The Labor enquirer. [volume], December 16, 1882, Page 3, Image 3

About The Labor enquirer. [volume] (Denver, Colo.) 1882-1888

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i ir because
I ; "• '■;* ■ .*t'r hardly fen-
I they were
I i • 111 be abso-
I o in theiy
I . were th«
I it. I ba' G
ft - ' 4 )ortanc-3 to
_ ■ V' it to this
Hgi . < ill. try the
id Webb;
was a spy?
lat—let us
... 3 they are,
i to date,
our midst,
we’ve got
l we don’t
e been in
he simple
s soldiers
ehtlv two
and been
\ lily, there
amber in
very im
d to cora
od’ —will
. " ase, as it
Wicklow
*J '; 1 -shall we
ie letters
ell ? Or
aore°”
| se. We
proceed
. it was
, e likely
iposed
I < ry.
I f be
i ■
FFFFF at 3 o’clock to-morrow morning.
Two hundred will arrive in small parties
by train and otherwise from various di
rections, and will be at appointed place
at right time. I will distribute the sign
to-day. Success is apparently sure, though
something must have got out, for the sen
tries have been doubled, and the chiefs
went the rounds last night several times.
W. W. comes from southerly to-day and
will receive secret orders —by the other
method. All six of you must be in 166
at sharp 2a. m. You will find B. B there,
who will give you detailed instructions.
Password same as last time, only reversed
—put first syllable last and last syllable
first. Remember XXXX. Do not for
get. Be of good heart ; before the next
sun rises you will be heroes; your fame
will pe permanent; you will have added
a deathless page to history. Amen.”
Thunder and Mars,” said Webb, “but
we are getting into mighty hot quarters,
as I look at it!”
I said there was no question but that
things were beginning to wear a most se
rious aspect. Said I:
“A desperate enterprise is on foot, that
is plain enough. To-night is the time
set for it—that, also, is plain. The exact
nature of the enterprise—l mean the
manner of it—is hidden away under
those blind bunches of Ms and Fs
—but the end and aim, I judge, is the
surprise and capture of the post. We
must move quick now. I think
nothing can be gained by pursuing our
clandestine police as regards Wicklow.
W e must know and as soon a possible,
-too, where‘l66' is located, so ihat we can
make a descent upon the gang there at. 2
a. m.; and, doubtless, the quickest way
to get that information will be to force it
out of that boy. But lirst of all, and be
fore we make any important move, 1
must lay the facts before the war depart
ment, and ask for plenary powers.”
The dispatch was prepared in cipher
to go over the wires; 1 read it, approved
it and sent it along.
We presently finished . discussing the
letter which wks under consideration,
and then opened the one which iiad been
snatched from the lame gentleman. It
contained nothing but a couple of per.
fectly blank slieets of note paper. It was
a chilly check to our hot eagerness and
expectancy. W-'e felt as blank as the
paper for a moment, and twice as foolish.
But it was for a moment only; for of
course we immediately afterward thought
of “sympathetic ink.” We held the
paper close to the tire and watched for
the characters to come out under the in
fiuence of the heat, but nothing appeared
but some faint tracings, which we could
make nothing of. We then called in the
surgeon and sent him oft with orders to
apply every test he was acquainted with
till he got the right one, and report the
contents of the letter to me the instant
he brought them to the surface. This
check was a confounded annoyance, and
we naturally chafed under the delay ; for
we had fully expected to get out of that
| letter some of the most important secrets
j of the plot.
Xow appeared Sergeant Rayburn, and
j drew from his pocket: a piece of twine
; string about a foot long, with three knots
j tied in it, and held it up.
“] got it out of a gun on the water
front,” said he. I took the tompions out
of all the guns and examined close : this
j string was the only thing that was in any
j gun."
| So this bit of string was Wicklow’s
“sign” that the "Master’s” commands
had not miscarried. I ordered that-every
sentinel who l*ad served near that gun
during the past twentv-four hours be put
in confinement at once and separately,
and not allowed to communicate with
anyone without my privity and consent.
A telegram now came from the secre
tary of war. It read as follows :
“Suspend habeas corpus. Put town
under martial law. Make necessary ar
j rests. Act with vigor and promptness.
| Keep the department informed.”
We were now in shape to go to work.
: I sent out and had the lame gentleman
! quietly arrested and as quietly brought
j-intu the fort. I placed him under guard
| and forbade speech to him or from him.
lie was inclined to bluster at first, but
he soon dropped that.
