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Joseph A. Altsheler - The Tree of Appomattox

J >> Joseph A. Altsheler >> The Tree of Appomattox



THE TREE OF APPOMATTOX
A STORY OF THE CIVIL WAR'S CLOSE

by JOSEPH A. ALTSHELER




This book, now in the public domain in the USA, was originally:

COPYRIGHT, 1916, BY D. APPLETON AND COMPANY

Copyright, 1944, By Sallie B. Altsheler

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

APPLETON-CENTURY-CROFTS, INC.

NEW YORK




FOREWORD


"The Tree of Appomattox" concludes the series of connected romances
dealing with the Civil War, begun in "The Guns of Bull Run," and
continued successively through "The Guns of Shiloh," "The Scouts of
Stonewall," "The Sword of Antietam," "The Star of Gettysburg," "The Rock
of Chickamauga" and "The Shades of the Wilderness" to the present volume.
It has been completed at the expense of vast labor, and the author has
striven at all times to be correct, wherever facts are involved. So far,
at least, no historic detail has been challenged by critic or reader.

More than half a century has passed since the Civil War's close. Not
many of the actors in it are left. It was one of the most tremendous
upheavals in the life of any nation, and it was the greatest of all
struggles, until the World War began, but scarcely any trace of partisan
rancor or bitterness is left. So, it has become easier to write of it
with a sense of fairness and detachment, and the lapse of time has made
the perspective clear and sharp.

However lacking he may be in other respects, the author perhaps had an
advantage in being born, and having grown up in a border state, where
sentiment was about equally divided concerning the Civil War. He was
surrounded during his early youth by men who fought on one side or the
other, and their stories of camp, march and battle were almost a part of
the air he breathed. So he hopes that this circumstance has aided him to
give a truthful color to the picture of the mighty combat, waged for four
such long and terrible years.




THE CIVIL WAR SERIES


VOLUMES IN THE CIVIL WAR SERIES

THE GUNS OF BULL RUN.
THE GUNS OF SHILOH.
THE SCOUTS OF STONEWALL.
THE SWORD OF ANTIETAM.
THE STAR OF GETTYSBURG.
THE ROCK OF CHICKAMAUGA.
THE SHADES OF THE WILDERNESS.
THE TREE OF APPOMATTOX.


PRINCIPAL CHARACTERS IN THE CIVIL WAR SERIES

HARRY KENTON, A Lad Who Fights on the Southern Side.
DICK MASON, Cousin of Harry Kenton, Who Fights on the Northern Side.
COLONEL GEORGE KENTON, Father of Harry Kenton.
MRS. MASON, Mother of Dick Mason.
JULIANA, Mrs. Mason's Devoted Colored Servant.
COLONEL ARTHUR WINCHESTER, Dick Mason's Regimental Commander.
COLONEL LEONIDAS TALBOT, Commander of the Invincibles,
a Southern Regiment.
LIEUTENANT COLONEL HECTOR ST. HILAIRE, Second in Command of the
Invincibles.
ALAN HERTFORD, A Northern Cavalry Leader.
PHILIP SHERBURNE, A Southern Cavalry Leader.
WILLIAM J. SHEPARD, A Northern Spy.
DANIEL WHITLEY, A Northern Sergeant and Veteran of the Plains.
GEORGE WARNER, A Vermont Youth Who Loves Mathematics.
FRANK PENNINGTON, A Nebraska Youth, Friend of Dick Mason.
ARTHUR ST. CLAIR, A Native of Charleston, Friend of Harry Kenton.
TOM LANGDON, Friend of Harry Kenton.
GEORGE DALTON, Friend of Harry Kenton.
BILL SKELLY, Mountaineer and Guerrilla.
TOM SLADE, A Guerrilla Chief.
SAM JARVIS, The Singing Mountaineer.
IKE SIMMONS, Jarvis' Nephew.
AUNT "SUSE," A Centenarian and Prophetess.
BILL PETTY, A Mountaineer and Guide.
JULIEN DE LANGEAIS, A Musician and Soldier from Louisiana.
JOHN CARRINGTON, Famous Northern Artillery Officer.
DR. RUSSELL, Principal of the Pendleton School.
ARTHUR TRAVERS, A Lawyer.
JAMES BERTRAND, A Messenger from the South.
JOHN NEWCOMB, A Pennsylvania Colonel.
JOHN MARKHAM, A Northern Officer.
JOHN WATSON, A Northern Contractor.
WILLIAM CURTIS, A Southern Merchant and Blockade Runner.
MRS. CURTIS, Wife of William Curtis.
HENRIETTA CARDEN, A Seamstress in Richmond.
DICK JONES, A North Carolina Mountaineer.
VICTOR WOODVILLE, A Young Mississippi Officer.
JOHN WOODVILLE, Father of Victor Woodville.
CHARLES WOODVILLE, Uncle of Victor Woodville.
COLONEL BEDFORD, A Northern Officer.
CHARLES GORDON, A Southern Staff Officer.
JOHN LANHAM, An Editor.
JUDGE KENDRICK, A Lawyer.
MR. CULVER, A State Senator.
MR. BRACKEN, A Tobacco Grower.
ARTHUR WHITRIDGE, A State Senator.


