CHAPTER LVI
WITH HIS OWN SWORD
"What a most wonderful letter!" cried the Major, when, after severalcareful perusals, I thought it my duty to show it to him. "He calls mea 'worthy old fool,' does he? Well, I call him something a great dealworse--an unworthy skulk, a lunatic, a subverter of rank, and a Radical!And because he was a bastard, is the whole world base? And to come andlive like that in a house of mine, and pay me no rent, and never evenlet me see him! Your grandfather was quite right, my dear, in giving himthe cold shoulder. Of course you won't pay him a farthing."
"You forget that he is dead," I answered, "and his poor mother with him.At least he behaved well to his mother. You called him a hero--when youknew not who he was. Poor fellow, he is dead! And, in spite of all, Ican not help being very sorry for him."
"Yes, I dare say. Women always are. But you must show a littlecommon-sense, Erema. Your grandfather seems to have had too much, andyour father far too little. We must keep this matter quiet. Neither theman nor the woman must we know, or a nice stir we shall have in all thecounty papers. There must be an inquest, of course, upon them both; butnone of the fellows read this direction, for the admirable reason thatthey can not read. Our coming forward could do no good, and just nowBruntsea has other things to think of; and, first and foremost, my ruin,as they say."
"Please not to talk of that," I exclaimed. "I can raise any quantity ofmoney now, and you shall have it without paying interest. You wanted thecourse of the river restored, and now you have more--you have got thevery sea. You could float the Bridal Veil itself, I do believe, atBruntsea."
"You have suggested a fine idea," the Major exclaimed, with emphasis."You certainly should have been an engineer. It is a thousand timeseasier--as every body knows--to keep water in than to keep it out.Having burst my barricade, the sea shall stop inside and pay for it. Farless capital will be required. By Jove, what a fool I must have beennot to see the hand of Providence in all this! Mary, can you spare me aminute, my dear? The noblest idea has occurred to me. Well, never mind,if you are busy; perhaps I had better not state it crudely, though itis not true that it happens every hour. I shall turn it over in my mindthroughout the evening service. I mean to be there, just to let themsee. They think that I am crushed, of course. They will see theirmistake; and, Erema, you may come. The gale is over, and the eveningbright. You sit by the fire, Mary, my dear; I shall not let you outagain; keep the silver kettle boiling. In church I always think moreclearly than where people talk so much. But when I come home I requiresomething. I see, I see. Instead of an idle, fashionable lounging-placefor nincompoops from London, instead of flirtation and novel-reading,vulgarity, show, and indecent attire, and positively immoral bathing,we will now have industry, commerce, wealth, triumph of mechanism, loftyenterprise, and international good-will. A harbor has been the greatwant of this coast; see what a thing it is at Newport! We will now havea harbor and floating docks, without any muddy, malarious river--allblue water from the sea; and our fine cliff range shall be studded withgood houses. And the whole shall be called 'Erema-port.'"
Well, Erema must be getting very near her port, although it was not atBruntsea. Enough for this excellent man and that still more excellentwoman that there they are, as busy and as happy as the day islong--which imposes some limit upon happiness, perhaps, inasmuch as tothe busy every day is short. But Mrs. Hockin, though as full of fowls asever, gets no White Sultans nor any other rarity now from Sir MontagueHockin. That gentleman still is alive--so far, at least, as we haveheard of; but no people owning any self-respect ever deal with him, totheir knowledge. He gambled away all his father's estates, and theMajor bought the last of them for his youngest son, a very noble CaptainHockin (according to his mother's judgment), whom I never had the honorof seeing. Sir Montague lives in a sad plight somewhere, and his cousinstill hopes that he may turn honest.
But as to myself and far greater persons, still there are a few wordsto be said. As soon as all necessary things were done at Bruntsea and atCastlewood, and my father's memory cleared from all stain, and by simpletruth ennobled, in a manner strictly legal and consistent withheavy expenses, myself having made a long deposition and receivedcongratulations--as soon as it was possible, I left them all, and setsail for America.
The rashness of such a plan it is more easy for one to establish thantwo to deny. But what was there in it of peril or of enterprise comparedwith what I had been through already? I could not keep myself now fromgoing, and reasoned but little about it.
Meanwhile there had been no further tidings of Colonel Gundry or Firm,or even Martin of the Mill himself. But one thing I did which showedsome little foresight. As soon as my mind was made up, and long beforeever I could get away, I wrote to Martin Clogfast, telling him of myintention, and begging him, if he had any idea of the armies, or theSawyer, or even Firm, or any thing whatever of interest, to write(without losing a day) to me, directing his letter to a house in NewYork whose address Major Hockin gave me.
