CHAPTER VII. THE LITTLE CAPITAL
Dick was bent down in his saddle, trying to protect himself a littlefrom the driving rain which beat in his eyes and soaked through hisclothing. Warner and Pennington beside him were in the same condition,and he saw just before him the bent back of Colonel Winchester, with hisleft arm raised as a shield for his face. Hoofs and wheels made a heavy,sticky sound as they sank in the mud, and were then pulled out again.
"Do you see any signs of daylight, Dick?" asked Pennington.
"Not a sign. I see only a part of our regiment, trees on either side ofus bending before the wind, and rain, and mud, mud everywhere. I'll beglad when it's over."
"So will I," said Warner. "I wonder what kind of hotels they have inJackson. I'd like to have a bath, good room and a big breakfast."
"The Johnnies are holding breakfast for you," said Pennington. "Theirfirst course is gunpowder, their second bullets, their third shells andshrapnel, and their fourth bayonets."
"They'll have to serve a lot at every course," said Dick, "becauseGeneral Grant is advancing with fifty thousand men, and so many need alot of satisfying."
The storm increased in violence. The rain, falling in a deluge, wasdriven by a wind like a hurricane. The horses strove to turn their headsfrom it, and confusion arose among the cavalry. The infantry mixedin the mud swore heavily. Staff officers had the utmost difficulty inkeeping the regiments together. It was time for the sun, but it did notappear. Everything was veiled in clouds and driving rain.
Dick looked at his watch, and saw that it was seven o'clock. They hadintended to attack at this hour, but further advance was impossiblefor the time, and, bending their heads, they sought to protect theirammunition. Presently they started again and toiled along slowly andpainfully for more than two hours. Then, just as they saw the enemyahead of them, the storm seemed to reach the very zenith of its fury.
Dick, in the vanguard, beheld earthworks, cannon and troops beforeJackson, but the storm still drove so hard that the Union forces couldnot advance to the assault.
"This is certainly a most unusual situation," said Colonel Winchester,with an effort at cheerfulness. "Here we are, ready to attack, and theSoutherners are ready to defend, but a storm holds us both fast in ourtracks. Our duty to protect our cartridges is even greater than our dutyto attack the enemy."
"The biggest rain must come to an end," said Dick.
But it was nearly noon before they could advance. Then, as the stormdecreased rapidly the trumpets sounded the charge, and horse, foot andartillery, they pressed forward eagerly through the mud.
The sun broke through the clouds, and Dick saw before them a wood, aravine full of thickets, and the road commanded by strong artillery.The Northern skirmishers were already stealing forward through the wetbushes and grass, and soon their rifles were crackling. But the Southernsharpshooters in the thickets were in stronger force, and their rapidand accurate fire drove back the Northern men. Then their artilleryopened and swept the road, while the Northern batteries were makingfrantic efforts to get up through the deep, sticky mud.
But the trumpets were still calling. The Winchester regiment and others,eager for battle and victory, swept forward. Dick felt once more thefierce thrill of combat, and, waving his revolver high above his head,he shouted with the others as they rushed on. The stream of bullets fromthe ravine thickened, and the cannon were crashing fast. But the Unionmasses did not check their rush for an instant. Although many fell theycharged into the ravine, driving out the enemy, and pursued him on theother side.
But the Southern cannon, manned by daring gunners, still held the fieldand, aided by the thick mud which held back charging feet, they repulsedevery attack. The Winchester regiment was forced to cover, and then Dickheard the booming of cannon in another direction. He knew that Grant andSherman were coming up there, and he expected they would rush at onceinto Jackson, but it was a long time before the distant thunder came anynearer.
Johnston, whose astuteness they feared, was proving himself worthy oftheir opinion. Knowing that his forces were far too small to defendJackson, he had sent away the archives of the state and most of thearmy. Only a small force and seventeen cannon were left to fight andcover his retreat. But so bold and skillful were they that it was farbeyond noon before Grant and Sherman found that practically nothing wasin front of them.
But where Dick and his comrades rode the fighting was severe for awhile. Then everything seemed to melt away before them. The fire of theSouthern cannon ceased suddenly, and Colonel Winchester exclaimed thattheir works had been abandoned. They charged forward, seized the cannon,and now rode without resistance into the capital of the state, fromwhich the President of the Confederacy hailed, though by birth aKentuckian.
Dick and his comrades were among the first to enter the town, and notuntil then did they know that Johnston and all but a few hundreds of hisarmy were gone.
"We've got the shell only," Dick said.
"Still we've struck a blow by taking the capital of the state," saidColonel Winchester.
Dick looked with much curiosity at the little city into which they wereriding as conquerors. It was too small and new to be imposing. Yet therewere some handsome houses, standing back on large lawns, and surroundedby foliage. The doors and shutters of all of them were closed tightly.Dick knew that their owners had gone away or were sitting, hearts fullof bitterness, in their sealed houses.
The streets were deep in mud, and at the corners little knots of negroesgathered and looked at them curiously.
"They don't seem to welcome us as deliverers," said Warner.
"They don't yet know what to think of us," said Dick. "There's theCapitol ahead of us, and some of our troops are going into it."
"Others have gone into it already," said Pennington. "Look!"
They saw the flag of the Union break out above its dome, the beautifulstars and stripes, waving gently in the light breeze. A spontaneouscheer burst from the Union soldiers, and the bitter hearts in the sealedhouses grew more bitter.
The army was now pouring in by every road and Colonel Winchester and hisstaff sought quarters. They were on the verge of exhaustion. All theirclothing was wet and they were discolored with mud. They felt that theywere bound to have rest and cleanliness.
The victorious troops were making their camp, wherever they could finddry ground, and soon they were building the fires for cooking. But manyof the officers were assigned to the residences, and Colonel Winchesterand his staff were directed by the general to take quarters in a largecolonial house, standing on a broad lawn, amid the finest magnolias andlive oaks that Dick had ever seen.
Remembering an earlier experience during the Shiloh campaign ColonelWinchester and his young officers approached the house with somereluctance. In ordinary times it must have been brilliant with life. Twolittle fountains were playing on either side of the graveled walk thatled to the front door. After the old fashion, three or four marblestatues stood in the shrubbery. Everything indicated wealth. Probablythe town house of a great planter, reflected Dick. In Mississippi a mansometimes owned as many as a thousand slaves, and lived like a prince.
The house offered them no welcome. Its doors and windows were closed,but Dick had seen thin smoke rising from a chimney in the rear. Heexpected that they would have to force the door, but at the first knockit was thrown open by a tall, thin woman of middle years. The look shegave them was full of bitter hatred--Dick sometimes thought thatwomen could hate better than men--but her manner and bearing showeddistinction. He, as well as his comrades, took her to be the lady of thehouse.
"We ask your pardon, madame, for this intrusion," said ColonelWinchester, "but we are compelled to occupy your house a while. Wepromise you as little trouble as possible."
"We ask no consideration of any kind from men who have come to despoilour country and ruin its people," she said icily.
Colonel Winchester flushed.
"But madame," he protested, "we do not come to destroy."
Dick started.
"Does this house belong to Colonel John Woodville?" he asked.
"It does not," she replied crisply, "but it belongs to his elderbrother, Charles Woodville, who is also a colonel, and who is my father.What do you know of Colonel John Woodville?"
"I met his son once," replied Dick briefly.
She glanced at him sharply. Dick thought for a moment that he saw alarmin her look, but he concluded that it was only anger.
They stood confronting each other, the little group of officers and thewoman, and Colonel Winchester, embarrassed, but knowing that he must dosomething, went forward and pushed back a door opening into the hall.Dick automatically followed him, and then stepped back, startled.
A roar like that of a lion met them. An old man, with a high, bald andextremely red forehead lay in a huge bed by a window. It was a greathead, and eyes, set deep, blazed under thick, white lashes. His body wascovered to the chin.
Dick saw that the man's anger was that of the caged wild beast, andthere was something splendid and terrible about it.
"You infernal Yankees!" he cried, and his voice again rumbled like thatof a lion.
"Colonel Charles Woodville, I presume?" said Colonel Winchesterpolitely.
"Yes, Colonel Charles Woodville," thundered the man, "fastened herein bed by a bullet from one of your cursed vessels in the Mississippi,while you rob and destroy!"
And then he began to curse. He drew one hand from under the cover andshook his clenched fist at them in a kind of rhythmic beat while theoaths poured forth. To Dick it was not common swearing. There wasnothing coarse and vulgar about it. It was denunciation, malediction,fulmination, anathema. It had a certain majesty and dignity. Itsrichness and variety were unequaled, and it was hurled forth by a voicedeep, powerful and enduring.
Dick listened with amazement and then admiration. He had never heard itslike, nor did he feel any offense. The daughter, too, stood by,pursing her prim lips, and evidently approving. Colonel Winchester wasmotionless like a statue, while the infuriated man shook his fist at himand launched imprecations. But his face had turned white and Dick sawthat he was fiercely angry.
When the old man ceased at last from exhaustion Colonel Winchester saidquietly:
"If you had spoken to me in the proper manner we might have gone awayand found quarters elsewhere. But we intend to stay here and we willrepay your abuse with good manners."
Dick saw the daughter flush, but the old man said:
"Then it will be the first time that good manners were ever brought fromthe country north of the Mason and Dixon line."
Colonel Winchester flushed in his turn, but made no direct reply.
"If you will assign us rooms, Miss Woodville," he said, "we will goto them, otherwise we'll find them for ourselves, which may be lessconvenient for you. I repeat that we desire to give you as littletrouble as possible."
"Do so, Margaret," interrupted Colonel Woodville, "because then I mayget rid of them all the sooner."
Colonel Winchester bowed and turned toward the door. Miss Woodville,obedient to the command of her father, led the way. Dick was the last togo out, and he said to the old lion who lay wounded in the bed:
"Colonel Woodville, I've met your nephew, Victor."
He did not notice that the old man whitened and that the hand now lyingupon the cover clenched suddenly.
"You have?" growled Colonel Woodville, "and how does it happen that youand my nephew have anything in common?"
"I could scarcely put it that way," replied Dick, refusing to beangered, "unless you call an encounter with fists something in common.He and I had a great fight at his father's plantation of Bellevue."
"He might have been in a better business, taking part in a common brawlwith a common Yankee."
"But, sir, while I may be common, I'm not a Yankee. I was born and grewup south of the Ohio River in Kentucky."
"Then you're a traitor. All you Kentuckians ought to be fighting withus."
"Difference of opinion, but I hope your nephew is well."
The deep eyes under the thick white thatch glared in a manner that Dickconsidered wholly unnecessary. But Colonel Woodville made no reply,merely turning his face to the wall as if he were weary.
Dick hurried into the hall, closing the door gently behind him. Theothers, not missing him, were already some yards away, and he quicklyrejoined Pennington and Warner. The younger men would have been gladto leave the house, but Colonel Winchester's blood was up, and he wasresolved to stay. The little party was eight in number, and they weresoon quartered in four rooms on the lower floor. Miss Woodville promptlydisappeared, and one of the camp cooks arrived with supplies, which hetook to the kitchen.
Dick and Warner were in one of the rooms, and, removing their beltsand coats, they made themselves easy. It was a large bedroom with highceilings and wicker furniture. There were several good paintings on thewalls and a bookcase contained Walter Scott's novels and many of theeighteenth century classics.
"I think this must have been a guest chamber," said Dick, "but for uscoming from the rain and mud it's a real palace."
"Then it's fulfilling its true function," said Warner, "because it hasguests now. What a strange household! Did you ever see such a pepperypair as that swearing old colonel and his acid daughter?"
