A Curious Experience by Mark Twain

Part I

It was the winter of 1862–63 when I was commandant of Fort Trumbull in New England, which was also a recruiting station. Many different people came to join our Northern Army, but we did not accept some of them because we were afraid of spies from the South.

One day, I was alone in my room doing some writing when a pale and ragged boy of fourteen or fifteen entered and said:

“Do you take recruits here?”

“Yes.”

“Will you please take me, sir?”

“Oh no. You are too young, my boy, and too small.”

He turned sadly to go, then said:

“I have no home and no friend in the world. If you could only take me!”

I told him to sit down and warm himself and added:

“You will have dinner with me, and you will tell me your story.”

At dinner he told me his name was Robert Wicklow. He came from a Southern family in Louisiana, but his father had supported the North and was killed for it. Robert’s mother died soon after, and he was left alone. He decided to join the Northern Army. He asked me to take him as a drummer boy, if not as a soldier. And I agreed.

We placed him with the musicians, and I often met him in the fort.

But one morning Sergeant Rayburn came in and said:

“That new boy, sir, acts very strangely.”

“How?”

“He is always writing.”

“Writing? What does he write — letters?”

“I don’t know, sir, but when he is off duty, he always walks about the fort alone and from time to time takes out his pencil and writes something.”

I did not like that at all. We were always warned about Southern spies, and this boy was from the South.

I told the sergeant to get some of his writings and to watch all the boy’s movements.

The next day, Sergeant Rayburn reported:

“I got some of his writing.”

“How did you get it?”

“I saw him go into the old stable and looked in through the keyhole. I saw him writing at the table. I waited a little, then coughed. He started, took the paper, and threw it into the fire. I entered and sent him on an errand. When he was gone, I got the paper from the fire. It was not yet burnt. Here it is.”

I took the paper and read the following:

“Colonel, I was mistaken last time about the caliber of the guns in the fort; they are all big guns. The garrison remains as before reported. Everyone will remain here un—”

The writing stopped. I looked at Sergeant Rayburn, and he looked at me. The matter was serious. We decided to wait and get more of this writing. We knew Robert never went to the post office, so we had to find out how he sent his writing to the ‘Colonel’.

Part II

The next day, we found another letter in the stable; it continued the first one:

“— till orders are given. The four men here think so. They are new and afraid. I have some very important information and will send it to you soon.”

We decided to find out more, so I gave orders to return the letter to the stable and watch Robert’s movements to learn who the other four men were.

Three days passed without news. Then we found another letter in the stable. On the same day, Sergeant Rayburn and a detective followed Robert when he left the fort, saying he was going for a walk. They followed him to the railway station and waited for the train from New York. Robert stood on the platform, looking at the faces of the people. Soon an old gentleman came out. Robert ran up, put an envelope in his hand, and disappeared into the crowd. The Sergeant snatched the letter from the man’s hand and told the detective to follow him and find out where he lived.

When the Sergeant returned to the fort, we read the third letter found in the stable. It read: “Found last night in the usual gun commands from the Master. Have left in the gun the new information.”

We did not understand how Robert could approach the guns when watched all the time and decided some soldiers must have helped him.

Then we opened the letter taken from the old gentleman. To our surprise, there were two clean sheets of paper. We thought of ‘sympathetic ink’ and held the paper near the fire, but nothing appeared.

Sergeant Rayburn appeared with a piece of string about a meter long with three knots tied in it.

“I found it in one of the guns,” he said. He had looked into all the guns and found the piece of string in one.

I gave orders to arrest every soldier who had been on duty near that gun. I also arrested the old gentleman who had received Robert’s letter.

Next, we learned Robert had given something to two new recruits. They were arrested and searched. Each had a small piece of paper with the words:

After that, I decided to speak to Robert and called him to my room. I asked:

“My boy, why do you write so much?”

He hesitated, then said, “Oh, sir, I amuse myself in that way.”

“What do you do with your writing?”

“Nothing, sir — I throw it away.”

“You never send it to anybody?”

“No, sir.”

I suddenly showed him the two letters addressed to the ‘Colonel’ and the ‘Master’. His face grew pale.

“Who are this Colonel and the Master?”

“I don’t know, sir. It was a joke.”

“A joke! You describe the guns of the fort and the garrison to our enemies and call it a joke! Are these the only letters you wrote?”

“Yes,” he answered, looking down.

“Oh, you liar,” I cried angrily and showed him the other letters and the clean sheets. Seeing the string with three knots, he began to cry.

I told the Sergeant to arrest him. Next morning, I sent for him again.

“Now speak up and stop lying,” I said. He did not speak for a long time. At last he explained everything.

He said he was a great reader of spy stories and detective novels. He lived with his parents on an old farm five miles from our fort. One day, he decided to run away and try life as a soldier in a fort. That is why he came to us with an imaginary story.

Life at the fort was dull, so he amused himself by pretending to be an enemy spy. All his letters were to imaginary persons. No one helped him. The soldiers knew him and allowed him near the guns.

He went to the railway station to play a joke. He handed the envelope with clean sheets to an old man he did not know.

I was very angry, scolded him, and sent him home to his parents. The soldiers and the old man were released, and I apologized for the mistake.

Such was the end of this curious experience.