HISTORICAL CHARACTERS

ABRAHAM LINCOLN, President of the United States.
JEFFERSON DAVIS, President of the Southern Confederacy.
JUDAH P. BENJAMIN, Member of the Confederate Cabinet.
U. S. GRANT, Northern Commander.
ROBERT B. LEE, Southern Commander.
STONEWALL JACKSON, Southern General.
PHILIP H. SHERIDAN, Northern General.
GEORGE H. THOMAS, "The Rock of Chickamauga."
ALBERT SIDNEY JOHNSTON, Southern General.
A. P. HILL, Southern General.
W. S. HANCOCK, Northern General.
GEORGE B. McCLELLAN, Northern General.
AMBROSE E. BURNSIDE, Northern General.
TURNER ASHBY, Southern Cavalry Leader.
J. E. B. STUART, Southern Cavalry Leader.
JOSEPH HOOKER, Northern General.
RICHARD S. EWELL, Southern General.
JUBAL EARLY, Southern General.
WILLIAM S. ROSECRANS, Northern General.
SIMON BOLIVAR BUCKNER, Southern General.
LEONIDAS POLK, Southern General and Bishop.
BRAXTON BRAGG, Southern General.
NATHAN BEDFORD FORREST, Southern Cavalry Leader.
JOHN MORGAN, Southern Cavalry Leader.
GEORGE J. MEADE, Northern General.
DON CARLOS BUELL, Northern General.
W. T. SHERMAN, Northern General.
JAMES LONGSTREET, Southern General.
P. G. T. BEAUREGARD, Southern General.
WILLIAM L. YANCEY, Alabama Orator.
JAMES A. GARFIELD, Northern General, afterwards President of
the United States.

And many others


IMPORTANT BATTLES DESCRIBED IN THE CIVIL WAR SERIES

BULL RUN
KERNSTOWN
CROSS KEYS
WINCHESTER
PORT REPUBLIC
THE SEVEN DAYS
MILL SPRING
FORT DONELSON
SHILOH
PERRYVILLE
STONE RIVER
THE SECOND MANASSAS
ANTIETAM
FREDERICKSBURG
CHANCELLORSVILLE
GETTYSBURG
CHAMPION HILL
VICKSBURG
CHICKAMAUGA
MISSIONARY RIDGE
THE WILDERNESS
SPOTTSYLVANIA
COLD HARBOR
FISHER'S HILL
CEDAR CREEK
APPOMATTOX



