CHAPTER XVII
APPOMATTOX
The morning after Lee's retreat the Winchester regiment rode intoPetersburg and looked curiously at the smoldering fires and what wasleft of the town. They had been before it so long it seemed almostincredible to Dick Mason that they were in it now. But the Southernleader and his army were not yet taken. They were gone, and they stillexisted as a fighting power.
"We have Petersburg at last," he said, "but it's only a scorched andempty shell."
"We've more than that," said Warner.
"What do you mean?"
"We've Richmond, too. The capital of the Confederacy, inviolate forfour years, has fallen, and our troops have entered it. JeffersonDavis, his government and its garrison have fled, burning the armybuildings and stores as they went. A part of the city was burned also,but our troops helped to put out the fires and saved the rest. Dick,do you realize it? Do you understand that we have captured the cityover which we have fought for four years, and which has cost more thana half million lives?"
Dick was silent, because he had no answer to make. Neither he norWarner nor Pennington could yet comprehend it fully. They had talkedoften of the end of the war, they had looked forward to the greatevent, they had hoped for the taking of Richmond, but now that it wastaken it scarcely seemed real.
"Tell it over, George," he said, "was it Richmond you were speaking of,and did you say that it was taken?"
"Yes, Dick, and it's the truth. Of course it doesn't look like it toyou or to me or to Frank, but it's a fact. Today or tomorrow we may gothere and see it with our own eyes, and then if we don't believe thesight we can read an account of it in the newspapers."
It was a process of saturation, but in the next hour or two theybelieved it and understood it fully. On the following day they rodeinto the desolate and partly burned capital, now garrisoned heavily bythe North, and looked with curiosity at the little city for which suchtorrents of blood had been shed. But as at Winchester and Petersburg,they gazed upon blind doors and windows. Nor did they expect anythingelse. It was only natural, and they refrained carefully from anyoutward show of exultation.
Richmond was to hold them only a few hours, as Grant and Sheridancontinued hot on the trail of Lee. They knew that he was marchingalong the Appomattox, intending to concentrate at Amelia Court House,and they were resolved that he should not escape. Sheridan's cavalry,with the Winchester regiment in the van, advanced swiftly and began topress hard upon the retreating army. The firing was almost continuous.Many prisoners and five guns were taken, but at the crossing of a creeknear nightfall the men in gray, still resolute, turned and beat offtheir assailants for the time.
The pursuit was resumed before the next daylight, and both Grant andSheridan pressed it with the utmost severity. In the next few daysDick felt both pity and sympathy for the little army that was defendingitself so valiantly against extermination or capture. It was almostlike the chase of a fox now, and the hounds were always growing innumber and power.
The Northern cavalry spread out and formed a great net. The Southerncommunications were cut off, their scouts were taken, and all theprovision trains intended for Lee were captured. The prisonersreported that the Southern army was starving, and the condition oftheir own bodies proved the truth of their words. As Dick looked uponthese ragged and famished men his feeling of pity increased, and hesincerely hoped that the hour of Lee's surrender would be hastened.
During these days and most of the nights too Dick lived in the saddle.Once more he and his comrades were clothed in the Virginia mud, and allthe time the Winchester regiment brought in prisoners or wagons. Theyknew now that Lee was seeking to turn toward the South and effect ajunction with Johnston in North Carolina, but Dick, his thoughts beinghis own, did not see how it was possible. When the Confederacy beganto fall it fell fast. It was only after they passed through Richmondthat he saw how frail the structure had become, and how its supportingtimbers had been shot away. It was great cause of wonder to him thatLee should still be able to hold out, and to fight off cavalry raids,as he was doing.
And the Army of Northern Virginia, although but a fragment, wasdangerous. In these its last hours, reduced almost to starvation andpitiful in numbers, it fought with a courage and tenacity worthy of itsgreatest days. It gave to Lee a devotion that would have melted aheart of stone. Whenever he commanded, it turned fiercely upon itsremorseless pursuers, and compelled them to give ground for a time.But when it sought to march on again the cavalry of Sheridan and theinfantry of Grant followed closely once more, continually cutting offthe fringe of the dwindling army.
Dick saw Lee himself on a hill near Sailor's Creek, as Sheridan pressedforward against him. The gray leader had turned. The troops of Ewelland Anderson were gathered at the edge of a forest, and other infantrymasses stood near. Lee on Traveler sat just in front of them, and wassurveying the enemy through his glasses. Dick used his own glasses,and he looked long, and with the most intense curiosity, mingled withadmiration, at the Lion of the South, whom they were about to bring tothe ground. The sun was just setting, and Lee was defined sharplyagainst the red blaze. Dick saw his features, his gray hair, and hecould imagine the defiant blaze of his eyes. It was an unforgettablepicture, the one drawn there by circumstances at the closing of an era.
Then he took notice of a figure, also on horseback, not far behind Lee,a youthful figure, the face thin and worn, none other than his cousin,Harry Kenton. Dick's heart took a glad leap. Harry still rode withhis chief, and Dick's belief that he would survive the war was almostjustified.
Then followed a scattering fire to which sunset and following darknessput an end, and once more the Southern leader retreated, with Sheridanand his cavalry forever at his heels, giving him no rest, keeping foodfrom reaching him, and capturing more of his men. The wounded lionturned again, and, in a fierce attack drove back Sheridan and his men,but, when the battle closed, and Lee resumed his march, Sheridan was athis heels as before, seeking to pull him down, and refusing to bedriven off.
Grant also dispatched Custer in a cavalry raid far around Lee, and thedaring young leader not only seized the last wagon train that couldpossibly reach the Confederate commander, but also captured twenty-fiveof his guns that had been sent on ahead. Dick knew now that the end,protracted as it had been by desperate courage, was almost at hand, andthat not even a miracle could prevent it.
The column with which he rode was almost continually in sight of theArmy of Northern Virginia, and the field guns never ceased to pour shotand shell upon it. The sight was tragic to the last degree, as theworn men in gray retreated sullenly along the muddy roads, in rags,blackened with mire, stained with wounds, their horses falling dead ofexhaustion, while the pursuing artillery cut down their ranks. Thenthe news of Custer's exploit came to Grant and Sheridan, and the circleof steel, now complete, closed in on the doomed army.
It was the seventh of April when the Winchester men rested their wearyhorses, not far from the headquarters of General Grant, and also gavetheir own aching bones and muscles a chance to recover their strength.Dick, after his food and coffee, watched the general, who was walkingback and forth before his tent.
"He looks expectant," said Dick.
"He has the right to look so," said Warner. "He may have news ofearth-shaking importance."
"What do you mean?"
"I know that he sent a messenger to Lee this morning, asking him tosurrender in order to stop the further effusion of blood."
"I wish Lee would accept. The end is inevitable."
"Remember that they don't see with our eyes."
"I know it, George, but the war ought to stop. The Confederacy is goneforever."
"We shall see what we shall see."
They didn't see, but they heard, which was the same thing. To thepolite request of Grant, Lee sent the polite reply that his means ofresistance were not yet exhausted, and the Union leader took anotherhitch in the steel girdle. The second morning
afterward, Lee made adesperate effort to break through at Appomattox Court House, butcrushing numbers drove him back, and when the short fierce combatceased, the Army of Northern Virginia had fired its last shot.
The Winchester men had borne a gallant part in the struggle, andpresently when the smoke cleared away Dick uttered a shout.
"What is it?" exclaimed Colonel Winchester.
"A white flag! A white flag!" cried Dick in excitement. "See itwaving over the Southern lines."
"Yes, I see it!" shouted the colonel, Warner and Pennington alltogether. Then they stood breathless, and Dick uttered the words:
"The end!"
"Yes," said Colonel Winchester, more to himself than to the others."The end! The end at last!"
Thousands now beheld the flag, and, after the first shouts and cheers,a deep intense silence followed. The soldiers felt the immensity ofthe event, but as at the taking of Richmond, they could not comprehendit all at once. It yet seemed incredible that the enemy, who for fourterrible years had held them at bay, was about to lay down his arms.But it was true. The messenger, bearing the flag, was now comingtoward the Union lines.
The herald was received within the Northern ranks, bearing a requestthat hostilities be suspended in order that the commanders might havetime to talk over terms of surrender, and, at the same time, GeneralGrant, who was seven or eight miles from Appomattox Court House in apine wood, received a note of a similar tenor, the nature of which hedisclosed to his staff amid much cheering. The Union chief at oncewrote to General Lee:
Your note of this date is but at this moment (11:50 A. M.) received, in consequence of my having passed from the Richmond and Lynchburg road to the Farmville and Lynchburg road. I am at this writing about four miles west of Walker's Church, and will push forward to the front for the purpose of meeting you. Notice sent to me on this road where you wish the interview to take place will meet me.
It was a characteristic and modest letter, and yet the heart under theplain blue blouse must have beat with elation at the knowledge that hehad brought, what was then the greatest war of modern times, to asuccessful conclusion. The dispatch was given to Colonel Babcock ofhis staff, who was instructed to ride in haste to Lee and arrange theinterview. The general and his staff followed, but missing the way,narrowly escaped capture by Confederate troops, who did not yet know ofthe proposal to suspend hostilities. But they at last reached Sheridanabout a half mile west of Appomattox Court House.
Dick and his comrades meanwhile spent a momentous morning. It wouldhave been impossible for him afterward to have described his ownfeelings, they were such an extraordinary compound of relief, elation,pity and sympathy. The two armies faced each other, and, for the firsttime, in absolute peace. The men in blue were already slipping foodand tobacco to their brethren in gray whom they had fought so long andso hard, and at many points along the lines they were talking freelywith one another. The officers made no effort to restrain them, allalike feeling sure that the bayonets would now be rusting.
The Winchester men were dismounted, their horses being tethered in agrove, and Dick with the colonel, Warner and Pennington were at thefront, eagerly watching the ragged little army that faced them. He sawsoon a small band of soldiers, at the head of whom stood two elderlymen in patched but neat uniforms, their figures very erect, and theirfaces bearing no trace of depression. Close by them were two tallyouths whom Dick recognized at once as St. Clair and Langdon. He wavedhis hand to them repeatedly, and, at last, caught the eye of St. Clair,who at once waved back and then called Langdon's attention. Langdonnot only waved also, but walked forward, as if to meet him, bringingSt. Clair with him, and Dick, responding at once, advanced with Warnerand Pennington.
They shook hands under the boughs of an old oak, and were unaffectedlyglad to see one another, although the three youths in blue feltawkwardness at first, being on the triumphant side, and fearing lestsome act or word of theirs might betray exultation over a conqueredfoe. But St. Clair, precise, smiling, and trim in his attire, put themat ease.
"General Lee will be here presently," he said, "and you, as well as we,know that the war is over. You are the victors and our cause is lost."
"But you have lost with honor," said Dick, won by his manner. "Theodds were greatly against you. It's wonderful to me that you were ableto fight so long and with so much success."
"It was a matter of mathematics, Captain St. Clair," said Warner. "Thenumbers, the big guns and the resources were on our side, If we held onwe were bound to win, as anyone could demonstrate. It's certainly nofault of yours to have been defeated by mathematics, a science thatgoverns the world."
St. Clair and Langdon smiled, and Langdon said lightly:
"It would perhaps be more just to say, Mr. Warner, that we have notbeen beaten, but that we've worn ourselves out, fighting. Besides, thespring is here, a lot of us are homesick, and it's time to put in thecrops."
"I think that's a good way to leave it," said Dick. "Do you know wheremy cousin, Harry Kenton, is?"
"I saw him this morning," replied St. Clair, "and I can assure you thathe's taken no harm. He's riding ahead of the commander-in-chief, andhe should be here soon."
A trumpet sounded and they separated, returning respectively to theirown lines. Standing on a low hill, Dick saw Harry Kenton and Daltondismount and then stand on one side, as if in expectancy. Dick knewfor whom they were waiting, and his own heart beat hard. A great humand murmur arose, when the gray figure of an elderly man riding thefamous war horse, Traveler, appeared.
