CHAPTER XVIII
McDOWELL
At Stanardsville he heard from a breathless crowd about the small hotelnews from over the mountains. Banks was at last in motion--was marching,nineteen thousand strong, up the Valley--had seized New Market, and,most astounding and terrific of all to the village boys, had captured awhole company of Ashby's! "General Jackson?" General Jackson had burnedthe railway station at Mt. Jackson and fallen back--was believed to besomewhere about Harrisonburg.
"Any other news?"
"Yes, sir! Fremont's pressing south from Moorefield, Milroy east fromMonterey! General Edward Johnson's had to fall back from theAlleghenies!--he's just west of Staunton. He hasn't got but a brigadeand a half."
"Anything more?"
"Stage's just brought the Richmond papers. All about Albert SydneyJohnston's death at Shiloh. He led the charge and a minie ball struckhim, and he said 'Lay me down. Fight on.'"
"Fort Pulaski's taken! The darned gunboats battered down the wall. Allof the garrison that ain't dead are prisoners."
"News from New Orleans ain't hilarious. Damned mortar boats bombard andbombard!--four ships, they say, against Fort Saint Philip, more againstFort Jackson. Air full of shells. Farragut may try to run forts andbatteries, Chalmette and all--"
"What else?"
"Looks downright bad down t' Richmond. McClellan's landed seventy-fivethousand men. Magruder lost a skirmish at Yorktown. All the Richmondwomen are making sandbags for the fortifications. Papers talk awful calmand large, but if Magruder gives way and Johnston can't keep McClellanback, I reckon there'll be hell to pay! I reckon Richmond'll fall."
"Anything more?"
"That's all to-day."
The village wag stepped forth, half innocent and half knave. "Saay,colonel! The prospects of this here Confederacy look rather _blue_."
"It is wonderful," said Cleave, "how quickly blue can turn to grey."
A portion of that night he spent at a farmhouse at the western mouth ofSwift Run Gap. Between two and three he and Harris and Dundee and thegrey were again upon the road. It wound through forests and by greatmountains, all wreathed in a ghostly mist. The moon shone bright, butthe cold was clinging. It had rained and on the soft wood road thehorses feet fell noiselessly. The two men rode in silence, cloaks drawnclose, hats over their eyes.
Behind them in the east grew slowly the pallor of the dawn. The starswaned, the moon lost her glitter, in the woods to either side began afaint peeping of birds. The two came to Conrad's Store, where the threeor four houses lay yet asleep. An old negro, sweeping the ground beforea smithy, hobbled forward at Harris's call. "Lawd, marster, enny news? Ispecs, sah, I'll hab ter ax you 'bout dat. I ain' heard none but dat darwuz er skirmish at Rude's Hill, en er skirmish at New Market, en er-nurrskirmish at Sparta, en dat Gineral Jackson hold de foht, sah, atHarrisonburg, en dat de Yankees comin', lickerty-split, up de Valley, endat de folk at Magaheysville air powerful oneasy in dey minds fer feardey'll deviate dis way. Howsomever, we's got er home guard ef dey docome, wid ole Mr. Smith what knew Gin'ral Washington at de haid. En darwuz some bridges burnt, I hearn, en Gineral Ashby he had er fight on deSouth Fork, en I cyarn think ob no mo' jes now, sah! But Gineral Jacksonhe sholy holdin' de foht at Harrisonburg.--Yes, sah, dat's deMagaheysville road."
The South Fork of the Shenandoah lay beneath a bed of mist. They crossedby a wooden bridge and came up again to the chill woods. Dim purplestreaks showed behind them in the east, but there was yet no glory andno warmth. Before them rose a long, low mountain ridge, a road runningalong the crest. "That certainly is damn funny!" said Harris; "unlessI've taken to seeing sights."
Cleave checked his horse. Above them, along the ridge top, was moving anarmy. It made no noise on the soft, moist road, artillery wheel andhorse's hoof quiet alike. It seemed to wish to move quietly, withoutvoice. The quarter of the sky above the ridge was coldly violet, palelyluminous. All these figures stood out against it, soldiers with theirmuskets, colour-bearer with furled colours, officers on foot, officerson horseback, guns, caissons, gunners, horses, forges, ordnance wagons,commissary--van, main body and rear, an army against the daybreak sky.
"Well, if ever I saw the like of that!" breathed the orderly. "What d'yereckon it means, sir?"
"It means that General Jackson is moving east from Harrisonburg."
"Not a sound--D'ye reckon they're ghosts, sir?"
"No. They're the Army of the Valley--There! the advance has made theturn."
Toward them swung the long column, through the stillness of the dawn,down the side of the ridge, over the soundless road, into the mist ofthe bottom lands. The leading regiment chanced to be the 2d; colonel andadjutant and others riding at the head. "Hello! It's RichardCleave!--The top of the morning to you, Cleave!--knew that Old Jack hadsent you off somewhere, but didn't know where.--Where are we going? ByGod, if you'll tell us, we'll tell you! Apparently we're leaving theValley--damn it all! Train to Richmond by night, I reckon. We've leftFourth of July, Christmas, and New Year behind us--Banks rubbing hishands, Fremont doing a scalp dance, Milroy choosing headquarters inStaunton! Well, it doesn't stand thinking of. You had as well waited forus at the Gap. The general? Just behind, head of main column. He'sjerked that right hand of his into the air sixteen times since we leftHarrisonburg day before yesterday, and the staff says he prays at nightmost powerful. Done a little praying myself; hope the Lord will lookafter the Valley, seeing we aren't going to do it ourselves!"
Cleave drew his horse to one side. "I'll wait here until he comesup--no, not the Lord; General Jackson. I want, too, to speak to Will.Where in column is the 65th?"
"Fourth, I think. He's a nice boy--Will. It was pretty to watch him atKernstown--V. M. I. airs and precision, and gallantry enough for adozen!"
"I'll tell him you said so, colonel! Good-bye!"
Will, too, wanted to know--he said that Mr. Rat wanted to know--all thefellows wanted to know, what--("I wish you'd let me swear, Richard!")what it all meant? "Mr. Rat and I don't believe he's responsible--itisn't in the least like his usual conduct! Old Jack backing away fromcannons and such--quitting parade ground before it's time!--marching offto barracks with a beautiful rumpus behind him! It ain't natural! Markmy words, Richard, and Mr. Rat thinks so, too, it's General Lee orGeneral Johnston, and he's got to obey and can't help himself!--What doyou think?"
"I think it will turn out all right. Now march on, boy! The colonel sayshe watched you at Kernstown; says you did mighty well--'gallant for adozen!'"
General Jackson on Little Sorrel was met with further on. Imperturbableand self-absorbed, with his weather-stained uniform, his great boots,his dreadful cap, he exhibited as he rode a demeanour in which there wasneither heaviness nor lightness. Never jovial, seldom genial, he was onone day much what he was on another--saving always battle days. Ridingwith his steadfast grey-blue eyes level before him, he communed withhimself or with Heaven--certainly not with his dissatisfied troops.
He acknowledged Cleave's salute, and took the letter which the otherproduced. "Good! good! What did you do at Charlottesville?"
"I sent the stores on to Major Harman at Staunton, sir. There was a gooddeal of munition." He gave a memorandum.
One hundred rifled muskets with bayonets. " " Belgian " " " Fifty flintlocks. Two hundred pikes. Five hundred pounds cannon powder. Two " " musket " Five thousand rounds of cartridge. Eight sets artillery harness. Ten artillery sabres. One large package of lint. One small case drugs and surgical instruments.
"Good, good," said Jackson. "What day?"
"Monday, sir. Virginia Central that afternoon. I telegraphed to MajorHarman."
"Good!" He folded the slip of paper between his large fingers andtransferred it to his pocket. "I will read General Ewell's letter. LaterI may wish to ask you some questions. That is all, major."