So many things had to be done, and I listened so foolishly to the Major(who did his very best to stop me), that it came to be May, 1862 (nearlyfour years after my father's death), before I could settle all my plansand start. For every body said that I was much too young to take sucha journey all by myself, and "what every body says must be right,"whenever there is no exception to prove the rule. "Aunt Marys" are notto be found every day, nor even Major Hockins; and this again helpedto throw me back in getting away from England. And but for his vastengineering ideas, and another slight touch of rheumatic gout (broughtupon herself by Mrs. Hockin through setting seven hens in one evening),the Major himself might have come with me, "to observe the new militarytactics," as well as to look for his cousin Sampson.
In recounting this I seem to be as long as the thing itself was inaccomplishing. But at last it was done, and most kindly was I offeredthe very thing to suit me--permission to join the party of a well-knownBritish officer, Colonel Cheriton, of the Engineers. This gentleman,being of the highest repute as a writer upon military subjects,had leave from the Federal government to observe the course of thistremendous war. And perhaps he will publish some day what seems asyet to be wholly wanting--a calm and impartial narrative of thatunparalleled conflict. At any rate, he meant to spare no trouble in amatter so instructive, and he took his wife and two daughters--very nicegirls, who did me a world of good--to establish them in Washington, orwherever the case might require.
Lucky as this was for me, I could not leave my dear and faithful friendswithout deep sorrow; but we all agreed that it should be only for a verylittle time. We landed first at New York, and there I found two lettersfrom Martin of the Mill. In the first he grumbled much, and told me thatnothing was yet known about Uncle Sam; in the second he grumbled (ifpossible) more, but gave me some important news. To wit, he had receiveda few lines from the Sawyer, who had failed as yet to find his grandson,and sadly lamented the misery he saw, and the shocking destruction ofGod's good works. He said that he could not bring himself to fight (evenif he were young enough) against his own dear countrymen, one of whomwas his own grandson; at the same time he felt that they must be putdown for trying to have things too much their own way. About slavery, hehad seen too much of niggers to take them at all for his equals, and nowhite man with any self-respect would desire to be their brother. Thechildren of Ham were put down at the bottom, as their noses and theirlips pronounced, according to Divine revelation; and for sons of Japhethto break up the noblest nation in the world, on their account, waslike rushing in to inherit their curse. As sure as his name was SampsonGundry, those who had done it would get the worst, though as yet theywere doing wonders. And there could be no doubt about one thing--whichparty it was that began it. But come what would of it, here he was; andnever would Saw-mills see him again unless he brought Firm Gundry. Buthe wanted news of poor Miss 'Rema; and if any came to the house, theymust please to send it to the care of Colonel Baker, headquarters of theArmy of the Potomac.
This was
the very thing I wished to know, and I saw now how stupid Imust have been not to have thought of it long ago. For Colonel Bakerwas, to my knowledge, an ancient friend of Uncle Sam, and had joined thenational army at the very outbreak of the war. Well known not only inCalifornia, but throughout the States, for gallantry and conduct, thisofficer had been a great accession to the Federal cause, when so manywavered, and so he was appointed to a good command. But, alas! when Itold Colonel Cheriton my news, I learned from him (who had carefullywatched all the incidents of the struggle) that Uncle Sam's noble friendhad fallen in the battle of Ball's Bluff, while charging at the head ofhis regiment.
Still, there was hope that some of the officers might know where to findUncle Sam, who was not at all a man to be mislaid; and being allowedto accompany my English friends, I went on to Washington. We foundthat city in a highly nervous state, and from time to time ready to becaptured. General Jackson was almost at the gates, and the Presidentevery day was calling out for men. The Army of Virginia had been beatenback to intrenchments before the capital, and General Lee was invadingMaryland. Battle followed battle, thick as blows upon a threshing-floor,and though we were always said to be victorious, the enemy seemednone the more to run away. In this confusion, what chance had I ofdiscovering even the Sawyer?
Colonel Cheriton (who must have found me a dreadful thorn in the flankof his strategy) missed no opportunity of inquiry, as he went from onevalley to another. For the war seemed to run along the course of rivers,though it also passed through the forests and lakes, and went up intothe mountains. Our wonderfully clever and kind member of the Britisharmy was delighted with the movements of General Lee, who alone showedscientific elegance in slaying his fellow-countrymen; and the worst ofit was that instead of going after my dear Uncle Sam, Colonel Cheritonwas always rushing about with maps, plans, and telescopes, to follow thetracery of Lee's campaign. To treat of such matters is far beyond me,as I am most thankful to confess. Neither will I dare to be sorry for agreat man doing what became his duty. My only complaint against him isthat he kept us in a continual fright.
However, this went by, and so did many other things, though heavilyladen with grief and death; and the one thing we learned was todisbelieve ninety-nine out of every hundred. Letters for the Sawyer weredispatched by me to every likely place for him, and advertisements putinto countless newspapers, but none of them seemed to go near him. Oldas he was, he avoided feather-beds, and roamed like a true Californian.But at last I found him, in a sad, sad way.