It was Lee, and in this moment, when his heart must have bled, hisbearing was proud and high. He was worn somewhat, and he had loststrength from the great privations and anxieties of the retreat, but heheld himself erect. He was clothed in a fine new uniform, and he worebuckled at his side a splendid new sword, recently sent to him as apresent.
Near by stood a farm house belonging to Wilmer McLean, but, Grant notyet having come, the Southern commander-in-chief dismounted, and, asthe air was close and hot, he remained a little while under the shadeof an apple tree, the famous apple tree of Appomattox, around whichtruth and legend have played so much.
Dick was fully conscious of everything now. He realized the greatnessof the moment, and he would not miss any detail of any movement on thepart of the principals. It was nearly three o'clock in the afternoonwhen Grant and his staff rode up, the Union leader still wearing hisplain blue blouse, no sword at his side, his shoulder straps alonesignifying his rank.
The two generals who had faced each other with such resolution in thatterrible conflict shook hands, and Dick saw them talking pleasantly asif they were chance acquaintances who had just met once more.Presently they went into the McLean house, several of General Grant'sstaff accompanying him, but Lee taking with him only Colonel ThomasMarshall.
Before the day was over Dick learned all that had occurred inside thatunpretentious but celebrated farm house. The two great commanders, atfirst did not allude to the civil war, but spoke of the old war inMexico, where Lee, the elder, had been General Winfield Scott's chiefof staff, and the head of his engineer corps, with Grant, the younger,as a lieutenant and quartermaster. It never entered the wildest dreamsof either then that they should lead the armies of a divided nationengaged in mortal combat. Now they had only pleasant recollections ofeach other, and they talked of the old days, of Contreras, Molino delRey, and other battles in the Valley of Mexico.
They sat down at a plain table, and then came in the straightforwardmanner characteristic of both to the great business in hand. ColonelMarshall supplied the paper for the historic documents now about to bewritten and signed.
General Grant, humane, and never greater or more humane than in thehour of victory, made the terms easy. All the officers of the Army ofNorthern Virginia were to give their parole not to take up arms againstthe United States, until properly exchanged, and the company orregimental commanders were to sign a like parole for their men. Theartiller
y, other arms and public property were to be turned over to theUnion army, although the officers were permitted to retain their sidearms and their own horses and baggage. Then officers and men alikecould go to their homes.
It was truly the supreme moment of Grant's greatness, of a humanity andgreatness of soul the value of which to his nation can never beoverestimated. Surrenders in Europe at the end of a civil war hadalways been followed by confiscations, executions and a reign of terrorfor the beaten. Here the man who had compelled the surrender merelytold the defeated to go to their homes.
Lee looked at the terms and said:
"Many of the artillerymen and cavalrymen in our army own their horses,will the provisions allowing the officers to retain their horses applyto them also?"
"No, it will not as it is written," replied Grant, "but as I think thiswill be the last battle of the war, and as I suppose most of the men inthe ranks are small farmers who without their horses would find itdifficult to put in their crops, the country having been swept ofeverything movable, and as the United States does not want them, I willinstruct the officers who are to receive the paroles of your troops tolet every man who claims to own a horse or mule take the animal to hishome."
"It will have a pleasant effect," said Lee, and then he wrote a formalletter accepting the capitulations. The two generals, rising, bowed toeach other, but as Lee turned away he said that his men had eaten nofood for several days, except parched corn, and he would have to askthat rations, and forage for their horses, be given to them.
"Certainly, general," replied Grant. "For how many men do you needthem?"
"About twenty-five thousand," was Lee's reply.
Then General Grant requested him to send his own officers to AppomattoxStation for the food and forage. Lee thanked him. They bowed to eachother again, and the Southern leader who no longer had an army, but whoretained always the love and veneration of the South, left the McLeanhouse. Thus and in this simple fashion--the small detached fightingelsewhere did not count--did the great civil war in America, which hadcost six or seven hundred thousand lives, and the temporary ruin of onesection, come to an end.
Dick saw Lee come out of the house, mount Traveler and, followed byColonel Marshall, ride back toward his own men who already had divinedthe occurrences in the house. The army saluted him with undividedaffection, the troops crowding around him, cheering him, and, wheneverthey had a chance, shaking his hand. The demonstration became so greatthat Lee was moved deeply and showed it. The water rose in his eyesand his voice trembled as he said, though with pride:
"My lads, we have fought through the war together. I have done thebest I could for you. My heart is too full to say more."
He could not be induced to speak further, although the greatdemonstration continued, but rode in silence to his headquarters in awood, where he entered his tent and sat alone, no one ever knowing whathis thoughts were in that hour.
Twenty-six thousand men who were left of the Army of Northern Virginiasurrendered the next day, and the blue and the gray fraternized. TheUnion soldiers did not wait for the rations ordered by Grant, but gaveof their own to the starved men who were so lately their foes. Dickand his friends hastened at once to find Harry Kenton and his comrades,and presently they saw them all sitting together on a log, thin andpale, but with no abatement of pride. Harry rose nevertheless, andreceived his cousin joyfully.
"Dick," he said as their hands met, "the war is over, and over forever.But you and I were never enemies."
"That's so, Harry," said Dick Mason, "and the thing for us to do now isto go back to Kentucky, and begin life where we left it off."
"But you don't start this minute," said Warner. "There is a smallmatter of business to be transacted first. We know all of you, butjust the same we've brought our visiting cards with us."
"I don't understand," said Harry.
"We'll show you. Frank Pennington, remove that large protuberance frombeneath your blouse. Behold it! A small ham, my friends, and it's foryou. That's Frank's card. And here I take from my own blouse the halfof a cheese, which I beg you to accept with my compliments. Dick, yourascal, what's that you have under your arm?"
"It's a jar of prime bacon that I've brought along for the party,George."
"I thought so. We're going to have the pleasure of dining with ourfriends here. We've heard, Captain Kenton, that you people haven'teaten anything for a month."
"It's not that bad," laughed Harry. "We had parched corn yesterday."
"Well, parched corn is none too filling, and we're going to prepare thebanquet at once. A certain Sergeant Whitley will arrive presently witha basket of food, such as you rebels haven't tasted since you raidedour wagon trains at the Second Manassas, and with him will come oneWilliam Shepard, whom you have met often, Mr. Kenton."