Next came word that Wicklow had
been seen to give something’ to a couple
df our new recruits, and that as soon as
j his back was turned these had been
; seized and confined. Ppon each was
found a small bit of paper, bearing these
words and signs in pencil.
Kaoi.e’s Thiki> Flight.
Hem kmbek xxxx.
166.
In accordance with instructions, I tele
graphed to the department, in cipher,
the progress made, and also described
the above ticket. We seemed to be in a
strong enough position now to venture to
throw off the mask as regarded Wick
low ;so I ssnt for him. I also sent for
and recei . a back the letter written in
sympathetic ink. the surgeon accom
panying it with the information that thus
far it had resisted his tests, but there
were others he could apply when I
should be readv for him to do so. • •
-; -7 Y ■: --W?' /.
THE LABOR ENQUIRER.
Presently Wicklow entered. He had a
somewhat worn and anxious look, Joul
he was composed and easy, and if he ex
pected anything it did not appear in his
face or manner. I allowed him to stand
there a moment or two, then I said,
pleasantly:
“My boy, why do you go to that old
stable so much ?”
He answered with simple demeanor
and without embarrassment :
“Well, I hardly know sir ; there isn’t
any particular reason, except that I like
to be alone, and I amuse myself there.”
“You amuse yourself there, do you?”
“Yes, sir,” be replied, as innocenth
and simply as before.
“Is that all you do there ?”
“Yes, sir,” he said, looking up with
cliild-like wonderment in his big soft
eyes.
“You are sure ?”
“Yes, sir, sure.”
After a pause, I said :
“Wicklow, why do you write so
much ?”
“I ? I do not write much, sir.”
“You don’t ?”
“No, sir. If you mean scribbling, Ido
scribble some, for amusement.”
“What do you do with your scrib
blings ?”-
“Nothing sir—throw them away,”
"Never send them to anybody ?”
“No, sir.’’
! suddenly thrust before him the letter
to the “Colonel.” He started slightly,
but immediately composed himself. A
slight tinge spread itself over his cheek.
“How came you to send this piece of
scribbling, then ?”
“I nev-never meant any harm, sir.”
“Never meant any harm I You betray
the armament an 4 condition of the
post, and mean no harm by it;?”
He hung his head and was silent.
"‘Come, speak up and stop lying.
Whom was this letter intended for?”
He showed signs of distress now, but
quickly collected himself, and replied,
in a tone of deep earnestness:
" I will tellyou the truth, sir, the whole
truth. The letter was never intended
for anybody at all. J wrote it. only to
amuse myself. 1 seethe error and fool
ishness of it now,, but, it is the only of
fense, sir, upon my honor.”
Ah. lam glad of that. It is danger
ous to be writing such letters. I hope
you are sure this is the only one you
wrote.”
‘Yes, sir, perfectly sure.”
His hardihood has Stupi tying. He
tokl that lie with as sincere a counte
nance as any creature ever wore. I
waited a moment to soothe down my
rising temper, and then said :
“Wicklow, jog your memory now, and
see if you can’t help me with two or
three little matters which 1 wish to in
quire about.”
“I will do my very best, sir.”
" Then, to begin with, who As the
"Master ’ ?”
It betrayed him into darting a startled
glance at our faces, but that was all. He
was serene again in a moment, and tran
quilly answered:
"" 1 do not know, sir."
“You do not know ?”
"I do not know.”
“You are sure you do not know?”
He tried hard to keep his eyes on
mine, but the strain was too great; his
chin sunk slowly toward his breast and
he was silent; he stood there nervously
fumbling with a button, an object to
command one’s pity, in spite of his base
acts. Presently f broke the stillness
with the question :
"Who are the “Holy Alliance ’ ?”
His body shook visibly, and he made a
slight random gesture with his Lands,
which to me was like the appeal of a
despairing creature for compassion. But
he made no sound. He continued to
stand with his face bent toward the
ground. As we sat gazing at him, wait
ing for him to speak, we saw the big
tears begin to roll down his cheeks. But
lie.remained silent. After a little, I said :
"You must answer me, my hoy —and
you must, tell me the truth. Who are
the ‘Holy Alliance’?”
He wept on in silence. Presently 1
said, somewhat sharply :
“Answer the question."
