Читать книгу Farthest North - Charles Lanman - Страница 7

During Lieutenant Lockwood’s absence on leave, his regiment was transferred to Fort Leavenworth, and there we find him early in 1877, and for about two years thereafter. Of course, the garrison life of an officer, in times of peace, is somewhat monotonous; but the letters which the lieutenant wrote from this station contain some passages which are interesting and illustrate his character, as will be seen in the following pages. Here it should be stated that, during his sojourn at Fort Leavenworth, he made many pleasant acquaintances, which ripened into friendship; among them being the widow of an officer, with whom he boarded for some time, and whose friendship he particularly valued.

At a time when there was quite a rage at the garrison for private theatricals, one of the superior officers took the liberty, without previous consultation, of putting Lockwood on the list of performers, whereupon he declined the honor, as he thought Nature never intended him for a star. In speaking of a little difficulty between two of his friends, he manifests his love of fun by stating that one of them had denied the allegation and defied the alligator. When commenting upon some disagreeable March weather, he said, “I don’t think the ground-hog has seen his shadow, and hence the latter part of the month ought to be pleasant.” After a remark on the proficiency he was making in the study of French, he quietly continues, “There are many here who speak it ‘à l’Américaine,’ as if they thought that ‘the chief end of man.’”

As if never satisfied with his acquirements, he writes in one of his letters as follows: “My latest hobby is telegraphing. The signal officer of the department has loaned me a small battery and an instrument. We have put up the wires and are progressing well. Telegraphy, like phonography, is easy to transmit after some little practice; but it is difficult to recognize the sounds as they come over the wire, and it requires as much practice as it does to recognize the phonographic characters. I have the instrument on the table before me, and can not fail to gain some proficiency at any rate.”

In July, 1877, when the strikers and rioters were making trouble in St. Louis, Mo., Lieutenant Lockwood’s company and five others were ordered to that city on duty. After their arrival, they waited in daily expectation of mowing down the mob, but there was little fighting, as the police and militia were found to be amply sufficient to subdue all disturbance. He was greatly pleased with the city and military quarters of St. Louis, and felt that he would like to remain there on permanent duty. The feature which pleased him more than any other at St. Louis was a private garden of about fifty acres, exquisitely planned, and containing the rarest and most beautiful flowers and trees. The floral display, there, he thought superior to that at the Centennial Exposition. The owner, a bachelor named Shaw, nearly eighty years of age, and a man of enormous wealth, paid out yearly in expenses twenty-five thousand dollars. At the garden residence of this millionaire, young Lockwood and a friend were hospitably entertained—a wonderful contrast to the accommodations at a beer-saloon, near the arsenal gate, where the army officers were obliged to take their meals while in the city. Altogether the trip was pleasant, but too expensive for men with limited means. On their return to Fort Leavenworth from the Eden-like garden of St. Louis, they were informed of Indian troubles in Montana, and startled by a rumor that they must soon be off upon a hunt for Indians—illustrating the vicissitudes of army-life.

It was about this time that a specimen of American royalty visited Fort Leavenworth with his daughter, to whom young Lockwood had an opportunity of being polite. This was a great cattle-man from Texas, who was said to have fenced in a grazing-farm of a million of acres, and who numbered his cattle by tens of thousands. His name was King, and his title in all the West was the “Cattle King of Texas.” The father and daughter were much interested in an inspection of the fort, where they were hospitably entertained. From that time onward for several months, the dullness of garrison-life was only relieved by parties, dinners, and theatrical amusements in the city, by the presence of an encampment of Indians near the post, and by attendance at a grand reception and ball given at Kansas City by the Governor of the State. The letters written by young Lockwood during all this period are elaborate and full of interest to his parents, but not enlivened with any incidents of public interest. The garrison courts seem to have demanded very much of his attention, because of his skill in taking down testimony by short-hand, and he was frequently compelled to devote many of his sleeping hours to the duty of writing out his notes.

While going from the fort into town one day, he witnessed what he called an awful spectacle—three little boys in a state of intoxication. This recalled the fate of one of his former companions in the East, who had become a drunkard, and in a letter to his father he recorded the following: “Liquor is certainly a terrible curse; one constantly sees illustrations of this in the army. You rather startled me in a recent letter by telling me you had taken the pledge. Had you departed from your abstemious habits in this respect? was my first thought, but I was at once relieved by seeing that your allusion was to something else. A rule that I have had for a long time and seldom depart from, is not to drink before sunset and never to do so in a saloon. It is rather superfluous in me to have any such rules, as it is very seldom that I have a desire to touch spirituous drinks, and then I partake only for the sake of not appearing to be rude in social matters.”

On one occasion, after describing a splendid dinner which he had attended, he branches off upon his own experiences in that line, stating that he had been caterer for the “Bachelors’ Club” during the current month, and playing housekeeper for the first time in his life. He was striving to feed the mess well and to reduce expenses, the individual assessments amounting to twenty-four dollars.

“We have a good deal of fun,” he says, “at the mess; among other ways, by a resolution of the officers that I shall keep a record of the puns, jokes, profane expressions, etc. Any one indulging in these is put back or set forward on a regular motion and vote by the members, and any one getting a record of fifteen has to send to the store for a supply of cigars. One of the mess, having the bad habit of saying, ‘O Lord!’ and ‘Damn it!’ when excited, gets a great many bad marks, and is made unhappy. The standard of wit being very high, one seldom ‘goes ahead.’”

In May, 1878, when it was doubtful what Congress would do about reducing the army, and Lieutenant Lockwood thought that he might decide to leave the service, he discussed with his father the question of future employment. He thought favorably of a position in some telegraph company, thereby proving that, in all his studies and leisurely occupations, he was practical, and no visionary. Another idea that he had was that he might play Cincinnatus, and again go upon the farm. He also thought of a position in connection with the Signal Service as one that would suit him should he, from any cause, be compelled to leave the army; and this suggestion, taken in connection with his subsequent career, is notable. He went so far, indeed, as to ask his father about the practicability of securing such a position in that corps, and desired especially to know all about the necessary qualifications.

On one occasion, after alluding to the possibility of his being transferred for duty to some other place, he says that it might be a good thing for him, as he could not remain at Leavenworth always, and yet he dreaded to be sent to some “far-distant and isolated post.” When he wrote those words, how little did he imagine that he would eventually close his earthly career in a land of supreme desolation within the Arctic Circle!

Subsequently—July, 1878—he resumed with special earnestness the consideration of being detailed for duty in the Signal Service, and, with his father’s approbation, made the proper application. He thought the proposed transfer would be of benefit to him in many ways, and if he failed to make it so, he would very quickly be ordered back to his regiment.

In September he was ordered to St. Louis for the purpose of conducting some recruits westward, and for a short time it was uncertain whether he would have to go to Texas or the Territory of Wyoming, whereby were shown the uncertainties which attend life in the army. He took the recruits to Fort Laramie, and, on his way, was in danger of being embroiled with the Cheyenne Indians under Sitting Bull, but returned in safety, by way of his old camp at Omaha, to his company at Fort Leavenworth. During another trip, which he soon after took with his company, he saw in western Kansas many Russian immigrants. They were poor, and had settled at great distances along the streams to be near water, not always easily found in these regions. They knew nothing of the recent outbreak of the Indians, and, indeed, many of them had never seen an Indian. The lieutenant also stumbled upon a colony of Swedes, and at one place saw three women, whose husbands had been killed by the Indians, and who were weeping bitterly in their distress. While his company was on the march he generally kept at the head of the column, thereby receiving the title of Pedestrian of the Command. Much of the country over which they traveled was monotonous in the extreme—wide stretches of prairie reaching to the far horizon. Antelopes and Jack-rabbits were frequently seen, and sometimes were fired at without success. But, to his mind, the most wonderful features about the country were the countless tracks and bones of the buffalo, while not a living animal was seen. One of his guides informed him that in former times he had killed three hundred in a single day, so that it was no wonder that they were now extinct.

In a letter to one of his sisters, in October, he speaks of his return from this chase after Cheyenne Indians, and then goes on to mention some amusing incidents that had occurred at the post, and gives her this bit of artistic advice: “I hope you will profit by your talent for painting, not bury it in the ground, like the foolish steward. Painting is a great and very popular accomplishment; there is none perhaps more so.” No matter what happened in or about the garrison, he seemed always ready with his common-sense opinions referring to passing events. For example, after alluding to the burning of a stable, with thirteen mules, when some of them that had been released ran into the fire from fright, he thus proceeds: “I was talking ‘over the wire’ with one of the men on our telegraph line, and what he said is no doubt true, and shows the short-sightedness of the Government. He said that he and many of the other soldiers had damaged or lost their clothes, and that if soldiers were reimbursed for their losses on such occasions, they would work with much more vim and energy, and that he heard one man say that he would not lose his new pantaloons for all the mules in the stable. Of course, in the case of a private house on fire, I believe the enlisted men would risk everything; but in cases of this kind, where Government property only is concerned, this feeling has its existence. There is, too, some reason for this feeling; for, no matter how hard a soldier or officer may work at a fire to save public property, the Government will not reward him even by the restitution of his clothes. Nothing short of an act of Congress would be authority for such an issue.”

That the heart of this young man was as pure as his mind was bright, may be seen by reading the following remarks concerning the death of a little niece: “I learn with deep regret the death of poor little Agnes, and sympathize heartily with Lidie and her husband in their affliction, the depth of which none but a parent can know. It should be a consolation, however, that the disease carried the little one away in all the innocence of childhood, before her mother’s love had been intensified with years, and her own intelligence had taught her to love and cling to life. The sad news reached me on the day of the funeral of the little daughter of a brother lieutenant. The little baby seemed very amiable in life, and after death lost none of her sweetness. I sat up with the remains during the night before the funeral.” Alas! when this noble-hearted young man gave up his own life, his only night-watchers were the stars and the icy mountains of the far-distant North!

In December, 1878, the Twenty-third Regiment received orders for service in the Indian Territory, and a few weeks afterward entered upon its line of march. In the mean time, the lieutenant made himself useful in performing the duties of an engineer for the sanitary benefit of the Leavenworth garrison. After some appropriate studying, he soon got the knack of running the levels and measuring angles with the theodolite. He found these new duties interesting, preferring the field-work to the making of the necessary profiles and other drawings, involving measurements to the ¹/₁₀₀₀ of an inch—rather a confining employment.