CHAPTER X
LIEUTENANT McNEIL
The Williamsport ferry-boat came slowly across the Potomac, from theMaryland to the Virginia side. The clear, deep water lay faintly bluebeneath the winter sky, and the woods came so close that long branchesof sycamore swept the flood. In that mild season every leaf had notfallen; up and down the river here the dull red of an oak met the eye,and there the faded gold of a willow.
The flatboat, a brown shadow beneath a creaking wire and pulley, cameslowly to the southern side of the stream. The craft, squat to the waterand railed on either side, was in the charge of an old negro. Clusteredin the middle of the boat appeared a tall Marylander in blue jeans, twosoldiers in blue cloth, and a small darky in a shirt of blue gingham.All these stared at a few yards of Virginia road, shelving, andoverarched by an oak that was yet touched with maroon, and stared at ahorseman in high boots, a blue army overcoat, and a blue and gold cap,who, mounted upon a great bay horse, was waiting at the water's edge.The boat crept into the shadow of the trees.
One of the blue soldiers stood watchfully, his hands upon an Enfieldrifle. The other, a middle-aged, weather-beaten sergeant-major who hadbeen leaning against the rail, straightened himself and spoke, being nowwithin a few feet of the man on horseback.
"Your signal was all right," he said. "And your coat's all right. Buthow did your coat get on this side of the river?"
"It's been on this side for some time," explained the man on horseback,with a smile. "Ever since Uncle Sam presented it to me at Wheeling--andthat was before Bull Run." He addressed the negro. "Is this the fastestthis boat can travel? I've been waiting here half an hour."
The sergeant-major persisted. "Your coat's all right, and your signal'sall right, and if it hadn't ha' been, our sharpshooters wouldn't ha'left much of you by now--Your coat's all right, and your signal's allright, but I'm damned if your voice ain't Southern--" The head of theboat touched the shore and the dress of the horseman was seen moreclosely.--"Lieutenant," ended the speaker, with a change of tone.
The rider, dismounting, led his horse down the yard or two of road andinto the boat. "So, Dandy! Just think it's the South Branch, and comeon! Thirty miles since breakfast, and still so gaily!"
Horse and man entered the boat, which moved out into the stream.
"I was once," stated the sergeant-major, though still in the propertone of respect toward a lieutenant, "I was once in Virginia for amonth, down on the Pamunkey--and the people all said 'gaily.'"
"They say it still," answered the rider. "Not so much, though, in mypart of Virginia. It's Tuckahoe, not Cohee. I'm from the valley of theSouth Branch, between Romney and Moorefield."
The heretofore silent blue soldier shifted his rifle. "What in hell--"he muttered. The sergeant-major looked at the Virginia shore, looked atthe stranger, standing with his arm around his horse's neck, and lookedat the Williamsport landing, and the cannon frowning from Doubleday'sHill. In the back of his head there formed a little picture--a drumheadcourt-martial, a provost guard, a tree and a rope. Then came the hand ofreason, and wiped the picture away. "Pshaw! spies don't _say_ they'reSouthern. And, by jiminy! one might smile with his lips, but he couldn'tsmile with his eyes like that. And he's lieutenant, and there's such athing, Tom Miller, as being too smart!--" He leaned upon the rail, and,being an observant fellow, he looked to see if the lieutenant's handtrembled at all where it lay upon the horse's neck. It did not; itrested as quiet as an empty glove. The tall Marylander began to speakwith a slow volubility. "There was a man from the Great Kanawha toWilliamsport 't other day--a storekeeper--a big, fat man with a beardlike Abraham's in the 'lustrated Bible. I heard him a-talking to thecolonel. 'All the Union men in northwestern Virginia are on the Ohioside of the mountains,' said he. 'Toward the Ohio we're all for theUnion,' said he. 'There's more Northern blood than Southern in thatsection, anyway,' said he. 'But all this side of the Alleghenies isdifferent, and as for the Valley of the South Branch--the Valley of theSouth Branch is a hotbed of rebels.' That's what he said--'a hotbed ofrebels.' 'As for the mountain folk in between,' he says, 'they hunt withguns, and the men in the valley hunt with dogs, and there ain't any lovelost between them at the best of times. Then, too, it's the feud thatsettles it. If a mountain man's hereditary enemy names his babyJefferson Davis, then the first man, he names his Abraham Lincoln, andshoots at the other man from behind a bush. And _vice versa_. So itgoes. But the valley of the South Branch is old stock,' he says, 'and ahotbed of rebels.'"
