CHAPTER XX
They told her that Berkley had gone up the hill toward the firingline.
On the windy hill-top, hub deep in dry, dead grass, a section of abattery was in action, the violent light from the dischargeslashing out through the rushing vapours which the wind flattenedand drove, back into the hollow below so that the cannoneers seemedto be wading waist deep in fog.
The sick and wounded on their cots and stretchers were coughing andgasping in the hot mist; the partly erected tents had become fullof it. And now the air in the hollow grew more suffocating asfragments of burning powder and wadding set the dead grass afire,and the thick, strangling blue smoke spread over everything.
Surgeons and assistants were working like beavers to house theirpatients; every now and then a bullet darted into the vale with anevil buzz, rewounding, sometimes killing, the crippled. To add tothe complication and confusion, more wounded arrived from thefiring line above and beyond to the westward; horses began to fallwhere they stood harnessed to the caissons; a fine, powerfulgun-team galloping back to refill its chests suddenly rearedstraight up into annihilation, enveloped in the volcanic horror ofa shell, so near that Ailsa, standing below in a clump of willows,saw the flash and smoke of the cataclysm and the flyingdisintegration of dark objects scattering through the smoke.
Far away on the hillside an artilleryman, making a funnel of hishands, shouted for stretchers; and Ailsa, repeating the call,managed to gather together half a dozen overworked bearers andstart with them up through the smoke.
Deafened, blinded, her senses almost reeling under thenerve-shattering crash of the guns, she toiled on through the drygrass, pausing at the edge of charred spaces to beat out the lowflames that leaped toward her skirts.
There was a leafy hollow ahead, filled with slender, willow-trees,many of them broken off, shot, torn, twisted, and splintered. Deadsoldiers lay about under the smoke, their dirty shirts or nakedskin visible between jacket and belt; to the left on a sparselywooded elevation, the slope of which was scarred, showing dry redsand and gravel, a gun stood, firing obliquely across the gullyinto the woods. Long, wavering, irregular rings of smoke shot out,remaining intact and floating like the rings from a smoker's pipe,until another rush and blast of flame scattered them.
The other gun had been dismounted and lay on its side, one wheel inthe air, helpless, like some monster sprawling with limbs stiffenedin death. Behind it, crouched close, squatted some infantrysoldiers, firing from the cover of the wreckage. Behind everytree, every stump, every inequality, lay infantry, dead, wounded,or alive and cautiously firing. Several took advantage of thefallen battery horses for shelter. Only one horse of that gun-teamremained alive, and the gunners had lashed the prolonge to thetrail of the overturned cannon and to the poor horse's collar, andwere trying to drag the piece away with the hope of righting it.
This manoeuvre dislodged the group of infantry soldiers who hadtaken shelter there, and, on all fours, they began crawling andworming and scuffling about among the dead leaves, seeking anothershelter from the pelting hail of lead.
There was nothing to be seen beyond the willow gully except smoke,set grotesquely with phantom trees, through which the enemy'sfusillade sparkled and winked like a long level line of fire-fliesin the mist.
The stretcher bearers crept about gathering up the wounded whocalled to them out of the smoke. Ailsa, on her knees, made her waytoward a big cavalryman whose right leg was gone at the thigh.
She did what she could, called for a stretcher, then, crouchingclose under the bank of raw earth, set her canteen to his blackenedlips and held it for him.
"Don't be discouraged," she said quietly, "they'll bring anotherstretcher in a few moments. I'll stay here close beside you untilthey come."
The cavalryman was dying; she saw it; he knew it. And his swollenlips moved.
"Don't waste time with me," he managed to say.
"Then--will you lie very still and not move?"
"Yes; only don't let the horse step on me."
She drew her little note-book and pencil from the pocket of hergown and gently lowered her head until one ear was close to hislips.
"What is your name and regiment?"
His voice became suddenly clear.
"John Casson--Egerton's Dragoons. . . . Mrs. Henry Casson, Islip,Long Island. My mother is a widow; I don't--thinkshe--can--stand----"
Then he died--went out abruptly into eternity.
Beside him, in the grass, lay a zouave watching everything withgreat hollow eyes. His body was only a mass of bloody rags; he hadbeen shot all to pieces, yet the bleeding heap was breathing, andthe big sunken eyes patiently watched Ailsa's canteen until sheencountered his unwinking gaze. But the first swallow he tookkilled him, horribly; and Ailsa, her arms drenched with blood,shrank back and crouched shuddering under the roots of a shatteredtree, her consciousness almost deserting her in the roaring andjarring and splintering around her. She saw more stretcher bearersin the smoke, stooping, edging their way--unarmed heroes of many afield who fell unnoted, died unrecorded on the rolls of glory.
A lieutenant of artillery, powder-blackened, but jaunty, calleddown to her from the bank above:
"Look out, little lady. We're going to try to limber up, and wedon't want to drop six horses and a perfectly good gun on top ofyou!"
Somebody seized her arm and dragged her across the leaves; and shestruggled to her knees, to her feet, turned, and started to run.
"This way," said Berkley's voice in her ear; and his hand closed onhers.
"Phil--help me--I don't know where I am!"
"I do. Run this way, under the crest of the hill. . . . Dr.Connor told me that you had climbed up here. This isn't yourplace! Are you stark mad?"
They ran on westward, panting, sheltered by the grassy crest behindwhich soldiers lay firing over the top of the grass--long lines ofthem, belly flattened to the slope, dusty blue trousers hitched upshowing naked ankles and big feet pendant. Behind them, swordsdrawn, stood or walked their officers, quietly encouraging them orcoolly turning to look at Ailsa and Berkley as they hurried past.
In a vast tobacco field to their left, just beyond a wide cleft inthe hills, a brigade of cavalry was continually changing station toavoid shell fire. The swallow-tailed national flags, the yellowguidons with their crossed sabres, the blue State colours, streamedabove their shifting squadrons as they trotted hither and thitherwith the leisurely precision of a peaceful field day; but here andthere from the trampled earth some fallen horse raised its head inagony; here and there the plain was dotted with dark heaps thatnever stirred.
The wailing flight of bullets streamed steadily overhead, but, asthey descended, the whistling, rushing sound grew higher andfainter. They could see, on the plain where the cavalry wasmanoeuvring, the shells bursting in fountains of dirt, the ominousshrapnel cloud floating daintily above.
Far away through the grassy cleft, on wooded hillsides, delicatelyblue, they could see the puff of white smoke shoot out from amongthe trees where the Confederate batteries were planted, then hearthe noise of the coming shell rushing nearer, quavering, whistlinginto a long-drawn howl as it raced through the gray clouds overhead.
While he guided her among the cedars at the base of the hill, onearm around her body to sustain her, he quietly but seriouslyberated her for her excursion to the firing line, telling her therewas no need of it, no occasion for anybody except the bearersthere; that Dr. Connor was furious at her and had said aloud thatshe had little common-sense.
Ailsa coloured painfully, but there was little spirit left in her,and she walked thankfully and humbly along beside him, resting hercheek, against his shoulder.
"Don't scold me; I really feel half sick, Phil. . . . From wheredid you come?" she added timidly.
"From the foot bridge. They wanted a guard set there. I foundhalf a dozen wounded men who could handle a musket. Lord, but therebels came close to us that time! When we heard those bulletsthey were charging t
he entire line of our works. I understand thatwe've driven them all along the line. It must be so, judging fromthe sound of the firing."
"Did our hospital burn?"
"Only part of one wing. They're beginning to move back the woundedalready. . . . Now, dear, will you please remain with yoursuperiors and obey orders?" he added as they came out along thebanks of the little stream and saw the endless procession ofstretchers recrossing the foot bridge to the left.
"Yes. . . . I didn't know. I saw part of a battery blown up; anda soldier stood on the hill and shouted for stretchers. There wasnobody else to start them off, so I did it."
He nodded. "Wait here, dear. I will run over and ask Dr. Connorwhether they have moved Colonel Arran----"
"Colonel Arran! Oh, Philip! I forgot to tell you--" She clutchedhis arm in her excitement, and he halted, alarmed.
"Has anything happened to him?" he demanded.
"He asked for you."
"Is he worse?"
"I fear so."
"Dying?"
"Phil--I am afraid so. He--he--thinks that you are his son!"
"W-what are you saying!" he stammered: "What are you trying to tellme, Ailsa?"
"Phil--my darling!--don't look that way!" she exclaimed, frightened.
"What way?" He laughed as though crazed. "Where is he? Do youknow? I want to see him. You better let me see him."
"I'll go with you, Phil; I'll be close beside you. You mustn'tbecome so terribly excited; I didn't know what I was saying; Ithink he is delirious----"
"Where is he? I can't endure this much longer," he kept repeatingin a vacant way as they forced a path among the litters andambulances, and came out through the smoke blowing from a pile ofdebris that lay where the east wing of the seminary had once stood.Charred and battered, every window smashed, and the blackenedrafters of the roof still smouldering, the east wing rose beforethem, surrounded by the wounded.
A surgeon told them that Colonel Arran had been carried out of thebarn, but to what place he did not know. Letty with Dr. Bentonpassed them by the stables, but they knew only that Colonel Arran,lying on a litter, had been placed in an ambulance which hadstarted for Azalea Court House.
This was confirmed by Dr. Connor, who came hurrying by and whohalted to scowl heartily at Ailsa.
"No more of _that_!" he said roughly. "When I want a nurse on thefiring line I'll detail her. I've sent two hundred invalids to thelanding, and I wanted you to go with them and when I looked aroundfor you I saw you kiting for the line of battle! That's all wrong,Mrs. Paige! That's all wrong! You look sick anyway. Are you?"
"No. I'll go now, if you'll let me, Dr. Connor."
"How are you going to get there? I haven't another ambulance tosend--not a horse or a mule----"
"I--I'll walk," she said with a sob in her throat. "I am fearfullysorry--and ashamed----"
"There, there," muttered Dr. Connor, "I didn't mean all I said. Itwas a brave thing to do--not that your pluck mitigates the offence!Be a little more considerate; think a little faster; don't take toyour legs on the first impulse. Some fool told me you'd beenkilled--and that made--made me--most damnably angry!" he burst outwith a roar to cover the emotion working at his mouth and eyes.
He seized Ailsa's hand and shook it vigorously.
"Excuse my profanity. I can't avoid it when I think of_you_--dead! There, there. I'm an old fool and you're a--youngerone. See if you can find somebody to take you to Azalea. I wantthat batch of invalids carefully watched. Besides, there's afurlough there for you. Don't say one word! You're not well, Itell you. I had to send those invalids back; the place here isatrociously crowded. Try to find some way of getting to thelanding. And take care of your pretty little self for God's sake!"
She promised, shook hands with him again, disengaged herself fromthe crowd around her, turned about to search for Berkley, andcaught sight of him near the stables, saddling his horse. Hebuckled the last strap as she came up; turned a blank gaze on her,and did not appear to comprehend her question for a moment. Then,nodding in a dazed way, he lifted her to the saddle in front, swungup behind her, passed one arm around her waist, gathered bridle,and edged his way carefully through the crowd out into the road.
The 3rd Zouaves in heavy marching order filled the road with theirscarlet column, moving steadily southward; and Ailsa, from herperch on the saddle, called to Colonel Craig and Major Lent,stretching out her hot little hand to them as she passed.
Engineers blocked their progress farther on, then Wisconsininfantry, young giants in blue, swinging forward in their longloose-limbered stride; then an interminable column of artillery,jolting slowly along, the grimy gunners swaying drowsily on theirseats, officers nodding half asleep in their saddles.
