CHAPTER XXXI
THE FIRST OF THE SEVEN DAYS
Miriam and Christianna sat at the window, watching. The day wasparching, the sky hot blue steel, the wind that blew the dust throughthe streets like a breath from the sun himself. People went by, allkinds of people, lacking only soldiers. There seemed no soldiers intown. Miriam, alternately listless and feverishly animated, explainedmatters to the mountain girl. "When there's to be a battle, every onegoes to the colours.--Look at that old, old, old man, hobbling on hisstick. You'd think that death was right beside him, wouldn't you?--readyto tap him on the shoulder and say, 'Fall, fall, old leaf! But it isn'tso; death is on the battlefield looking for young men. Listen to hisstick--tap, tap, tap, tap, tap--"
Christianna rose, looked at the clock, which was about to strike noon,left the room and returned with a glass of milk. "Mrs. Cleave said youwas to drink this--Yes, Miss Miriam, do!--There now! Don't you want tolie down?"
"No, no!" said Miriam. "I don't want to do anything but sit here andwatch.--Look at that old, old woman with the basket on her arm! I knowwhat is in it--Things for her son; bread and a little meat and shirtsshe has been making him--There's another helping her, as old as she is.I mean to die young."
The people went by like figures on a frieze come to life. The room inwhich the two girls sat was on the ground floor of a small,old-fashioned house. Outside the window was a tiny balcony, with agraceful ironwork railing, and heavy ropes and twists of wistaria shadedthis and the window. The old brick sidewalk was almost immediatelybelow. For the most part the people who passed went by silently, butwhen there was talking the two behind the wistaria could hear. A nursegirl with her charges came by. "What's a 'cisive battle, honey? Yo'dbetter ask yo' pa that. Reckon it's where won't neither side let go. Whywon't they? Now you tell me an' then I'll tell you! All I knows is,they're gwine have a turrible rumpus presently, an' yo' ma said tek youto yo' gran'ma kaze she gwine out ter git jes' ez near the battle an'yo' pa ez she kin git!" Nurse and children passed, and there came by anelderly man, stout and amiable-looking. His face was pale, his eyestroubled; he took off his straw hat, and wiped his forehead with a largewhite handkerchief. Appearing from the opposite direction, a young man,a case of surgeon's instruments in his hand, met him, and in passingsaid good-day. The elder stopped him a moment, on the hot brick pavementbefore the wistaria. "Well, doctor, they're all out Mechanicsville way!I reckon we may expect to hear the cannon any moment now. I saw you atGilland's, didn't I, yesterday?"
"Yes, I am there--"
"Well, if by ill luck my boy is wounded and brought there, you'll lookout for him, eh? Youngest boy, you know--Blue eyes, brown hair. I'm onthe Ambulance Committee. We've got a string of wagons ready on theNine-Mile road. You look out for him if he's brought in--"
The surgeon promised and each went his way. Three women passed thewindow. One was knitting as she walked, one was in deep black, and athird, a girl, carried a great silver pitcher filled with iced drink forsome near-by convalescent. Two men came next. A negro followed, bearinga spade. One of the two was in broadcloth, with a high silk hat. "I toldthem," he was saying, "better bury her this morning, poor little thing,before the fighting begins. _She_ won't mind, and it will be hard toarrange it then--" "Yes, yes," said the second, "better so! Leaveto-morrow for the Dead March from 'Saul.'"
They passed. A church bell began to ring. Miriam moved restlessly. "Isnot mother coming back? She ought to have let me go with her. I can'tknit any more,--the needles are red hot when I touch them,--but I cansew. I could help her.--If I knew which sewing-room she went to--"
Christianna's hand timidly caressed her. "Better stay here, Miss Miriam.I'm going to give you another glass of milk now, directly--There's asoldier passing now."
It proved but a battered soldier--thin and hollow-eyed, arm in a sling,and a halt in his walk. He came on slowly, and he leaned for restagainst a sycamore at the edge of the pavement. Miriam bent out from theframe of wistaria. "Oh, soldier! don't you want a glass of milk?"