It was after the battle of Chancellorsville, and our army had beendriven back across the Rappahannock. "Our army," I call it, because(although we belonged to neither party) fortune had brought us intocontact with these, and knowing more about them, we were bound to taketheir side. And not only that, but to me it appeared altogether beyondcontroversy that a man of large mind and long experience (such as UncleSam had) should know much better than his grandson which cause was theone to fight for. At the same time Firm was not at all to be condemned.And if it was true, as Martin Clogfast said, that trouble of mind at myabsence had driven him into a prejudiced view, nothing could possibly bemore ungracious than for me to make light of his judgment.
Being twenty years old by this time, I was wiser than I used to be, andnow made a practice of thinking twice before rushing into peril, as Iused to do in California, and to some extent also in England. For thoughmy adventures might not have been as strange as many I myself have heardof (especially from Suan Isco), nevertheless they had comprised enoughof teaching and suffering also to make me careful about having any more.And so for a long time I kept at the furthest distance possible, insuch a war, from the vexing of the air with cannons, till even ColonelCheriton's daughters--perfectly soft and peaceful girls--began todespise me as a coward. Knowing what I had been through, I indulgedtheir young opinions.
Therefore they were the more startled when I set forth under a suddenimpulse, or perhaps impatience, for a town very near the head-quartersof the defeated General Hooker. As they were so brave, I asked themwhether they would come with me; but although their father was known tobe there, they turned pale at the thought of it. This pleased me, andmade me more resolute to go; and in three days' time I was at Falmouth,a town on our side of the Rappahannock.
Here I saw most miserable sights that made me ashamed of all triflingfear. When hundreds and thousands of gallant men were dying in crippledagony, who or what was I to make any fuss about my paltry self? Clumsyas I was, some kind and noble ladies taught me how to give help amongthe sufferers.
At first I cried so at every body's pain, while asking why ever theyshould have it, that I did some good by putting them up to bear itrather than distress me so. And when I began to command myself (ascustom soon enabled me), I did some little good again by showing themhow I cared for them. Their poor weak eyes, perhaps never expectingto see a nice thing in the world again, used to follow me about with afaint, slow roll, and a feeble spark of jealousy.
That I should have had such a chance of doing good, onefold to othersand a thousandfold to self, at this turn of life, when I was full oflittle me, is another of the many most clear indications of a kind handover me. Every day there was better than a year of ordinary life inbreaking the mind from its little selfish turns, and opening the heartto a larger power. And all this discipline was needed.
For one afternoon, when we all were tired, with great heat upon ussuddenly, and the flies beginning to be dreadful, our chief being ratherunwell and fast asleep, the surgeons away, and our beds as full as theycould be, I was called down to reason with an applicant who would takeno denial. "A rough man, a very rough old man, and in a most terriblestate of mind," said the girl who brought the message; "and room hewould have, or he would know the reason."
"The reason is not far to seek," I answered, more to myself than her, asI ran down the stairs to discomfit that old man. At the open door, withthe hot wind tossing worn white curls and parching shriveled cheeks, nowwearily raising his battered hat, stood my dear Uncle Sam, the Sawyer.
"Lor' a massy! young lady, be you altogether daft? In my best of days,never was I lips for kissing. And the bootifulest creatur--Come now, Iain't saved your life, have I now?"
"Yes, fifty times over--fifty thousand times. Uncle Sam, don't you knowErema?"
"My eyes be dashed! And dashed they be, to forget the look of yours,my dearie. Seven days have I marched without thanking the Lord; and hotcoals of fire has He poured upon me now, for His mercy endureth forever.To think of you--to think of you--as like my own child as could be--onlyof more finer breed--here standing in front of me, like this here!There! I never dreamed to do that again, and would scorn a young man atthe sight of it."
The Sawyer was too honest to conceal that he was weeping. He simplyturned his tanned and weathered face toward the door-post, not to hidehis tears, but reconcile his pride by feigning it. I felt that he mustbe at very low ebb, and all that I had seen of other people's sorrow hadno power to assuage me. Inside the door, to keep the hot wind out andhide my eyes from the old man's face, I had some little quiet sobs,until we could both express ourselves.
"It is poor Firm, the poor, poor lad!--oh, what hath happened him? ThatI should see the day!"
Uncle Sam's deep voice broke into a moan, and he bowed his roughforehead on his arm, and shook. Then I took him by the sleeve andbrought him in.
"Not dead--poor Firm, your only one--not dead?" as soon as words wouldcome, I asked, and trembled for the opening of his lips.
"Not dead--not quite; but ten times worse. He hath flown into the faceof the Lord, like Saul and his armor-bearer; he hath fallen on hisown sword; and the worst of it is that the darned thing won't come outagain."