"Philip," she ventured timidly.
"Yes."
"Is there--anything--you wish to tell me? Anything thatI--perhaps--have a faint shadow of a right to know?"
For a long time they rode in silence, her question unanswered. Anarrow cart road--less of a road than a lane--led east. He turnedhis horse into it.
For a moment no sound broke the silence save the monotonous clankof his sabre and the creak of girth and saddle.
"Ailsa!"
"Yes, Phil."
"Move closer; hold very tight to me; clasp both arms around myneck. . . . Are you seated firmly?"
"Yes, Phil."
He encircled her slender body with his right arm and, shaking outthe bridle, launched his horse at a gallop down the sandy lane.Her breath and his mingled as they sped forward; the wind rushedby, waving the foliage on either hand; a steady storm of sand andgravel rained rattling through the bushes as the spurred horsebounded forward, breaking into a grander stride, thundering onthrough the gathering dusk.
Swaying, cradled in his embrace, her lips murmured his name, or,parted breathless, touched his, as the exquisitely confused senseof headlong speed dimmed her senses to a happy madness.
Trees, bushes, fences flew past and fled away behind in the dusk.It seemed to her as though she was being tossed through spacelocked in his arms; infinite depths of shadow whirled and eddiedaround her; limitless reaches, vistas unfathomable stretched towardouter chaos into which they were hurled, unseeing, her arms aroundhis neck, her soft face on his breast.
Then a lantern flashed; voices sounded in far-off confusion; morelanterns twinkled and glimmered; more voices broke in on theirheavenly isolation.
Was the divine flight ended?
Somebody said: "Colonel Arran is here, and is still alive, but hismind is clouding. He says he is waiting for his son to come."
Dizzy, burning hot, half blinded, she felt herself swung out ofspace onto the earth again, through a glare of brightness in whichCelia's face seemed to be framed, edged with infernal light. . . .And another face, Camilla's, was there in the confusing brilliancy;and she reeled a little, embraced, held hot and close; and in herdulled ears drummed Celia's voice, murmuring, pitying, complaining,adoring:
"Honey-bell--Oh, my little Honey-bud! I have you back in my a'ms,and I have my boy, and I'm ve'y thankful to my Heavenly Master--Icertainly am, Honey-bee!--fo' His goodness and His mercy which Heis showing eve'y day to me and mine."
And Camilla's pale face was pressed against her hot cheeks and thegirl's black sleeve of crape encircled her neck.
She whispered: "I--I try to think it reconciles me to losing Jimmy.. . . War gave me Stephen. . . . Yet--oh, I cannot understand whyGod's way must sometimes be the way of battle!"
Ailsa saw and heard and understood, yet, all around her fell anunreal light--a terrible fiery radiance, making voices the voices,of phantoms, forms the outlines of ghosts.
Through an open door she saw a lamp-lit room where her lover kneltbeside a bed--saw a man's arm reach feebly toward him--and saw nomore. Everything wavered and dazzled and brightened into rainbowtints around her, then to scarlet; then velvety darkness sprang up,through which she fell into swift unconsciousness.
One
of the doctors, looking at her as she lay on the hospital cot,dropped his hand gravely on her thin wrist.
"You cannot tell me anything that I don't know about Mrs. Paige,"he said wearily. "This is a complete breakdown. It's come justin time, too, that girl has been trying to kill herself. Iunderstand that her furlough has arrived. You'd better get herNorth on the next transport. I guess that our angels are morepopular in our hospitals just now than they would be tuning littlegilt harps aloft. We can't spare 'em, Mrs. Craig, and I guess theMost High can wait a little longer."
Doctor, ward-master, apothecary, and nurses stood looking down atthe slim, fever-flushed shape moving restlessly on thecot--babbling soft inconsequences, staring out of brilliant eyes atnothing.
The doctor whispered to the apothecary, and his gesture dismissedthose who stood around her waiting in silence.
Ailsa Paige: A Novel Page 20