CONTENTS

I. THE APPLE TREE

II. THE WOMAN AT THE HOUSE

III. OVER THE HILLS

IV. THE FIGHT AT THE CROSSWAYS

V. AN OLD ENEMY

VI. THE FISHERMEN

VII. SHERIDAN'S ATTACK

VIII. THE MESSENGER FROM RICHMOND

IX. AT GRIPS WITH EARLY

X. AN UNBEATEN FOE

XI. CEDAR CREEK

XII. IN THE COVE

XIII. DICK'S GREAT EXPLOIT

XIV. THE MOUNTAIN SHARPSHOOTER

XV. BACK WITH GRANT

XVI. THE CLOSING DAYS

XVII. APPOMATTOX

XVIII. THE FINAL RECKONING




CHAPTER I

THE APPLE TREE


Although he was an officer in full uniform he was a youth in years,
and he had the spirits of youth. Moreover, it was one of the finest
apple trees he had ever seen and the apples hung everywhere, round,
ripe and red, fairly asking to be taken and eaten. Dick Mason looked up
at them longingly. They made him think of the orchards at home in his
own state, and a touch of coolness in the air sharpened his appetite for
them all the more.

"If you want 'em so badly, Dick," said Warner, "why don't you climb the
tree and get 'em? There's plenty for you and also for Pennington and me."

"I see. You're as anxious for apples as I am, and you wish me to gather
'em for you by making a strong appeal to my own desires. It's your
clever New England way."

"We're forbidden to take anything from the people, but it won't hurt
to keep a few apples from rotting on the ground. If you won't get 'em
Pennington will."

"I understand you, George. You're trying to play Frank against me,
while you keep yourself safe. You'll go far. Never mind. I'll gather
apples for us all."

He leaped up, caught the lowest bough, swung himself lightly into the
fork, and then climbing a little higher, reached for the reddest and
ripest apples, which he flung down in a bountiful supply.

"Now, gluttons," he said, "satiate yourselves, but save a lot for me."

Then he went up as far as the boughs would sustain him and took a look
over the country. Apple trees do not grow very tall, but Dick's tree
stood on the highest point in the orchard, and he had a fine view,
a view that was in truth the most remarkable the North American continent
had yet afforded.

He always carried glasses over his shoulder, and lately Colonel
Winchester had made him a gift of a splendid pair, which he now put into
use, sweeping the whole circle of the horizon. With their powerful aid
he was able to see the ancient city of Petersburg, where Lee had thrown
himself across Grant's path in order to block his way to Richmond,
the Southern capital, and had dug long lines of trenches in which his
army lay. It was Lee who first used this method of defense for a smaller
force against a larger, and the vast trench warfare of Europe a half
century later was a repetition of the mighty struggle of Lee and Grant
on the lines of Petersburg.

Dick through his glasses saw the trenches, lying like a brown bar across
the green country, and opposite them another brown bar, often less than
a hundred yards away, which marked where the Northern troops also had
dug in. The opposing lines extended a distance of nearly forty miles,
and Richmond was only twenty miles behind them. It was the nearest the
Army of the Potomac had come to the Southern capital since McClellan had
seen the spires of its churches, and that was more than two years away.

Warner and Pennington were lying on the ground, eating big red apples
with much content and looking up lazily at Mason.

"You're curving those glasses about a lot. What do you see, Dick?"
asked Pennington at length.

"I see Petersburg, an old, old town, half buried in foliage, and with
many orchards and gardens about it. A pity that two great armies should
focus on such a pleasant place."

"No time for sentiment, Dick. What else do you see?"

"Jets of smoke and flame from the trenches, an irregular sort of firing,
sometimes a half-dozen shots at one place, and then a long and peaceful
break until you come to another place, where they're exchanging bullets."

"What more do you see, Brother Richard?"

"I see a Johnny come out of his trench hands up and advance toward one of
our Yanks opposite, who also has come out of his trench hands up."

"What are they trading?" asked Warner.

"The Reb offers a square of plug tobacco, and the Yank a bundle of
newspapers. Now they've made the exchange, now they've shaken hands and
each is going back to his own trench."

"It's a merry world, my masters, as has been said before," resumed Warner,
"but I should add that it's also a mad wag of a world. Here we are face
to face for forty miles, at some points seeking to kill one another in
a highly impersonal way, and at other points conducting sale and barter
according to the established customs of peace. People at home wouldn't
believe it, and later on a lot more won't believe it, when the writers
come to write about it. But it's true just the same. What else do you
see from the apple tower, Brother Richard?"