"When it's taken by and large, that is true," said the horseman withcoolness. "But there are exceptions to all rules, and there are someUnion men along the South Branch." He stroked his horse's neck. "So,Dandy! Aren't there exceptions to all rules?"
"He's a plumb beauty, that horse," remarked the sergeant-major. "I don'tride much myself, but if I had a horse like that, and a straight road,and weather like this, I wouldn't ask any odds between here andMilikenville, Illinois! I guess he's a jim dandy to travel,Lieutenant--"
"McNeill," said the Virginian. "It is lovely weather. You don't oftenhave a December like this in your part of the world."
"No, we don't. And I only hope 't will last."
"I hope it will," assented McNeill. "It's bad marching in bad weather."
"I don't guess," said the sergeant-major, "that we'll do much marchingbefore springtime."
"No, I reckon not," answered the man from the South Branch. "I came fromRomney yesterday. General Kelly is letting the men build cabins there.That doesn't look like moving."
"We're doing the same here," said the sergeant-major, "and they say thatthe army's just as cosy at Frederick as a bug in a rug. Yes, sir; it'sin the air that we'll give the rebels rope till springtime."
The ferry-boat touched the northern bank. Here were a little, rockyshore, an expanse of swampy ground, a towpath, a canal, a road cutbetween two hills, and in the background a village with one or twochurch spires. The two hills were white with tents, and upon the browcannon were planted to rake the river. Here and there, between the riverand the hills, were knots of blue soldiers. A freight boat loaded withhay passed snail-like down the canal. It was a splendid early afternoon,cool, still, and bright. The tall Marylander and the three blue soldiersleft the boat, the man from Romney leading his horse. "Where'sheadquarters?" he demanded. "I'll go report, and then get something toeat for both Dandy and myself. We've got to make Frederick Cityto-night."
"The large wall tents over there on the hill," directed thesergeant-major. "It's a long way to Frederick, but Lord! with thathorse--" He hesitated for a moment, then spoke up in a courageous,middle-aged, weather-beaten fashion, "I hope you'll have a pleasantride, lieutenant! I guess I was a little stiffer'n good manners callsfor, just at first. You see there's been so much talk of--of--of_masquerading_--and your voice is Southern, if your politics ain't! 'Tisn't my usual way."
Lieutenant McNeill smiled. "I am sure of that, sergeant! As you say,there has been a deal of masquerading, and this side of the rivernaturally looks askance at the other. But you see, General Kelly _is_over there, and he happens, just now, to want to communicate withGeneral Banks." His smile grew broader. "It's perfectly natural, butit's right hard on the man acting courier! Lord knows I had troubleenough running Ashby's gauntlet without being fired on from this side!"
"That's so! that's so!" answered the sergeant cordially. "Well, goodluck to you getting back! You may find some friends here. We've acompany or two of Virginians from the Ohio."
General Kelly's messenger proceeded to climb the hill to the wall tentsindicated. There was a short delay, then he found himself in thepresence of the colonel commanding at Williamsport. "From General Kellyat Romney? How did you get here?"
"I left Romney, sir, yesterday morning, and I came by bridle pathsthrough the mountains. I was sent because I have hunted over every mileof that country, and I could keep out of Ashby's way. I struck the riverabove Bath, and I worked down through the woods to the ferry. I have aletter for General Banks."
Drawing out a wallet, he opened it and handed to the other the missivein question. "If I was chased I was to destroy it before capture," hesaid. "The slip with it is a line General Kelly gave me."
The colonel commanding at Williamsport glanced at the latter document."A native of the South Branch valley," he said crisply. "That's adisaffected region."
"Yes, sir. It is. But there are one or two loyal families."
"You wish to go on to Frederick this afternoon?"
"Yes, sir. As soon as my horse is a little rested. My orders are to useall dispatch back to Romney with General Banks's answer."
The colonel, seated at a table, weighed General Kelly's letter in hishand, looked at the superscription, turned it over, and studied theseal. "Do the rebels on the other side show any signs of comingactivity? Our secret service men have not been very successful--theymake statements that it is hard to credit. I should be glad of anyreliable information. What did you see or hear coming through?"
