The Young Sharpshooter at Antietam Part 32

"Niver you fear, lad. The chaplain will be able to help us out."

"We'll ask to see him, anyway," said Noel.

Accordingly, when the guard next was called, Noel succeeded in attracting the attention of the sergeant and made known his desire to receive a visit from the chaplain. Such a visit, he was aware, was permitted, and he was not without hope that the coming of this man might be of a.s.sistance to him and his hardly beset comrade.

Nearly an hour elapsed before the chaplain appeared. He was a young man, and in his face there appeared an expression of friendliness. Noel was drawn to him at once, even before he heard the somewhat abrupt and loud tones of his voice.

"What can I do for you?" asked the chaplain, not unkindly, as he entered the tent and was informed that Noel was the inmate who had requested the visit.

"I wanted to see you and tell you my story," said Noel quietly. "I am here under a false charge."

The interest of the chaplain instantly became less keen, as Noel discovered to his dismay.

"That's what every man says," responded the chaplain quietly.

"Well, it's true in my case. Did those poor fellows who were taken out this morning say they were not to blame?"

"They surely did," said the chaplain. "I wish I was able now to forget the horror of that scene. A hollow square was formed and the two coffins were placed in the open part. I shall never forget the moment when the adjutant-general stepped out into a position a little in front of the center of the square. He's a strong man and not much given to sentiment, but his voice trembled, although it was clear and strong, when in the presence of all the soldiers he read the finding of the court-martial."

"It must have been hard for the men who had been detailed," suggested Noel in a low voice.

"It was. You understand, however, that the guns used by the provost guard on occasions like that are always loaded by men who have been appointed for that special purpose. It never would do in the world to let the soldiers load their own guns."

"Why not?"

"Why, it's more than likely that they would use blank cartridges. No one wants to be responsible for the death of a man even if he is under sentence. That's the reason why the guns never are loaded by those who are to do the shooting. However, they all know that a blank cartridge has been placed in one of the guns, but they are never told which one it is. This plan makes every man believe that his gun contained the blank cartridge and that it was not his shot which killed the prisoner. While the adjutant-general was reading the finding of the court-martial the two men had to stand up. As soon as the officer had finished reading, both men were ordered to kneel on their coffins and a paper heart was pinned on the coat of each."

"What is a 'paper heart?'" asked Noel.

"Why, it's just a quarter of a sheet of ordinary notepaper. It's white, you know, and provides a mark for the men who are usually selected because they are good shots. One of these poor fellows, after he had been blind-folded, shouted, 'Boys, shoot me here,' as he put his hand upon his heart. 'Don't make any mistake, either!' I don't know whether the rest of the men heard the final order of the provost guard or not.

His voice sounded to me as if it might have been a quarter of a mile away, it was so indistinct, but somehow he managed to call out--'Ready!'

'Aim!' 'Fire!'"

"Did they find the paper hearts?" inquired Noel, almost in a whisper.

"Yes, both the poor fellows fell forward on their faces and never breathed again."

Dennis O'Hara, who had been listening to the words of the chaplain, although he had not taken part in any of the conversation, could restrain his fears no longer.

"But, yer Riverence," he said, "why should they treat an innocent man like that? I'm tellin' ye that we're the most loyal boys in Little Mac's army. We're both sharpshooters and we both did our part down on the Peninsula. Now to be set up here and shot down like a couple of dogs!

Why, instead of desartin', we just were doin' our best to escape from the Johnnies. 'Tis pretty hard! The colonel won't listen to a word! We can prove it to him, everything we say."

"Is that so?" inquired the chaplain, turning to Noel for confirmation.

"It is, sir," replied Noel.

"I don't know that anything can be done," said the chaplain. "It would be horrible to make such a mistake as that. You are ent.i.tled to a trial, anyway. Where is the man who made the charges against you?"

"I don't know," said Noel, "but I don't think he's here. My belief is that he is a spy, anyway, and part of the time is in the other army."

