Raiding with Morgan. Dunn Byron Archibald
dare-devil. I am proud he is a Kentuckian,” remarked Trabue.
Not knowing the flattering words spoken of him, Morgan wended his way to his headquarters, where he was informed by the orderly who took his horse that a young Confederate officer had been waiting for some time to see him.
“He said he must see you,” continued the orderly, “and if necessary he would wait all night.”
“All right, I will see what he wants,” replied Morgan, as he turned and entered his headquarters. There he was greeted by a young man, not much more than a boy, who wore the uniform of a Confederate lieutenant.
Morgan gave him a swift glance, and then exclaimed: “Bless my heart! if this isn’t Calhoun Pennington, son of my old friend Judge Pennington! I am more than glad to see you. I have heard of some of your exploits, and often wondered why you did not seek to take service with me. Let’s see! You were on the staff of the late lamented Governor Johnson, were you not?”
“Yes,” replied Calhoun; and his voice trembled, and tears came into his eyes in spite of himself, as he thought of the death of his beloved chief.
“A grand man, a brave man,” said Morgan, gently. “Now that he has gone, what do you propose doing?”
“That is what I have come to see you about. General Beauregard has offered me a position on his staff, but I wanted to see you before I accepted.”
“What! a position on the staff of General Beauregard! That is a rare honor for one so young as you are. Of course you are going to accept?”
“I do not know yet; I am to give him an answer in the morning, as I said I wanted to see you first. Great as the honor is which has been offered me, I feel it is a service which would not be agreeable to me. I much prefer the freer life of a scout and ranger. Perhaps you may know, I have done much of this kind of work. I have even performed more dangerous tasks than that of scouting, and I confess I rather like it.”
Morgan mused for a moment, and then suddenly asked: “Are you not a cousin of Frederic Shackelford, son of the late Colonel Richard Shackelford of our army?”
Calhoun’s brow clouded. “Yes,” he answered; “but why do you say the late Colonel Shackelford? Uncle Dick is not dead.”
“Is that so? I am rejoiced to hear it. It was reported he was among the slain.”
“He was desperately wounded,” answered Calhoun, “but he did not die, and he is now a prisoner in the hands of the Yankees. Uncle Dick is a hero; but as for that traitor cousin of mine, I hate him!” and again Calhoun’s brow grew dark.
“I have no reason to love him,” laughed Morgan, “but I cannot help admiring him. He it was who discovered our well-laid plans, and forced me to flee from Lexington, as a thief in the night.”
“Aye!” answered Calhoun, “but for him and that brute Nelson, Kentucky would now have been out of the Union. But that is not all. Had it not been for the same two traitors there would have been a different story to tell of Shiloh. Grant’s army would now have been prisoners, Buell’s in full flight, and our own pressing northward to redeem Kentucky. Had there been no Nelson, Buell’s army would not have reached Grant in time to save him from destruction. If there had been no Fred Shackelford I should have borne the news to General Johnston that Buell would join Grant by the fifth, and Johnston would have made his attack a couple of days earlier. I was bearing the news to Johnston that Nelson would reach Savannah by the fifth when I was captured.”
“Captured?” echoed Morgan, in surprise.
“Yes, captured, and by no less a personage than my cousin Fred Shackelford. But for this I would have reached Johnston by the second; as it was, I did not reach Shiloh until the morning of the last day of the battle.”
“Then you escaped?” queried Morgan.
“No; my cousin let me go, after he had held me until he knew my information would be of no value. I was dressed in citizen’s clothes. He could have had me hanged as a spy. I suppose I ought to be thankful to him, but I am not.” And Calhoun shuddered when he thought how near he had been to death.1
“That was kind of him,” said Morgan; “and you ought to be thankful to him, whether you are or not. To tell the truth, I took a great fancy to young Shackelford, and tried hard to get him to cast his lot with me. But as I failed to get him, I believe you would make a splendid substitute. You still think you had rather go with me than be on Beauregard’s staff?”
“A thousand times, yes. I had rather go with you as a private than be a lieutenant on the General’s staff,” answered Calhoun, with vehemence.
Morgan’s eyes sparkled. “That is the finest compliment I ever had paid me,” he said, “but I cannot allow the son of my old friend Judge Pennington to serve in the ranks as a private soldier. Yet my companies are fully officered now. Let’s see! How would you like to go back to Kentucky?”
“Go back to Kentucky?” asked Calhoun in surprise.
“Yes, to recruit for my command. Do you think you could dodge the Yankees?”
“I believe I could. I could at least try,” answered Calhoun, his face aglow with the idea.
“The case is this,” said Morgan: “I am going to make a raid in a few days, and am going to try to reach Kentucky. My present force is small – not much over four hundred. I do not look for much help from the Confederate Government. Those in authority do not regard with much favor independent organizations. To augment my force, I must in a great measure rely on my own efforts. I know there are hundreds of the flower of Kentucky youths eager to join me if they had the opportunity. You are just the person to send back to organize them. When can you start?”
“In the morning,” answered Calhoun.
Morgan smiled. “Good!” he said. “You are made of the right material. We will make full arrangements to-morrow. Good night, now, for it is getting late.”
Thus dismissed Calhoun went away with a light heart. He was to be one of Morgan’s men. It was all he wished.
The next morning Calhoun informed General Beauregard that while sensible of the great honor which he would bestow on him by appointing him a member of his staff, yet he believed he could be of more service to the South by casting his fortune with Morgan, and he had concluded to do so.
“While I greatly regret to lose you,” replied the General, “I believe you have chosen well. To one of your temperament service with Morgan will be much more congenial than the duties of a staff officer. In fact,” continued the General, with a smile, “I think you resemble Morgan in being restive under orders, and prefer to have your own way and go where you please. A command or two of partisan rangers may do, but too many would be fatal to the discipline of an army. Morgan may do the enemy a great deal of mischief, but after all, the fate of the South must be decided by her great armies.”
“True, General,” replied Calhoun, “but if Morgan can keep thousands of the enemy in the rear guarding their communications, the great armies of the North will be depleted by that number.”
“That is true also,” answered Beauregard; “and for that reason Morgan will be given more or less of a free rein. I have recommended him for a colonelcy. Convey to him my regards, and tell him I heartily congratulate him upon his last recruit.”
General Beauregard’s kind words touched Calhoun deeply. “Thank you, General,” he replied, with feeling. “I trust I shall never prove myself unworthy of your good opinion. May God bless you, and crown your efforts with victory!”
After parting with Beauregard, Calhoun lost no time in reporting to Morgan. He found his chief in command of about four hundred men, rough, daring fellows who would follow their leader wherever he went. A more superb body of rough-riders was never formed.
Calhoun was introduced to the officers of the squadron, and when it became known that he was going back to Kentucky to recruit for the command – although many of the officers wondered why their chief had selected one so young – they gave him
Calhoun did not tell Morgan the exact truth regarding his capture and release. For this see “General Nelson’s Scout.”