Cleave
rode back to the 65th. Presently, the sun now brilliantly up, theArmy of the Valley, in no sunny mood, crossed the bridge over theShenandoah. There was a short halt. A company of Ashby's galloped fromthe rear and drew off into a strip of level beside the bridge. A sectionof artillery followed suit. The army understood that for some reason orother and for some length of time or other the bridge was to be guarded,but it understood nothing more. Presently the troops passed Conrad'sStore, where the old negro, reinforced now by the dozen whiteinhabitants, gaped at the tramping column. The white men askedstuttering questions, and as the situation dawned upon them theyindulged in irritating comment. "Say, boys, where in the Lord's name airyou going? We want you on this side of the Blue Ridge--you ain't got anycall to go on the other!--if you've got any Tuckahoes, let them go, butyou Cohees stay in your native land--Valley men ain't got no _right_ togo! _What'd the women say to you along the road?_ Clearing out like apassel of yaller dogs afore there's trouble and leavin' them an' thechildren to entertain the Yankees!"
Harris, coming up with the orderlies, found the old negro at his mare'sbridle. "Well, marster, I sholy did think I wuz tellin' de truf, sah,'bout Gin'ral Jackson holdin' de foht at Harrisonburg! En now he done'vacuate hit, en Gin'ral Banks he prance right in! Hit look powerfulcu'rous, hit sho do. But dar! I done seed de stars all fallin' way backin '33, en dat wuz powerful cu'rous too, fer de worl' didn't come ter aneend--Mebbe, sah, he jes'er drawin' dat gent'man on?"
Sullen and sorry, the army marched on, and at noon came to Elk RunValley on the edge of Swift Run Gap. When the men stacked arms and brokeranks, it was upon the supposition that, dinner over, they would resumethe march. They did not so; they stayed ten days in Elk Run Valley.
All around were the mountains, heavily timbered, bold and pathless.Beyond Conrad's Store, covering Jackson's front, rushed the Shenandoah,the bridge guarded by Ashby's men. There were pickets enough between theriver and the camp; north, south, and east rose the mountains, and onthe other side of Swift Run Gap, near Stanardsville, lay Ewell and hiseight thousand. The encampment occupied low and flat ground, throughwhich ran a swollen creek. The spring had been on the whole inclement,and now, with suddenness, winter came back for a final word. One daythere was a whirl of snow, another was cold and harsh, on the thirdthere set in a chilly rain. It rained and rained, and all the mountainstreams came down in torrents and still further swelled the turbidcreek. One night, about halfway through their stay, the creek came outof its banks and flooded the surrounding land. All tents, huts, andshelters of boughs for a hundred feet each side acquired a liquidflooring. There arose an outcry on the midnight air. Wet and cursing,half naked and all a-shiver, men disentangled themselves from theirsoaked blankets, snatched up clothing and accoutrements, and splashedthrough a foot of icy water to slightly dryer quarters on the risingground.
Snow, rain, freeze, thaw, impatience, listlessness, rabid conjecture,apathetic acquiescence, quarrels, makeups, discomfort, ennui, a deal ofswearing (carefully suppressed around headquarters), drill wheneverpracticable, two Sunday services and one prayer meeting!--the last weekof April 1862 in Elk Run Valley was one to be forgotten without a pang.There was an old barn which the artillery had seized upon, that leakedlike a sieve, and there was a deserted tannery that still filled the airwith an evil odour, and there was change of pickets, and there wererain-sodden couriers to be observed coming and going (never anything tobe gotten out of them), and there were the mountains hung with greyclouds. The wood was always wet and would not burn. Coffee was so lowthat it was served only every other day, besides being half chicory, andthe commissary had been cheated into getting a lot of poor tobacco. Theguardhouse accommodated more men than usual. A squad of Ashby's broughtin five deserters, all found on the backward road to the Valley. Onesaid that he was sick and that his mother had always nursed him; anotherthat he was only going to see that the Yankees hadn't touched the farm,and meant to come right back; another that the war was over, anyhow;another that he had had a bad dream and couldn't rest until he saw thathis wife was alive; the fifth that he was tired of living; and the sixthsaid nothing at all. Jackson had the six put in irons, and it wasthought that after the court martial they would be shot.
On the twenty-ninth Ashby, from the other side of the Shenandoah, made ademonstration in force against the enemy at Harrisonburg, and the nextday, encountering the Federal cavalry, drove them back to the town. Thatsame afternoon the Army of the Valley, quitting without regret Elk RunValley, found itself travelling an apparently bottomless road that woundalong the base of the mountains.
"For the Lord's sake, where are we going now?"
"This is the worst road to Port Republic."