"Yes," said Harry, "we've met often and under varying circumstances,but we're going to be friends now."
"Will you tell me, Captain St. Clair," said Dick, "what has become ofthe two colonels of your regiment, which I believe you call theInvincibles?"
St. Clair led them silently to a little wood, and there, sitting onlogs, Colonel Leonidas Talbot and Lieutenant Colonel Hector St. Hilairewere bent intently over the chess board that lay between them.
"Now that the war is over we'll have a chance to finish our game, eh,Hector?" said Colonel Talbot.
"A just observation, Leonidas. It's a difficult task to pursue a gameto a perfect conclusion amid the distractions of war, but soon I shallcheckmate you in the brilliant fashion in which General Lee alwayssnares and destroys his enemy."
"But General Lee has yielded, Hector."
"Pshaw, Leonidas! General Lee would never yield to anybody. He hasmerely quit!"
"Ahem!" said Harry loudly, and, as the colonels glanced up, they sawthe little group looking down at them.
"Our friends, the enemy, have come to pay you their respects," saidHarry.
The two colonels rose and bowed profoundly.
"And to invite you to a banquet that is now being prepared not far fromhere," continued Harry. "It's very tempting, ham, cheese, and othersolids, surrounded by many delicacies."
The two colonels looked at each other, and then nodded approval.
"You are to be the personal guests of our army," said Dick, "and we actas the proxies of General Grant."
"I shall always speak most highly of General Grant," said ColonelLeonidas Talbot. "His conduct has been marked by the greatesthumanity, and is a credit to our common country, which has beenreunited so suddenly."
"But reunited with our consent, Leonidas," said Lieutenant Colonel St.Hilaire. "Don't forget that I, for one, am tired of this war, and sois our whole army. It was a perfect waste of life to prolong it, andwith the North reannexed, the Union will soon be stronger and moreprosperous than ever."
"Well spoken, Hector! Well spoken. It is perhaps better that Northand South should remain together. I thought otherwise for four years,but now I seem to have another point of view. Come, lads, we shalldine with these good Yankee boys and we'll make them drink toasts oftheir own excellent coffee to the health and safety of our commoncountry."
The group returned to a little hollow, in which Sergeant Whitley andShepard had built a fire, and where they were already frying strips ofbacon and slices of ham over the coals. Shepard and Harry shook hands.
"I may as well tell you now, Mr. Kenton," said Shepard, "that MissHenrietta Carden, whom you met in Richmond, is my sister, and that itwas she who hid in the court at the Curtis house and took the map.Then it was I who gave you the blow."
"It was done in war," said Harry, "and I have no right to complain. Itwas clever and I hope that I shall be able to give your sister mycompliments some day. Now, if you don't mind, I'll take a strip ofthat wonderful bacon. It is bacon, isn't it? It's so long since I'veseen any that I'm not sure of its identity, but whatever it is its odoris enticing."
"Bacon it surely is, Mr. Kenton. Here are three pi
eces that I broiledmyself and a broad slice of bread for them. Go ahead, there's plentymore. And see this dark brown liquid foaming in this stout tin pot!Smell it! Isn't it wonderful! Well, that's coffee! You've heard ofcoffee, and maybe you remember it."
"I do remember tasting it some years ago and finding it good. I'd liketo try it again. Yes, thank you. It's fine."
"Here's another cup, and try the ham also."
Harry tried it, not once but several times. Langdon sat on the groundbefore the fire, and his delight was unalloyed and unashamed.
"We have raided a Yankee wagon train again," he said, "and the lootingis splendid. Arthur, I thought yesterday that I should never eatagain. Food and I were such strangers that I believed we should neverknow each other, any more, or if knowing, we could never assimilate.And yet we seem to get on good terms at once."
While they talked a tall thin youth of clear dark complexion, carryinga long bundle under his arm, approached the fire and Lieutenant ColonelSt. Hilaire welcomed him with joy.
"Julien! Julien de Langeais, my young relative!" he cried. "And youare indeed alive! I thought you lost!"
"I'm very much alive, sir," said young De Langeais, "but I'm starved."
"Then this is the place to come," said Dick, putting before him food,which he strove to eat slowly, although the effort at restraint wasmanifestly great. Lieutenant Colonel St. Hilaire introduced him to theUnion men, and then asked him what was the long black bag that hecarried under his arm.
"That, sir," replied De Langeais, smiling pathetically, "is my violin.I've no further use for my rifle and sword, but now that peace iscoming I may be able to earn my bread with the fiddle."
"And so you will! You'll become one of the world's great musicians.And as soon as we've finished with General Grant's hospitality, whichwill be some time yet, you shall play for us."
De Langeais looked affectionately at the black bag.
"You're very good to me, sir," he said, "to encourage me at such atime, and, if you and the others care for me to play, I'll do my best."
"Paganini himself could do no more, but, for the present, we must paydue attention to the hospitality of General Grant. He would not likeit, if it should come to his ears that we did not show dueappreciation, and since, in the course of events, and in order toprevent the mutual destruction of the sections, it became necessary forGeneral Lee to arrange with someone to stop this suicidal war, I amglad the man was General Grant, a leader whose heart does him infinitecredit."
"General Grant is a very great man, and he has never proved it morefully than today," said Dick, who sat near the colonels--his firstinclination had been to smile, but he restrained it.
"Truly spoken, young sir," said Colonel Leonidas Talbot. "General Leeand General Grant together could hold this continent against the world,and, now that we have quit killing one another, America is safe intheir hands. Harry, do you think I've eaten too much? I wouldn't gobeyond the exploits of a gentleman, but this food has a wonderfulsavor, and I can't say that I have dined before in months."
"Not at all, sir, you have just fairly begun. As Lieutenant ColonelSt. Hilaire pointed out, General Grant would be displeased if we didn'tfully appreciate his hospitality and prove it by our deeds. Here aresome sardines, sir. You haven't tasted 'em yet, but you'll find 'emwonderfully fine."
Colonel Leonidas Talbot took the sardines, and then he and LieutenantColonel St. Hilaire rose suddenly and simultaneously to their feet, alook of wonder and joy spreading over their faces.
"Is it really he?" exclaimed Colonel Talbot.
