Читать книгу Secrets of the Late Rebellion - Freese Jacob R. - Страница 7

There was another incident connected with the running of the land blockade which, though hardly sufficient for an entire chapter, is too important and too interesting to allow to pass without notice: for not until this is published will it ever be known outside of some half-dozen persons. The incident was as follows:

On one of his blockade-running visits to Washington, Colonel Abercrombie learned that Senator Andrew Johnson, as it then was (though afterwards Vice-President, and still afterwards President of the United States), had rooms at Beveridge's Hotel, the very place that he was making his headquarters when in Washington. Knowing the Senator to be a fierce, uncompromising Union man, the news of his close proximity at first alarmed the Colonel; but, upon reflection, he remembered that Mrs. Johnson and his mother had long been on the most intimate terms, – that the Senator knew him personally, and had always treated him with the utmost kindness, – that he was a man of generous heart, and even though he should learn of his being there, the danger of his interfering with him was next to nothing. He therefore decided to stand his ground and take the chances.

As proximity to danger is always exciting, and, after a time, becomes attractive, so in this case, what at first seemed alarming, after a time became so attractive that the Colonel had a longing desire to see and converse with his old friend, Andrew Johnson. He communicated this desire to his friend and co-associate in the blockade-running business, Ben Beveridge, and asked him what he thought of it. Ben, at first, thought it would not do at all; but, like the Colonel, after thinking over the matter some time, concluded that it would be a capital joke, and advised the Colonel to try it.

The Colonel was disguised – so disguised, indeed, that even his own sister would not have known him, had she met him in the street – and the arrangement was, that Ben should await in the entry, near the Senator's chamber-door, while the Colonel went in to talk with him; and that, if the Senator did not receive him kindly, or if he showed any disposition to arrest him, the Colonel should at once quit the room, and Ben would help him to escape.

Everything thus understood, the Colonel went to the Senator's door and knocked gently. A deep, stentorian voice replied, "Come in but the Colonel pretended not to hear this, and knocked again, as he wanted the Senator to come to and open the door, that he might at once step within the room, whether the Senator invited him to do so or not. The second knock brought the Senator to the door, which he opened far enough to face his visitor, when he said:

"How do you do, sir?"

The Colonel replied, and, while replying, stepped within the room, when the Senator shut the door, and invited his visitor to take a seat. The Colonel did not sit down, but, taking hold of the back of the chair offered him, he said to Mr. Johnson:

"You seem not to know me, Mr. Senator. When did you leave Greenville? and where is Mrs. Johnson and Bob?"

This confused the Senator more than ever, as the visitor seemed to be familiar with his wife and son, as well as with himself, and yet he could not recollect to have ever seen him before.

"Well, no," replied the Senator, "I really cannot place you, or call your name. By jingo! who are you, any way?"

"I guess you don't want to know me," replied the Colonel, "and I had better be going."

"Oh, no, sir; oh, no," replied Mr. Johnson; "sit down! sit down! When did you come from Greenville? But really, sir, I cannot recall your name – I cannot."

The Colonel observed the Senator's confusion, and so enjoyed the joke that it was some time before he would let himself be known. Then, suddenly tearing the false whiskers from his face and putting on a natural expression, he stood revealed before the Senator.

"My God! is this you, Ralph?" was all that Mr. Johnson could say for some moments; and then added, "Why, Ralph, ain't you in the rebel service?"

"Well, what if I am?" replied the Colonel; "you don't propose to arrest me, do you?"

"No, no; but, by jingo! what under heavens brought you here?" said the Senator; and, going to the door, locked it before the Colonel had time to reply. "Sit down! sit down!" he added, "and tell me all about it. What under heavens could have brought you here, or induced you to call upon me?"

The Colonel then took a seat and explained to Mr. Johnson why he was there, the nature of his business, and that he had only called upon him as a good joke, and to renew an old acquaintance; to all of which the Senator listened attentively, though trembling meanwhile from excitement. When the Colonel had finished, Mr. Johnson sprang from his chair, walked hurriedly across the room two or three times, went to the front windows and pulled down the shades, and then, turning to the Colonel, said:

"Does anybody know that you are here with me?" Just then Mr. Johnson heard a tittering in the entryway, and, turning to the Colonel, asked him if he had any companions waiting outside. The Colonel replied, that he thought it might be Ben, as he alone knew of his visit. Immediately Mr. Johnson stepped to the door, and, seeing Ben, asked him to step in. Ben did so, and now the Senator became more in a quandary than ever. He scolded both Ben and the Colonel pretty severely, and told them they did not appreciate the awkward position in which they were placing him; that, if the Colonel's visit to him were known, it would, under the circumstances, compromise him in a most serious manner. Ben tried to soothe the Senator by telling him that the Colonel's call upon him was only intended as a joke; that it could never be known outside of their three selves; and that it should never be repeated, if annoying to him. The Senator replied, that while he was glad, personally, to see Ralph, yet the fact that he was known to be an officer in the rebel army, and in his business of blockade-running might by some be regarded as a spy, made it doubly awkward for him, and, if it were known to the Senate, might cost him his seat, as well as his reputation as a consistent Union man; that nearly every one would say that he ought to have had the Colonel arrested and detained, at least as a prisoner-of-war, if not as a spy; and that, in holding communication with him without attempting his arrest, he made himself a party to his crime, whether as a rebel to the government or as a spy. The more the Senator talked about it, the graver he became over it, until the Colonel and Ben saw that what had been intended as a comedy might prove a serious tragedy with all concerned, and that the sooner they got out of the way the better. Before leaving, the Senator exacted from each a solemn promise that they would not repeat the joke under any possible circumstances.

There is no kind of doubt that Senator Johnson felt greatly troubled at receiving such a visit from an officer in the Confederate service, and in learning that his landlady's son, Ben, was just as much of a rebel at heart as the Colonel himself. He knew, too, that his official duty as a United States Senator was to have both of these men arrested, tried, and, if possible, convicted, while his heart prompted to a course directly the contrary. He had long known, and had high regard for, the mothers of both; the men he had known from childhood upward, and always liked them, as boys, as young men, as men in active life, and he would as soon have thought of having his own son, "Bob," arrested as either of these, and yet his duty plainly pointed in that direction. It was a conflict between his head and his heart, in which his heart gained the mastery.

That the Senator did not hold any ill-will against the Colonel or against Ben for this wild prank of theirs against his Senatorial and official dignity is proven from the fact that he still continued to board with Ben's mother at the "Washington House," and within two years after he became President he appointed the Colonel as one of three commissioners to reopen and establish mail-routes throughout the late Confederate States.