Under other circumstances this carelessness would have inspired Vincent with the thought of escape, but he knew that it was out of the question here.There were Federal camps all round and a shout from the negroes would send a hundred men in instant pursuit of him.There was nothing for him to do but to wait for the end, and that end would assuredly come in the morning.From time to time the door opened, and the negro sergeant looked in.Apparently his ideas on the subject of discipline were no stricter than those of his men, for he made no remark as to their carelessness.Presently, when he looked in, the four soldiers were standing at the window watching a regiment passing by on its way to take its share of the work in the trenches.Vincent, who was sitting at a table, happened to look up, and was astonished at seeing the sergeant first put his finger on his lips, then take off his cap, put one hand on his heart, and gesticulate with the other.
Vincent gazed at him in blank surprise, then he started and almost sprang to his feet, for in the Yankee sergeant he recognized Tony Morris; but the uplifted hand of the negro warned him of the necessity of silence.The negro nodded several times, again put his hand on his heart, and then disappeared.A thrill of hope stirred every vein in Vincent's body.He felt his cheeks flush and had difficulty in maintaining his passive attitude.He was not, then, utterly deserted; he had a friend who would, he was sure, do all in his power to aid him.
It was extraordinary indeed that it should be Tony who was now his jailer; and yet, when he thought it over, it was not difficult to understand.It was natural enough that he should have enlisted when the black regiments were raised.He had doubtless heard his name shouted out by Jackson, and had, as Vincent now remembered, stepped forward as a sort of volunteer when the officer called for a sergeant and four men.
Yes, Tony would doubtless do all in his power to save him.
Whether it would be possible that he could do so was doubtful; but at least there was a hope, and with it the feeling of quiet resignation with which Vincent had faced what appeared to be inevitable at once disappeared, and was succeeded by a restless longing for action.His brain was busy at once in calculating the chances of his being ordered for instant execution or of the sentence being postponed till the following morning, and, in the latter case, with the question of what guard would be probably placed over him, and how Tony would set about the attempt to aid him to escape.
Had the general been in camp when he was brought in he would probably have been shot at sunset, but if he did not return until the afternoon he would would most likely order the sentence to be carried out at daybreak.In any case, as he was an officer, some time might be granted to him to prepare for death.Then there was the question whether he would be handed over to a white regiment for safekeeping or left in the hands of the black regiment that had captured him.No doubt after the sentence was passed the white officers of that regiment would see that a much stricter watch than that now put over him was set.
It was not probable that he would still be in charge of Tony, for as the latter would be on duty all day he would doubtless be relieved.
In that case how would he manage to approach him, and what means would he use to direct the attention of the sentries in another direction? He thought over the plans that he himself would adopt were he in Tony's place.The first thing would be, of course, to make the sentries drunk if possible.This should not be a difficult task with men whose notions of discipline were so lax as those of the negroes; but It would be no easy matter for Tony to obtain spirits, for these were strictly prohibited in the Federal camp.Perhaps he might help Tony in this way.He fortunately had a small notebook with a pencil in his pocket, and as his guards were still at the window he wrote as follows:
"I am captured by the Yankees.So far as I can see, my only chance of escape is to make the sentries drunk.The bearer is absolutely to be trusted.Give him his canteen full of spirits, and tell him what I have written here."He tore this page out, folded it up, and directed it to Mrs.
Grossmith, Worley Farm, near Union.Presently Tony looked in again and Vincent held up the note.The sergeant stepped quickly forward and took it, and then said sharply to the men:
"Now den, dis not keeping guard.Suppose door open and dis fellow run away.What dey say to you? Two of you keep your eye on d's man.Suppose Captain Pearce come in and find you all staring out window.He kick up nice bobbery."Thus admonished as to their duty, two of the negroes took up their muskets and stood with their backs to the door, with their eyes fixed on the prisoner with such earnestness that Vincent could not suppress a smile.The negroes grinned responsively.
"Dis bad affair, young sah," one said; "bery bad affair.Oh course we soldiers oh de Union, and got to fight if dey tell us; but no like dis job oh keeping guard like dis.""It can't be helped," Vincent said; "and of course you must do your duty.I am not going to jump up the chimney or fly through the window, and as there are four of you, to say nothing of the sergeant outside, you needn't be afraid of my trying to escape.""No sah, dat not possible nohow; we know dat bery well.Dat's why we no trouble to look after you.But as de sargent say watch, oh course we must watch.We bery pleased to see you kill dat white officer.Dat officer bery hard man and all de men hate him, and when you knock him down we should like to hab given cheer.
We all sorry for you; still you see, sab, we must keep watch.If you were to get away, dar no saying what dey do to us.""That's all right," Vincent said; "I don't blame you at all.As yon say, that was a very bad fellow.I had quarreled with him before, because he treated his slaves so badly."
