CHAPTER III
STARTING FOR DIXIE
The next day passed all too quickly for the parents, but not for Jeanne.She went about her preparations with an uplifted mien and a solemnity ofmanner that at another time would have been amusing, but which under thecircumstances went to her mother's heart.
"In this petticoat, dear, I have quilted the documents," said Mrs. Vanceas she dressed her for her departure. "It may be a little heavy, butyou need not wear so many skirts as you otherwise would, and perhaps itwill not be too warm. See how nicely it holds out your dress. It almostanswers the purpose of a pair of hoops."
"Am I not to wear my hoops, mother?"
"No, child. They are sometimes in the way, and as you have not yet learnedto manage them well, it would be best not. Your frock hangs out in quitethe approved style as it is."
Jeanne glanced down at her attire complacently.
"It does look stylish," she admitted. "I wonder if the rebel girls wearhoops."
"I dare say they do," answered the mother rather absently. Then overcomeby a rush of emotion she caught the girl to her. "Oh, Jeanne, I wonderif I am doing right to let you go! What if some harm should come to you?"
"Don't worry, mother," and Jeanne soothed her gently. "I feel sure that Iwill get through safely."
"I shall not be easy until I hold you in my arms again," said Mrs. Vancemournfully. "But I must not make it hard for you to go, dear. You willbe careful, Jeanne."
"Yes, mother."
"And, child, you are loyal, I know, but you are very young. You are goinginto the enemy's country, where disloyalty to the Union will be thecommon utterance. Are you strong enough to bear all that you will hear andstill retain that fidelity unimpaired?"
"Mother!" Jeanne spoke reproachfully.
"Yes; I know that your heart is devoted to your country, but older onesthan you have been drawn from their allegiance. I only give this as acaution because you have always been where nothing but the Union has beentalked. Now you are apt to hear just as much on the other side, and theremay be trials that will test your strength severely. I cannot but fearthat all will not go so smoothly as your father thinks. But, Jeanne,whatever comes, bear yourself as a true American. Swerve not from theallegiance due to your country. Let come what will, even death itself,suffer it rather than for one moment to be false to your country. Theyare my last words to you, my daughter. Be true to your country. Will youremember?"
"Yes," replied the girl solemnly. "Whatever comes I will be true to mycountry."
"I have made you this flag," continued Mrs. Vance, drawing a small UnitedStates flag from the folds of her dress. "I began it some time ago asa surprise for your birthday, but finished it last night for you to takewith you. Keep it about your person, and each night look upon it and prayfor the success of the Union."
"And it is really my own," exclaimed Jeanne, delightedly, pressing thesilken folds to her lips. "It makes me so happy to have it, mother. Inever had one before that was all mine. See," folding it and placing it inthe bosom of her dress, "I will wear it over my heart that no disloyalthought may find entrance there. I will bring it back to you unsullied."
Her mother pressed her again to her breast.
"I believe it, dear. Now kiss me, Jeanne. I hear your father coming foryou. Oh, 'tis hard to let you go!" She clasped her convulsively to her,and caressed her repeatedly.
"Are you ready, Jeanne?" asked Mr. Vance entering. "We have not much timeleft."
"I am all ready, father," answered Jeanne quickly catching up her satchel."Aren't you coming with us, mother?"
"No, dear;" Mrs. Vance struggled bravely with her emotion. "I am goingto let your father have you for the last few moments alone. I have had youall day, you know."
Jeanne ran back to her for another embrace.
"My child! My child!" whispered the mother passionately. "There! Go whileI can bear it."
Unable to speak Jeanne followed her father to the carriage.
"I am afraid that I have acted hastily in letting you undertake thismatter," said her father, drawing her to him. "In one way the fates arepropitious. The papers to-day announce the fall of Vicksburg. That leavesthe Mississippi entirely open and reduces the danger. Still it may beexposing you to some risk, and it now seems to me unwise to saddle sogreat a responsibility upon so young a girl. I wish there was some oneelse to send."
"Father, I am glad to be of service. I am so proud to think that you haveso trusted me. Now I am really doing something for the country. And I willnot betray your trust."
"I know that you will be as true as steel," answered Mr. Vance tenderly."I do not fear that you will betray my confidence, but let me caution youfor yourself. Where have you concealed the papers?"
"Mother quilted them in my petticoat," answered Jeanne.
"Then try to forget where they are. I was once on the train where a girlwas traveling alone. She had evidently been warned against pickpockets,for ever and anon she would start up and clap her hand to her pocket. Doyou see the point, daughter?"
"It showed plainly where she kept her money," replied Jeanne promptly.