"I don't know that I blame them. I think, sometimes, George, thatyou New Englanders are the most selfish of people. You're too trulyrighteous. You're always denouncing the faults of others, but you neversee any of your own. Away back in the Revolution when Boston called,the Southern provinces came to her help, but Boston and New England havespent a large part of their time since then denouncing the South."
"What's struck you, Dick? Are you weakening in the good cause?"
"Not for a moment. But suppose Mississippi troops walked into yourown father's house in Vermont, and, as conquerors, demanded food andshelter! Would you rejoice over them, and ask them why they hadn't comesooner?"
"I suppose not, Dick. But, stop it, and come back to your normaltemperature. I won't quarrel with you."
"I won't give you a chance, George. I'm through. But remember that whileI'm red hot for the Union, I was born south of the Ohio River myself,and I have lots of sympathy for the people against whom I'm fighting."
"For the matter of that, so've I, Dick, and I was born north of theOhio River. But I'm getting tremendously hungry. I hope that cook willhurry."
They were called soon, and eight officers sat at the table. The cookhimself served them. Miss Woodville had vanished, and not a servant wasvisible about the great house. Despite their hunger and the good qualityof the food the group felt constraint. The feeling that they wereintruders, in a sense brigands, was forced upon them. Dick was surethat the old man with the great bald head was swearing fiercely andincessantly under his breath.
The dining-room was a large and splendid apartment, and the silver stilllay upon the great mahogany sideboard. The little city, now the campof an overwhelming army, had settled into silence, and the twilight wascoming.
With the chill of unwelcome still upon them the officers said little.As the twilight deepened Warner lighted several candles. The silverglittered under the flame. Colonel Winchester presently ordered the cookto take a plate of the most delicate food to Colonel Woodville.
As the cook withdrew on his mission he left open the door of thedining-room and they heard the sound of a voice, uplifted in athunderous roar. The cook hurried back, the untouched plate in his handand his face a little pale.
"He cursed me, sir," he said to Colonel Winchester. "I was never cursedso before by anybody. He said he would not touch the food. He was surethat it had been poisoned by the Yankees, and even if it were not he'drather die than accept anything from their hands."
Colonel Winchester laughed rather awkwardly.
"At any rate,
we've tendered our good offices," he said. "I suppose hisdaughter will attend to his wants, and we'll not expose ourselves tofurther insults."
But the refusal had affected the spirits of them all, and as soon astheir hunger was satisfied they withdrew. The soldier who had acted ascook was directed to put the dining-room back in order and then he mightsleep in a room near the kitchen.
Dick and Warner returned to their own apartment. Neither had much tosay, and Warner, lying down on the bed, was soon fast asleep. Dicksat by the window. The town was now almost lost in the obscurity. Theexhausted army slept, and the occasional glitter from the bayonet of asentinel was almost the only thing that told of its presence.
Dick was troubled. In spite of will and reason, his conscience hurthim. Theory was beautiful, but it was often shivered by practice. Hissympathies were strongly with the old colonel who had cursed him soviolently and the grim old maid who had given them only harsh words.Besides, he had pleasant memories of Victor Woodville, and these werehis uncle and cousin.
He sat for a long time at the window. The house was absolutely quiet,and he was sure that everybody was asleep. There could be no doubt aboutWarner, because he slumbered audibly. But Dick was still wide awake.There was some tension of mind or muscle that kept sleep far from him.So he remained at the window, casting up the events of the day and thosethat might come.
The evening was well advanced when he was quite sure that he heard alight step in the hall. He would have paid little attention to it at anordinary time, but, in all that silence and desolation, it calledhim like a drum-beat. Only a light step, and yet it filled him withsuspicion and alarm. He was in the heart of a great and victoriousUnion army, but at the moment he felt that anything could happen in thisstrange house.
Slipping his pistol from his belt, he opened the door on noiselesshinges and stepped into the hall. A figure was disappearing in its dimspace, but, as he saw clearly, it was that of a woman. He was sure thatit was Miss Woodville and he stepped forward. He had no intentionof following her, but his foot creaked on the floor, and, stoppinginstantly, she faced about. Then he saw that she carried a tray of food.
