Belle Boyd in Camp and Prison

CHAPTER VII

CHAPTER VII THE NORTHERN JOURNALS vied with one another in publishing the most extravagant and improbable accounts of my exploits, as they were pleased to term them, on the battle-field of the 23dMay. One ascribed to "BelleBoyd" the honor of having directed the fire of the Confederate artillery throughout the action; another represented her as having, by the force of her genius, sustained the wavering counsels of the Southern generals; while a third described her as having, sword in hand, led on the whole of the attacking line to the capture of Front Royal; but as I believe that the veracity of the Yankee press is pretty well known and appreciated, I shall give no more extracts from their eloquent pages. At the conclusion of the last chapter, I mentioned that General Shields released me from the arrest under which General Kimball had placed me, upon the report of the ungrateful ci-devant prisoner; and, after a short time, finding no further persecution was resorted to, I thought the opportunity favorable for making an attempt to get south. Meanwhile, General Bankshad returned, and encamped close to the town, making my aunt's house his head-quarters. It was to him, therefore, I applied for permission to depart. "Where do you wish to go?" he asked. "To Louisiana, where my aunt resides." B E L L E BOYD IN C A M P AND P R I S O N 113 "But what will Virginia do without you?" "What do you mean, General?" "We always miss our bravest and most illustrious, and how can your native State do without you?" I laughingly thanked him for the compliment, and he conversed with the utmost good-nature and pleasantry upon the part that I had taken in his recent defeat. Though a rabid Abolitionist, the Generalwas certainly one of the most affable gentlemen I have ever met. Several weeks passed by in peace and quiet, unmarked by any incident worthy of record, and at the expiration of this period, Front Royal was again evacuated by the Federal troops, with the exception of the Third Delaware Infantry, which corps was left in garrison. Their colonel was a very large, coarse man, with the manners and appearance of a butcher rather than of an officer. On the other hand, Major McEnnis and Lieutenant Preston, who officiated severally as Provost and Assistant Provost-Marshal, were upon all occasions not only courteous, but kind, the natural consequence of which behavior was, that they were both highly respected and esteemed by us "rebels." In the court-yard of the General's head-quarters, and at a fewyards only from our cottage, they had pitched a flag-tent, which served the purposes of their office, and here it was that all passes for the South were granted or refused, as the case might be. How many of these were procured upon false pretences and transferred to recruits on their way to join the Southern army, or by whom this ingenious ruse was practised , / shall not here say. I was one morning sitting in the drawing-room, when I noticed two men, dressed as Confederate soldiers, standing near the ProvostMarshal 's tent. At my request, my grandmother sent for the Major, who obeyed her summons without loss of time. We asked him who the men were. He told us they were paroled Confederate soldiers procuring passes to go south. We then asked if they might be permitted to dine with us, and received a ready assent. In the mean time they had disappeared; but one of them shortly reappearing, I accosted him thus: 114 B E L L E BOYD IN C A M P AND P R I S O N "Won't you dine with us? the Major says you may." "With pleasure, if you dine shortly; I have only two or three hours allowed me to get beyond the pickets." "Poor fellow!" said I; "butI am glad that you will soon be free. Won't you take a letter from me to GeneralJackson?" Upon his assenting to this request, I went off towards my own room to write my dispatch; but,as I was passing by the kitchen-door, one of the servants stopped me suddenly, and exclaimed: "Miss Belle! who's dat man yose a-talkin' to?" "I know no more about him than that he is a paroled rebel soldier, going south...