"A long line of wagons approaching a camp some distance behind the
Confederate trenches. They must be loaded pretty heavily, because the
drivers are cracking their whips over the horses and mules."

"That's bad. Provisions, I suppose," said Warner. "The more these
Johnnies get to eat the harder they fight, and they're not supposed to
be receiving supplies now. Our cavalry ought to have cut off that wagon
train. I shall have to speak to Sheridan about it. This is no way to
starve the Johnnies to death. Seest aught more, Brother Richard?"

"I do! I do! Jump up, boys, and use your own glasses! I behold a large
man on a gray horse, riding slowly along, as if he were inspecting troops
away behind the trenches. Wherever he passes the soldiers snatch off
their caps and, although I can't hear 'em, I know they're cheering.
It's Lee himself!"

Both Warner and Pennington swung themselves upon the lower boughs of the
tree and put their glasses to their eyes.

"It's surely Lee," said Warner. "I'm glad to get a look at him. He's
been giving us a lot of trouble for more than three years now, but I
think General Grant is going to take his measure."

"They're terribly reduced," said Pennington, "and if we stick to it we're
bound to win. Still, you boys will recall for some time that we've had a
war. What else do you see from the heights of the apple tree, Dick?"

"Distant dust behind our own lines, and figures moving in it dimly.
Cavalry practicing, I should say. Have you fellows fruit enough?"

"Plenty. You can climb down and if the farmer hurries here with his dog
to catch you we'll protect you."

"This is a fine apple tree," said Dick, as he descended slowly. "Apple
trees are objects of beauty. They look so well in the spring all in
white bloom, and then they look just as well in the fall, when the red or
yellow apples hang among the leaves. And this is one of the finest I've
ever seen."

He did not dream then that he should remember an apple tree his whole
life, that an apple tree, and one apple tree in particular, should always
call to his mind a tremendous event, losing nothing of its intensity
and vividness with the passing years. But all that was in the future,
and when he joined his comrades on the ground he made good work with the
biggest and finest apple he could find.

"Early apples," he said, looking up at the tree. "It's not the end of
July yet."

"But good apples, glorious apples, anyhow," said Pennington, taking
another. "Besides, it's fine and cool like autumn."

"It won't stay," said Dick. "We've got the whole of August coming.
Virginia is like Kentucky. Always lots of hot weather in August.
Glad there's no big fighting to be done just now. But it's a pity,
isn't it, to tear up a fine farming country like this. Around here is
where the United States started. John Smith and Rolfe and Pocahontas and
the rest of them may have roamed just where this orchard stands. And
later on lots of the great Americans rode about these parts, some of the
younger ones carrying their beautiful ladies on pillions behind them.
You are a cold-blooded New Englander, Warner, and you believe that anyone
fighting against you ought to burn forever, but as for me I feel sorry
for Virginia. I don't care what she's done, but I don't like to see the
Old Dominion, the Mother of Presidents, stamped flat."

"I'm not cold-blooded at all, but I don't gush. I don't forget that this
state produced George Washington, but I want victory for our side just
the same, no matter how much of Virginia we may have to tread down.
Is that farm house over there still empty?"

"Of course, or we wouldn't have taken the apples. It belongs to a man
named Haynes, and he left ahead of us with his family for Richmond.
I fancy it will be a long time before Haynes and his people sleep in
their own rooms again. Come, fellows, we'd better be going back.
Colonel Winchester is kind to us, but he doesn't want his officers to
be prowling about as they please too long."

They walked together toward the edge of the orchard and looked at the
farm house, from the chimneys of which no smoke had risen in weeks.
Dick felt sure it would be used later on as headquarters by some general
and his staff, but for the present it was left alone. And being within
the Union lines no plunderer had dared to touch it.

It was a two-story wooden house, painted white, with green shutters,
all closed now. The doors were also locked and sealed until such time
as the army authorities wished to open them, but on the portico, facing
the Southern lines were two benches, on which the three youths sat, and
looked again over the great expanse of rolling country, dotted at
intervals by puffs of smoke from the long lines of trenches. Where they
sat it was so still that they could hear the faint crackle of the distant
rifles, and now and then the heavier crash of a cannon.