"Exactly. If you keep fingering the petticoat it will show to everyone that there is something concealed there. Therefore forget all aboutthe papers if you can. Act as naturally as a little girl would goingto visit her uncle. There must of course be a reason for your going and Ihave provided for that in this way. Quinine is a contraband articleand highly prized in the South. This basket has a false bottom. Aboveis a lunch for your journey and underneath a quantity of quinine. Youmay get through without falling into the Confederates' hands but itis just as well to be prepared for emergencies, as you remarked lastnight. Should you happen to be taken by them and they question you tooclosely, finally confess about the quinine. It will be a point in yourfavor that you have smuggled it through the Union lines. Should theytake it no matter. Do you understand?"
"Perfectly."
"I have secured transportation to Memphis, Tennessee," continued Mr.Vance. "It brings you closer to New Orleans and leaves a shorter distanceto be traversed by water. You will have to change cars twice. Once atWashington City which you can do easily as you have been there a numberof times. The other is at Cincinnati, Ohio. Do you think you can manageit?"
"Why, of course I can," said Jeanne proudly. "It isn't as if I had neverbeen anywhere."
"Yes, that makes a difference," assented her father. "Yet, my child,remember that before you have been accompanied by either your mother orme. Now you will have to rely entirely upon yourself. This is a letterfor Commodore Porter who is a friend of mine, and who is somewhere onthe Mississippi. Ask for him as soon as you reach Memphis. If he is notthere there will be others on our side who will carry you down the riverafter reading the letter. If at any time you are in doubt what to dogo to the hospitals. There are always women there who will gladly givewhatever aid you may need. And here is money."
"Mother gave me some," interrupted Jeanne who had listened with theclosest attention.
"Yes; that is in your purse, which is in the satchel, is it not?"
"Yes."
"Well, take this also. I had this bag made to hold it." He put a roll ofbills into an oilskin bag and drew the cord so that the opening closedtightly together. "Wear that about your neck, child, and keep it hiddenunder your dress," he said. "Keep that always about you as a reserve fund.So long as you have money you can get along pretty well. Take out whatyou need from time to time, carrying only a small amount in your purse.Above all beware of talking too freely to strangers. Now for the finalinstructions: you are going to New Orleans to visit your Uncle Ben. Whenyou reach there ask him to direct you to Mr. ------," here he whisperedin her ear. "Speak that name to no person. When you have delivered thepapers into his hands your duty is done. Stay with your uncle until youhear from me. I will write you how to come home. Now, Jeanne, I thinkthat this is all I have to say. If anything should happen that thesearrangements fail, don't run any danger but return home. You see th
at Iam leaving a great deal to your judgment. Can you remember everythingthat I have said?"
"Yes. And you may be sure that I will do just as you tell me. It seemsto me that everything has been thought of and that there is no chance offailing."
"Sometimes the best laid plans are thwarted," said her father gravely. "Itmay not be a very wise thing to send my daughter on such an errand, butyou are such a sensible little thing that I feel as if you would succeed."
"I will," said Jeanne determinedly. "I want to be worthy of my name,father. Did not another Jeanne not much older than I lead the Dauphin ofFrance to a crown? Surely then I can do this thing which is small incomparison."
"I am afraid we did wrong in giving you such a name," remarked her fathersmilingly. "How full of the martial spirit you are, Jeanne. I believethat you would undertake the capture of Jeff Davis if I asked you to."
"I would," exclaimed the girl with a look that boded ill for the rebelpresident. "Perhaps we will try it yet."
"We will get through this affair first, my dear. Here we are at thestation. We'll have to make a run for that train."
They had taken a ferry during the conversation and by this time hadreached Jersey City. Running through the gates they boarded the trainjust as the signal was given to pull out.
"My little girl, good-bye," murmured Mr. Vance, clasping her to him for abrief second. "God bless and keep you, Jeanne. May He bring you safelyback. Be brave," he added, as he saw Jeanne's lips quivering.
"I will," sobbed Jeanne, breaking down completely as her father startedaway. "Oh, father, kiss me just once more."
"Is it too much for you, my little girl?" Mr. Vance held her closely. "Youneed not go, Jeanne."
"I want to. I am all right," gasped Jeanne, controlling herself by aneffort. "Now go, father, dear. See how brave I am."
She smiled up at him through her tears. Mr. Vance regarded her anxiously.
"Go," whispered Jeanne as the train began to move. Hastily her fatherleft her. Jeanne leaned from the window and waved her hand as long as shecould see him. But soon the train rounded a curve and he was lost to view.Then leaning back in her seat she gave herself up to her tears.