The lieutenant studied the floor a moment, shrugged, and spoke out."Ashby's active enough, sir. Since yesterday I have just grazed threepicket posts. He has vedettes everywhere. The report is that he hasfifteen hundred troopers--nearly all valley men, born to the saddle andknowing every crook and cranny of the land. They move like a whirlwindand deal in surprises--
The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold--
Only these cohorts are grey, not purple and gold. That's Ashby. On theother hand, Jackson at Winchester need not, perhaps, be taken intoaccount. The general impression is that he'll stay where he is untilspring. I managed to extract some information from a mountain man aboveSleepy Creek. Jackson is drilling his men from daylight until dark. Itis said that he is crazy on the subject--on most subjects, in fact; thathe thinks himself a Cromwell, and is bent upon turning his troops intoIronsides. Of course, should General Banks make any movement tocross--preparatory, say, to joining with General Kelly--Jackson mightswing out of Winchester and give him check. Otherwise, he'll probablykeep on drilling--"
"The winter's too far advanced," said the colonel, "for any suchmovement upon our part. As soon as it is spring we'll go over there andtrample out this rebellion." He weighed Kelly's letter once more in hishand, then restored it to the bearer. "It's all right, LieutenantMcNeill. I'll pass you through.--You read Byron?"
"Yes," said Lieutenant McNeill briefly. "He's a great poet. 'Don Juan,'now, and Suvaroff at Ismail--
He made no answer, but he took the city.
The bivouac, too, in Mazeppa." He restored General Kelly's letter andthe accompanying slip to his wallet. "Thank you, sir. If I am to makeFrederick before bedtime I had better be going--"
"An aide of General Banks," remarked the colonel, "is here, and isreturning to Frederick this afternoon. He is an Englishman, I believe,of birth. You might ride together--Very opportunely; here he is!"
A tall, blond being, cap-a-pie for the road, had loomed in dark bluebefore the tent door. "Captain Marchmont," said the colonel, "let memake you acquainted with Lieutenant McNeill, a _loyal_ Virginian bearinga letter from General Kelly to General Banks--a gentleman with a taste,too, for your great poet Byron. As you are both riding to Frederick, youmay find it pleasant to ride in company."
"I must ride rapidly," said McNeill, "but if Captain Marchmont--"
"I always ride rapidly," answered the captain. "Learned it in Texas in1843. At your service, lieutenant, whenever you're ready."
The road to Frederick lay clear over hill and dale, past forest andstream, through a gap in the mountain, by mill and barn and farmhouse,straight through a number of miles of crystal afternoon. Out ofWilliamsport conversation began. "When you want a purchaser for thathorse, I'm your man," said the aide. "By any chance, _do_ you want tosell?"
McNeill laughed. "Not to-day, captain!" He stroked the brown shoulder."Not to-day, Dun--Dandy!"
"What's his name? Dundandy?"
"No," replied the lieutenant. "Just Dandy. I'm rather fond of him. Ithink we'll see it out together."
"Yes, they aren't bad comrades," said the other amicably. "In '53, whenI was with Lopez in Cuba, I had a little black mare that was just aswell worth dying for as a woman or a man or most causes, but, damn me!she died for me--carried me past a murderous ambuscade, got a bullet forher pains, and never dropped until she reached our camp!" He coughed."What pleasant weather! Was it difficult getting through Jackson'slines?"
"Yes, rather."
They rode for a time in silence between fields of dead aster andgoldenrod. "When I was in Italy with Garibaldi," said Captain Marchmontthoughtfully, "I saw something of kinsmen divided in war. It looked avery unnatural thing. You're a Virginian, now?"
"Yes, I am a Virginian."
"And you are fighting against Virginia. Curious!"
The other smiled. "To be where you are you must believe in theinviolability of the Union."
"Oh, I?" answered Marchmont coolly. "I believe in it, of course. I amfighting for it. It chanced, you see, that I was in France--and out ofservice and damnably out at elbows, too!--when Europe heard of Bull Run.I took passage at once in a merchant ship from Havre. It was myunderstanding that she was bound for New Orleans, but instead she putinto Boston Harbour. I had no marked preference, fighting being fightingunder whatever banner it occurs, so the next day I offered my sword tothe Governor of Massachusetts. North and South, they're none of mine.But were I in England--where I haven't been of late years--and a rowturned up, I should fight with England."
