The Spy Of The Rebellion Part 45

After he was able to leave his bed, he accepted the pressing invitation of Mr. Campbell, and was removed to the residence of that gentleman, where he would be more quiet, and where he could receive that care and attention which could not be afforded him in a hotel. The kindness of Mr. Campbell and his family was heartfelt and unceasing. They did everything in their power to make him comfortable, and their courtesy to Mrs. Lawton was as marked and genuine, as was their regard and care for Timothy Webster.

Webster had been domiciled at the house of Mr. Campbell but two days, when one of Winder's men came to know if Webster was sufficiently recovered to go out, as his presence was imperatively demanded at the court room, as a witness in the trial of John Scully. The officer further stated that the evidence of Webster had been solicited by Scully himself. Finding him unable still to leave the house, the officer stated that arrangements would be made by which his testimony could be taken in his room. On the second day after the appearance of the officer, the court-martial adjourned to Campbell's house, and Scully accompanied them. Seating themselves around the bedside of the invalid, the court was formally opened, and Webster was requested to state what he knew of the antecedents of the accused.

Though very weak, and speaking with considerable difficulty, Webster made his statement. He said that he had known John Scully from April, 1861, to the time of his arrest. That the prisoner was in Baltimore when he first met him, and was always in the company of known secessionists, and was considered by them to be a good friend to the South. So far as he had any knowledge of the accused he was what he a.s.sumed to be, and that his appearance in Richmond was a surprise to him. He was not known to be in the employ of the government, and Webster had never met him under any circ.u.mstances which would indicate that fact.

This was all that he could say, and although closely questioned by the president of the court, and the attorneys present, he insisted that his knowledge of John Scully was confined to what he had already stated.

Finding it impossible to obtain any further information upon this subject from the sick man, the court, in a body, left the room, and departed from the house.

Mrs. Lawton, who had been compelled to retire on the entrance of the Confederate authorities, and who had been in a wild state of excitement and apprehension during their visit, instantly repaired to Webster's room. When she entered the chamber, she found that the brave man, after the exciting experiences through which he had been compelled to pa.s.s, had fainted. His strength of will, which had supported him through the investigation, had given way, and he lay, limp and inanimate, upon the bed.

Several days of anxiety and solicitude now pa.s.sed. Unable to learn any tidings of his unfortunate comrades, Webster tortured himself with all manner of vague fears and doubts as to their probable fate, all of which had their effect in r.e.t.a.r.ding his recovery, and keeping him confined to his room.

At last, after days of weary and anxious waiting, the newspapers were brought in one morning, and the information of the conviction of Lewis and Scully was duly chronicled. The same paper also announced the day upon which their death was so speedily to follow. This filled the cup of Webster's misery to overflowing, and, sinking upon a chair, he wept like a child. Refusing to be comforted, although Mrs. Lawton exerted herself to the utmost, Webster paced the room, half frantic with his grief, at the horrible fate which had overtaken his friends.

Slowly the day pa.s.sed, and when the shadows of evening were falling Webster was at last induced to lie down, and attempt to s.n.a.t.c.h a few hours sleep. He was soon slumbering quietly, although ever and anon he would start nervously and utter an inarticulate moan, as though his mind was still troubled with the sad events of the day. While he lay thus, attended by Mrs. Lawton, Mr. Campbell suddenly entered the room, with a look of fear upon his face, which filled Mrs. Lawton with alarm.

"What is the matter?" she hurriedly e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed.

"One of Winder's men is below, and I fear his presence indicates misfortune for Webster," was the reply.

"Who is it?"

"Cashmeyer," answered Mr. Campbell. "He inquired for Webster, and says he must see him at once."

Webster, disturbed by this conversation, was awake in an instant and inquired what was wanted.

"Cashmeyer has called, and wishes to see you," said Mr. Campbell.

"Let him come up at once," replied Webster, in the hope that he might bring some tidings of Lewis and Scully.

Mr. Campbell departed, and in a few moments returned with the Confederate officer. Cashmeyer's salutation was cold and formal, and without any preliminary he addressed Webster.

"I have a painful duty to perform, Mr. Webster. I am directed by General Winder to arrest you, and convey you at once to Castle G.o.dwin."