"Are we to have our house occupied and to be spied upon also?" sheasked.
Dick flushed. Few people had ever spoken to him in such a manner, and itwas hard to remember that she was a woman.
"I heard a footstep in the hall, and it was my duty to see who waspassing," he said.
"I have prepared food and I am taking it to my father. He would notaccept it from Yankee hands."
"Colonel Woodville sups late. I should think a wounded man would beasleep at this hour, if he could."
She gave him a glance full of venom.
"What does it matter?" she said.
Dick refused to be insulted.
"Let me take the tray for you," he said, "at least to the door. Yourfather need not know that my hands have touched it."
She shrank back and her eyes blazed.
"Let us alone!" she exclaimed. "Go back to your room! Isn't itsufficient that this house shelters you?"
She seemed to Dick to show a heat and hate out of all proportion to theoccasion, but he did not repeat the offer.
"I meant well," he said, "but, since you do not care for my help, I'llreturn to my room and go to sleep. Believe me, I'm sincere when I say Ihope your father will recover quickly from his wound."
"He will," she replied briefly.
Dick bowed with politeness and turned toward his own room. Neverthelesshis curiosity did not keep him from standing a moment or two in the darkagainst the wall and looking back at the woman who bore the tray.He drew a long breath of astonishment when he saw her pass ColonelWoodville's door, and hurry forward now with footsteps that made nosound.
The suspicion which had lain deep in his mind sprang at once into life.Keeping close to the wall, he followed swiftly and saw her disappear upa stairway. There he let the pursuit end and returned thoughtfully tohis room.
Dick was much troubled. An ethical question had presented itself to him.He believed that he had divined everything. The solution had come to himwith such suddenness and force that he was as fully convinced as if hehad seen with his own eyes. Military duty demanded that he invade thesecond floor of the Woodville house. But there were feelings of humanityand mercy, moral issues not less powerful than military duty, and maybemore so.
He was pulled back and forth with great mental violence. He was sorrythat he had seen Miss Woodville with the tray. And then he wasn't.Nevertheless, he stayed in his own room, and Warner, waking for amoment, regarded him with wonder as he sat outlined against the windowwhich they had left unshuttered and opened to admit air.
"What's the matter, Dick? Have you got a fever?" he asked. "Why haven'tyou gone to bed?"
"I'm going to do so right away. Don't bother yourself about me, George.My nerves have been strained pretty hard, and I had to wait until theywere quiet until I could go to sleep."
"Don't have nerves," said Warner, as he turned back on his side andreturned to slumber.
Dick undressed and got into bed. It was the first time in many nightsthat he had not slept in his clothes, and beds had been unknown for manyweeks. It was a luxury so penetrating and powerful that it affectedhim like an opiate. Such questions as military and moral duty floatedswiftly away, and he slept the sleep of youth and a good heart.
Breakfast was almost a repetition of supper. The army cook prepared andserved it, and the Woodvilles remained invisible. Colonel Winchesterinformed the young officers that they would remain in Jackson two orthree days, and then great events might be expected. All felt surethat he was predicting aright. Pemberton must be approaching with theVicksburg army. The wary and skillful Johnston had another army, and hecould not be far away. Moreover, this was the heart of the Confederacyand other unknown forces might be gathering.
They felt the greatness of the hour, Grant's daring stroke, and thepossibility that he might yet be surrounded and overwhelmed. Their mindswere attuned, too, to other and yet mightier deeds, but they were glad,nevertheless, of a little rest. The Woodville house was a splendidplace, and in the morning they did not feel so much the chill ofembarrassment that had been created for them the night before.
Dick went straight to the room of Colonel Woodville, opened the doorwithout knocking, and closed it behind him quickly but noiselessly.