Dick's mind went back to the Wilderness and its gloomy shades, the
sanguinary field of Spottsylvania, and then the terrific mistake of
Cold Harbor. The genius of Lee had never burned more brightly. He had
handled his diminishing forces with all his old skill and resolution,
but Grant had driven on and on. No matter what his losses the North
always filled up his ranks again, and poured forward munitions and
supplies in a vast and unbroken stream. A nation had summoned all its
powers for a supreme effort to win, and Dick felt that the issue of the
war was not now in doubt. The genius of Lee and the bravery of his
devoted army could no longer save the South. The hammer strokes of Grant
would surely crush it.

And then what? He had the deepest sympathy for these people of Virginia.
What would become of them after the war? Defeat for the South meant
nearer approach to destruction than any nation had suffered in
generations. To him, born south of the Ohio River, and so closely united
by blood with these people, victory as well as defeat had its pangs.

Warner and Pennington rose and announced that they would return to the
regiment which was held in reserve in a little valley below, but Dick,
their leave not having run out yet, decided to stay a while longer.

"So long," said Warner. "Let the orchard alone. Leave apples for
others. Remember that they are protected by strict orders against all
wandering and irresponsible officers, but ourselves."

"Yes, be good, Dick," said Pennington, and the two went down the slope,
leaving Dick on the portico. He liked being alone at times. The serious
cast of mind that he had inherited from his famous great grandfather,
Paul Cotter, demanded moments of meditation. It was peaceful too on the
portico, and a youth who had been through Grant's Wilderness campaign,
a month of continuous and terrible fighting, was glad to rest for a while.

The distant rifle fire and the occasional cannon shot had no significance
and did not disturb him. They blended now with the breeze that blew
among the leaves of the apple trees. He had never felt more like peace,
and the pleasant open country was soothing to the eye. What a contrast
to that dark and sodden Wilderness where men fought blindly in the dusk.
He shuddered as he remembered the forests set on fire by the shells,
and burning over the fallen.

A light step aroused him and a large man sat down on the bench beside
him. Dick often wondered at the swift and almost noiseless tread of
Shepard, with whom he was becoming well acquainted. He was tall, built
powerfully and must have weighed two hundred pounds, yet he moved with
the ease and grace of a boy of sixteen. Dick thought it must come from
his trade.

"I don't want to intrude, Mr. Mason," said Shepard, "but I saw you
sitting here, looking perhaps too grave and thoughtful for one of your
years."

"You're most welcome, Mr. Shepard, and I was thinking, that is in a vague
sort of way."

"I saw your face and you were wondering what was to become of Virginia
and the Virginians."

"So I was, but how did you know it?"

"I didn't know it. It was just a guess, and the guess was due to the
fact that I was having the same thoughts myself."

"So you regard the war as won?" asked Dick, who had a great respect for
Shepard's opinion.

"If the President keeps General Grant in command, as he will, it's a
certainty, but it will take a long time yet. We can't force those
trenches down there. Remember what Cold Harbor cost us."

Dick shuddered.

"I remember it," he said.

"It would be worse if we tried to storm Lee's lines. After Cold Harbor
the general won't attempt it, and I see a long wait here. But we can
afford it. The South grows steadily weaker. Our blockade clamps like a
steel band, and presses tighter and tighter all the time. Food is scarce
in the Confederacy. So is ammunition. They receive no recruits, and
every day the army of Lee is smaller in numbers than it was the day
before."

"You go into Richmond, Mr. Shepard. I've heard from high officers that
you do. How do they feel there with our army only about twenty miles
away?"

"They're quiet and seem to be confident, but I believe they know their
danger."

"Have you by any chance seen or heard of my cousin, Harry Kenton, who is
a lieutenant on the staff of the Southern commander-in-chief?"

Shepard smiled, as if the question brought memories that pleased him.