"It's he and none other," said Lieutenant Colonel St. Hilaire.
A tall, powerfully built, gray-haired man was coming toward them, hishands extended. Colonel Talbot and Lieutenant Colonel St. Hilairestepped forward, and each grasped a hand.
"Good old John!"
"Why, John, it's worth a victory to shake your hand again!"
"Leonidas, I've been inquiring, an hour or two, for you and Hector."
"John Carrington, you've fulfilled your promise and more. We alwayssaid at West Point that you'd become the greatest artilleryman in theworld, and in this war you've proved it on fifty battle fields. We'veoften watched your work from the other side, and we've always admiredthe accuracy with which you sent the shells flying about us. It waswonderful, John, wonderful, and it did more than anything else to savethe North from complete defeat!"
A smile passed over John Carrington's strong face, and he patted hisold comrade on the shoulder.
"It's good to know, Leonidas, that neither you nor Hector has beenkilled," he said, "and that we can dine together again."
"Truly, truly, John! Sit down! It's the hospitality of your owngeneral that you share when you join us. General Lee would never maketerms with men like McClellan, Burnside and Hooker. No, sir, hepreferred to defeat them, much as it cost our Union in blood andtreasure, but with a man of genius like General Grant he could agree.Really great souls always recognize one another. Is it not so, John?"
"Beyond a doubt, Leonidas. We fully admit the greatness and loftycharacter of General Lee, as you admit the greatness and humanity ofGeneral Grant. One nation is proud to have produced two such men."
"I agree with you, John. All of us agree with you. The soldiers ofGeneral Lee's army who are here today will never dispute what you say.Now fall on, and join us at this board which, though rustic, is indeeda most luxurious and festive one. As I remember at West Point, youwere a first-class trencherman."
"And I am yet," said John Carrington, as he took his share. They werejoined a little later by a gallant young Southern colonel, PhilipSherburne, who had led in many a cavalry attack, and then the equallygallant Northern colonel, Alan Hertford, came also, and as everybodywas introduced to everybody else the good feeling grew. At last thehunger that had been increasing so long was satisfied, and as theyleaned back, Lieutenant Colonel St. Hilaire turned to Julien deLangeais:
"Julien," he said, "take out your violin. There is no more fittingtime than this to play. Julien, John, is a young relative of mine fromLouisiana who has a gift. He is a great musician who is going tobecome much greater. Perhaps it was wrong to let a lad of his geniusenter this war, but at any rate he has survived it, and now he willshow us what he can do."
De Langeais, after modest deprecations, took out his violin and played.Upon his sensitive soul the war had made such a deep impression thathis spirit spoke through his instrument. He had never before played sowell. His strings sang of the march, the camp, of victory and defeat,and defeat and victory, and as he played he became absorbed in hismusic. The people around him, although they were rapidly increasing innumbers, were not visible to him. Yet he played upon their hearts.There was not one among them who did not see visions and dream dreamsas he listened. At last his bow turned into the old and ever young,"Home Sweet Home."
'Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam, Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home. An exile from home, splendor dazzles in vain, Oh! give me my lowly, thatched cottage again.
Into the song he poured all his skill and all his heart, and as heplayed he saw the house in which he was born on the far Louisianaplantation. And those who listened saw also, in spirit, the homes whichmany of them had not seen in fact for four years. Stern souls weresoftened, and water rose to eyes which had looked fearlessly and sooften upon the charging bayonets of the foe.
He stopped suddenly and put away his violin. There was a hush, andthen a long roll of applause, not loud, but very deep.
"I hear Pendleton calling," said Harry to Dick.
"So do I," said Dick. "I wonder what they're doing there. Have youheard from your father?"
"Not for several months. I think he's in North Carolina with Johnston,and I mean to go home that way. I've a good horse, and he'll carry methrough the mountains. I think I'll find father there. An hour or twoago, Dick, I felt like a man and I was a man, but since De Langeaisplayed I've become a boy
again, and I'm longing for Pendleton, and itsgreen hills, and the little river in which we used to swim."
"So am I, Harry, and it's likely that I'll go with you. The war isover and I can get leave at once. I want to see my mother."
They stayed together until night came over Appomattox and its famousapple tree, and a few days later Harry Kenton was ready to start onhorseback for Kentucky. But he was far from being alone. The twocolonels, St. Clair, Langdon, Dick, De Langeais, Colonel Winchester andSergeant Whitley were to ride with him. Warner was to go north andPennington west as soon as they were mustered out. Dick wrung theirhands.
"Good-by, George! Good-by, Frank! Old comrades!" he said. "Butremember that we are to see a good deal of one another all through ourlives!"
"Which I can reduce to a mathematical problem and demonstrate by meansof my little algebra here," said Warner, fumbling for his book to hidehis emotion.
"I may come through Kentucky to see you and Harry," said Pennington,"when I start back to Nebraska."
"Be sure to come," said Dick with enthusiasm, "and remember that thelatch string is hanging out on both doors."
Then, carrying their arms, and well equipped with ammunition, food andblankets, the little party rode away. They knew that the mountainswere still extremely unsettled, much infested by guerrillas, but theybelieved themselves strong enough to deal with any difficulty, and, asthe April country was fair and green, their hearts, despite everything,were light.
CHAPTER XVIII
THE FINAL RECKONING
They rode a long time through a war-torn country, and the days boundthe young men together so closely that, at times, it seemed to themthey had fought on the same side all through the war. Sergeant Whitleywas usually their guide and he was an expert to bargain for food andforage. He exhibited then all the qualities that afterward raised himso high in the commercial world.
Although they were saddened often by the spectacle of the ruin the longwar had made, they kept their spirits, on the whole, wonderfully well.The two colonels, excellent horsemen, were an unfailing source ofcheerfulness. When they alluded to the war they remembered only thegreat victories the South had won, and invariably they spoke of its endas a compromise. They also began to talk of Charleston, toward whichtheir hearts now turned, and a certain handsome Madame Delaunay whomHarry Kenton remembered well.