"Firm--the last person in the world to do it! Oh, Uncle Sam, surely theyhave told you--"
"No lies--no lie at all, my dear. And not only that, but he wanteth nowto die--and won't be long first, I reckon. But no time to lose, my dear.The Lord hath sent you to make him happy in his leaving of the wo
rld.Can 'e raise a bed and a doctor here? If he would but groan, I couldbear it a bit, instead of bleeding inward. And for sartin sure, a'would groan nicely, if only by force of habit, at first sight of a realdoctor."
"There are half a dozen here," I said; "or at least close by. He shallhave my own bed. But where is he?"
"We have laid 'un in the sand," he answered, simply, "for to dry hisperspiration. That weak the poor chap is that he streameth night andday, miss. Never would you know him for our Firm now, any more than mefor Sampson Gundry. Ah me! but the Lord is hard on us!"
Slowly and heavily he went his way to fetch poor Firm to the hospital;while, with light feet but a heavy heart, I returned to arouse ourmanagers. Speedily and well were all things done; and in half an hourFinn lay upon my bed, with two of the cleverest surgeons of New Yorkmost carefully examining his wasted frame. These whispered and shooktheir heads, as in such a case was indispensable; and listening eagerly,I heard the senior surgeon say, "No, he could never bear it." Theyounger man seemed to think otherwise, but to give way to the longerexperience. Then dear Uncle Sam, having bought a new hat at the cornerof the street, came forward. Knowing too well what excitement is, andhow it changes every one, I lifted my hand for him to go back; but heonly put his great hot web of fingers into mine, and drew me to himsoftly, and covered me up with his side. "He heareth nort, nort, nort,"he whispered to me; and then spoke aloud:
"Gentlemen and ladies--or ladies and gentlemen, is the more correct formnowadays--have I leave to say a word or two? Then if I have, as yourmanner to me showeth, and heartily thanking you for that same, my wordsshall go into an acorn-cup. This lad, laid out at your mercy here,was as fine a young fellow as the West hath ever raised--straight andnimble, and could tell no lie. Family reasons, as you will excoose of,drew him to the arms of rebellion. I may have done, and overdone itmyself, in arguing cantrips and convictions, whereof to my knowledgegood never came yet. At any rate, off he went anyhow, and the forceof nature drew me after him. No matter that to you, I dare say; but itwould be, if you was in it.
"Ladies and gentlemen, here he is, and no harm can you make out of him.Although he hath fought for the wrong side to our thinking, bravelyhath he fought, and made his way to a colonelship, worth five thousanddollars, if ever they pay their wages. Never did I think that he wouldearn so much, having never owned gifts of machinery; and concerning thehandling of the dollars, perhaps, will carry my opinion out. But wherewas I wandering of a little thing like that?
"It hath pleased the Lord, who doeth all things well, when finally cometo look back upon--the Lord hath seen fit to be down on this youngman for going agin his grandfather. From Californy--a free State, mindyou--he come away to fight for slavery. And how hath he magnified hisoffice? By shooting the biggest man on that side, the almighty foe ofthe Union, the foremost captain of Midian--the general in whom theytrusted. No bullets of ours could touch him; but by his own weapons hehath fallen. And soon as Ephraim Gundry heard it, he did what you seedone to him."
Uncle Sam having said his say--which must have cost him dearly--withdrewfrom the bed where his grandson's body lay shrunken, lax, and grimy. Tobe sure that it was Firm, I gave one glance--for Firm had always beenstraight, tall, and large--and then, in a miserable mood, I stole to theSawyer's side to stand with him. "Am I to blame? Is this my fault? Foreven this am I to blame?" I whispered; but he did not heed me, and hishands were like hard stone.
After a long, hot, heavy time, while I was laboring vainly, the Sawyeralso (through exhaustion of excitement) weary, and afraid to begin againwith new bad news, as beaten people expect to do, the younger surgeoncame up to him, and said, "Will you authorize it?"
"To cut 'un up? To show your museums what a Western lad is? Never. Bythe Blue River he shall have a good grave. So help me God, to my own, myman!"
"You misunderstand me. We have more subjects now than we should want forfifty years. War knocks the whole of their value on the head. We havefifty bodies as good as this, and are simply obliged to bury them. WhatI mean is, shall we pull the blade out?"
"Can he do any thing with that there blade in him? I have heard of a manin Kentucky once--"
"Yes, yes; we know all those stories, Colonel--suit the newspapers, notthe journals. This fellow has what must kill him inside; he is worn toa shadow already. If there it is left, die he must, and quick stick;inflammation is set up already. If we extract it, his chance ofsurviving is scarcely one in a hundred."
"Let him have the one, then, the one in the hundred, like the ninety andnine lost sheep. The Lord can multiply a hundredfold--some threescore,and some an hundredfold. I will speak to Him, gentlemen, while you trythe job."
Erema; Or, My Father's Sin Page 56