He struggled to get command of his
voice : and then looking up appealingly,
forced the words out between his sobs :
“Gh, have pity oti me sir. I cannot
answer it, for I do not know.”
“What ?”
“Indeed, sir, iam telling the truth. 1
never have heard of the ‘Holy Alliance’
till this moment. On my honor, sir, this
is so.”
“Good heavens! Look at his second
letter of yours; there, do you see those
words,‘Holy Alliance’? What do you
say now V”
He gazed up into mv face with the
hurt look of one upon whom a great
wrong has been bought, then said, feel
ingly:
“This is some cruel joke, sir; and how
could they play it upon me, who have
tried all I could to do right, and have
never done harm to anybody ? Some
one has counterfeited niy hand; I never
wrote a line of this; I have never seen
this letter before.”
“Oh, you unspeakable liar! Here,
what do you say to this ?”—and I snatch
the sympathetic-ink letter from my
pocket and thrust it before his eyes.
His face turned white! —as white as a
dead person’s. Pie wavered slightly in
his tracks, and put Ills hand against the
wall to steady himself. After a moment
he asked, in so faint a voice that it was
hardly audible:
“Have you—read it ?”
Our faces must have answered the
truth before my lips could get out
false “yes,” for 1 distinctly saw the cour
age come back into that boy’s eyes, I
waited for him to say something, but he
kept silent. So at lajst I said:
“Well, what have you to Say as to the
revelations in this leiter ? ? ’
He answered, with iperfect composure:
“Nothing, except that they are entirely
harmless and innocent; they can hurt
-nobody.”
I was in something of a corner now, as
I couldn’t disprove his assertion. 1 did
not know exactly how to proceed. How
ever, an idea came to my relief, and I
said :
You are sure you know nothing of the
‘Master’ and the ‘Holy Alliance,’and did
not write the letter which you say is a
forgery ?”
“Yes, sir—sure.”
I slowly drew out the knotted twine
string and held it up without speaking.
He gazed at it indifferently, then looked
at me inquiringly. My patience was
sorely taxed. However, I kept my tem
per down, and said in my usual voice :
“Wicklow, do you see this””
“Yes, sir.”
"What is it?”
“ft seems to be a piece of string.”
“Seems? It is a piece of string. Do
you recognize it?”
“No, sir.” he replied as calmly as the
words could be uttered.
Hi§ coolness was perfectly wonderfnl.
I paused now for several seconds, in order
that the silence might add impressive
ness to what I was-jibout to say ; then I
rose and laid my hand on his shoulder
and said, gravely:
“It will do you no good, poor boy,
none in the world. This sign to the
‘Master,’ this knotted string, found in one
of the guns on the water front ”
“Found in the gun ! Oh, no, no, no !
do not say in the gun, but in a crack in
the tompion!—it must have been in the
crack !” and down lie went on his knees
and clasped his hands and lifted up a
face that was pitiful to see, so ashy it was,
and so wild with terror.
“No, it was in the gun.”
“Ob, something has gone wrong! My
* iod, lam lost!” and he sprung up and
darted this way and that, dodging the
hands that were put out to catch him,
and doing his best to escape from the
place. But of course escape was impos
sible. Then he flung himself on his
knees again, crying with all his might,
and clasping me around the legs ; and so
he clung to rap and begged and pleaded,
saying, “Oh, have pity on me ! Oh, be
merciful to me! Do not betray me;
they would not spare my life a moment!
Protect me, save me. I will confess
everything!”
It took us some time to quiet him
and modify his fright, and get ham into
something like a rational frame of mind.
Then I began to question him, he, an
swering humbly,with downcast eyes, and
from time to time swabbing away his
constantly flowing tears.
“So you are at heart a rebel ?”
“Yes, sir.”
"And a spv ?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And have been acting under distinct
orders from the outside ?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Willingly?”
“Yes, sir.” ,
“Gladly, perhaps ?”
“Yes, sir; it would jdo no good to
deny it. The south is my country ; my
heart is southern, and it is all' in her
cause.”
""“Then the tale you told me of yqur
wrongs and the persecution of your
family was made up for the occasion ?”
“They—they told me to say it, sir.”
“And you would betray and destroy
those who pitied and sheltered you. Do
yqu comprehend how base you are, you
poor misguided thing?”
He replied with sobs only.
“Well, let that pass. To business. Who
is the ‘Colonel’ and where is he ?”