As they left Virginia and entered North Carolina they heard that theConfederate troops everywhere were surrendering. The war, which hadbeen so terrible and sanguinary only two or three months before, endedabsolutely with the South's complete exhaustion. Already the troopswere going home by the scores of thousands. They saw men who had justtaken off their uniforms guiding the ploughs in the furrows. Smokerose once more from the chimneys of the abandoned homes, and the boyswho had faced the cannon's mouth were rebuilding rail fences. The odorof grass and newly turned earth was poignant and pleasant. The twocolonels expanded.
"Though my years have been devoted to military pursuits, Hector," saidColonel Leonidas Talbot, "the agricultural life is noble, and many ofthe hardy virtues of the South are due to the fact that we are chieflya rural population."
"Truly spoken, Leonidas, but for four years agriculture has not hadmuch chance with us, and perhaps agriculture is not all. It was themechanical genius of the North that kept us from taking New York andBoston."
"Which reminds me, Happy," said St. Clair to Langdon, "that, after all,you didn't sleep in the White House at Washington with your boots on."
"I changed my mind," replied Happy easily. "I didn't want to hurtanybody's feelings."
Soon they entered the mountains, and they met many Confederate soldiersreturning to their homes. Harry always sought from them news of hisfather, and he learned at last that he was somewhere in the westernpart of the state. Then he heard, a day or two later, that a band ofguerrillas to the south of them were plundering and sometimesmurdering. They believed from what details they could gather that itwas Slade and Skelly with a new force, and they thought it advisable toturn much farther toward the west.
"The longest way 'round is sometimes the shortest way through," saidSergeant Whitley, and the others agreed with him. They came into acountry settled then but little. The mountains were clothed in deepforest, now in the full glory of early spring, and the log cabins werefew. Usually they slept, the nights through, in the forest, and theyhelped out their food supply with game. The sergeant shot two deer,and they secured wild turkeys and quantities of smaller game.
Although they heard that the guerrillas were moving farther west, whichnecessitated the continuation of their own course in that direction,they seemed to have entered another world. Where they were, at least,there was nothing but peace, the peace of the wilderness which made astrong appeal to all of them. In the evenings by their campfire in theforest De Langeais would often play for them on his violin, and thegreat trees about them seemed to rustle with approval, as a hauntingmelody came back in echoes from the valleys.
They had been riding a week through a wilderness almost unbroken when,just before sunset, they heard a distant singing sound, singularly likethat of De Langeais' violin.
"It is a violin," said De Langeais, "but it's not mine. The soundcomes from a point at the head of the cove before us."
They rode into the little valley and the song of the violin grewlouder. It was somebody vigorously playing "Old Dan Tucker," and as thewoods opened they saw a stout log cabin, a brook and some fields. Themusician, a stalwart young man, sat in the doorway of the house. Ahandsome young woman was cooking outside, and a little child wasplaying happily on the grass.
"I'll ride forward and speak to them," said Harry Kenton. "That manand I are old friends."
The violin ceased, as the thud of hoofs drew near, but Harry, springingfrom his horse, held out his hand to the man and said:
"How are you, Dick Jones? I see that the prophecy has come true!"
The man stared at him a moment or two in astonishment, and then graspedhis hand.
"It's Mr. Kenton!" he cried, "an' them's your friends behind you.'Light, strangers, 'light! Yes, Mr. Kenton, it's come true. I've beenback home a week, an' not a scratch on me, though I've fit into nighonto a thousand battles. I reckon my wife, that's Mandy there, wishedso hard fur me to come back that the Lord let her have her way. But'light, strangers! 'Light an' hev supper!"
"We will," said Harry, "but we're not going to crowd you out of yourhouse. We've plenty of food with us, and we're accustomed to sleepingout of doors."
Nevertheless the hospitality of Dick Jones and his wife, Mandy, wasunbounded. It was arranged that the two colonels should sleep inside,while the others took to the grass with their blankets. Liberalcontributions were made to the common larder by the travelers, and theyhad an abundant supper, after which the men sat outside, the colonelssmoking good old North Carolina weed, and Mrs. Jones knitting in thedusk.
"Don't you and your family get lonesome here sometimes, Mr. Jones?"asked Harry.
"Never," replied the mountaineer. "You see I've had enough o' noisean' multitudes. More than once I've seen two hundred thousand menfightin', and I've heard the cannon roarin', days without stoppin'. Istill git to dreamin' at night 'bout all them battles, an' when Iawake, an' set up sudden like an' hear nothin' outside but thetricklin' o' the branch an' the wind in the leaves, I'm thankful thatthem four years are over, an' nobody is shootin' at nobody else. An'it's hard now an' then to b'lieve that they're really an' truly over."
"But how about Mrs. Jones?"
"She an' the baby stayed here four whole years without me, but we'vegot neighbors, though you can't see 'em fur the trees. Jest over theridge lives her mother, an' down Jones' Creek, into which the branchruns, lives her married sister, an' my own father ain't more'n fourmiles away. The settlements are right thick 'roun' here, an' we hevgood times."
Mrs. Jones nodded her emphatic assent.
"Which way do you-all 'low to be goin' tomorrow?" asked Jones
.
"We think we'd better keep to the west," replied Colonel Talbot."We've heard of a guerrilla band under two men, Slade and Skelly, whoare making trouble to the southward."
"I've heard of 'em too," said Jones, "an' I reckon they're 'bout themeanest scum the war hez throwed up. The troops will be after 'emafore long, an' will clean 'em out, but I guess they'll do a lot o'damage afore then. You gen'lemen will be wise to stick to your plan,an' keep on toward the west."
They departed the next morning, taking with them the memory of a verypleasant meeting, and once more pursued their way through thewilderness. Harry, despite inquiries at every possible place, heardnothing more of his father, and concluded that, after the surrender, hemust have gone at once to Kentucky, expecting his son to come there byanother way.
But the reports of Slade and Skelly were so numerous and so sinisterthat they made a complete change of plan. The colonels, St. Clair andLangdon, would not try to go direct to South Carolina, but the wholeparty would cling together, ride to Kentucky, and then those who livedfarther south could return home chiefly by rail. It seemed, on thewhole, much the wiser way, and, curving back a little to the north,they entered by and by the high mountains on the line between Virginiaand Kentucky. Other returning soldiers had joined them and their partynow numbered thirty brave, well-armed men.