"Why are we going to Port Republic?"
"Boys, I don't know. Anyway, we ain't going through the Gap. We're stillin the Valley."
"By gosh, I've heard the captain give some mighty good guesses! I'mgoing to ask him.--Captain, what d' ye reckon we camped ten days in thatmud hole for?"
Hairston Breckinridge gave the question consideration. "Well, Tom, maybethere were reasons, after all. General Ewell, for instance--he couldhave joined us there any minute. They say he's going to take our placeat Elk Run to-night!"
"That so? Wish him joy of the mud hole!"
"And we could have been quickly reinforced from Richmond. General Bankswould know all that, and 't would make him even less eager than he seemsto be to leave the beaten way and come east himself. Nobody wants _him_,you know, on the other side of the Blue Ridge."
"That's so--"
"And for all he knew, if he moved north and west to join Fremont wemight pile out and strike Milroy, and if he went south and west to meetMilroy he might hear of something happening to Fremont."
"That's so--"
"And if he moved south on Staunton he might find himself caught like ascalybark in a nut cracker--Edward Johnson on one side and the Army ofthe Valley on the other."
"That's so--"
"The other day I asked Major Cleave if General Jackson never amusedhimself in any way--never played any game, chess for instance. He said,'Not at all--which was lucky for the other chess player.'"
"Well, he ought to know, for he's a mighty good chess player himself.And you think--"
"I think General Banks has had to stay where he is."
"And where are we going now--besides Port Republic?"
"I haven't any idea. But I'm willing to bet that we're going somewhere."
The dirt roads, after the incessant rains, were mud, mud, mud!ordinarily to the ankles, extraordinarily to the knees of the marchinginfantry. The wagon train moved in front, and the heavy wheels made forthe rest a track something like Christian's through the Slough ofDespond. The artillery brought up the rear and fared worst of all. Gunsand caissons slid heavily into deep mud holes. The horses strained--poorbrutes! but their iron charges stuck fast. The drivers used whip andvoice, the officers swore, there arose calls for Sergeant Jordan.Appearing, that steed tamer picked his way to the horses' heads, spoketo them, patted them, and in a reasonable voice said, "Get up!" They didit, and the train dragged on to the next bog, deeper than before. Then_da capo_--stuck wheels, straining teams, oaths, adjuration, at last"Sergeant Jordan!"
So abominable was the road that the army went like a tortoise, a mudtortoise. Twilight found it little more than five miles from itsstarting-point, and the bivouac that night was by the comfortlessroadside, in the miry bushes, with fires of wet wood, and small and poorrations. Clouds were lowering and a chilly wind fretted the forests ofthe Blue Ridge. Around one of the dismal, smoky fires an especiallydejected mess found a spokesman with a vocabulary rich in comminations.
"Sh!" breathed one of the ring. "Officer coming by. Heard you too,Williams--all that about Old Jack."
A figure wrapped in a cloak passed just upon the rim of the firelight."I don't think, men," said a voice, "that you are in a position tojudge. If I have brought you by this road it is for your own good."
He passed on, the darkness taking him
. Day dawned as best it mightthrough grey sheets of rain. Breakfast was a mockery, damp hardtackholding the centre of the stage. A very few men had cold coffee in theircanteens, but when they tried to heat it the miserable fire went out. Onmarched the Army of the Valley, in and out of the great rain-drenched,mist-hidden mountains, on the worst road to Port Republic. Road,surrounding levels, and creek-bed had somehow lost identity. One waslike the other, and none had any bottom. Each gun had now a corps ofpioneers, who, casting stone and brushwood into the morass, laboriouslybuilt a road for the piece. Whole companies of infantry were put at thiswork. The officers helped, the staff dismounted and helped, thecommanding general was encountered, rain-dripping, mud-spattered, a logon his shoulder or a great stone in his hands. All this day they madebut five miles, and at night they slept in something like a lake, with agibing wind above to whisper _What's it for?_--_What's it for?_
May the second was of a piece with May the first. On the morning of Maythe third the clouds broke and the sun came out. It found the troopsbivouacked just east of the village of Port Republic, and it put intothem life and cheer. Something else helped, and that was the fact thatbefore them, clear and shining in the morning light, stretched, not theneglected mountain road they had been travelling, but a fair Valleyroad, the road to Staunton.
Jackson and his staff had their quarters at the neighbouring house ofGeneral Lewis. At breakfast one of the ladies remarked that the Stauntonroad was in good condition, and asked the guest of honour how long itwould take the army to march the eighteen miles.
"Is that the exact distance?" asked the general. "Eighteen miles?"
"Yes, sir; just about eighteen. You should get there, should you not, bynight?"
"You are fortunate," said the general, "in having a great naturalcuriosity at your very doors. I have long wanted to see Weyers's Cave. Avast cavern like that, hollowed out by God's finger, hung withstalactites, with shells and banners of stone, filled with soundingaisles, run through by dark rivers in which swim blind fish--howwonderful a piece of His handiwork! I have always wished to see it--themore so that my wife has viewed it and told me of its marvels. I alwayswish, madam, to rest my eyes where my wife's have rested."
The bugles ringing "Fall in!" were positively sweet to the ears of thesoldiers of the Valley. "Fall in? with pleasure, sir! Eighteen miles?What's eighteen miles when you're going home? It's a fine old roadanyhow, with more butterflies on it! We'll double-quick it all the wayif Old Jack wants us!"
"That man back there says Staunton's awfully anxious. Says people allthink we've gone to reinforce Richmond without caring a damn whatbecomes of the Valley. Says Milroy is within ten miles of Staunton, andBanks's just waiting a little longer before he pulls up stakes atHarrisonburg and comes down the pike to join him. Says Edward Johnsonain't got but a handful, and that the Staunton women are hiding theirsilver. Says--Here's Old Jack, boys! going to lead us himself back toGoshen! One cheer ain't enough--_three cheers for General Jackson!_"
Jackson, stiffly lifting the old forage cap, galloped by upon LittleSorrel. His staff behind him, he came to the head of the column where itwas drawn up on the fair road leading through Port Republic, south andwest to Staunton. Close on the eastern horizon rose the Blue Ridge. Tothis side turned off a rougher, narrower way, piercing at Brown's Gapthe great mountain barrier between the Valley and Piedmont Virginia.
The column was put into motion, the troops stepping out briskly. Warmand lovely was the sunshine, mildly still the air. Big cherry trees werein bloom by the wayside: there was a buzzing of honey bees, a slowfluttering of yellow butterflies above the fast drying mud puddles.Throughout the ranks sounded a clearing of throats; it was evident thatthe men felt like singing, presently would sing. The head of the columncame to the Brown's Gap Road.
"What's that stony old road?" asked a Winchester man.
"That's a road over the mountains into Albemarle. Thank the Lord--"
"_Column left._ MARCH!"
It rang infernally. _Column left._ MARCH!--Not a freight boat hornwinding up the James at night, not the minie's long screech, notGabriel's trump, not anything could have sounded at this moment somournfully in the ears of the Army of the Valley. It wheeled to theleft, it turned its back to the Valley, it took the stony road toBrown's Gap, it deeply tasted the spring of tragic disappointment.
The road climbed and climbed through the brilliant weather. Spur and wall,the Blue Ridge shimmered in May greenery, was wrapped in happy light andin sweet odours, was carpeted with wild flowers and ecstatic with singingbirds. Only the Army of the Valley was melancholy--desperately melancholy.Here and there through openings, like great casements in the foliage,wide views might be had of the Valley they were leaving. Town and farmand mill with turning wheel were there, ploughed land and wheat fields,Valley roads and Valley orchards, green hills and vales and noble woods,all the great vale between mountain chains, two hundred miles from northto south, twenty-five from Blue Ridge to Alleghenies! The men lookedwistfully, with grieved, children's faces.
At the top of the mountain there was a short halt. The up-hill pull hadbeen hard enough, heavy hearts and all! The men dropped upon the earthbetween the pine trees of the crest. For the most part they lay in thesullen silence with which they had climbed. Some put their heads upontheir arms, tilted hat or cap over their eyes. Others chewed a twig orstalk of grass and gazed upon the Valley they were leaving, or upon thevast eastward stretch of Piedmont, visible also from the mountain top.It was bright and quiet up here above the world. The sunshine drew outthe strong, life-giving odour of the pines, the ground was dry and warm,it should have been a pleasant place to drowse in and be happy. But theValley soldiers were not happy. Jackson, riding by a recumbent group,spoke from the saddle. "That's right, men! You rest all over, lyingdown." In the morning this group had cheered him loudly; now it salutedin a genuine "Bath to Romney" silence. He rode by, imperturbable. Hischief engineer was with him, and they went on to a flat rock commandingboth the great views, east and west. Here they dismounted, and betweenthem unfurled a large map, weighting its corners with pine cones. Thesoldiers below them gazed dully. Old Jack--or Major-General T. J.Jackson--or Fool Tom Jackson was forever looking at maps. It was a trickof his, as useless as saying "Good! good!" or jerking his hand in theair in that old way.
* * * * *
That evening the Army of the Valley slept in emerald meadows besideMeechum's River in Albemarle. Coming down the mountain it had caughtdistant glimpses of white spirals of smoke floating from the overworkedengines of the Virginia Central; and now it lay near a small countrystation, and there on the switch were empty cars and empty cars!--_carsto go to Richmond on_. The army groaned and got its supper, took out itspipe and began, though reluctantly enough, to regard the situation witha philosophic eye. What was done was done! The Blue Ridge lay betweenit and the Valley, and after all Old Joe must be wanting soldiers prettybadly down at Richmond! The landscape was lovely, the evening tranquiland sweet. The army went to bed early, and went in a frame of mindapproaching resignation. This was Saturday evening; Old Jack would restto-morrow.
Sunday dawned clear and sweet. Pleasant morning--no drill, and lightcamp duties--coffee, hot biscuits, good smoke--general Sundayatmosphere--bugler getting ready to sound "Church!"--regimentalchaplains moving toward chosen groves--"Old Hundred" in the air.--"Oh,come on and go! All the people are going at home."
And, after all, no one in the Army of the Valley went to church! Thebugler blew another call, the chaplains stopped short in their sedatestride, short as if they had been shot, "Old Hundred" was not sung._Break camp--Break camp!_
The regiments, marching down to Meechum's Station, were of one mind._Old Jack was losing his religion._ Manassas on Sunday--Kernstown onSunday--forced marches on Sunday--Sunday train to Richmond. Languagefailed.
There were long lines of cars, some upon the main track, others on thesiding. The infantry piled in, piled atop. Out of each window came threeor four heads. "You
fellows on the roof, you're taller'n we are! Air wethe first train? That's good, we'll be the first to say howdy toMcClellan. You all up there, don't dangle your legs that-a-way! You'reas hard to see through as Old Jack!"
Company after company filed into the poor old cars that were none toolarge, whose ante-bellum days were their best days, who never had timenow to be repaired or repainted, or properly cleaned. Squad by squadswung itself up to the cindery roof and sat there in rows, feet over theedge, the central space between heaped with haversacks and muskets.
"2d--4th--5th--65th--Jerusalem! the whole brigade's going on this train!Another's coming right behind--why don't they wait for it? Crowdinggentlemen in this inconsiderate fashion! Oh, ain't it hot? Wish I wasgoing to Niagara, to a Know-Nothing Convention! Our train's full.There's the engine coming down the siding! You all on top, can you seethe artillery and the wagons?"
"Yes. Way over there. Going along a road--nice shady road. Rockbridge'sleading--"
"That's the road to Rockfish Gap."
"Rockfish Gap? Go 'way! You've put your compass in the wrong pocket.Rockfish Gap's back where we came from. Look out!"
The backing engine and the waiting cars came together with a grindingbump. An instant's pause, a gathering of force, a mighty puffing and,slow and jerkily, the cars began to move. The ground about Meechum'sStation was grey with soldiers--part of the Stonewall, most of Burk'sand Fulkerson's brigades, waiting for the second train and the thirdtrain and their turn to fill the cars. They stood or leaned against thestation platform, or they sat upon the warm red earth beneath the locusttrees, white and sweet with hanging bloom. "Good-bye, boys! See you inRichmond--Richmond on the James! Don't fight McClellan till we getthere! That engine's just pulling them beyond the switch. Then that onebelow there will back up and hitch on at the eastern end.--That'sfunny!" The men sitting on the warm red earth beneath the locust treessprang to their feet. "That train ain't coming back! Before the Lord,they're going _west_!"