"Oh, soldier" looked nothing loath. He came over to the little balcony,and Miriam took the glass from Christianna and, leaning over, gave it tohim. "Oh, but that's nectar!" he said, and drank it. "Yes--just out ofhospital. Said I might go and snuff the battle from afar. Needed mypallet for some other poor devil. Glad I'm through with it, and sorry heisn't!--Yes, I've got some friends down the street. Going there now andget out of this sun. Reckon the battle'll begin presently. Hope theAccomac Invincibles will give them hell--begging your pardon, I'm sure.That milk certainly was good. Thank you, and good-bye, Hebe--two Hebes."He wavered on down the street. Christianna looked after him critically."They oughtn't to let that thar man out so soon! Clay white, an' thin asa bean pole, an' calling things an' people out of their names--"
Men and women continued to pass, the church bell to ring, the hot windto blow the dust, the sun to blaze down, the sycamore leaves to rustle.A negro boy brought a note. It was from Margaret Cleave. "_Dearest:There is so much to do. I will not come home to dinner nor will CousinHarriet neither. She says tell Sarindy to give you two just what youlike best. Christianna must look after you. I will come when I can._"
Sarindy gave them thin crisp toast, and a pitcher of cool milk, and acustard sweetened with brown sugar. Sarindy was excited. "Yaas, Lawd,dar's sho' gwine ter be doin's this day! What you reckon, Miss Miriam?Dar's er lady from South Callina stayin' cross't de street, 'n' she'sgot er maid what's got de impidence ob sin! What you reckon dat yallergal say ter me? She say dat South Callina does de most ob de fightin''n' de bes' ob it, too! She say Virginia pretty good, but dat SouthCallina tek de cake. She say South Callina mek 'em run ebery time!Yaas'm! 'n' I gits up 'n' I meks her er curtsy, 'n' I say ter her,'Dat's er pretty way ter talk when you're visitin' in Virginia, 'n' efdat's South Callina manners I'se glad I wuz born in Virginia!' Yaas'm.'N' I curtsy agin, 'n' I say, 'Ain' nobody or nothin' ever lay overVirginia fer fightin' 'n' never will! 'N' ef Virginia don' mek 'em runebery time, South Callina needn't hope ter!' 'N' I asks her how come shenever hear ob Gineral Stonewall Jackson? Yaas'm. 'N' I curtsy ter herebery time--lak dis! 'N' ain' she never hear ob Gineral Lee? An' I ain'er doubtin' dat Gineral Wade Hampton is a mighty fine man--'deed I knowshe is--but ain' she never heard ob Gineral Johnston? 'N' how erboutGineral Stuart--Yaas'm! 'n' the Black Troop, 'n' the Crenshaw Battery,'n' the Purcell Battery. Yaas'm! 'n' the Howitzers, 'n' the Richmon'Blues--Yaas'm! I sho' did mek her shet her mouf!--Braggin' ter erVirginia woman ob South Callina!"
The two went back to the large room. The air was scorching. Miriamundressed, slipped her thin, girlish arms into a muslin sacque, and laydown. Christianna drew the blinds together, took a palm-leaf fan and satbeside her. "I'll fan you, jest as easy," she said, in her sweet,drawling voice. "An' I can't truly sing, but I can croon. Don't youwant me to croon you 'Shining River'?"
Miriam lay with closed eyes. A fly buzzed in the darkened room. The fanwent monotonously to and fro. Christianna crooned "Shining River" andthen "Shady Grove." Outside, on the brick pavement, the sound of feetwent by in a slender stream.
"Shady Grove! Shady Grove-- Going to Church in Shady Grove--"
The stream without grew wide and deep, then hurrying. Christianna lookedover her shoulder, then at Miriam. The latter's long lashes lay on hercheek. Beneath them glistened a tear, but her slight, girlish bosom roseand fell regularly. Christianna crooned on,
"Shady Grove! Shady Grove-- Children love my Shady Grove--"
_Boom! Boom!--Boom, Boom! Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom!_
Miriam started up with a cry. Outside the window a hoarse and loud voicecalled to some one across the street. "That's beyond Meadow Bridge! D'ye know what I believe? I believe it's Stonewall Jackson!" The name cameback like an echo from the opposite pavement. "Stonewall Jackson!Stonewall Jackson! He thinks maybe it's Stonewall Jackson!"
_Boom--Boom--Boom--Boom, Boom!_
Miriam rose, threw off the musli
n sacque and began to dress. Her eyeswere narrowed, her fingers rapid and steady. Christianna opened thewindow-blinds. The sound of the hurrying feet came strongly in, and withit voices. "The top of the Capitol!--see best from there--I think thehills toward the almshouse--Can you get out on the Brook turnpike?--No;it is picketed--The hill by the President's House--try it!" Christianna,turning, found Miriam taking a hat from the closet shelf. "Oh, MissMiriam, you mustn't go--"
Miriam, a changed creature, steady and sure as a fine rapier, turnedupon her. "Yes, I am going, Christianna. If you like, you may come withme. Yes, I am well enough.--No, mother wouldn't keep me back. She wouldunderstand. If I lay there and listened, I should go mad. Get yourbonnet and come."
The cannon shook the air. Christianna got her sunbonnet and tied thestrings with trembling fingers. All the wild rose had fled from hercheeks, her lips looked pinched, her eyes large and startled. Miriamglanced her way, then came and kissed her. "I forgot it was your firstbattle. I got used to them in Winchester. Don't be afraid."
They went out into the hot sunshine. By now the greater part of thestream had hurried by. They saw that it flowed eastward, and theyfollowed. The sun blazed down, the pavement burned their feet. Themountain girl walked like a piece of thistledown; Miriam, light andquick in all her actions, moved beside her almost as easily. It was asthough the hot wind, rushing down the street behind them, carried themon with the dust and loosened leaves. There were other women, withchildren clinging to their hands. One or two had babes in their arms.There were old men, too, and several cripples. The lighter-limbed andunencumbered were blown ahead. The dull sound rocked the air. This was aresidence portion of the city, and the houses looked lifeless. The doorswere wide, the inmates gone. Only where there was illness, were therefaces at the window, looking out, pale and anxious, asking questions ofthe hurrying pale and anxious folk below. The cannonading was not yetcontinuous. It spoke rather in sullen thunders, with spaces between inwhich the heart began to grow quiet. Then it thundered again, and theheart beat to suffocation.
The wind blew Miriam and Christianna toward the President's House. Tall,austere, white-pillared, it stood a little coldly in the heat. Beforethe door were five saddle horses, with a groom or two. The staff camefrom the house, then the President in grey Confederate cloth and softhat. He spoke to one of the officers in his clear, incisive voice, thenmounted his grey Arab. A child waved to him from an upper window. Hewaved back, lifted his hat to the two girls as they passed, then, hisstaff behind him, rode rapidly off toward the sound of the firing.
Miriam and Christianna, turning a little northward, found themselves ona hillside thronged with people. It was like a section of anamphitheatre, and it commanded a great stretch of lowland broken hereand there by slight elevations. Much of the plain was in forest, but insome places the waist-deep corn was waving, and in others the wheatstood in shocks. There were marshes and boggy green meadows and oldfields of pine and broom sedge. Several roads could be seen. They allran into a long and low cloud of smoke. It veiled the northern horizon,and out of it came the thunder. First appeared dull orange flashes,then, above the low-lying thickness, the small white expanding cloudmade by the bursting shell, then to the ear rushed the thunder. On theplain, from the defences which rimmed the city northward to the battlecloud, numbers of grey troops were visible, some motionless, somemarching. They looked like toy soldiers. The sun heightened red splashesthat were known to be battle-flags. Horsemen could be seen gallopingfrom point to point. In the intervals between the thunders the hillsideheard the tap of drum and the bugles blowing. The moving soldiers weregoing toward the cloud.
Miriam and Christianna sank down beneath a little tree. They were on afacet of the hill not quite so advantageous as others. The crowdedslopes were beyond. However, one could see the smoke cloud and hear thecannon, and that was all that could be done anyhow. There were men andwomen about them, children, boys. The women were the most silent,--paleand silent; the men uttered low exclamations or soliloquies, or talkedtogether. The boys were all but gleeful--save when they looked at thegrown people, and then they tried for solemnity. Some of the childrenwent to sleep. A mother nursed her babe. Near the foot of this hill,through a hollow, there ran a branch,--Bacon Quarter Branch. Here, inthe seventeenth century, had occurred an Indian massacre. The heavy,primeval woods had rung to the whoop of the savage, the groan of thesettler, the scream of English woman and child. To-day the woods hadbeen long cut, and the red man was gone. War remained--he had onlychanged his war paint and cry and weapons.
Miriam clasped her thin brown hands about her knee, rested her chin onthem, and fastened her great brown eyes on the distant battle cloud.Christianna, her sunbonnet pushed back, looked too, with limpid,awe-struck gaze. Were Pap and Dave and Billy fighting in that cloud? Itwas thicker than the morning mist in the hollow below Thunder RunMountain, and it was not fleecy, pure, and white. It was yellowish,fierce, and ugly, and the sound that came from it made her heart beatthick and hard. Was he there--Was Allan Gold there in the cloud? Shefelt that she could not sit still; she wished to walk toward it. Thatbeing impossible, she began to make a little moaning sound. A woman inblack, sitting on the grass near her, looked across. "Don't!" she said."If you do that, all of us will do it. We've got to keep calm. If we letgo, it would be like Rachel weeping. Try to be quiet."
Christianna, who had moaned as she crooned, hardly knowing it, at oncefell silent. Another woman spoke to her. "Would you mind holding mybaby? My head aches so. I must lie down here on the grass, just aminute." Christianna took the baby. She handled it skilfully, and it waspresently cooing against her breast. Were Pap and Dave over there,shooting and cutting? And Billy--Billy with a gun now instead of thespear the blacksmith had made him? And Allan Gold was not teaching inthe schoolhouse on Thunder Run....
The woman took the baby back. The sun blazed down, there came a louderburst of sound. A man with a field-glass, standing near, uttered a"Tchk!" of despair. "Impenetrable curtain! The ancients managed thingsbetter--they did not fight in a fog!"
He seemed a person having authority, and the people immediately abouthim appealed for information. He looked through the glass and gave it,and was good, too, about lending the glass. "It's A. P. Hill, I'msure--with Longstreet to support him. It's A. P. Hill's brigades thatare moving into the smoke. Most of that firing is from our batteriesalong the Chickahominy. We are going undoubtedly to cross to the northbank--Yes. McClellan's right wing--Fitz John Porter--A good soldier--Oh,he'll have about twenty-five thousand men."
A boy, breathing excitement from top to toe, sent up a shrill voice."Isn't Jackson coming, sir? Aren't they looking for Jackson?"
The soldier who had drunk the milk was discovered by Miriam andChristianna, near their tree. He gave his voice. "Surely! He'll havecome down from Ashland and A. P. Hill is crossing here. That's an armynorth, and a big lot of troops south, and Fitz John Porter is betweenlike a nut in a nut cracker. The cracker has only to work all right, andcrush goes the filbert!" He raised himself and peered under puckeredbrows at the smoke-draped horizon. "Yes, he's surely overthere--Stonewall.--Going to flank Fitz John Porter--Then we'll hear ahell of a fuss."
"There's a battery galloping to the front," said the man with the glass."Look, one of you! Wipe the glass; it gets misty. If it's the Purcell,I've got two sons--"
The soldier took the glass, turning it deftly with one hand. "Yes, thinkit is the Purcell. Don't you worry, sir! They're all right. Artillerymenare hard to kill--That's Pender's brigade going now--"
Christianna clutched Miriam. "Look! look! Oh, what is it?"