"A fine youth," he said. "Yes, I've seen him more than once. I'm free
to tell you, Lieutenant Mason, that I know a lot about this rebel cousin
of yours. He and I have come into conflict on several occasions, and I
did not win every time."

"Nobody could beat Harry always," exclaimed Dick with youthful loyalty.
"He was always the strongest and most active among us, and the best in
forest and water. He could hunt and fish and trail like the scouts of
our border days."

"I found him in full possession of all these qualities and he used them
against me. I should grieve if that cousin of yours were to fall,
Mr. Mason. I want to know him still better after the war."

Dick would have asked further questions about the encounters between
Harry and the spy, but he judged that Shepard did not care to answer them,
and he forbore. Yet the man aroused the most intense curiosity in him.
There were spies and spies, and Shepard was one of them, but he was not
like the others. He was unquestionably a man of great mental power.
His calm, steady gaze and his words to the point showed it. No one
patronized Shepard.

"I should like to go into Richmond with you some dark night," said Dick,
who hid a strong spirit of adventure under his quiet exterior.

"You're not serious, Lieutenant Mason?"

"I wasn't, maybe, when I began to say it, but I believe I am now.
Why shouldn't I be curious about Richmond, a place that great armies have
been trying to take for three years? Just at present it's the center
of the world to me in interest."

"You must not think of such a thing, Mr. Mason. Detection means certain
death."

"No more for me than for you."

"But I have had a long experience and I have resources of which you can't
know. Don't think of it again, Mr. Mason."

"I was merely jesting. I won't," said Dick.

He involuntarily looked toward the point beyond the horizon where
Richmond lay, and Shepard meanwhile studied him closely. Young Mason had
not come much under his notice until lately, but now he began to interest
the spy greatly. Shepard observed what a strong, well-built young fellow
he was, tall and slender but extremely muscular. He also bore a marked
resemblance to his cousin, Harry Kenton, and such was the quality of
Shepard that the likeness strongly recommended Dick to him. Moreover,
he read the lurking thought that persisted in Dick's mind.

"You mustn't dream of such a thing as entering Richmond, Mr. Mason,"
he said.

"It was just a passing thought. But aren't you going in again?"

"Later on, no doubt, but not just now. I understand that we're planning
some movement. I don't know what it is, but I'm to wait here until it's
over. Good-by, Mr. Mason. Since things are closing in it's possible
that you and I will see more of each other than before."

"Of course, when I'm personally conducted by you on that trip into
Richmond."

Shepard, who had left the portico, turned and shook a warning finger.

"Dismiss that absolutely and forever from your mind, Mr. Mason," he said.

Dick laughed, and watched the stalwart figure of the spy as he strode
away. Again the singular ease and lightness of his step struck him.
To the lad's fancy the grass did not bend under his feet. Upon Dick as
upon Harry, Shepard made the impression of power, not only of strength
but of subtlety and courage.

"I'm glad that man's on our side," said Dick to himself, as Shepard's
figure disappeared among the trees. Then he left the portico and went
down in the valley to Colonel Winchester's regiment, where he was
received with joyous shouts by several young men, including Warner and
Pennington, who had gone on before. Colonel Winchester himself smiled
and nodded, and Dick saluted respectfully.

The Winchesters, as they loved to call themselves, were faring well at
this particular time. Like the Invincibles on the other side, this
regiment had been decimated and filled up again several times. It had
lost heavily in the Wilderness and at Spottsylvania, but its colonel
had escaped without serious hurt and had received special mention for
gallantry and coolness. It had been cut up once more at Cold Harbor,
and because of its great services and losses it was permitted to remain a
while in the rear as a reserve, and obtain the rest it needed so sorely.

The brave youths were recovering fast from their wounds and exertions.
Their camp was beside a clear brook and there were tents for the officers,
though they were but seldom used, most of them, unless it should be
raining, preferring to sleep in their blankets under the trees. The
water was good to drink, and farther down were several deep pools in
which they bathed. Food, as usual in the Northern army, was good and
plentiful, and for the Winchesters it seemed more a period of play than
of war.

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