The Storm Centre: A Novel

  CHAPTER XII

  Downstairs in the hotel there had been the usual stir of the morning.Till a late hour the punkahs had swung back and forth above the longtables in the dining room, each furnished with one of those primitivecontrivances for the banishment of flies. The swaying of the pendentfringes of paper rivalled the rustling of the trees in the quadrangleoutside, on which the broad, long windows looked, as each punkah-cordwas pulled by a specimen of the cheerful and alert pickaninny of thatday, keenly interested in all that occurred. Others ran in and out ofthe kitchen, bearing to the waiters, to be dispensed among the guests,interminable relays of the waffles of those times, golden brown,delicately rich, soft, yet crisp, of a peculiar lightness,--a kind thatwill be seen no more, despite the food inventions and dieteticimprovements, for the artists of that choice cookery are all dead andtheir receipts only serve to mark the decadence of proficiency.

  Strangers of all sorts, officers of the army, civilians from everyquarter of the north, filled the public apartments, aimlessly chatting,discussing the news from the front, smoking matutinal cigars, buyingpapers from the omnipresent newsboys, or reading them in the bigarm-chairs within or on the benches under the trees in the quadrangle,glimpsed in attractive verdure through the open doors of the office.There was continual passing through the halls, and groups filled theverandas and stood about on the sidewalk in front of the hotel, for thegreat brick pillars that supported the roof of the arcade at the heightof the third story were anchored at the curb of the pavement, and thiscolonnade illustrated the forgotten architect's idea of impressiveness.

  In the gay sunshine, the streets, with substantial two and three storiedbuildings on either side, with much effect of big airy windows and nowand again a high, iron-railed balcony, were congested with traffic. Thepavements were crowded with pedestrians of varying aspect,--freedmen inrags, idle, exhaustlessly zealous of sensation, grotesquely slouchingalong, eying the shop windows, seeing all that there was to be seen;soldiers in uniform on furlough; citizens of a new migration, havingalmost superseded the old townsmen, so limited were the latter in numberin comparison with the present population of the gorged town; ladies,many the wives and daughters of Federal officers, with an unfamiliaraccent and walk, and with toilettes of a more recent style thancharacterized the native exponents of fashion. Now and again somepassing body of troops filled the avenue,--cavalry, with guidon andtrumpet, or a jaunty progress of infantry, to the fife and drum and thetune of "The girl I left behind me!"

  At this period the war had focussed a sort of superficial prosperityhere. The counters were covered with Northern goods to supply the needsand excite the extravagance of this medley of congregated humanity.Street venders howled their wares in raucous voices that added to theunintelligible clamors of the old highways that were wont to be so dulland quiet and decorous.

  The paving stones roared with the reverberation of wheels. Sometimesendless trains of white-hooded army wagons defiled by; again heavy opentransfers; sometimes an ambulance anguish-laden passed slowly, takingthe crown of the causeway. Occasionally a light-wheeled buggy whiskedabout with the unmistakable effect of display and with a militarycharioteer handling the ribbons, who found the Tennessee bloodedroadsters much to his mind. And forever the dray, laden with cottonbales sometimes, and sometimes with boxes, or barrels, or hogsheads,took its drag-tailed way to the depots or to the wharf. All wasdominated by the presence of the mule--in force, driven loose inhundreds through the town to some remote scene of usefulness, nowdrawing the great transfers and drays, now giving an exhibition of thepeculiar pertinacity of mule nature by planted hoofs and ears laid backand a resolution of immovableness, bringing the whole tumultuous noisyrout to a blockade of such intricacy and cumbrous obstructiveness thatone might wonder by what magic the interlocked wheels, the twistedharness, the crowded beasts, the whistling, long-thonged whips andshouting, swearing men were ever disentangled.

  These incidents impeded progress, and the passengers from the noonrailroad train were disposed to complain and comment, and seemed fitsubjects for sympathy, as they interchanged petulant accounts ofexperiences at the hotel desk, waiting to register. One was apparentlynot unknown to the clerk now in charge, an affable functionary to thedeserving few, altogether stiff and unapproachable to the generalpublic. He was the day clerk, and a far more magnificent individual thanthe forlorn night bird that languished behind the desk with no companybut the wee sma' hours of the clock, and the somnolent bell-boys ontheir bench, and the watchman, walking hither and thither like a ghostas if his only mission were to be about, and the incoming traveller. Theday clerk's courtesy had the grace of a personal compliment as hehurried the book away from the last signer and passed it on to anotherin the line,--a somewhat portly, red-faced, middle-aged gentleman, withshort side-whiskers, of the hairbrush effect and a pale hue, notdefinitely gray, for he seemed hardly old enough for such tokens ofyears, and yet the flaxen tint had lost its earlier lustre. His hair wasof the same shade, and he wore a stiff hat, a suit of "pepper-and-salt,"and a dark overcoat of light weight.

  "Glad to see you, Mr. Wray," said the clerk, handing him the pen. "I amsorry I can't give you a room to yourself, but I can put you a bed inyour son's room."

  The pen was poised uncertainly--the gentleman with the side-whiskersstared.

  "Your son got in last night," explained the clerk.

  The gentleman still silently stared. He had a close, compact mouth, acautious mouth, and the lips were now compressed with an expression ofwaiting incommunicativeness. He evidently had not expected to beconfronted with a ready-made family.

  The clerk surprised in turn cast on him a glance of keen intentness. Inthese strenuous times every stranger in the town was liable to suspicionas a Confederate emissary. "I was not on duty, myself, but I thought Isaw--ah--here it is," turning the page of the register, "John Wray,Junior, Manchester, England."

  For one moment the portly gentleman gazed at the signature as ifdumfounded. Then with an air of ready recognition he justified hisprevious manifestations of extreme surprise by explaining the mistake ofthe clerk as to the matter of identity.

  "Oh, aw, a distant relative," he said, at last. "Ah, aw,--he is the sonof a cousin of the same name as mine, 'John Wray.' The younger man is tobe associated with me in business. What room? Number ninety?"

  And as he was assigned to that haven he took the pen and wrote, "JohnWray, Manchester, England."

  Thus it was that, awakened by the brisk tap at the door, Julius, leaningout of bed, turned the key, and reached out for the pitcher of ice waterfor which, being warm and thirsty, he had a drowsy impression that hehad rung the bell. Perceiving his mistake, and lifting himself on hiselbow, Julius beheld entering this blond and robust stranger, aninexplicable apparition, too solid for a spectre, too prosaic for afancy.

  The visitor stood, when the door had closed, gazing silently down at therecumbent figure, while Julius, amazed at the form which his Nemesis hadtaken, gazed up silently and lugubriously at the intruder.

  All the methods of Mr. John Wray were in conformity with his portlyrotundity, his slow respectability, his unimaginative commercialism.

  The young man found speech first. "Why this unexpected pleasure?" heasked ceremoniously, but with a satiric inflection.

  "Sorry to intrude, I'm sure," said the elder. "But my name is John Wrayof Manchester, England."

  The skies had fallen on Julius. He strove to recover himself.

  "And do you like it?" he asked vacuously.

  "_You_ seemed to like it well enough to register it."

  "With a 'Junior,' if you please."

  The other fixed him with a stare of round blue eyes. "I think Iunderstand you, sir."

  "Very possibly," said poor Julius. "I am not very deep."

  He was thinking that this was doubtless a military detective, a veryusual factor for ferreting out schemes, obnoxious to the Federalgovernment and in aid of the Confederacy. He determined to hold hard andsell his life dear.

 
"Have you any letters or papers--any written communication for me?"

  "None whatever," Julius ventured.

  "You knew you would meet me here?" the older man apparently wished tosay as little as he might.

  "I fancied I should meet you, but not in this manner," said Julius, alsoenigmatical.

  The portly gentleman looked painfully nonplussed and ill at ease, as hesat in the light little yellow rocking-chair, which now and againtreacherously tilted backward and caused him a momentary but agitatedeffort at equilibrium, and Julius vaguely remembered to have heard thatrocking-chairs were not popular in England, and reflected that thisworthy was not accustomed to have his centre of gravity so jeopardized.

  "I think I should have had ampler voucher. You will pardon me for sayingthis?" remarked the stranger, at length.

  "I will pardon you for saying anything you like," said Julius, politely.

  "The Company informed me that a young man familiar with the country--anative, in fact--would meet me here and that I should be afforded meansto identify him. I fancied he would have letters. But when I saw theregister I supposed this the mark of identification. Am I right?"

  "My dear sir, you must not expect me to guarantee your impressions,"said Julius. He was glad he was in bed. He felt that he could not havestood up. "I should say, judging from the effect your valuable mentalqualities make upon me, that any impression you see fit to entertainwould be amply justified by the fact."

  He did not know how to appraise the distinction of his own manner andspecial attractiveness, and he was both amazed and amused to note howMr. John Wray of Manchester, England, expanded under the compliment.

  "I see, I see--I suppose this is even better than a letter, which mighthave been stolen, or transferred, or--however, or--shall we proceed toour commercial affairs?"

  "I don't usually transact commercial affairs in my night-shirt," saidJulius, "but if I look sufficiently businesslike to suit you--just fireaway; it's all the same to me."

  He was growing reckless. The risk involved in this war of words with thesupposed detective was overwhelming his reserves. He did not knowcertainly of what the man suspected him, how fully informed he mighthave become. He knew it was imprudent to suggest his withdrawal, for theeffort at escape might precipitate immediate arrest. Yet he could nolonger spar back and forth.

  "However," he said, as if with a second thought, "I _should_ like adabble of a bath, first, and to get on my duds, and to have a whack atbreakfast, or dinner,--whichever is on parade by this time."

  "Certainly--certainly--by all means. I will meet you in the hoteloffice, and shall we dine together at two?" He held out the dial of hiswatch.

  "At two," assented Julius.

  His friend was in such polite haste to be gone that he shuffled andplunged awkwardly on his gaitered feet, fairly stumbling over hisportmanteau near the door as he opened it; then he went down the hallwith a brisk, elastic step. Julius lay dumfounded, staring at theportmanteau, which was of an English make and bore the letters, J. Wray,Manchester, England, on one side. He rose and turned it about. It hadnot been hastily arranged to mislead him. The lettering had been donelong ago. The receptacle was evidently travel-worn, and stamped deep inthe bottom was the makers' name, trunk manufacturers, Manchester,England.

  Julius dressed in haste, his heart once more agitated with the hope ofdeliverance. He could hardly control his nerves, his eager desire thatthis might prove merely an odd coincidence, instead of a detective'sdeep-laid scheme. It began to seem that the man's name might be reallyJohn Wray of Manchester, England, some army jobber, or speculator,perhaps--the country was full of them. He said he had expected to meetan "agent of the company," who knew the country.

  "_I_ know the country," said Julius, capably; "I know the country to at-y ty. I can give him all the information he wants, free, gratis, andfor nothing."

  Yet in naught, he resolved, would he betray himself. This mistake, onthe contrary, might open to him some means of getting through the linesand back to his command with this map--this precious plan of thedefences of the place that would be of distinct value to the cause ofthe Confederacy.

  He therefore cast aside his half-formulated scheme of seeking escapefrom the supposed detective through the street. He had remembered thatthere were stairs on the galleries, leading from one floor to another,and thence to the quadrangle, as well as the great main staircase fromthe hallways into the office. He at last took his way, however, downthis main staircase, with its blatant publicity, and its shifting groupsof Federal officers and busy, newly imported civilians. He recognizedthe wisdom of his boldness almost immediately. Mr. John Wray ofManchester, England, standing conferring amicably with a cluster ofworthies of that marked commercial aspect, alertness, and vim ofexpression, which imply the successful business man of the heady,venturesome type, since known as "plungers," turned and perceived him,and catching his eye beckoned to him with great empressement.

  "Allow me, gentlemen, to introduce Mr. John Wray, Junior--the son of mycousin, John Wray," he said.

  There ensued the usual greetings, the usual stir of hand-shaking, and ifany eye in the office had chanced to note the newcomer with the faintsuggestion of doubt or interest or suspicion, which a stranger is apt toexcite, it evaporated at once, for the elder Mr. Wray was well known inthe hotel and the town, having been here often before, and was a verysufficient voucher for any kinsman.

  Genial indeed this group proved at dinner, seated on either side of theupper portion of one of the long tables. Julius found it accorded withhis subsidiary character as youthful kinsman of one of the chiefspokesmen to maintain an intelligent and receptive silence. Once ortwice one of the more jovial of his newly acquired cousin's _confreres_gave him a glance and lifted his wine-glass with a nod, as who shouldsay, "To you, sir," in the midst of the general discourse.

  This was eagerly commercial, for the most part, and piecing the detailstogether as he plied his knife and fork, Julius learned that his newfriend was interested in a flourishing American concern which had largegovernment contracts for ready-made army clothing, the woollen cloth andother textile fabrics being supplied from Manchester, and was indeed oneof the English agents. He could not reconcile anything that he heardwith a requisite for caution or for any service which he could perform,necessitating secrecy or an alias, or his sudden and affectionateadoption as a kinsman.

  "It is a trait of piety to trust in Providence," Julius reflected inthis quiescent state. "But I doubt if my confiding reliance in this fixcan be set down to my credit. For the Lord knows there's nothing else todo!"

  He created the impression of a decorous, well-bred youth, and in thefashionable English clothes he looked little less British than the elderJohn Wray. There was so much good-fellowship that it was natural thatthe postprandial cigars with a decanter and glasses should be taken outto a summer-house in the quadrangle, where at one extremity the riverhad a slant of the westering sun on its surface. The hills of thedistance were of a dull grapelike blue against an intensely turquoisesky; the magnolia trees above their heads already bore fine cream-whiteblossoms among the densely green and glossy foliage, and the surroundingtown was cut off from sight and sound by the three encompassing sides ofthe hotel. Yet it was not a solitary place. No one looking at the groupcould imagine it had been chosen for seclusion. From the galleries ofeach of the three stories a glance could command it. Guests werecontinually sauntering into and out of the office. Here and there aFederal officer strolled along the little esplanade above thewater-side. On the lower veranda two elderly men--one a chaplain--wereplaying very slowly and with great circumspection a game of chess. Therewere onlookers here, with whom time seemed no object, calmly studyingthe moves, solaced by a meditative cigar, and at long intervals showinga flicker of excitement at the magic word, "Check!"

  The summer-house had already a thatch of vines, but bare columns upheldthe roof, and it occupied a little circular space of gravel, whence abroad gravel walk ran toward each point of the compass. An a
pproachcould be instantly observed, a step instantly heard, and therefore itdid not seem to Julius altogether incongruous that business ofimportance and details of secrecy should presently be broached. Thetable in the centre was all at once covered with papers, and he began tounderstand the mysteries that had hitherto baffled him when graduallythe details of a very bold and extensive blockade-running scheme wereunfolded.

  This was in defiance, of course, of the Federal regulations, and in sofar militated against no interest of the government that Julius hadsworn to serve. But it was a private enterprise for personal profit, andwhether the export of cotton from the country to England at thisjuncture accorded with the policy of the Confederate States he had nomeans of knowing. At one time, he was aware, there existed an impressionthat the official withholding of such shipments as could be effected byrunning the blockade tended to create such paucity of the staple in theEnglish market as might influence the already pronounced disposition ofthe British to interfere in aid of the Confederacy, and bringing the warto an end remove this restriction of manufactures and trade. All thiswas beyond his province. He held very still, remained keenly observant,watching for the loophole that might enable him to quit these tortuousways for the very simple matter of fighting the battles of his section.After these various turmoils of doubt, and hope, and despair, it wouldbe a mere trifle to charge with his company to the muzzles of thebiggest howitzers that ever bellowed.

  He discovered that these men were in correspondence with secret agentsin the Confederacy; they spoke of various depots of the cotton whichpresently developed as mere caches--bales hidden in swamps, to bebrought out only by such craft as could navigate bayous, or in desertedgin-houses on abandoned plantations, or in old tumble-down warehouses onthe outskirts of towns,--never much at any one point, but all that couldbe found and bought, and concealed and held, to be gotten away at lastto a foreign market. The system sought to reach to the Gulf of Mexico,to gather up the scattered wayside stores, and either by takingadvantage of some lapse of Federal vigilance, or else by strategy, torun the blockade with a ship-load, and away for England! Thus theenterprise was contrary to the policy of both factions. The Company'sgold would recruit the endurance of the South, and yet he knew that theConfederate authorities had put the torch to thousands of bales ratherthan let the cotton fall into their enemy's hands--the preciouscommodity, then selling at amazing prices in the markets of New York.

  Suddenly his own personality came into the scheme with an abruptnessthat made his head whirl.

  "How is it," demanded a sharp-featured man, who had sparse sandy hair,very straight, very thin, the head almost bald on top extending theeffect of the forehead, watery-blue eyes that nevertheless made out veryaccurately the surrounding country, metaphorically considered, asomewhat wrinkled face albeit he was not old--"how is it that yourcousin should be so well acquainted with the country? I take it that heis an Englishman, too!"

  "Why, no, he is not," candidly answered Mr. John Wray, and Julius had aninstinct to clutch at him from across the table to hinder the divulgingof the imposture, "and, in fact, he is not my kinsman at all. I shouldbe extremely glad if he were," and he smiled suavely across the table atJulius. "He is, I understand, a native of this region." And forthwith hetold the story of the register.

  The spare, businesslike man, whose name was Burrage, at once laid hiscigar down on the table with its ash carefully disposed over the edge.

  "And did he bring no letters?"

  "None; very properly. It is most unwise to multiply papers in the handsof outside parties."

  "But he should have had something definite."

  "I think the registry of the name very definite." Mr. John Wray reddenedslightly. He was not in the habit of being called in question forprecipitancy.

  "It strikes me as a most fantastic whim on the part of the Company. Youmight not have interpreted it correctly--taken as you were by surprise,"Mr. Burrage rejoined. Then, "Did _you_ have any specific instructions toguide you personally?" The querist turned full on the young man, much toMr. John Wray's disapproval. But Julius answered easily:--

  "None at all. It is my business to hold myself subject to orders."

  "What is your name?" queried Mr. Burrage.

  "At present--John Wray, very much at your service," Julius repliedglibly; then with a sudden recollection of the vicissitudes of "Mr.Poet" and "Mr. Goat," he burst into his irresistible laugh, that clearedthe frown from the brow of the actual Mr. John Wray and his colleagues,and caused the officers pacing along the esplanade, their shadows longnow in the sun, to glance in the direction of the sound, sympatheticwith the unknown jest.

  Mr. Burrage pressed the matter no farther, but as he took up his cigaragain, filliping off the ash with a delicate gesture, and placed itbetween his teeth once more, no physiognomist would have been requiredto discern in his resolute facial expression a firm determination tohave full advices on this subject before he should ever lose sight ofthe very prepossessing young man introduced by Mr. John Wray.

  "He goes out with the little steamboat down the river. I think a packetleaves to-morrow." Mr. Wray began to explain the simplicity of theduties devolving upon Julius in order to demonstrate his ownperspicacity and regard for precaution. "At her stoppages he visits theplantations on his list, notifies the men in charge of the cotton to getit out on the rafts and flatboats and to be ready to float down--there'sa full sufficiency of water on the shoals now--to where the steamer wehave chartered, bought, in fact, can pick it up. Then he returns on thenext packet. It is a trip of a hundred miles or so."

  Julius felt his heart beat tumultuously in the prospect of escape--to beout of the town once more! But to-morrow! what in the interval mightbetide!

  "The point is to have our own steamboat clear fairly with theupper-country consignment. The rest she picks up as she goes. She isknown as a packet to the river pickets; they won't be aware she haschanged her trade till she has gone. But meantime to get the cottoncollected it is necessary to have a man familiar with the country. Onthe way down or the return trip, in the distracted state of the region,politically, and its physical aspect as a nearly unexplored wilderness,it would be simply impossible for a stranger to cope with any disastersor difficulties, if one could be found to undertake the trip."

  Julius was astonished at himself when he heard his own voice blandlysuggest--"Come with me, Mr. Burrage! You would enjoy the trip--beautifulscenery! I should have the benefit of your long experience in matters ofbusiness, and you could avail yourself of my knowledge of the countryand the people--the methods and the manners."

  He was in admiration of his own astuteness. His intuition had capturedthe emergency. He had perceived in Mr. Burrage's face unmistakableindications that he would play the obstructive. He would detain thesupposed agent here, and would not intrust him with the necessaryinstructions in this difficult and most compromising business, until thefullest advices could be had from the distant promoters of theenterprise, who were presumed to have sent hither "John Wray, Junior."

  The suggestion of Julius met with instantaneous favor among the group,except, indeed, that Mr. Burrage himself looked disconcerted, surprised,definitely at a loss. It removed all possible objections to theemployment of this agent with no other credentials than the name on theregister--but at this moment Mr. Burrage thought that perhaps thecoincidence would have struck him with more force had the name been hisown and the registry anticipated his arrival. Time was of importance. Noone more than the experienced man of business realizes the Proteancapacity for change appertaining to that combination of cause andeffect called opportunity. What is possible to-day may be relegated tothe regions of everlasting regret to-morrow. Everything was favorable atthe moment, feasible. The future stood with the boon of success in anoutstretched hand. Delay was hardly to be contemplated. The propositionthat Mr. Burrage should accompany the agent of his own company on a tourof important negotiation, and at no sacrifice of personal ease, was atonce so reasonable and so indicative of the faires
t intentions that hewas ashamed of the cautionary doubt he had entertained. All at once thejourney seemed too much trouble. The matter had already been adjusted,he said. The plan might well stand as Mr. Wray had arranged it.

  But Mr. Wray, too, added his insistence. "Nothing could be better," hedeclared.

  And as Mr. Burrage demurred, and half apologized, and was distinctly outof countenance, Mr. Wray compassionately overlooked all his disquietingcautions and protested with cordiality that the change would be anadvantage. Some difficulty might arise, some reluctance to deliver thecotton they had already purchased, some doubt as to the locality whereit was stored,--they used this expression rather than "hidden," thoughJulius apprehended that its cache was now a cane-brake and now a rockhouse or cave, and now a tongue of dry land in a network of bayous andswamps,--some failure of facilities in respect to men or water carriageor land transportation, with all of which this young gentleman, new tothe arrangements and the enterprise, might find it difficult to copesuccessfully. Such unforeseen obstacles might require a divergence fromthe original plan and the agent's instructions. But Mr. Burrage, amember of the Company, could meet and provide for all these emergencies,and yet with such a guide be as assured and as confident of his footingin this strange country as if he himself were a native. It was thehappiest suggestion! It enabled him to make a long arm, as it were, andmanipulate the matter in effect without a proxy.

  "And meantime it will be strange indeed if I cannot make a long leg!"thought Julius, triumphantly.

  The actual Mr. Wray was treated everywhere with all possibleconsideration and due regard to the fact that he was a British subject.The neutrality of Great Britain was considered exceedingly precarious,and there was no disposition to twist the tail of the Lion, albeit thisappendage was whisked about in a way that ever and anon provoked thatcatastrophe. The British Lion was supposed in some quarters to besolicitous of a grievance which would justify a roar of exceeding wrath.In this instance, however, there was no necessity of withholding thefavor asked by a British subject, Mr. John Wray,--for a pass for hiscousin, Mr. John Wray, Junior, of Manchester, England, and his friend,Mr. Alfred Burrage.

  That night the two slept on the crowded steamer, as she was to cast offat a very early hour. Long, long did Julius lie awake in his berth inthe tiny stateroom peculiar to the architecture of the "stern-wheeler."The good Mr. Burrage in the berth below snored in satisfaction with theevents of the day, untroubled as to the morrow. Julius had been sotormented by vacillations, by the untoward "about-face" movements of theprobable, so hampered by the unexpected, so repeatedly disappointed,that even now he could not believe in his good fortune. Something,somehow, would snatch the cup from his lips. But in the midst of histurmoil of emotion he had a distinct sense of gratitude that thepreservation of his safety had involved no forwarding of equivocalinterests. The affairs of the Company were doubtless such as many wereseeking to prosecute with varying chances of success. He would reportthe scheme to his commanding officer, however, and he could forecast thereply, "One of hundreds." But, at all events, the map in his boot-liningwas a matter of no slight import. He could hardly wait to spread it on adrumhead before his Colonel's eyes, and solicit the honor of leading theenterprise he had planned.

  But was he, indeed, destined to escape, to come off scatheless from thisheady venture!

  "If ever I see the command again, by thunder, I'll stick to them as longas I live. If ever I can lay hold of my sword again, I swear my righthand shall never be far from its hilt!"

  In the early hours of the night the loading of the cargo was stillunfinished. The calls of the deck-hands, the vociferations of the mate,which were of an intensity, a fervor, a mad strenuousness, that mightseem never heard before out of Bedlam, the clash and commotion of boxesand barrels, the lowing of cattle and bleating of sheep, for the lowerdeck was given over to the transportation of army supplies, soundederratically, now louder, now moderated, dying away and again rising inagitated vibrations. Sometimes, as he lay, a great flare of lightillumined the tiny apartment as the torches, carried by the roustaboutson shore, cast eerie vistas into the darkness, and he could see theclosely fitted white planking of the ceiling just above his head, thewhite coverlet, and through the glass door, that served too as window,the railing of the guards without and the dim glimpse of the firststreet of the town--River Avenue--about on a level with his eye, so deepwas the declivity to the wharf.

  Quiet came gradually. The grating and shifting of the cargo ceasedfirst; the boat was fully loaded at length. Then the voices becamesubdued,--once a snatch of song, and again a burst of laughing banterbetween the roustabouts going up into the town and the deck-hands aboutto turn in on the boat. Now it was so quiet that he could distinguishthe flow of the current. Yet he could not sleep. Once he seemed nearunconsciousness when he heard the clash of iron as the stoker wasbanking the fires, for steam was up. Then Julius lay in unbrokensilence, till an owl hooted from out the Roscoe woods down the river.There was home! He thought of his father with so filial a tendernessthat the mere recollection might be accounted a prayer. In that densemass of foliage off toward the west, under the stars and the moon, stoodthe silent house, invisible at the distance, but every slant of theroof, every contour of the chimneys, every window and door,--nay, everymoulding of the cornice, was as present to his contemplation as if hebeheld it in floods of matutinal sunshine. "Oh, bless it!" he breathed."Bless it, and all it holds!"

  With dreary melancholy he fell to gazing out at the real instead,--atthe vague slant to the wharf in the flickering moonlight, and the dimwarning glow of a lantern on an obstructive pile of brick on the crestof River Avenue. Somehow the trivial thing had a spell to hold his eyes,as he watched it with a mournful, dull apprehension of what mightbetide, for he feared to hope still to escape--so often had this hopeallured and disappointed him. Would something happen at the lastmoment--and what would the next disaster be?

  Therefore when he suddenly became sensible that the boat was movingswiftly, strongly, in midcurrent under a full head of steam, he felt agreat revulsion of emotion. Floods of sunshine suffused the guards and,shining through the glass section of the door, sent a wakening beam intohis face. A glance without apprised him that while he slept the town wasleft far behind, the fort, the camps, the pickets, all the features ofgrim-visaged war, and now great forest masses pressed down to the craggybanks on either side. The moment of deliverance was near,--it was athand,--and as he dressed in the extreme of haste, he listenedexpectantly for the whistle of the boat, for it was approaching a littletown on the opposite side where a landing was always made. Julius hardlyfeared the entrance of any passenger who might recognize him, but hetook his way into the saloon and asked for breakfast, in order that thusemployed he might have time to reconnoitre. The boat, however, barelytouched the wharf, and when he emerged and joined Mr. Burrage on thedeck there was something so breezily triumphant in his manner that theobservant elder man looked askance at him with a conscious lack ofcomprehension. He thought he was evidently mistaken if he had imaginedhe had gauged this youth. His breeding was far above his humble andsubsidiary employment, and his manner singularly well poised andassured. There was a hint of dignity, of command, in his pose and theglance of his eye. He was perfectly courteous; he did not forget toapologize for a lapse of attention, albeit absorbed in a certainundercurrent of excitement. He did not hear what Mr. Burrage had said ofthe news from the front in the morning paper, and upon its repetitionaccepted the proffered sheet with thanks and threw himself into a chairbeside his elderly fellow-passenger. He had hardly read ten words beforehe lifted his head with a certain alert expectancy, like the head of alistening deer. The whistle of the boat had sounded again, the hoarse,discordant howl common to river steamers, an acoustic infliction even ata distance, and truly lamentable close at hand, but it was not this thathad caught his attention. The boat was turning in midstream and headingfor the shore, now backing at the signal of her pilot's bells,peremptorily jangling, now going forward with a jer
k, and again swingingslowly around, and at last slipping forward easily toward the wood-yardwhere great piles of ready-cut fuel awaited her.

  An alien sound had also caught Mr. Burrage's attention.

  "What is that?" he demanded of the captain of the steamboat, who held afield-glass and was looking eagerly toward the woods.

  "Musketry," replied the captain, succinctly.

  "There is some engagement taking place in the forest?" inquired Mr.Burrage.

  "Seems so," said the captain.

  "And are you--are you going to land?"

  "Must have wood--that's my regular depot," returned the steamboatman.

  "You had best return to Roanoke City instead," urged Mr. Burrage,aghast.

  "Need wood for _that_!"

  "But the boat will be captured by the Rebels. Why don't you burn thefreight?"

  "Beeves ain't convenient for fuel on the hoof."

  "Oh, I reckon the captain can wood and get off," said Julius,good-naturedly, reassuring Mr. Burrage. "Nobody is thinking about thisboat now." Then, as a sharper volley smote the air, he added, "I thinkI'll look into this a bit," rose and took his way through the groups ofexcited passengers and down to the lower deck.

  The "mud clerk," the roustabouts, the wood-yard contingent, made quickwork of fuelling the steamer, and she was once more in midstream,forging ahead at high speed, before it occurred to Mr. Burrage tocompare notes with his young colleague and ascertain if he had learnedaught of what forces were engaged.

  He was not easily found, and Mr. Burrage asked the captain of hiswhereabouts.

  "He must have got left by the boat," said the captain, as if the packetwere a sentient thing and subject to whims.

  Mr. Burrage, gravely disturbed, caused inquiry to be circulated amongthe hands and officials,--all, in effect, who had set foot on _terrafirma_.

  "Who? that young dandy with the long hair?" said the "mud clerk,"staring, his measuring staff still in his hand. "Why, that man_intended_ to land. He had his portmanteau and walked off along the roadas unconcerned as if he was going home. I was too busy measuring thewood to pass the time of day, thinking the riverbank was alive withguerillas."

  His departure remained a mystery to Mr. Burrage. As to the topographicalfeatures of his involved scheme he was powerless to prosecute this phasealone. The simple expedient of sticking to the packet and retracing hisway on her return trip brought him at last to a consultation with his_confreres_, who also long pondered fruitlessly on the strange meetingand its result. About this time the agent or guide, provided by theCompany, presented himself with due credentials from the main office,--aheavy, dull, somewhat sullen man, with no further capacity, or will,indeed, than a lenient interpretation of his duty might require.

  "I always shall think," Mr. Wray used to say, "that we suffered a greatloss in that young man--that John Wray, Junior."