The Spy of the Rebellion (Based on True Events). Allan Pinkerton
and mercy.
It was when he was detailed for such operations as the one in question that his disposition underwent a complete metamorphosis. Then his reserve vanished, and he became the chatty, entertaining boon companion, the hero of the card-table, the story-teller of the bar-room, or the lion of the social gathering, as the exigencies of the case might require. He could go into a strange place and in one day surround himself with warm friends, who would end by telling him all he desired to know. In a life-time of varied detective experience, I have never met one who could more readily and agreeably adapt himself to circumstances.
Webster represented himself as a resident of Baltimore, and gave graphic accounts of the recent troubles in that city; of the unpleasant position in which the "friends of the cause" were placed by the proximity and oppression of Northern troops, and of the outraged feelings of the populace when the "Lincoln hirelings" marched through the streets of the Monumental City. His eyes seemed to flash with indignation during the recital, and it would have been difficult indeed to induce his audience to believe that he was acting a part, or that his heart was not with the South.
On the morning of his departure from Clarkesville quite a number of soldiers and citizens, who had become attached to him during his brief sojourn with them, accompanied him to the depot, shook him warmly by the hand at parting, and earnestly wished him God-speed. He told them all that he hoped to see them again soon, and waved them a smiling adieu from the platform of the car, as the train whirled him away toward Memphis.
As the train stopped on the east bank of the Tennessee river, and the passengers swarmed out of the cars, Webster noticed a man take the conductor aside and engage in earnest conversation with him for a few moments. This man was a dark-complexioned, sharp-visaged, long-haired individual, clad in civilian's garb, and wearing a broad-brimmed hat. There was an air of mystery about him which attracted more than a passing glance from the scout, and caused the latter to keep an eye on him thereafter.
The passengers were obliged to cross the river in a ferry-boat. The train going south was in waiting on the other side, and its conductor stood on the bank alone, making entries in his memorandum-book. As soon as the boat touched the land the man with the long hair and broad-brimmed hat sprang ashore and approached the conductor, to whom he began to talk in the same hurried, nervous manner that he had done to the one on the other side. As the time for starting approached, the mysterious stranger and the conductor walked toward the train together, conversing excitedly as they went.
"There's something up," thought Webster, as he boarded the train. "Perhaps that fellow is on the look-out for new-comers like myself; but we'll see whether he is sharp enough to catch a weasel asleep."
For the first twenty miles after leaving the Tennessee river, the road lay through an uncultivated region of swamps and heavy timber. At every station along the route uniformed men, heavy guns, car-loads of muskets and ammunition were seen, indicating general and active preparations for war, while the secession flag was flying in the breeze, and the music of fife and drum was frequently borne to the ear. At Humboldt, where the train arrived at four o'clock in the afternoon, they were delayed for some time, and Webster improved the opportunity to look around him and to procure his dinner. The man with the broad-brimmed hat seated himself almost opposite Webster at table, who noticed that his restless, inquisitive eyes were kept busy scrutinizing every face that came within range of his vision. He did not address himself to any one during the progress of the repast, and after hurriedly satisfying his own appetite, he walked out upon the platform of the depot, where he stood intently watching the other passengers as they returned to the train.
Webster, as he crossed the platform, instinctively felt that those searching eyes were riveted upon him as if they would pierce him through, but he did not evince the slightest degree of trepidation or uneasiness under the ordeal. Assuming an air of quiet unconsciousness, he sauntered past the man without seeming to notice him, and entered the smoking-car, coolly lighted a cigar, drew a Nashville newspaper from his pocket, and settled himself to his reading. He saw no more of the mysterious stranger during the remainder of the journey, but on alighting from the train at the Memphis depot, the first object that met his gaze was the wearer of the broad-brimmed hat.
Arriving in Memphis at nine o'clock in the evening, Webster went directly to the Worsham House, where he intended to stay while in the city. While registering his name he observed a military officer in full uniform standing at his elbow, watching him closely as he wrote. Several other new arrivals placed their signatures after Webster, and he then noticed that the officer was engaged in making a copy of names and addresses on a piece of paper.
While watching this proceeding, his attention was distracted by some one hastily entering the hotel office. It was his mysterious fellow-traveler, who, stepping into the center of the room, glanced quickly around, apparently looking for some particular face. The search was evidently successful, for, walking up to one of the men who had just arrived on the train from the North, he tapped him on the shoulder and beckoned him.
After a few moments' conversation, during which the new-comer appeared to be both surprised and frightened, the two left the hotel together and walked up the street arm in arm.
Two citizens who were lounging near the door had been interested spectators of this incident, and Webster heard one of them inquire:
"What does that mean?"
"It means that the stranger is under arrest," replied his companion.
"Under arrest? And who is the man who arrested him?"
"Oh, he is a member of the safety committee."
"But what crime has the stranger committed, that he should thus be taken into custody?"
"Nothing, perhaps; but the fact that he is a stranger from the North, is sufficient to mark him as an object of suspicion."
"Isn't that a little severe?"
"Severe? It's a necessity in these times. For my part, I am in for hanging every Northern man who comes here, unless he can give the most satisfactory proof that he is not a spy."
The rest of the conversation did not reach Webster's ear, and, being much fatigued by his day's journey, he soon retired, to seek that much needed rest which slumber only could afford.
He rose at an early hour in the morning, feeling much refreshed. On entering the dining-room he found it crowded with guests, the majority of whom wore the uniform and shoulder-straps of Confederate officers. The conversation around the table was upon the all-absorbing theme which at that time was uppermost in every mind, and the scout was both amused and edified by what he heard. He did not long remain a silent listener, but taking his cue at the proper moment he entered easily and naturally into the conversation himself, and his pleasing address and intelligent observations commanded at once the respectful attention of those around him.
After breakfast Webster determined to ascertain whether or not he was under the surveillance of the vigilance committee, and he accordingly left the hotel, and wended his way toward the post-office.
He had not proceeded far when he noticed a man who appeared to be following him on the opposite side of the street. Desiring to satisfy himself upon this point he walked on for several blocks, and then dropped into a saloon. Remaining there a sufficient length of time for the man to pass from view, in case he did not stop in his onward course, he emerged from the saloon and retraced his steps toward the hotel. As he did so he noticed the stranger on the other side of the street, dogging him as before. This left no doubt in his mind that he was being shadowed, and he resolved to be guarded in his movements, to refrain from writing any reports or making any notes that could possibly betray him. He returned to the office and bar-room of the Worsham Hotel, and spent an hour or two reading and smoking. While thus occupied, three military officers entered and stood near the bar engaged in animated conversation. Webster sauntered toward them, and heard one of the trio—a man whom the others addressed as "Doctor"—remark emphatically:
"Yes, gentlemen, that is a true principle. It will not do to let a man set foot on Kentucky soil until the Northern troops disregard the neutrality of that State."
Catching the drift of the conversation, Webster stepped forward and said: