CHAPTER XII
"THE BATH AND ROMNEY TRIP"
Richard Cleave and his horse, two tired wights, turned a corner in thewood and came with suddenness upon a vedette, posted beneath a beechtree. The vedette brought his short rifle to bear upon the apparition."Halt! Halt, you in blue! Halt, I say, or I'll blow your head off."
Down an aisle of the woods, deep in russet leaves, appeared a greyfigure. "Hello, Company F! It's all right! It's all right! It's CaptainCleave, 65th Virginia. Special service." Musket in hand, Allan came at arun through the slanting sunshine of the forest. "It's all right,Cuninghame--Colonel Ashby will understand."
"Here," said the vedette, "is Colonel Ashby now."
From another direction, out of the filmy and amethyst haze that closedeach forest vista, came a milk-white horse, stepping high over thefallen leaves. The rider, not tall, black-bearded, with a pale, handsomeface, sat like a study for some great sculptor's equestrian masterpiece.In a land where all rode well, his was superb horsemanship. The cape ofhis grey coat was lined with scarlet, his soft wide hat had a blackplume; he wore long boots and white gauntlets. The three beneath thebeech saluted. He spoke in a pensive and musical voice. "A prisoner,Cuninghame? Where did you get him?--Ah, it's Richard Cleave!"
The bright December day wore on, sunny and cold in the woods, sunny andcold above the river. The water, clear now of mist, sparkled, a streamof diamonds, from shore to shore, except where rose Dam No. 5. Here thediamonds fell in cataracts. A space of crib-work, then falling gems,another bit of dry logs in the sun, then again brilliancy and thunder ofwater over the dam; this in sequence to the Maryland side. That sidereached, there came a mere ribbon of brown earth, and beyond this ranthe Chesapeake and Ohio Canal. To-day boats from Cumberland were goingdown the canal with coal and forage, and boats from Harper's Ferry werecoming up with a reinforcing regiment of soldiers for Lander at Hancock.It was bright and lively weather, and the negroes talked to the mules onthe towpath, and the conductors of coal and forage hailed the soldiers,and the soldiers shouted back. The banks rang to laughter and voices."Where're you fellows going?"--"Going to Hancock,--no, don't know whereit is!"--"Purty day! Seen any rebels crost the river?"--"At Williamsportthey told us there was a rebel spy got away this morning--galloped downa cliff like Israel Putnam and took to the river, and if he was drownedor not they don't know--" "No, he wasn't drowned; he got away, but hewas shot. Anyhow, they say he hadn't been there long enough to find outanything."--"Wish _I_ could find out something--wish I could find outwhen we're going to fight!"--"Low braidge!"--"That's a pretty big dam.What's the troops over there in the field? Indiana? That's a right nicepicnic-ground--
'Kiss me good-bye, my dear,' he said; 'When I come back, we will be wed.' Crying, she kissed him, 'Good-bye, Ned!' And the soldier followed the drum, The drum, The echoing, echoing drum!"
Over on the Virginia side, behind the friendly woods paced through byAshby's men, the height of the afternoon saw the arrival of the advanceguard of that portion of the Army of the Valley which was to coveroperations against Dam No. 5. Later in the day came Garnett with theremainder of the Stonewall Brigade and a two-gun detachment of theRockbridge Artillery, and by sunset the militia regiments were up. Campwas pitched behind a line of hills, within the peninsula made by thecurve of the river. This rising ground masked the movement; moreover,with Ashby between any body of infantry and an enemy not in unreasonableforce, that body worked and ate and slept in peace of mind. Six milesdown the river, over on the Maryland side, was Williamsport, with aninfantry command and with artillery. Opposite Dam No. 5 in the Marylandfields beyond the canal, troops were posted, guarding that very stretchof river. From a little hill above the tents frowned their cannon. AtHancock, at Hagerstown, and at Frederick were other thousands, and all,from the general of the division to the corporal drilling an awkwardsquad in the fields beside the canal, thought of the Army of the Valleyas at Winchester.
With the Confederate advance guard, riding Little Sorrel, his cadet capover his eyes, his uniform whole and clean, but discoloured like aNovember leaf from rain and dust and dust and rain, with great boots andheavy cavalry spurs, with his auburn beard and his deep-set grey-blueeyes, with his forehead broad and high, and his aquiline nose, and hismouth, wide and thin-lipped, came Jackson. The general's tent was a rudeaffair. His soldiers pitched it beneath a pine, beside a small tricklingstream half choked with leaves. The staff was quartered to right andleft, and a clump of pines in the rear served for an Arcadian kitchen. Acamp-stool and a table made of a board laid upon two stumps of treesfurnished the leaf-strewn terrace before the tent. Here, Cleave, comingto report, found his commander.
Jackson was sitting, feet planted as usual, arms at side as usual,listening to his chief of staff. He acknowledged Cleave's salute, with aglance, a slight nod of the head, and a motion of the hand to one side.The young man waited, standing by a black haw upon the bank of thelittle stream. The respectful murmur of the chief of staff came to anend. "Very good, major. You will send a courier back to Falling Watersto halt General Carson there. He is to be prepared to make a diversionagainst Williamsport in the morning. I will give precise instructionslater. What of this mill by the river?"
"It is a very strong, old, stone mill, sir, with windows. It wouldcommand any short-range attack upon the workers."
"Good! good! We will put riflemen there. As soon as General Garnett isup, send him to me."
From the not-distant road came a heavy rumble of wheels and the sound ofhorses' feet. "There are the guns, now, sir."
"Yes. They must wait until nightfall to get into position. Send CaptainMcLaughlin to me in half an hour's time."
"Yes, sir. Captain Colston of the 2d is here--"
"Very good. I will see him now. That is all, major."
The chief of staff withdrew. Captain Colston of the 2d approached fromthe shadows beyond the big pine and saluted. "You are from this region,captain?"
"Yes, sir. The _Honeywood_ Colstons."
"This stone mill is upon your land?"
"Yes, sir. My mother owns it."
"You have been about the dam as a boy?"
"Yes, sir. In the water above it and in the water below it. I know everylog, I reckon. It works the mill."
"If we break it, it will work the mill no longer. In addition, if theenemy cross, they will probably destroy the property."
"Yes, sir. My mother and I would not let that weigh with us. As I knowthe construction I should esteem it an honour, sir, if I might lead theparty. I think I may say that I know where the cribs could be mosteasily cut."
"Very good then, sir. You will report for duty at nine to-night. CaptainHolliday of the 33d and Captain Robinson of the 27th, with a number oftheir men, have volunteered for this service. It is not without danger,as you know. That is all."
Captain Colston departed. "Now, Captain Cleave," said the general.
A few minutes later, the report ended, Jackson refolded General Banks'sletter to General Kelly and put it into his pocket-book. "Good! good!"he said, and turned slightly on the camp-stool so as to face the riverand the north. "It's all right, captain, it's all right!"
"I wish, sir," said Cleave, "that with ten times the numbers you have,you were leading us across the river. We might force a peace, I think,and that right quickly."
Jackson nodded. "Yes, sir, I ought to have every soldier in Virginia--ifthey could be gotten here in time every soldier in the Carolinas. Therewould then be but a streamlet of blood where now there is going to be agreat river. The streamlet should run through the land of them with whomwe are righteously at war. As it is, the great river will run throughours." He rose. "You have done your mission well, sir. The 65th will beup presently."
* * * * *
It took three days to cut Dam No. 5. On the fourth the brigade went backto Winchester. A week later came Loring with the Army of t
he Kanawha,and on the third of January the whole force found itself again upon theroad.
In the afternoon the weather changed. The New Year had come in smiling,mild as April, dust in the roads, a blue sky overhead. The witheredgoldenrod and gaunt mullein stalks and dead asters by the wayside almostseemed to bloom again, while the winter wheat gave an actual vernaltouch. The long column, winding somewhere--no one knew where, but anyhowon the Pugh Town Road and in a northwesterly direction (even Old Jackcouldn't keep them from knowing that they were going northwest!)--was inhigh spirits. At least, the Stonewall Brigade was in spirits. It wassaid that Loring's men didn't want to come, anyhow. The men whistled andsang, laughed, joked, were lavish of opinions as to all the world ingeneral and the Confederate service in particular. They were sarcastic.The Confederate private was always sarcastic, but throughout the morningthere had been small sting in their remarks. Breakfast--"at earlydawn"--was good and plentiful. Three days' rations had been served andcooked, and stowed in haversacks. But, so lovely was the weather, sooppressive in the sunshine would be a heavy weight to carry, so obligingwere the wagon drivers, so easy in many regiments the Confederatediscipline, that overcoats, blankets, and, in very many instanceshaversacks, had been consigned before starting to the friendly care ofthe wagons in the rear. The troops marched light, and in a good humour.True, Old Jack seemed bent on getting there--wherever "there" was--in atremendous hurry. Over every smooth stretch the men were double-timed,and there was an unusual animus against stragglers. There grew, too, amoral certitude that from the ten minutes' lawful rest in each hour atleast five minutes was being filched. Another and still more certainconclusion was that the wagon train was getting very far behind.However, the morning was still sweet, and the column, as a whole,cheerful. It was a long column--the Stonewall Brigade, three brigades ofLoring's, five batteries, and a few cavalry companies; eight thousand,five hundred men in all.
Mid-day arrived, and the halt for dinner. Alas for the men withouthaversacks! They looked as though they had borne all the burdens of themarch. There was hunger within and scant sympathy without. "Didn't thedamned fools know that Old Jack always keeps five miles ahead of wagontrains and hell fire?" "Here, Saunders! take these corn pones over tothose damned idiots with the compliments of Mess No. 4. We know thatthey have Cherrystone oysters, canvas-back ducks, terrapin, and peachbrandy in their haversacks, and that they meant to ask us to join them.So unfortunate!"
The cavalry marched on, the artillery marched on, the infantry marchedon. The bright skies subtly changed. The blue grew fainter; a haze,white, harsh, and cold, formed gradually, and a slight wind began toblow. The aster and goldenrod, the dried ironweed and sumach, the redrose hips and magenta pokeberry stalks looked dead enough now, dead anddreary upon the weary, weary road. The men sang no more; the more weaklyshivered. Before long the sky was an even greyish-white, and the windhad much increased. Coming from the northwest, it struck the column inthe face; moreover, it grew colder and colder. All types shivered now,the strong and the weak, the mounted officer and the leg-weary private,the men with overcoats, and the men without. The column moved slower andslower, all heads bent before the wind, which now blew with violence. Itraised, too, a blinding dust. A curt order ran down the lines for lessdelay. The regiments changed gait, tried quick time along a levelstretch, and left behind a large number of stragglers. The burst ofspeed was for naught, they went the slower thereafter, and coming to along, bleak hill, crept up it like tortoises--but without protectingshells. By sunset the cold was intense. Word came back that the head ofthe column was going into camp, and a sigh of approbation arose fromall. But when brigade by brigade halted, deployed, and broke ranks, itappeared that "going into camp" was rather a barren phrase. The wagonshad not come up; there were no tents, no blankets, no provisions. Anorthwester was blowing, and the weather-wise said that there would besnow ere morning. The regiments spread over bare fields, enclosed byrail fences. There were a small, rapidly freezing stream and thickwoods, skirting the fields. In the woods were fallen boughs and pinecones enough to make the axes in the company wagons not greatly missed,and detachments were sent to gather fagots. The men, cold and exhausted,went, but they looked wistfully at the rail fences all around them, soeasy to demolish, so splendid to burn! Orders on the subject werestringent. _Officers will be held responsible for any destruction ofproperty. We are here to protect and defend, not to destroy._ The mengathered dead branches and broke down others, heaped them together inthe open fields, and made their camp-fires. The Rockbridge Artilleryoccupied a fallow field covered with fox grass, dead Michaelmas daisy,and drifted leaves. It was a good place for the poor horses, the batterythought. But the high wind blew sparks from the fires and lighted thegrass. The flames spread and the horses neighed with terror. The batterywas forced to move, taking up position at last in a ploughed field wherethe frozen furrows cut the feet, and the wind had the sweep of anunchained demon. An infantry regiment fared better. It was in a stretchof fenced field between the road and the freezing brook. A captain,native of that region, spoke to the lieutenant-colonel, and the latterspoke to the men. "Captain ---- says that we are camping upon his land,and he's sorry he can't give us a better welcome! But we can have hisfence rails. Give him a cheer, and build your fires!" The men cheeredlustily, and tore the rails apart, and had rousing fires and werecomfortable; but the next morning Stonewall Jackson suspended from dutythe donor of his own fences. The brigades of Loring undoubtedly sufferedthe most. They had seen, upon the Monterey line, on the Kanawha, theGauley, and the Greenbriar, rough and exhausting service. And then, justwhen they were happy at last in winter quarters, they must pull upstakes and hurry down the Valley to join "Fool Tom Jackson" of theVirginia Military Institute and one brief day of glory at Manassas!Loring, a gallant and dashing officer, was popular with them. "Fool TomJackson" was not. They complained, and they very honestly thought thatthey had upon their side justice, common sense, and common humanity--tosay nothing of military insight! The bitter night was bitterer to themfor their discontent. Many were from eastern Virginia or from the statesto the south, not yet inured to the winter heights and StonewallJackson's way. They slept on frozen ground, surrounded by grimmountains, and they dreamed uneasily of the milder lowlands, of the yetgreen tangles of bay and myrtle, of quiet marshes and wide, unfreezingwaters. In the night-time the clouds thickened, and there came down afine rain, mixed with snow. In the morning, fields, hillsides, and roadappeared glazed with ice--and the wagons were not up!
The country grew rougher, lonelier, a series of low mountains and partlycleared levels. To a few in the creeping column it may have occurredthat Jackson chose unfrequented roads, therefore narrow, therefore worsethan other roads, to the end that his policy of utter secrecy might bethe better served; but to the majority his course seemed sprung from acertain cold wilfulness, a harshness without object, unless his objectwere to wear out flesh and bone. The road, such as it was, was sheetedwith ice. The wind blew steadily from the northwest, striking the facelike a whip, and the fine rain and snow continued to fall and to freezeas it fell. What, the evening before, had been hardship, now grew toactual misery. The column faltered, delayed, halted, and still the ordercame back, "The general commanding wishes the army to press on." Thearmy stumbled to its now bleeding feet, and did its best with a hilllike Calvary. Up and down the column was heard the report of muskets,men falling and accidentally discharging their pieces. The companyofficers lifted monotonous voices, weary and harsh as reeds by a winterpond. _Close up, men--close up--close up!_
In the afternoon Loring, riding at the head of his brigades, sent astaff officer forward with representations. The latter spurred hishorse, but rapid travelling was impossible upon that ice-sheathed road.It was long before he overtook the rear of the Stonewall Brigade.Buffeted by the wind, the grey uniforms pale under a glaze of sleet, thered of the colours the only gleam of cheer, the line crawled over a longhill, icy, unwooded, swept by the shrieking wind. Stafford in passingexchanged greetings with
several of the mounted officers. These were inas bad case as their men, nigh frozen themselves, distressed for thehorses beneath them, and for the staggering ranks, striving for angerwith the many stragglers and finding only compunction, in blankignorance as to where they were going and for what, knowing only thatwhereas they had made seventeen miles the day before, they were notlikely to make seven to-day. He passed the infantry and came up with theartillery. The steep road was ice, the horses were smooth shod. The poorbrutes slipped and fell, cutting themselves cruelly. The men were downin the road, lifting the horses, dragging with them at gun and caisson.The crest of the hill reached, the carriages must be held back, keptfrom sliding sideways in the descent. Going down was worse than comingup. The horses slipped and fell; the weight of gun and caisson came uponthem; together they rolled to the foot, where they must be helped up andurged to the next ascent. Oaths went here and there upon the wind, hurtwhinnies, words of encouragement, cracking of whips, straining andgroaning of gun carriages.
Stafford left the artillery behind, slowly climbed another hill, andmore slowly yet picked his way down the glassy slope. Before him lay agreat stretch of meadow, white with sleet, and beyond it he saw theadvance guard disappearing in a fold of the wrinkled hills. As he rodehe tried to turn his thoughts from the physical cold and wretchedness tosome more genial chamber of the brain. He had imaginative power, abilityto build for himself out of the void. It had served him well in thepast--but not so well the last year or two. He tried now to turn thering and pass from the bitter day and road into some haunt of warmth andpeace. Albemarle and summer--Greenwood and a quiet garden. That did notanswer! Harassment, longing, sore desire, check and bitterness--unhappinessthere as here! He tried other resting places that once hadanswered, poets' meadows of asphodel, days and nights culled like abouquet from years spent in a foreign land, old snatchesout of boyhood. These answered no longer, nor did a closing of the eyesand a sinking downward, downward through the stratas of being into somecavern, reckonless and quiet, of the under-man. It as little served tofront the future and try to climb, like Jack of the Beanstalk, to someplane above and beyond war and disappointment and denying. He wasunhappy, and he spoke wearily to his horse, then shut his lips and facedthe Siberian road. Entering in his turn the fold of the hills, he sooncame up with the advance. As he passed the men on foot a sudden swirl ofsnow came in larger flakes from the leaden skies. Before him were adozen horsemen, riding slowly. The air was now filled with the greatwhite flakes; the men ahead, in their caped overcoats, with their hatsdrawn low, plodding on tired horses between the hills, all seen vaguelythrough the snow veil, had a sudden wintry, desolate, and far-awayseeming. He said to himself that they were ghosts from fifty years back,ghosts of the Grand Army in the grasp of General January. He made whathaste he could and came up with Stonewall Jackson, riding with Ashby andwith his staff. All checked their horses, the general a little advanced,Stafford facing him. "From General Loring, sir."
"Good! What does he want?"
"There is much suffering among his men, sir. They have seen hard serviceand they have faced it gallantly--"
"Are his men insubordinate?"
"Not at all, sir. But--"
"You are, I believe, the officer whom General Loring sent me oncebefore?"
"Yes, general. Many of the men are without rations. Others are almostbarefoot. The great number are unused to mountain work or to sorigorous a climate."
The commanding general sat regarding the emissary with a curious chillblankness. In peace, to the outward eye he was a commonplace man; in warhe changed. The authority with which he was clothed went, no doubt, formuch, but it was rather, perhaps, that a door had been opened for him.His inner self became visible, and that imposingly. The man was there; afirm man, indomitable, a thunderbolt of war, a close-mouthed,far-seeing, praying and worshipping, more or less ambitious, not alwaysjust, patriotically devoted fatalist and enthusiast, a mysterious andcommanding genius of an iron sort. When he was angered it was as thoughthe offender had managed to antagonize some natural law, or force ormass. Such an one had to face, not an irritated human organism, but aGibraltar armed for the encounter. The men who found themselvesconfronted by this anger could and did brace themselves against it, butit was with some hopelessness of feeling, as of hostility upon a planewhere they were at a disadvantage. The man now sitting his horse beforehim on the endless winter road was one not easily daunted by outwardaspects. Nevertheless he had at this moment, in the back of his head, aweary consciousness that war was roseate only to young boys and girls,that the day was cold and drear, the general hostile, the earth overlaidwith dull misery, that the immortals, if there were any, must beclamouring for the curtain to descend forever upon this shabby humanstage, painful and sordid, with its strutting tragedians and itsbellman's cry of _World Drama_! The snow came down thickly, in largeflakes; a horse shook himself, rubbed his nose against his fellow'sneck, and whinnied mournfully. The pause, which had seemed long, was notreally so. Jackson turned toward the group of waiting officers. "MajorCleave."
Cleave pushed his horse a little into the road. "Sir."
"You will return with this officer to General Loring's command. It isfar in the rear. You will give General Loring this note." As he spoke hewrote upon a leaf torn from his pocket-book. The words as he traced themread: "_General Jackson's compliments to General Loring. He has somefault to find with the zeal of General Loring, his officers and men.General Loring will represent to himself that in war soldiers areoccasionally called upon to travel in winter weather. Campaigns cannotalways be conducted in seasons of roses. General Loring will urge hismen forward, without further complaint. T. J. Jackson, Major-General._"
He folded the leaf and gave it to Richard Cleave, then touched LittleSorrel with his heavy spur and with Ashby and the staff rode on throughthe falling snow, between the hills. The small cavalry advance passed,too, grey and ghost-like in the grasp of General January, disappearingwithin the immense and floating veil of the snow. When all were goneStafford and Cleave turned their horses' heads toward the distantcolumn, vaguely seen in the falling day. Stafford made an expressivesound.
"I am sorry," said Cleave gravely. "But when you have been with himlonger you will understand him better."
"I think that he is really mad."
The other shook his head. "He is not mad. Don't get that idea, Stafford.It _is_ hard on the troops, poor fellows! How the snow falls! We hadbetter turn out and let the guns pass."
They moved into the untrodden snow lying in the fence corners andwatched the guns, the horses, and men strain past with a sombre noise.Officers and men knew Richard Cleave, and several hailed him. "Where inhell are we going, Cleave? Old Jack likes you! Tell him, won't you, thatit's damned hard on the horses, and we haven't much to eat ourselves?Tell him even the guns are complaining! Tell him--Yes, sir! Get upthere, Selim! Pull, Flora, pull!--Whoa!--Damnation! Come lay a hand tothis gun, boys! Where's Hetterich! Hetterich, this damned wheel's offagain!"
The delay threatening to be considerable, the two men rode on, pickingtheir way, keeping to the low bank, or using the verge of the crowdedroad. At last they left the artillery, and found themselves again upon alonely way. "I love that arm," said Cleave. "There isn't a gun therethat isn't alive to me." He turned in his saddle and looked back at thelast caisson vanishing over the hill.
"Shall you remain with the staff?"
"No. Only through this campaign. I prefer the line."
The snow fell so fast that the trampled and discoloured road was againwhitening beneath it. Half a mile ahead was visible the StonewallBrigade, coming very slowly, beaten by the wind, blinded by the snow, aspectral grey serpent upon the winding road.
Stafford spoke abruptly. "I am in your debt for the arrangements I foundmade for me in Winchester. I have had no opportunity to thank you. Youwere extremely good so to trouble yourself--"
"It was no trouble. As I told you once before, I am anxious to serveyou."
They met the brigade,
Garnett riding at the head. "Good-day, RichardCleave," he said. "We are all bound for Siberia, I think!" Company bycompany the regiments staggered by, in the whirling snow, the coloursgripped by stiffening hands. There were blood stains on the frozenground. Oh, the shoes, the shoes that a non-manufacturing country withclosed ports had to make in haste and send its soldiers! Oh, themuskets, heavy, dull, ungleaming, weighting the fiercely achingshoulders! Oh, the snow, mounded on cap, on cartridge box, on rolledblanket and haversack. Oh, the northwest wind like a lash, the pinchedstomach, the dry lips, the wavering sight, the weariness excessive! Thestrong men were breathing hard, their brows drawn together and upward.The weaker soldiers had a ghastly look, as of life shrunk to a point._Close up, men! Close up--close up!_
Farther down the line, on the white bank to which they tried to keep,the column almost filling the narrow road, Cleave checked his horse. "Ihave a brother in this regiment, and he has been ill--"
A company came stumbling by, heads bent before the bitter wind. He spoketo its captain, the captain spoke to a lieutenant, the lieutenant to aprivate in the colour guard, who at once fell out of line and sprangsomewhat stiffly across the wayside depression to the two horsemen drawnup upon the bank. "Well, Richard! It's snowing."
"Have you had anything to eat, Will?"
"Loads. I had a pone of cornbread and a Mr. Rat in my file had a pieceof bacon. We added them and then divided them, and it was lovely, so faras it went!" He laughed ruefully. "Only I've still that typhoid feverappetite--"
His brother took from under the cape of his coat a small parcel. "Hereare some slices of bread and meat. I hoped I would see you, and so Isaved them. Where is that comforter Miriam knitted you?"
The boy's eyes glistened as he put out a gaunt young hand and took theparcel. "Won't Mr. Rat and I have a feast! We were just talking of oldJudge at the Institute, and of how good his warm loaves used to taste!Seems like an answer to prayer. Thank you, Richard! Miriam's comforter?There's a fellow, a clerk from the store at Balcony Falls, who hasn'tmuch stamina and no shoes at all. They were bad when he started, and onefell to pieces yesterday, and he left most of the other on that badpiece of road this morning. So at the last halt we cut my comforter intwo and tied up his feet with it--I didn't need it, anyway." He lookedover his shoulder. "Well, I'd better be catching up!"
Richard put a hand upon his arm. "Don't give away any more clothing. Youhave your blanket, I see."
"Yes, and Mr. Rat has an oilcloth. Oh, we'll sleep. I could sleep now--"he spoke dreamily; "right in that fence corner. Doesn't it look soft andwhite?--like a feather bed with lovely clean sheets. The fence railsmake it look like my old crib at home--" He pulled himself together witha jerk. "You take care of yourself, Richard! I'm all right. Mr. Rat andI were soldiers before the war broke out!" He was gone, stumblingstiffly across to the road, running stiffly to overtake his company. Hisbrother looked after him with troubled eyes, then with a sigh picked upthe reins and followed Stafford toward the darkening east.