He began to cry hard, and tried to beg
otf from answering. He said he would
be killed if he told. I threatened to put
him in the dark cell and lpck him up if
he didn’t come out with the information.
At the same time I promised to protect
him from all harm if he made a clean
breast. For all answer, he closed his
mouth firmly and put on a stubborn air
which I could not bring him <jdt of At
last I started him; but a singlfe glance
into the dark cell converted him. He
broke into a passion of weeping and sup
plicating, and declared he would tell
everything.
So I brought him baojc, and he named
the “Colonel,” and described him par
ticularly. Said he would be found at the
principal hotel in the town, in citizen’s
dress. I had to threaten him again be
fore he would describe the “Master.”
Said the “Master” would be found at No.
15 Bond street, New York, passing under
the name off R. F. Gaylord. I tele
graphed name and description to the
chief of police at the metropolis, ,and
asked that Gaylord be arrested and held
till I could send for him.
“Now,” said I, “it seems that there are
several of the conspirators ‘outside’—
presumably in New London. Name and
describe them.”
He named and described three men
l 7 !
and two women, all stopping at the prin
cipal hotel. I sent out quietly and had
them and the “Colonel” arrested and
confined in the fort. j
“Next, I want to know all about your
three fellow-conspirators who are here in
the fort.” y \
He was about to dodge me with a
falsehood, 1 thought; but I produced the
mysterious bits of paper which.had been
found upon two of them, and this had a
salutary effect upon him. I said we had
possession of two of the men, and he
must point out the third. This fright
ened him badly,and he cried out:
“Oh, please don’t make me—he would
kill me on the spot!”
I said that that was all nonsfejfcgjfeiT ~
would have somebody near by tfenmfe
him, arnDbesides, the men should, "be :
sembiad without arms. I ordered all i
raw m-ruits to be mustered, and tli |
the poor trembling little wretch went > |
and stepped along down the line, try
to look as indifferent as possible. Fins j
he spoke a single word to one of the n j
and before he tigd gone five steps
man was under arrest.
As soon as Wicklow was with ns ai 1
I had those three men brought ir
made one of them stand forward,
said: y
“Now, Wicklow, mind,' not a sh: U
• ' ' (J
divergence from the exact truth,
is this man and,what do you knows
him?” * / i
Being “in for it/’ he cast consjeqjui
aside, fastened' his eyes on the i
face, and spoke straight along wi j /
hesitation, to the following effect;
“His real name is George Bristow
is from New Orleans ; was second
of the coast packet'. Capitol, two
ago; is a desperate' character, anc
served two terms for manslaughter
for killing a deck hand named Ilydt
a capstan bar, and one for killing a|
about for refusing to heave the j
which is no part of a roustabout’;
iness. He is a spy, and was sent hi
the colonel to act in that capacity
tvas third mate of the St. Nicholas,
she blew up in the neighborly
Memphis, in ’6B, and came near ,
lynched for robbing the dead*
wounded while they were being
ashore in an empty woodboat.”
And so forth and so on —he ga
man’s biography in full. When 1
finished J said to the man :
“What ha've you to say to this?”
“Barring your presence, sir, it is
fernalest lie that ever was spoke !”
I sent him back into confinemej
called the others forward in turn,
result. The boy gave a detailed 1
of each, without ever hesitating
word or a fact; but all I could get
either rascal was the indignant ast
that it was all a lie. They would c
nothing. I returned them to cap
and brought out the rest of my pri
one by one. Wicklow told all abopl
—what towns in the south they
from, and every detail of their c(
tion with the conspiracy.
But they all denied his facts, an
one of them confessed a thing. Th<
raged, the women cried. Accordi
their stories, they were all inn
people from out west,and loved the i
above all things in this world. 11<
the gang up in disgust and fell to
chising Wicklow once more.
“Where is No. 166, and who fs B.
But there he was determined to <
the line. Neither coaxing nor tb
had any effect on him. Time was fl
—it was necessary to institute 8.
measures. So I tied him up a-tipto,
the thumbs. As the pain increase
wrung screams from him which \ v
almost more than I could bear. Bu
held my ground, and pretty soon
shrieked out:
“Oh, please let me down, and I
tell!” ’-"V . • -
“No—you’ll tell before I let you dov
Every instant was agony to him, n
so out it came:
“No. 186, Eagle hotel!”—naming
wretched tavern down by the wate.
resort of disreputable men.
~ [Continued on sixth page.] ""f
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