They entered Kentucky at a point near the old Wilderness Road, and,from a lofty crest, looked down upon a sea of ridges, heavy with greenforest, and narrow valleys between, in which sparkled brooks or littlerivers. The hearts of Harry and Dick beat high. They were going home.What awaited them at Pendleton? Neither had heard from the town oranybody in it for a long time. Anticipation was not unmingled withanxiety.
Two days later they entered a valley, and when they stopped at noon fortheir usual rest Harry Kenton rode some distance up a creek, thinkingthat he might rouse a deer out of the underbrush. Although the countrylooked extremely wild and particularly suited to game, he found none,but unwilling to give up he continued the hunt, riding much fartherthan he was aware.
He was just thinking of the return, when he heard a rustling in athicket to his right, and paused, thinking that it might be the deer hewanted. Instead, a gigantic figure with thick black hair and beard roseup in the bush. Harry uttered a startled exclamation. It was Skelly,and beside him stood a little man with an evil face, hidden partly byan enormous flap-brimmed hat. Both carried rifles, and before Harrycould take his own weapon from his shoulder Skelly fired. Harry'shorse threw up his head in alarm, and the bullet, instead of hittingthe rider, took the poor animal in the brain.
As the horse fell, Harry sprang instinctively and alighted upon hisfeet, although he staggered. Then Slade pulled trigger, and a searing,burning pain shot through his left shoulder. Dizzy and weak he raisedhis rifle, nevertheless, and fired at the hairy face of the big man.He saw the huge figure topple and fall; he heard another shot, andagain felt the thrill of pain, this time in the head, heard a shrillwhistle repeated over and over, and did not remember anything definiteuntil some time afterward.
When his head became clear once more Harry believed that he hadwandered a long distance from that brief but fierce combat, but he didnot know in what direction his steps had taken him. Nearly all hisstrength was gone, and his head ached fearfully. He had dropped hisrifle, but where he did not know nor care. He sat down on the groundwith his back against a tree, and put his right hand to his head. Thewound there had quit bleeding, clogged up with its own blood. He wasexperienced enough to know that it was merely a flesh wound, and thatany possible scar would be hidden by his hair.
But the wound in his left shoulder was more serious. The bullet hadgone entirely through, for which he was glad, but the hurt was stillbleeding. He made shift to bandage it with strips torn from hisunderclothing, and, after a long rest, he undertook to walk back to thecamp. He was not sure of the way, and after two or three hundred yardshe grew dizzy and sat down again. Then he shouted for help, but hisvoice sounded so weak that he gave it up.
He was never sure, but he thought another period of unconsciousnessfollowed, because when he aroused himself the sun seemed to be muchfarther down in the west. His head was still aching, though not quiteso badly as before, and he made a new effort to walk. He did not knowwhere he was going, but he must go somewhere. If he remained there inthe wilderness, and his comrades could not find him, he would die ofweakness and starvation. He shuddered. It would be the very irony offate that one who had gone through Chancellorsville, Gettysburg and allthe great battles in the East should be slain on his way home by aroving guerrilla.
He rested again and summoned all his strength and courage, and he wasable to go several hundred yards farther. As he advanced the forestseemed to thin and he was quite sure that he saw through it a valleyand open fields. The effect upon him was that of a great stimulant,and he found increased strength. He tottered on, but stopped soon andleaned against a tree. He dimly saw the valley, the fields, and adistant roof, and then came something that gave him new strength. Itwas a man's voice singing, a voice clear, powerful and wonderfullymellow:
They bore him away when the day had fled, And the storm was rolling high, And they laid him down in his lonely bed By the light of an angry sky. The lightning flashed and the wild sea lashed The shore with its foaming wave, And the thunder passed on the rushing blast As it howled o'er the rover's grave.
He knew that voice. He had heard it years ago, a century it seemed. Itwas the voice of a friend, the voice of Sam Jarvis, the singer of themountains. He rushed forward, but overtaxing his strength, fell. Hepulled himself up by a bush and stood, trembling with weakness andanxiety. Still came the voice, but the song had changed:
Soft o'er the fountain, lingering falls the Southern moon, Far o'er the mountain breaks the day too soon, In thy dark eyes' splendor, where the warm light loves to dwell, Weary looks yet tender speak their fond farewell, Nita! Juanita! Ask thy soul if we should part, Nita! Juanita! Lean thou on my heart!
It was an old song of pathos and longing, but Harry remembered wellthat mellow, golden voice. If he could reach Sam Jarvis he wouldsecure help, and there was the happy valley in which he lived. As hesteadied himself anew fresh strength and courage poured into his veins,and leaving the fringe of forest he entered a field, at the far end ofwhich Jarvis was ploughing.
The singer was happy. He drove a stout bay horse, and as he walkedalong in the furrow he watched the rich black earth turn up before theploughshare. He hated no man, and no man hated him. The war had neverinvaded his valley, and he sang from the sheer pleasure of living. Theworld about him was green and growing, and the season was good. Hisnephew, Ike Simmons, was ploughing in another field, and whenever hechose he could see the smoke rising from the chimney of the strong loghouse in which he lived.
Harry thought at first that he would go down the end of the long fieldto Jarvis, but the ploughed land pulled at his feet, and made him veryweak again. So he walked straight across it, though he staggered, andapproached the house, the doors of which stood wide open.
He was not thinking very clearly now, but he knew that rest and helpwere at hand. He opened the gate that led to the little lawn, went upthe walk and, scarcely conscious of what he was doing, stood in thedoorway, and stared into the dim interior. As his eyes grew used tothe dusk the figure of an old, old woman, lean and wrinkled, past ahundred, suddenly rose from a chair, stood erect, and regarded him withstartled, burning eyes.
"Ah, it's the governor, the great governor, Henry Ware!" she exclaimed."Didn't I say to you long ago: 'You will come again, and you will bethin and pale and in rags, and you will fall at the door.' I see youcoming with these two eyes of mine!"
As she spoke, the young man in the tattered Southern uniform, stainedwith the blood of two wounds, reeled and fell unconscious in thedoorway.