It soared into the blue, above the smoke. The sunlight struck it and itbecame a beautiful iridescent bubble, large as the moon. "Oh, oh!" criedthe boy. "Look at the balloon!"
The hillside kept silence for a moment while it gazed, then--"Is itours?--No; it is theirs!--It is going up from the hill behind Beaver DamCreek.--Oh, it is lovely!--Lovely! No, no, it is horrible!--Look, look!there is another!"
A
young man, a mechanic, with sleeves rolled up, began to expatiate on"ours." "We haven't got but one--it was made in Savannah by Dr. LangonCheves. Maybe they'll send it up to-day, maybe not. I've seen it. It'slike Joseph's coat in the Bible. They say the ladies gave their silkdresses for it. Here'll be a strip of purple and here one of white withroses on it, and here it is black, and here it is yellow as gold. Theymelted rubber car-springs in naphtha and varnished it with that, andthey're going to fill it with city gas at the gas works--"
The bubbles floated in the clear air, above and beyond the zone ofsmoke. It was now between four and five in the afternoon. The slant raysof the sun struck them and turned them mother-of-pearl. An old manlifted a dry, thin voice like a grasshopper's. "Once I went to Niagara,and there was a balloon ascension. Everybody held their breath when thefellow went up, and he got into some trouble, I don't remember just whatit was, and we almost died of anxiety until he came down; and when helanded we almost cried we were so glad, and we patted him on the backand hurrahed--and he was a Yankee, too! And now it's war time, andthere's nothing I 'd like better than to empty a revolver into that finewindbag!"
The sound in the air became heavier. A man on horseback spurred alongthe base of the hill. The people nearest stopped him. "Tell you? Ican't tell you! Nobody ever knows anything about a battle till it'sover, and not much then. Is Jackson over there? I don't know. He oughtto be, so I reckon he is! If he isn't, it's A. P. Hill's battle, allalone."
He was gone. "I don't believe it's much more than long-range firingyet," said the soldier. "Our batteries on the Chickahominy--and they areanswering from somewhere beyond Beaver Dam Creek. No musketry. Hello!The tune's changing!"
It changed with such violence that after a moment's exclamation thepeople sat or stood in silence, pale and awed. Speculation ceased. Theplunging torrent of sound whelmed the mind and stilled the tongue. Thesoldier held out a moment. "Close range now. The North's always going tobeat us when it comes to metal soldiers. I wonder how many they've gotover there, anyhow!" Then he, too, fell silent.
The deep and heavy booming shook air and earth. It came no longer indistinct shocks but with a continuous roar. The smoke screen grew denserand taller, mounting toward the balloons. There was no seeing for thatcurtain; it could only be noted that bodies of grey troops moved towardit, went behind it. A thin, elderly man, a school-teacher, borrowed theglass, fixed it, but could see nothing. He gave it back with a shake ofthe head, sat down again on the parched grass, and veiled his eyes withhis hand. "'Hell is murky,'" he said.
No lull occurred in the firing. The sun as it sank reddened the battlecloud that by now had blotted out the balloons. "When it is dark," saidthe soldier, "it will be like fireworks." An hour later the man with theglass discovered a string of wagons on one of the roads. It was comingcitywards. "Ambulances!" he said, in a shaking voice.
"Ambulances--ambulances--" The word went through the crowd like a sigh.It broke the spell. Most on the hillside might have an interest there.Parents, wives, brothers, sisters, children, they rose, they went awayin the twilight like blown leaves. The air was rocking; orange and redlights began to show as the shells exploded. Christianna put her hand onMiriam's. "Miss Miriam--Miss Miriam! Mrs. Cleave'll say I didn't takecare of you. Let's go--let's go. They're bringing back the wounded. Papmight be there or Dave or Billy or--Miss Miriam, Miss Miriam, yourbrother might be there."
The long June dusk melted into night, and still the city shook to thefurious cannonading. With the dark it saw, as it had not seen in thesunshine. As the soldier said, it was like fireworks.
