Before the Dawn: A Story of the Fall of Richmond

  CHAPTER XV

  THE GREAT RIVALS

  A large man sat in the shadow of a little rain-washed tent one goldenMay morning and gazed with unseeing eyes at the rich spectacle spreadbefore him by Nature. The sky was a dome of blue velvet, mottled withwhite clouds, and against the line of the horizon a belt of intensegreen told where the forest was springing into new life under the vividtouch of spring. The wind bore a faint, thrilling odour of violets.

  The leader was casting up accounts and trying in vain to put the balanceon his own side of the ledger. He dealt much with figures, but they werenever large enough for his purpose, and with the brave man's faith hecould trust only in some new and strange source of supply. Gettysburg,that drawn field of glorious defeat, lay behind him, and his foe, as heknew, was gathering all his forces and choosing his ablest leader thathe might hurl his utmost strength upon these thin battalions. But thesoul of the lonely man rose to the crisis.

  Everything about him was cast in a large mould, and the dignity and slowgravity of his manner added to his size. Thus he was not only a leader,but he had the look of one--which is far from being always so. Yet hishabitual expression was of calm benevolence, his gestures whenever hemoved were gentle, and his gray eyes shed a mild light. His fine whitehair and beard contributed to his fatherly appearance. One might havepointed him out as the president of a famous college or the leader of areform movement--so little does Nature indicate a man's trade by hisface.

  Those around the gray-haired chief, whose camp spread for miles throughthe green forest, were singularly unlike him in manner and bearing, andperhaps it was this sharp contrast that gave to him as he sat among hisbattalions the air of a patriarch. He was old; they were young. He waswhite of head, but one might search in vain through these raggedregiments for a gray hair. They were but boys, though they had passedthrough some of the greatest battles the world has ever known, andto-day, when there was a pause in the war and the wind blew from thesouth, they refused to be sad or to fear for the future. If the truth betold, the future was the smallest item in their reckoning. Men of theirtrade, especially with their youth, found the present so large that roomwas left for nothing else. They would take their ease now and rejoice.

  Now and then they looked toward the other and larger army that layfacing them not far away, but it did not trouble them greatly. There wasby mutual though tacit consent an interval of peace, and these foes, whohad learned in fire and smoke to honour each other, would not break itthrough any act of bad faith. So some slept on the grass or thefresh-cut boughs of trees; others sang or listened to the music of oldviolins or accordions, while more talked on any subject that came intotheir minds, though their voices sank when it was of far homes not seensince long ago. Of the hostile camp facing theirs a like tale might havebeen told.

  It seemed to Prescott, who sat near the General's tent, as if two hugepicnic parties had camped near each other with the probability that theywould join and become one in a short time--an illusion arising from thefact that he had gone into the war without any deep feeling over itsreal or alleged causes.

  "Why do you study the Yankees so hard?" asked Talbot, who lay in theshade of a tree. "They are not troubling us, and I learned when I cut myeye teeth not to bother with a man who isn't bothering me--a rule thatworks well."

  "To tell you the truth, Talbot," replied Prescott, "I was wondering howall this would end."

  "The more fool you," rejoined Talbot. "Leave all that to Marse Bob.Didn't you see how hard he was thinking back there?"

  Prescott scarcely heard his words, as his eyes were caught by an unusualmovement in the hostile camp. He carried a pair of strong glasses, beinga staff officer, and putting them to his eyes he saw at once that anevent of uncommon interest was occurring within the lines of theNorthern army. There was a great gathering of officers near a largetent, and beyond them the soldiers were pressing near. A puff of smokeappeared suddenly, followed by a spurt of flame, and the sound of acannon shot thundered in their ears.

  Talbot uttered an angry cry.

  "What do they mean by firing on us when we're not bothering them?" hecried.

  But neither shot nor shell struck near the lines of the Southern army.Peace still reigned unbroken. There was another flash of fire, anothercannon shot, and then a third. More followed at regular intervals. Theysounded like a signal or a salute.

  "I wonder what it can mean?" said Prescott.