When Harry came back to the world he was lying in a very comfortablebed, and all the pain
had gone from his head. A comfortable, motherlywoman, whom he recognized as Mrs. Simmons, was sitting beside him, andColonel Leonidas Talbot, looking very tall, very spare and veryprecise, was standing at a window.
"Good morning, Mrs. Simmons," said Harry in a clear, full voice.
She uttered an exclamation of joy, and Colonel Talbot turned from thewindow.
"So you've come back to us, Harry," he said. "We knew that it was onlya matter of time, although you did lose a lot of blood from that woundin the shoulder."
"I never intended to stay away, sir."
"But you remained in the shadowy world three days."
"That long, sir?"
"Yes, Harry, three days, and a great deal of water has flowed under thebridge in those three days."
"What do you mean, colonel?"
"There was a military operation of a very sharp and decisive character.When you fell in the doorway here, Mrs. Simmons, who happened to be inthe kitchen, ran at once for her brother, Mr. Jarvis, a most excellentand intelligent man. You were past telling anybody anything just then,but he followed your trail, and met some of us, led by SergeantWhitley, who were also trailing you."
"And Slade and Skelly, what of them?"
"They'll never plunder or murder more. We divined much that hadhappened. You were ambushed, were you not?"
"Yes, Slade and Skelly fired upon me from the bushes. I shot back andsaw Skelly fall."
"You shot straight and true. We found him there in the bushes, whereyour bullet had cut short his murderous life. Then we organized,pursued and surrounded the others. They were desperate criminals, whoknew the rope awaited them, and all of them died with their boots on.Slade made a daring attempt to escape, but the sergeant shot himthrough the head at long range, and a worse villain never fell."
"And our people, colonel, where are all of them?"
"Most of the soldiers have gone on, but the members of our ownimmediate group are scattered about the valley, engaged chiefly inagricultural or other homely pursuits, while they await your recovery,and incidentally earn their bread. Sergeant Whitley, Captain St. Clairand Captain Mason are putting a new roof on the barn, and, as Iinspected it myself, I can certify that they are performing the task ina most workmanlike manner. Captain Thomas Langdon is ploughing in thefar field, by the side of that stalwart youth, Isaac Simmons, and eachis striving in a spirit of great friendliness to surpass the other. Myassociate and second in command, Lieutenant Colonel Hector St. Hilaire,has gone down the creek fishing, a pursuit in which he has had muchsuccess, contributing greatly to the larder of our hostess, Mrs.Simmons."
"And where is Sam Jarvis?"
The colonel raised the window.
"Listen!" he said:
Up from the valley floated the far mellow notes:
I'm dreaming now of Hallie, sweet Hallie, For the thought of her is one that never dies. She's sleeping in the valley And the mocking bird is singing where she lies. Listen to the mocking bird singing o'er her grave, Listen to the mocking bird, where the weeping willows wave.
"The words of the song are sad," said Colonel Talbot, "but sad musicdoes not necessarily make one feel sad. On the contrary we are allvery cheerful here, and Mr. Jarvis is the happiest man I have everknown. I think it's because his nature is so kindly. A heart of gold,pure gold, Harry, and that extraordinary old woman, Aunt Suse, insiststhat you are your own greatgrandfather, the famous governor ofKentucky."
"I was here before in the first year of the war, colonel, and sheforetold that I would return just as I did. How do you account forthat, sir?"
"I don't try to account for it. A great deal of energy is wasted intrying to account for the unknowable. I shall take it as it is."
"What has become of Colonel Winchester, sir?"
"He rode yesterday to a tiny hamlet about twenty miles away. We hadheard from a mountaineer that an officer returning from the war wasthere, and since we old soldiers like to foregather, we decided to havehim come and join our party. They are due here, and unless my eyesdeceive me--and I know they don't--they're at the bead of the valleynow, riding toward this house."
Harry detected a peculiar note in Colonel Talbot's voice, and his mindleaped at once to a conclusion.
"That officer is my father!" he exclaimed.
"According to all the descriptions, it is he, and now you can sit upand welcome him."
The meeting between father and son was not demonstrative, but both feltdeep emotion.
"Fortune has been kind to us, Harry, to bring us both safely out of thelong war," said Colonel Kenton.
"Kinder than we had a right to hope," said Harry.
The entire group rode together to Pendleton, and Dick was welcomed likeone risen from the dead by his mother, who told him a few weeks laterthat he was to have a step-father, the brave colonel, Arthur Winchester.
"He's the very man I'd have picked for you, mother," said Dickgallantly.
The little town of Pendleton was unharmed by the war, and, since bitterfeeling had never been aroused in it, the reunion of North and Southbegan there at once. In an incredibly short period everything went onas before.
The two colonels and their younger comrades remained a while as theguests of Colonel Kenton and his son, and then they started for thefarther south where St. Clair and Langdon were to begin the careers inwhich they achieved importance.
Harry and Dick in Pendleton entered upon their own life work, whichthey were destined to do so well, but often, in their dreams and formany years, they rode again with Stonewall in the Valley, charged withPickett at Gettysburg, stood with the Rock of Chickamauga, or advancedwith Grant to the thunder of the guns through the shades of theWilderness.
Appendix: Transcription notes:
The following modifications were applied while transcribing the printedbook to etext:
Chapter 6 Page 103, para 11, change "Turner" to "Warner"
Chapter 7 Page 112, para 6, insert missing period
Chapter 11 Page 186, para 2, fix punctuation typos
Chapter 17 Page 290, para 2, fix typo "unforgetable"
The following words were printed with accented vowels, but I chose notto post an 8-bit version of this text:
Chapter 6 Page 94, para 1, "coordinate" with accented "o"
Chapter 15 Page 270, para 1, accented "o" in "cooperate"
As is typical in this series, there are a number of instances where theuse of the comma in the printed book seems to me inappropriate.However, I have adhered to the punctuation as printed (except forobvious printing errors, which are noted above).
For example:
The horses given to them by special favor of Sheridan in place of their worn-out mounts, were splendid animals, and Sergeant Whitley himself had prepared them for their first appearance before their new masters.
The horsemen firing their own carbines and swinging aloft their sabers, galloped forward in a mighty rush.
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