As he spoke, two soldiers appeared at the doorway.

"You cannot wish to take him away in this condition, and at this hour of the night," said Mrs. Lawton. "Such an action would be his death, and would be the worst of inhumanity."

Webster stood silent and unmoved. He did not utter a word, but gazed fixedly at the officer, whose visits heretofore had been those of sympathy and condolence.

"I cannot help it," said Cashmeyer, "my orders are to take him dead, or alive, and those orders I must obey."

"Then," said Mrs. Lawton, "I will go too. He needs care and attention, without it he will die, and no one can nurse him so well as I."

Cashmeyer gazed at the brave little woman for a moment, and a shade of pity came over his face.

"I am sorry to inform you, that my orders are to arrest you also, and to search your trunks."

"This is infamous," exclaimed Webster; "what can Winder mean by arresting this woman, and what am I charged with that renders your orders necessary?"

"Webster," answered Cashmeyer, "as G.o.d is my witness, I do not know; I only know what my orders are, and that I must obey them."

Without further parley, Webster and Mrs. Lawton prepared to accompany their guards, and Cashmeyer, demanding their keys, commenced a search of their trunks, which resulted in his finding nothing that would criminate his prisoners.

A carriage was procured, and Webster was a.s.sisted into it, while Mrs.

Lawton, under the escort of Cashmeyer was compelled to walk. It was quite late when they arrived at the prison, and as Price Lewis was ascending to his cell, Webster and his faithful female companion entered the gloomy portals of the jail.

General Winder was present when they arrived, and after a hurried examination Webster was remanded to a room, in which a number of Union prisoners were already confined, and the atmosphere of which was reeking with filth and disease.

As he entered the room, pale and emaciated, and scarcely able to walk, the prisoners gathered around, in silent pity for his forlorn condition.

"My G.o.d!" exclaimed one of their number, "they will send the dead here next."

Mrs. Lawton was conducted before the General, but she stoutly declined to answer a single question that was propounded to her. This so enraged the valiant officer that he ordered her to be taken away at once. She was then conducted to a room in which another lady was confined, and left for the night.

As midnight tolled its solemn hour over the city, and the tramp of armed men resounded through the streets, the noises within the prison died away. An awful and impressive silence brooded over the place. The dim light in the corridor shone faintly upon four miserable human beings, who tossed restlessly upon sleepless couches through the long, weary watches of the night.

Who can tell the thoughts that thronged through their brains, as the slow moving hours advanced toward the dawn? The brave woman who had been cruelly deprived of her privilege to administer to the needs of her suffering friend. The heroic Webster, wasted by disease, weakened by his long and painful illness, but still brave and defiant. Price Lewis and John Scully, tortured with the thoughts of their impending fate, and hara.s.sed with reflections of a more agonizing nature, which we may not a.n.a.lyse.

The trial of Webster was ordered for an early day. With a haste that was inhuman, the Provost-Marshal made his preparations for the farce of an investigation. It seemed as though he was fearful that his victim would die, ere he could wreak his vengeance upon him. The court was convened, and, owing to Webster's weakened condition, their sessions were held in the jail. For three long, weary weeks did the investigation drag its slow length along, although it was apparent that those who tried him had already decided upon his fate. Numerous witnesses were examined, and testimony was admitted which would have been excluded by any righteous tribunal whose ideas of justice were not obscured by an insane desire for revenge.

Price Lewis and John Scully were compelled to give their evidence; and although they attempted to do their utmost to lessen the effect of their testimony, it bore heavily against the poor prisoner, who sat pale and emaciated before them, and whose heart never failed him through the long and tedious ordeal. What Webster's feelings must have been during this harrowing experience is unknown to any one. What thoughts were rus.h.i.+ng through his brain, as the damaging statements fell from the lips of his late a.s.sociates, were never revealed by him. No murmurs escaped his lips, no words of censure or blame against the men whose evidence cost him his life, were ever uttered. A heroic calmness, born of the very despair which oppressed him from the first, was manifest throughout the long, weary investigation. Indeed so manfully had he borne himself, so completely had he controlled his feelings, that his physical health perceptibly improved, so much so that the tribunal removed their sittings to the court-house, and Webster was able to be in daily attendance.

