no pa.s.ses?" asked Calhoun.
"It is best to have one. Most of us have standing permits to come and go in the city as we please."
"Can you get me a permit?" asked Calhoun, eagerly.
"There is Jim Grantham," replied Kate, thoughtfully; "his description will suit Calhoun close enough. I can get Jim to loan you his."
Calhoun was now told that the Southern people in Nashville were thoroughly organized into a secret society. They had their signs and pa.s.s-words, so that they could know each other. So far no one had proved a traitor. The Federal authorities suspected that such an organization existed, but their shrewdest detectives never succeeded in finding out anything about it.
Kate, who had gone for the permit of James Grantham, soon returned with it. The description fitted Calhoun almost as well as if made out for himself. He could now walk the streets of Nashville with little fear of arrest.
He was given a list of those who could most probably give him the information he desired. He marvelled to see how quickly a little sign which he gave was answered, and was amazed at the work this secret organization was doing. Not a regiment entered or left Nashville but they knew its exact strength, and to what point it was ordered.
In two days Calhoun had gathered information which would be of vast value to the Confederate cause, and it was now time for him to see by what means he could leave the city. He was on his way to see three gentlemen who said they could get him outside of the city without trouble or danger, when an incident happened which came near sending him to the gallows. He was walking unconcernedly along the street, when he suddenly came face to face with Haines, now a captain. Although Calhoun was dressed in citizen"s clothes, the captain knew him at a glance.
"A spy! A spy!" he yelled at the top of his voice, and made a grab at Calhoun. Calhoun struck him a tremendous blow which sent him rolling in the gutter, and fled at the top of his speed.
But a score of voices took up the cry, and a howling mob, mostly of soldiers, were at his heels. He hoped to reach the river, where among the immense piles of stores heaped along the levee, or among the shipping, he might secrete himself, but a patrol guard suddenly appeared a block away, and his retreat was cut off. He gave himself up for lost, and reached for a small pistol which he carried, with the intention of putting a bullet through his own heart; "for," thought he, "they shall never have the pleasure of hanging me before a gaping crowd."
Just then he saw two young ladies standing in the open door of a house.
What told him safety lay there he never knew, but hope sprang up within his breast. Dashing up the steps, he thrust the ladies back into the house, slammed the door to, and locked it. So rude was his entrance, one of the ladies fell to the floor.