The colonel was propped up in his bed and a tray bearing light anddelicate food lay on a chair. His daughter stood beside the bed,speechless with anger at this intrusion. Dick lifted his hand, and thelook upon his face checked one of the mightiest oaths that had everwelled up from the throat of Colonel Charles Woodville, king ofswearers.
"Stop!" said Dick in a voice not loud, but sharp with command.
"Can't we at least have privacy in the room of an old and wounded man?"asked Miss Woodville.
"You can hereafter," replied Dick quietly. "I shall not come again, butI tell you now to get him out of the house to-night, unless he's toobadly hurt to be moved."
"Why should my father be taken away?" demanded Miss Woodville.
"I'm not speaking of your father."
"Of whom, then?"
Dick did not answer, but he met her gaze steadily, and her face fell.Then he turned, walked out of the room without a word, and again closedthe door behind him. When he went out on the piazza he saw excitementamong his comrades. The moment for great action was coming even soonerthan Colonel Winchester had expected.
"Johnston is communicating with Pemberton," said Warner, "and he hasordered Pemberton to unite with him. Then they will attack us. He sentthe same order by three messengers, but one of them was in reality aspy of ours, and he came straight to General Grant with it. We'reforewarned, and the trap can't shut down on us, because General Grantmeans to go at once for Pemberton."
Dick understood the situation, which was both critical and thrilling.Grant was still in the heart of the Confederacy, and its forces wereconverging fast upon him. But the grim and silent man, ins
tead of merelytrying to escape, intended to strike a blow that would make escapeunnecessary. All the young officers saw the plan and their heartsleaped.
Dick, in the excitement of the day, forgot about the Woodville houseand its inmates. Troops were already marching out of Jackson to meet theenemy, but the Winchester regiment would not leave until early the nextmorning. They were to spend a second night, or at least a part of it, inColonel Woodville's house.
It was the same group that ate supper there and the same army cookserved them. They did not go to the bedrooms afterward, but strolledabout, belted, expecting to receive the marching call at any moment.
Dick went into the library, where a single candle burned, and while hewas there Miss Woodville appeared at the door and beckoned to him. Shehad abated her severity of manner so much that he was astonished, but hefollowed without a word.
She saw that the hall was clear and then she led quickly into herfather's room. Colonel Woodville was propped up against the pillows, andthere was color in his face.
"Young man," he said, "come here. You can afford to obey me, althoughI'm a prisoner, because I'm so much older than you are. You have a heartand breeding, young sir, and I wish to shake your hand."
He thrust a large hand from the cover, and Dick shook it warmly.
"I wouldn't have shaken it if you had been born north of the OhioRiver," said Colonel Woodville.
Dick laughed.
"My chief purpose in having you brought here," said Colonel Woodville,"was to relate to you an incident, of which I heard once. Did I readabout it, or was it told to me, Margaret?"
"I think, sir, that some one told you of it."
"Ah, well, it doesn't matter. A few words will tell it. In an old,forgotten war a young soldier quartered in the house of his defeatedenemy--but defeated only for the time, remember--saw something whichmade him believe that a wounded nephew of the house was hid in an upperroom. But he was generous and he did not search further. The secondnight, while the young officer and his comrades were at supper, thenephew, who was not hurt badly, was slipped out of the house and escapedfrom the city in the darkness. It's not apropos of anything, and I don'tknow why I'm relating it to you, but I suppose this terrible war we arefighting is responsible for an old man's whim."
"I've found it very interesting, sir," said Dick, "and I think it'srelevant, because it shows that even in war men may remain Christianhuman beings."
"Perhaps you're right, and I trust, young sir, that you will not bekilled in this defeat to which you are surely marching."
Dick bowed to both, and left them to their fears and hopes. The glow wasstill about his heart when he rode forth with the Winchester regimentafter midnight. But, owing to the need of horses for the regularcavalry, it had become an infantry regiment once more. Only the officersrode.
At dawn they were with Grant approaching a ridge called Champion Hill.
The Rock of Chickamauga: A Story of the Western Crisis Page 9