The two going one way, the haggard regiments another, the line thatseemed interminable came at last toward its end. The 65th held the rear.There were greetings from many throats, and from Company A a cheer.Hairston Breckinridge, now its captain, came across. "_Judge Allen'sResolutions_--hey, Richard! The world has moved since then! I wishFincastle could see us now--or rather I don't wish it! Oh, we're holdingout all right! The men are trumps." Mathew Coffin, too, came up. "Itdoesn't look much, Major Cleave, like the day we marched away! All theserenading and the flowers--we never thought war could be ugly." Heglanced disconsolately down at a torn cuff and a great smear of frozenmire adorning his coat. "I'm rather glad the ladies can't see us."
The Stonewall Brigade went by. There was again a stretch of horribly cutroad, empty save for here and there poor stragglers, sitting dismallyhuddled together beneath a cedar, or limping on painful feet, hopingsomewhere to overtake "the boys." A horse had fallen dead and had beendragged out of the road and through a gap in the fencing into a narrowfield. Beyond this, on the farther boundary of grey rails, threebuzzards were sitting, seen like hobgoblins through the veiling snow.The afternoon was closing in; it could only be said that the world was adreary one.
The Army of the Kanawha, Loring's three brigades, with the batteriesattached, came into view a long way off, grey streaks upon the road.Before the two horsemen reached it it had halted for the night, brokenranks, and flowed into the desolate fields. There was yet an hour ofdaylight, but discontent had grown marked, the murmuring loud, and thehalt was made. A few of the wagons were up, and a dark and heavy woodfilling a ravine gave fagots for the gathering. The two aides foundLoring himself, middle-aged and imposing, old Indian fighter, hero ofContreras, Churubusco, Chapultepec, and Garita de Belen, commander,since the transference of General Robert E. Lee to South Carolina, ofthe Army of the Kanawha, gallant and dashing, with an arm left inMexico, with a gift for picturesque phrases, with a past full of varietyand a future of a like composition, with a genuine tenderness and carefor his men, and an entire conviction that both he and his troops wereat present in the convoy of a madman--they found Loring seated on a logbeside a small fire and engaged in cooling in the snow a too-hot tin cupof coffee. His negro servant busily toasted hardtack; a brigadier seatedon an opposite log was detailing, half fiercely, half plaintively, theconditions under which his brigade was travelling. The two from Jacksondismounted, crunched their way over the snow and saluted. The generallooked up. "Good-evening, gentlemen! Is that you, Stafford? Well, didyou do your prettiest--and did he respond?"
"Yes, sir, he responded," replied Stafford, with grimness. "But not byme.--Major Cleave, sir, of his staff."
Cleave came forward, out of the whirling snow, and gave Jackson'smissive. It was so dull and dark a late afternoon that all things wereindistinct. "Give me a light here, Jupiter!" said Loring, and the negroby the fire lit a great sliver of pine and held it like a torch abovethe page. Loring read, and his face grew purple. With a suppressed oathhe sat a moment, staring at the paper, then with his one hand folded itagainst his knee. His fingers shook, not with cold, but with rage. "Verygood, very good! That's what he says, isn't it, all the time? 'Verygood!' or is it 'Good, good!'" He felt himself growing incoherent,pulled himself sharply together, and with his one hand thrust the paperinto his breast pocket. "It's all right, Stafford. Major Cleave, theArmy of the Kanawha welcomes you. Will you stay with us to-night, orhave you fifty miles to make ere dawn?"
Cleave, it appeared, had not fifty miles to make, but four. He mustreport at the appointed bivouac. Loring tore with his one hand a leaffrom his pocket-book, found his pencil, and using a booted knee for atable, wrote a line, folded and superscribed it. "This for GeneralJackson. Ugh, what freezing weather! Sit down and drink a cup of coffeebefore you go. You, too, Maury. Here, Jupiter! hot coffee. Major Cleave,do you remember Aesop's fables?"
"Yes, sir,--a number of them."
"A deal of knowledge there of damned human nature! The frog that swelledand swelled and thought himself an ox. Curious how your boyhood bookscome back into your mind! Sit down, gentlemen, sit down! Reardon's got abox of cigars tucked away somewhere or he isn't Reardon--"
Along the edge of the not-distant ravine other small fires had beenbuilt. From the circle about one of these arose a quavering voice--asoldier trying to sing cheer into company.
Dere was an old niggah, dey called him Uncle Ned-- He's dead long ago, long ago! He had no wool on de top ob his head, De place whar de wool ought to grow. Den lay down de shubble an de hoe, Hang up de fiddle an de bow--