Webster had secured able counsel for his defence, and they did all that was possible for man to do. Although they were rebels, their efforts in behalf of the accused spy were such, that if pleadings could have availed him aught, his fate would have been averted.

It was not to be, however; the trial came to an end at last. A verdict of guilty followed quickly upon the heels of the partial and antagonistic charge of the judge, and Timothy Webster was convicted of being a spy in the employ of the Federal authorities.

Not even then did the brave spirit break down. Firm and heroic he received the fatal verdict, and the satisfaction of his enemies was robbed of its value by the unflinching deportment of their victim.

After the trial, he was remanded to a cell, and closely watched. But a little time elapsed, and then came the warrant for his execution. An officer appeared in the cell, the paper was produced, and the faithful, brave, true-hearted man was condemned to be hung on the twenty-ninth day of April, but ten days after the approval of his sentence.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _The death warrant._ P. 542.]

The Union army was before Yorktown. McClellan had already sustained two serious disappointments, and both of them at the hands of the government at Was.h.i.+ngton. In the first place, on his arrival at Fort Monroe, he had ascertained that the promised a.s.sistance of the navy could not be relied upon in the least, and that their efficient co-operation with him would be an utter impossibility. This interference with his plans might have been overcome, although the loss of the naval support was a serious misfortune to him; but a more surprising and disheartening act of the authorities was yet in store for him. A few days later, he was thunderstruck at the unexpected information that General McDowell's entire corps, upon whose a.s.sistance he had confidently relied, was detached from his command, and had been ordered to remain in front of Was.h.i.+ngton, for the protection of the capital, which was erroneously believed to be in imminent danger of capture by the rebels. These events rendered a scientific siege of Yorktown a necessity; and while engaged in this laborious work, I was in constant consultation with the commanding General. Numerous scouts had been sent out through the rebel country, and the secret service department was taxed to its utmost.

George H. Bangs was busily engaged in examining the rebel deserters and prisoners, Southern refugees and contrabands, who were either captured or came willingly into camp, and in preparing daily reports of our movements, which were required to be made to the General in command. I had accompanied McClellan upon this campaign, and gave my untiring personal supervision to the management of the large corps of men and women, white and black, then engaged in obtaining information.

During all this time, not a word had been received of my missing operatives. Tortured by the uncertainty of their fate, I pa.s.sed many an anxious hour. At length all doubts were set at rest, and a dreadful certainty manifested itself to my mind. A newspaper, published in Richmond, was received by me, and in hastily perusing its contents, with a view of acquiring such military information as it contained, my eye alighted upon a small paragraph, which filled me with dread and sorrow.

This paragraph was the simple announcement that Price Lewis and John Scully had been arrested as spies in the rebel capital, and had been sentenced to be hung on the 6th day of April.

I cannot detail the effect which this announcement produced upon me. For a moment I sat almost stupefied, and unable to move. My blood seemed to freeze in my veins--my heart stood still--I was speechless. By degrees I was able to exercise a strong command over myself. I then sought my immediate a.s.sociates, and communicated the fatal news to them. Their consternation and grief were equal to my own. Every man seemed to be impressed with the solemnity of the fate of their comrades. What was to be done? How to intercede in their behalf? I rushed to the tent of General McClellan, and relating the news to him, besought his aid in this direful extremity. His sympathy and sorrow were as acute as though the men had been joined to him by ties of blood. Anxiously we discussed the situation, in the vain attempt to seek some mode of obtaining their release, and all without definite or satisfactory conclusion.

All that night I paced the camp, unable to sleep--unable almost to think intelligently; and when morning dawned I was as far from devising any practical plan of relief as when I first received the information.

I telegraphed to Captain Milward, Harbor-Master at Fortress Monroe, and in charge of the flag-of-truce boat for exchanging prisoners, asking him to endeavor to ascertain from the Richmond papers, or from any other source, anything definite as to the fate of my unfortunate operatives.

Several messages were received from that officer, containing various statements of the case, and finally came the crus.h.i.+ng intelligence that Lewis and Scully had been respited, after having given information which implicated Timothy Webster, whom the rebels now regarded as the chief spy of the three.