Back to Meechum's Station, from body and top of the out-going trainfloated wild cheering. "Staunton! We're going to Staunton! We're goingback to the Valley! We're going home! We're going to get there first!We're going to whip Banks! We've got Old Jack with _us_. You all hurryup. Banks thinks we've gone to Richmond, but we ain't! _Yaaaih!Yaaaaihhh! Yaaaih! Yaaaaaaih!_"
At Meechum's Station, beneath the locust trees, it was like beesswarming. Another train was on the main track, the head beautifully,gloriously westward! "Staunton! Good-bye, you little old Richmond, weain't going to see you this summer!--Feel good? I feel like a shoutingMethodist! My grandmother was a shouting Methodist. I feel I'm going toshout--anyhow, I've got to sing--"
A chaplain came by with a beaming face. "Why don't we all sing, boys?I'm sure I feel like it. It's Sunday."
How firm a foundation, ye saints of the Lord--
In Staunton it had been a day of indigo gloom. The comfortable Valleytown, fair-sized and prosperous, with its pillared court house, its oldhotel, its stores, its up and down hill streets, its many and shadytrees, its good brick houses, and above the town its quaintly namedmountains--Staunton had had, in the past twelve months, many an unwontedthrob and thrill. To-day it was in a condition of genuine, dull, steadyanxiety, now and then shot through by a fiercer pang. There had been intown a number of sick and convalescent soldiers. All these were sentseveral days before, eastward, across the mountains. In the place werepublic and military stores. At the same time, a movement was made towardhiding these in the woods on the other side of the twin mountains BetsyBell and Mary Grey. It was stopped by a courier from the direction ofSwift Run Gap with a peremptory order. _Leave those stores where theyare._ Staunton grumbled and wondered, but obeyed. And now the eveningbefore, had come from Port Republic, eighteen miles toward the BlueRidge, a breathless boy on a breathless horse, with tidings that Jacksonwas at last and finally gone from the Valley--had crossed at Brown's Gapthat morning! "Called to Richmond!" groaned the crowd that accompaniedthe boy on his progress toward official Staunton. "Reckon Old Joe andGeneral Lee think we're small potatoes and few in a row. They ain't,either of them, a Valley man. Reckon this time to-morrow Banks andMilroy'll saunter along and dig us up! There's old Watkin's bugle! HomeGuard, come along and drill!"
Staunton did little sleeping that Saturday night. Jackson wasgone--Ashby with him. There was not a Confederate vedette between thetown and Banks at Harrisonburg--the latter was probably moving down thepike this very night, in the dark of the moon. Soldiers of EdwardJohnson--tall Georgians and 44th Virginians--had been in town thatSaturday, but they two were gone, suddenly recalled to their camp, sevenmiles west, on the Parkersburg road. Scouts had reported to Johnson thatMilroy was concentrating at M'Dowell, twenty miles to the westward, andthat Schenck, sent on by Fremont, had joined or would join him. Any hourthey might move eastward on Staunton. Banks--Fremont--Milroy--threearmies, forty thousand men--all converging on Staunton and its HomeGuard, with the intent to make it even as Winchester! Staunton feltitself the mark of the gods, a mournful Rome, an endangered Athens, atottering Carthage.
Sunday morning, clear and fine, had its church bells. The children wentto Sunday School, where they learned of Goliath and the brook Hebron,and David and his sling. At church time the pews were wellfilled--chiefly old men and women and young boys. The singing wasfervent, the prayers were yet more so. The people prayed very humbly andheartily for their Confederacy, for their President and his Cabinet, andfor Congress, for their Capital, so endangered, for their armies andtheir generals, for every soldier who wore the grey, for their blockedports, for New Orleans, fallen last week, for Norfolk that theauthorities said must be abandoned, for Johnston and Magruder on thePeninsula--at that very hour, had they known it, in grips with Hancockat Williamsburg.
Benediction pronounced, the congregation came out of the churchyards intime to greet with delight, not unmixed with a sense of the pathos ofit, certain just arrived reinforcements. Four companies of VirginiaMilitary Institute cadets, who, their teachers at their head, had beenmarched down for the emergency from Lexington, thirty-eight miles away.Flushed, boyish, trig, grey and white uniformed, with shining muskets,seventeen years old at most, beautifully marching with their band andtheir colours, amidst plaudits, tears, laughter, flowers, thrown kisses,they came down the street, wheeled, and before the court house werereceived by the Home Guard, an organization of grey-headed men.
Sunday afternoon brought many rumours. Milroy would march from McDowellto-morrow--Banks was coming down the turnpike--Fremont hovering closer.Excited country people flocked into town. Farmers whose sons were withJackson came for advice from leading citizens. Ought they to bring inthe women and children?--no end of foreigners with the blue coats, andforeigners are rough customers! And stock? Better drive the cows up intothe mountains and hide the horses? "Tom Watson says they're awfulwanton,--take what they want and kill the rest, and no more think ofpaying!--Says, too, they're burning barns. What d'you think we'd betterdo, sir?" There were Dunkards in the Valley who refused to go to war,esteeming it a sin. Some of these were in town, coming in on horsebackor in their white-covered wagons, and bringing wife or daughter. The menwere long-bearded and venerable of aspect; the women had peaceful Quakerfaces, framed by the prim close bonnet of their peculiar garb. Thesequiet folk, too, were anxious-eyed. They would not resist evil, buttheir homes and barns were dear to their hearts.
By rights the cadets should have been too leg weary for parade, but ifStaunton (and the young ladies) wished to see how the V. M. I. didthings, why, of course! In the rich afternoon light, band playing, MajorSmith at their head, the newly-arrived Corps of Defence marched down thestreet toward a green field fit for evolutions. With it, on eithersidewalk, went the town at large, specifically the supremely happy,small boy. The pretty girls were already in the field, seated, fullskirted beneath the sweet locust trees.
V. M. I., Home Guard, and attendant throng neared the Virginia Central.A whistle shrieked down the line, shrieked with enormou
s vigour--"What'sthat? Train due?"--"No. Not due for an hour--always late then! Betterhalt until it pulls in. Can't imagine--"
The engine appeared, an old timer of the Virginia Central, excitedlypuffing dark smoke, straining in, like a racer to the goal. Behind itcars and cars--_cars with men atop_! They were all in grey--they wereall yelling--the first car had a flag, the battle-flag of theConfederacy, the dear red ground, and the blue Saint Andrew's Cross andthe white stars. There were hundreds of men! hundreds and hundreds,companies, regiments, on the roof, on the platforms, half out of thewindows, waving, shouting--no! singing--
"We're the Stonewall. Zoom! Zoom! We're the openers of the ball. Zoom! Zoom!
"Fix bayonets! Charge! Rip! Rip! N. P. Banks for our targe. Zip! Zip!
"We wrote it on the way. Zoom! Zoom! Hope you like our little lay. Zoom! Zoom! For we didn't go to Richmond and we're coming home to stay!"
Four days later, on Sitlington's Hill, on the Bull Pasture Mountain,thirty miles to the west of Staunton, a man sat at nightfall in thelight of a great camp-fire and wrote a dispatch to his Government. Therewaited for it a swift rider--watching the stars while the general wrote,or the surgeons' lanterns, like fireflies, wandering up and down thelong green slopes where the litter bearers lifted the wounded, friendand foe.
The man seated on the log wrote with slow precision a long dispatch,covering several pages of paper. Then he read it over, and then helooked for a minute or two at the flitting lanterns, and then he slowlytore the dispatch in two, and fed the fire with the pieces. The courier,watching him write a much shorter message, half put forth his hand totake it, for his horse whinnied upon the road far below, and the way toStaunton was long and dark. However, Jackson's eyes again dwelt on thegrey slopes before him and on the Alleghenies, visited by stars, andthen, as slowly as before, he tore this dispatch also across and acrossand dropped the pieces on the brands. When they were burned he wrote asingle line, signed and folded it, and gave it to the courier. Thelatter, in the first pink light, in the midst of a jubilant Staunton,read it to the excited operator in the little telegraph station.
"God blessed our arms with victory at McDowell yesterday.
"T. J. JACKSON "_Major-General._"