Beginning at twilight, the wagons with the wounded came all night long.Ambulances, farm wagons, carts, family carriages, heavy-laden, theyrumbled over the cobblestones with the sound of the tumbrels in theTerror. It was stated that a number of the wounded were in the fieldhospitals. In the morning the knowledge was general that very many hadlain, crying for water, all night in the slashing before Beaver DamCreek.
All the houses in Richmond were lighted. Through the streets poured atide of fevered life. News--News--News!--demanded from chance couriers,from civilian spectators of the battle arriving pale and exhausted, fromthe drivers of wagon, cart, and carriage, from the less badlywounded--"Ours the victory--is it not? is it not?--Who led?--whofought?--who is fighting now? Jackson came? Jackson certainly came? Weare winning--are we not? are we not?" Suspense hung palpable in the hotsummer night, suspense, exaltation, fever. It breathed in the hot wind,it flickered in the lights, it sounded in the voice of the river. Formany there sounded woe as well--woe and wailing for the dead. Forothers, for many, many others, there was a misery of searching, aheart-breaking going from hospital to hospital. "Is he here?--Are theyhere?" The cannon stopped at nine o'clock.
The Stonewall Hospital was poorly lighted. In ward number 23 the oillamps, stuck in brackets along the walls, smoked. At one end, where twopine tables were placed, the air from the open window blew the flamesdistractingly. A surgeon, half dead with fatigue, strained well-nigh tothe point of tears, exclaimed upon it. "That damned wind! Shut thewindow, Miss Cary. Yes, tight! It's hell anyhow, and that's what you doin hell--burn up!"
Judith closed the window. As she did so she looked once at the light onthe northern horizon. The firing shook the window-pane. The flame of thelamp now stood straight. She turned the wick higher, then lifted apitcher and poured water into a basin, and when the surgeon had washedhis hands took away the reddened stuff. Two negroes laid a man on thetable--a gaunt North Carolinian, his hand clutching a shirt allstiffened blood. Between his eyelids showed a gleam of white, his breathcame with a whistling sound. Judith bent the rigid fingers open, drewthe hand aside, and cut away the shirt. The surgeon looked. "Humph!Well, a body can but try. Now, my man, you lie right still, and I won'thurt you much. Come this side, Miss Cary--No, wait a moment!--It's nouse. He's dying."
The North Carolinian died. The negroes lifted him from the table and putanother in his place. "Amputation," said the surgeon. "Hold it firmly,Miss Cary; just there." He turned to the adjoining table where a youngerman was sewing up a forearm, ripped from wrist to elbow by a piece ofshell. "Lend me your saw, will you, Martin?--Yes, I know the heat'sfearful! but I can't work by a lamp that has Saint Vitus!" He turnedback to his table. "Now, my lad, you just clench your teeth. Miss Caryand I aren't going to hurt you any more than we can help. Yes, above theknee." The younger surgeon, having finished the cut, wiped away with atowel the sweat that blinded him. "The next.--Hm! Doctor, will you lookhere a moment?--Oh, I see you can't! It's no use, Mrs. Opie. Better havehim taken back. He'll die in an hour.--The next."
The ward was long, low ceiled, with brown walls and rafters. Between thepatches of lamplight the shadows lay wide and heavy. The cots, thepallets, the pew cushions sewed together, were placed each close byeach. A narrow aisle ran between the rows; by each low bed there wasjust standing room. The beds were all filled, and the wagons bringingmore rumbled on the cobblestones without. All the long place wasreekingly hot, with a strong smell of human effluvia, of sweat-dampenedclothing, of blood and powder grime. There was not much crying aloud;only when a man was brought in raving, or when there came a sharp screamfrom some form under the surgeon's knife. But the place seemed onegroan, a sound that swelled or sank, but never ceased. The shadows onthe wall, fantastically dancing, mocked this with nods and becks andwaving arms,--mocked the groaning, mocked the heat, mocked the smell,mocked the thirst, mocked nausea, agony, delirium, and the rattle in thethroat, mocked the helpers and the helped, mocked the night and theworld and the dying and the dead. At dawn the cannon began again.