"No doubt," answered the other. "Your mind travels along the broad andsimple lines of the matter. But with us there are many subtle andintricate considerations."
Passing now through woods they started a covey of partridges. The smallbrown and white shapes vanished in a skurry of dead leaves. "No doubt,no doubt!" said the soldier of fortune. "At any rate, I have rubbed offparticularity in such matters. Live and let live--and each man to runthe great race according to his inner vision! If he really conflictswith me, I'll let him know it."
They rode on, now talking, now silent. To either side, beyond stonewalls, the fields ran bare and brown to distant woods. The shadow of thewayside trees grew longer and the air more deep and cold. They passed astring of white-covered wagons bearing forage for the army. The suntouched the western hills, rimming them as with a forest fire. Thehorsemen entered a defile between the hills, travelled through twilightfor a while, then emerged upon a world still softly lighted. "In thecountry at home," said the Englishman, "the waits are practicingChristmas carols."
"I wish," answered the Virginian, "that we had kept that old custom. Ishould like once to hear English carols sung beneath the windows on asnowy night." As he rode he began to sing aloud, in a voice notremarkable, but good enough to give pleasure--
"As Joseph was a-walking, He heard an angel sing, 'This night shall be born Our Heavenly King--'"
"Yes, I remember that one quite well," said Captain Marchmont, andproceeded to sing in an excellent bass,--
"He neither shall be born In housen nor in hall, Nor in the place of Paradise, But in an ox's stall--
"Do you know the next verse?"
"Yes," said McNeill.
"He neither shall be clothed In purple nor in pall, But all in fair linen As are babies all!"
"That's it," nodded the other. "And the next goes,--
"He neither shall be rocked In silver nor in gold But in a wooden cradle That rocks on the mould--"
Alternately they sang the carol through. The sun went down, but the pinkstayed in the sky and was mirrored in a tranquil stream which theycrossed. It faded at last into the quiet dusk. A cricket chirped from afield of dried Michaelmas daisies. They overtook and passed an infantryregiment, coming up, an offic
er told them, from Harper's Ferry. Thenight fell, cold and still, with many stars. "We are not far fromFrederick," said Marchmont. "You were never here before?"
"No."
"I'll take you at once to General Banks. You go back to Kelly at Romneyto-morrow."
"Just as soon as General Banks shall have answered General Kelly'sletter."
"You have an occasional fight over there?"
"Yes, up and down the line. Ashby's command is rather active."
"By George! I wish I were returning with you! When you've reported I'lllook after you if you'll allow me. Pleasant enough mess.--Major Hertz,whom I knew in Prussia, Captain Wingate of your old army and one or twoothers."
"I'm exceedingly obliged," said McNeill, "but I have ridden hard oflate, and slept little, and I should prove dull company. Moreoverthere's a good priest in Frederick who is a friend of a friend of mine.I have a message for him, and if General Banks permits, I shall sleepsoundly and quietly at his house to-night."
"Very good," said Marchmont. "You'll get a better night there, thoughI'm sorry not to have you with us.--There are the lights of Frederick,and here's the picket. You have your pass from Williamsport?"
McNeill gave it to a blue soldier, who called a corporal, who read it bya swinging lantern. "Very good. Pass, Lieutenant McNeill."
The two rode on. To left and right were lighted streets of tents, variedhere and there by substantial cabins. Commissary quarters appeared,sutlers' shops, booths, places of entertainment, guardhouses, a chapel.Soldiers were everywhere, dimly seen within the tents where the doorflap was fastened back, plain to view about the camp-fires in openplaces, clustering like bees in the small squares from which ran thecamp streets, thronging the trodden places before the sutlers,everywhere apparent in the foreground and divined in the distance. Fromsomewhere came the strains of "Yankee Doodle." A gust of wind blew outthe folds of the stars and stripes, fastened above some regimentalheadquarters. The city of tents and of frame structures hasty and crude,of fires in open places, of sutlers' shops and cantines, and booths ofstrolling players, of chapels and hospitals, of fluttering flags andwandering music, of restless blue soldiers, oscillating like motes insome searchlight of the giants, persisted for a long distance. At lastit died away; there came a quiet field or two, then the old Marylandtown of Frederick.