CHAPTER XVII. THE LETTER OF LIFE.

Te Aroha News, Volume VII, Issue 404, 21 September 1889, Page 3

CHAPTER XVII. THE LETTER OF LIFE.

The silence of the nighfe was broken only by the rippling of the river against our boat, and the wash of its waters upon the bank we were vapidly nearing. The darkness of the night was only illuminated by two watch-tires that we dreaded. Steering to strike the bank midway between these fires, paddling with our hands for fear of disturbing the silence, we seemed to be totally unobserved. No noise was heardUn the brush that lined the bank of the stream. No word came out of the silence of the forest, it Inch was only separated from us now by a few yards "of water. I was now contident we would gain the .bank, and probably half an hour would see us in the Union lines. Suddenly from out the brushwood right in front of us came ' Who goes there ?' from the hoarse voice of a Confederate picket. The lieutenant who sat next to me whispered in my ear, 'Overboaid, for your life ! As he dropped over the gunwale, taking the side away from the bank, to obtain the protection of the boat from rifle- balls, I followed him, and diving under the bottom of the batteau, we floated silently down stream, just making exertion enough to keep ourselves afloat. As I rose 1 heard the crashing fire of musketry and shrieks and groans from the companions I had left in the boat, and over alt Caucus' voice, shrieking, ' Fo' de Lord ! What to do now V The lieutenant turned his head, and paddling close" to me, whispered : ' Float down the stream before you try to make the bank. The musketry firing will rouse every picket; within a mile ;" then struck out strongly down the river with the current. I followed-him, but he gradually passed out of my sight into the darkness. After floating down three or four hundred yards, numbed by the coldness of the water, which had but a short time ago left the snows ot the North Carolina mountains, I turned and paddled to the bank, drew myself up on the ground, and thought I had escaped, and could now make my way to the Federal lines. Numbed with the cold, I staggered into the bushes, unfortunately striking a few twigs. • The next instant a couple of bayonets were thrust against my breast, and 1 heard, * Surrender or die !' 'I am your prisoner,' I muttered, for, chilled with the cold, neither resistance nor flight was possible. ' You are one of that boat's crew we fired into up the river about five minutes ago ?' said one of my captors. ' Yes,' I replied, for there was no good trying to deceive them. ' Who are you ?' 'Oh, we're some South Carolina boys, up there to see that you Yanks in East Tennessee behave yourselves.' ' Take him to regimental headquarters,' said the sergeant of the guard, who had come up, attracted by our noioe. 1 was searched, and then marched between a couple of soldiers to a log house, about a quarter of a mile up the river, which was the headquarters of the regiment — one of Kershaw's brigade of South Carolina troops, a portion of Longstrtet's corps, which, after lighting in Virginia, had come down with their commander into East Tennessee. Their colonel was not here, being away looking after the picket lines. The adjutant, who was ab headquarters, told me I would have to wait until that officer's return before they would know what to do with me. I asked his permission to stand in'front of the fire to warm myself, for mv teeth were chattering so that I could hardly speak. ' Yes,' he said. ' I suppose if we want to get any information out of you, we have got to warm you up a little ; but I reckon you will be warm enough — or cold enough — I before we have done with you. Judging from your clothes, and the position in which you were taken, you are a spy !' I said, • When the colonel comes I will explain to him.' ' Very well. ' So, the sentry keeping a close eye upon me, though lwasalmosttoochilledto move,l warmed myself and dried my clothes in front of the fire. Ifc must have been now four o'clock in the morning. A moment after, the sentinel saluted an officer on horseback, who galloped up, followed by an orderly. He dismounted and passed in, 1 giving me a hurried glance, and after a moment's conversation with the adjutant, said, • Any papers found on him ?' 'Mo, sir.' ' Very well. Let the prisoner be brought in.' I was accordingly marched into the log cabin, which was made comfortable on the inside by a fire and a rough straw mattress in a corner, with some blankets on it. A coarse deal table, some writing materials, and two rough chairs were the rest of its furniture. As I entered, the officer gave a slight start)' looked at me sharply, then turning to the adjutant hurriedly gave him some orders, which sent that officer upon some duty away from regimental headquarters. Next he directed the guard to leave me with him, bub to keep a strict watch outside to see that no one came in while he talked to me. The door had hardly closed when he turned to me and said, with rather a hoarse laugh, ' By the Lord ! this is an unexpected pleasure, Mr Bryant. When did you come from the earthworks on Morris Island ?' With a start I looked at him, and as the voice came to me, I recognised my old friend and whilom chum Harry Walton of The full beard he wore and the ?bronzed complexion that active service had rgiven him had so changed him that for a moment 1 had not recognised him. 'Major Wilton,' said I 'Colonel,' interrupted he. 'Death has promoted me since I saw you last. Promotion in that way is pretty rapid around here.' 4 Colonel Walton,' continued I, ' I know from what you have said that you are aware that I was imprisoned on Morris Island.' ' Yes, for desertion, I believe,' he said. ■* Where is your passport V • I have none !' * No passport, and coming through our Uines in citizen's clothes ! How did you leave the earthworks on Morris Island ?' • I ? was removed from them.' ' * W f here to f ■*To work on the fortifications on Stpno Hiver. ' • ' When were you discharged V * L have .never; been discharged.' ■* The second time a deserter! Looks', very bad,, for you, Mr,, Bryant. In fact, |

fch at time the division will have passed along the road, and the river cannot be crossed in time to do it any damage. Now 1 am to defend this bridge to the last. I will loavo you here. There will be a great many balls and shells falling about you, but I hope you will get accustomed to' them, as I am. I shall hold the bridge to the last man. Do you remain here, and if my men forget you in the hnrry of the battle, don't remind them ; don't make yourself prominent. Pick out a safe place. I want to save the husband of Laura Peyton, the man Laura Peyton loves. As for me, I am glsd I have got this kind of work to do thie morning. I hope my bullet' may find me. It will, $ome time ; and I can give my life for the South with a better heart than I could have, before I met you to-night.'