"Let me take the number of your company and regiment and I shall very gladly see what can be done. I don't want you to build your hopes too high, but you may rest a.s.sured that I shall do for you all that is in my power."

As soon as their visitor had jotted down in his notebook the few facts and figures which he asked for, he at once left the tent.

CHAPTER XXVI

THE TEST

The sufferings of Noel and Dennis were increased by the feeling of suspense which followed the departure of the chaplain. Rumor had been busy in the camp and had reached even the men in the guard-house concerning the execution of the deserters and the penalty which now might be visited upon the men who were still under guard.

The feeling in the heart of Dennis was more one of anger than of alarm.

With Noel, however, uncertainty and fear combined to make the young soldier much cast down. When Dennis occasionally tried to arouse his spirits, the effort of the young Irishman was so manifest that the effect sometimes was the exact reverse of what he had intended.

More and more Noel became alarmed as the hours pa.s.sed. When the chaplain returned, as he did a few hours later, not even his cheery words could disguise the fact that as yet he had not received any information concerning the two young sharpshooters which would justify the colonel in making an exception of their cases.

When Noel awoke early the following morning he was surprised to find Dennis already busily engaged in writing a letter. And such a letter!

When Noel drew near, he saw that Dennis had taken sheets of foolscap, cutting them lengthwise and had pasted the half-sheets together so that he had a continuous roll that must have been at least thirty feet in length.

"What are you doing?" demanded Noel in surprise.

"Shure, lad, and I'm writin' a letter."

"But to whom are you writing such a letter as that? Do you write on both sides of the paper? It would take more money than you have saved in a month to pay the postage. What are you trying to do, anyway, Dennis?"

"Shure, lad," said Dennis quietly, "I had a letter from me sister in which she says as how I have niglicted the family and niver write a word, so I'm goin' to sind her one letter that she can't say is too short. I'm gettin' near the end of it, though. If you'll wait a minute, lad, I'll read to you the last sintence."

Before Noel could protest Dennis began glibly, "And now, me dear Bridget, I can tell you that I am very happy because the a.s.surance is dawning upon me mind that I am gettin' near the end of my paper. I have only to say that after I have been through the regular number of pitched-battles and hair-breadth escapes and have walked a few hundred miles and chased the Johnnies up and down the hills, perhaps by that time I shall have come really to the ind of this letter and be able to sign me name. If you still think that I'm not writin' long enough letters to you and to mother and the girls, I'll come home just as soon as our business at the front is finished, and from the appearances at the prisent time somethin' is going to happen before I shall have a chance to sign my name."

Dennis looked up from his paper and said, "There, lad, I'm not explainin' to thim what it is that may happen. It'll be time enough for thim to find out that when they have to. But what do you think of me epistle, anyway?"

"Very good."

"What there is of it," replied Dennis, smiling in spite of the fears which held him.

"It's a sort of last will I'm writin', too," added Dennis. "I niver have written a will whin I was goin' into battle the way some o' th' boys do, but whin I have to face the sintence of bein' shot as a desarter, which I niver was, and if the Saints will presarve me, I niver shall be--"

"I heard of a woman back here," broke in Noel, "who made a will and left her shoestrings to her sister."

"Bedad," said Dennis, "I niver thought o' that. 'Tis a good suggestion!

I'm goin' to leave mine to Levi Kadoff. There ought to be enough of them to hang him with. Faith, and if I had him here now--"

The conversation of the two young soldiers was interrupted once more by the return of the chaplain. Still he had not received any information and the messenger, who he a.s.sured the boys had been dispatched, had not as yet returned.

In spite of the desire of the good man to encourage the boys, and his apparently unshaken confidence that in the end all would be well, the feeling of uncertainty and injustice still possessed both Noel and Dennis. They had been forgotten, they a.s.sured themselves, by the men who knew them best and at such a time as this could bring them aid. Of what good was it that they had been selected for positions of danger and had been among the sharpshooters, doing their part in holding back the enemy around Williamsburg and at Malvern Hill?