  "If you want to find out, ask," said Talbot, and taking his comrade bythe arm, he walked toward a line of Northern sentinels posted in a woodon their right.

  "I've established easy communication," said Talbot; "there's a rightgood fellow from Vermont over here at the creek bank. He talks throughhis nose, but that don't hurt him. I traded him some whisky for a pouchof tobacco last night, and he'll tell us what the row is about."

  Prescott accepted his suggestion without hesitation. It was commonenough for the pickets on either side to grow friendly both before andafter those terrific but indecisive battles so characteristic of theCivil War, a habit in which the subordinate officers sometimes sharedwhile those of a higher rank closed their eyes. It did no militaryinjury, and contributed somewhat to the smoothness and grace of life.The thunder of the guns, each coming after its stated interval, echoedagain in their ears. A great cloud of yellowish-brown smoke rose abovethe trees. Prescott used his glasses once more, but he was yet unable todiscover the cause of the commotion. Talbot, putting his fingers to hislips, blew a soft, low but penetrating whistle, like the distant note ofa mocking-bird. A tall, thin man in faded blue, with a straggling beardon his face and a rifle in his hand, came forward among the trees.

  "What do you want, Johnny Reb?" he asked in high and thin but friendlytones.

  "Nothing that will cost you anything, Old Vermont," replied Talbot.

  "Wall, spit it out," said the Vermonter. "If I'd been born in your StateI'd commit suicide if anybody found it out. Ain't your State the placewhere all they need is more water and better society, just the same ashell?"

  "I remember a friend of mine," said Talbot, "who took a trip once withfour other men. He said they were a gentleman from South Carolina, a manfrom Maryland, a fellow from New York, and a damned scoundrel fromVermont. I think he hit it off just about right."

  The Vermonter grinned, his mouth forming a wide chasm across the thinface. He regarded the Southerner with extreme good nature.

  "Say, old Johnny Reb," he asked, "what do you fellows want anyway?"

  "We'd like to know when your army is going to retreat, and we have comeover here to ask you," replied Talbot.

  The cannon boomed again, its thunder rolling and echoing in the morningair. The note was deep and solemn and seemed to Prescott to hold athreat. Its effect upon the Vermonter was remarkable. He straightenedhis thin, lean figure until he stood as stiff as a ramrod. Then droppinghis rifle, he raised his hand and gave the cannon an invisible salute.

  "This army never retreats again," he said. "You hear me, Johnny Reb,the Army of the Potomac never goes back again. I know that you havewhipped us more than once, and that you have whipped us bad. I don'tforget Manassas and Fredericksburg and Chancellorsville, but all that'sdone past and gone. We didn't have good generals then, and you won't doit again--never again, I say. We're comin', Johnny Reb, with the biggestand best army we've had, and we'll just naturally sweep you off the faceof the earth."

  The emphasis with which he spoke and his sudden change of manner at thecannon shot impressed Prescott, coming, too, upon his own feeling thatthere was a solemn and ominous note in the sound of the gun.

  "What do those shots mean?" he asked. "Are they not a salute forsomebody?"

  "Yes," replied the Vermonter, a glow of joy appearing in his eye. "Granthas come!"

  "Ah!"

  "He's to command us now," the Vermonter continued, "and you know whatthat means. You have got to stand up and take your medicine. You hear metelling you!"

  A sudden thrill of apprehension ran through Prescot
t's veins. He hadbeen hearing for a long time of this man Grant and his great deeds inthe West, where no general of the South seemed able to stand before him.Now he was here in the East among that group of officers yonder, andthere was nothing left for either side but to fight. Grant would permitno other choice; he was not like the other Northern generals--he wouldnot find excuses, and in his fancy double and triple the force beforehim, but he would drive straight for the heart of his foe.

  It was a curious chance, but as the echo of the last gun rolled awayamong the trees the skies were darkened by leaden clouds rolling up fromthe southwest and the air became somber and heavy. Prescott saw as if ina vision the mighty battles that were to come and the miles of fallenscattered through all the wilderness that lay around them.

  But Talbot, gifted with a joyous soul that looked not far into thefuture, never flinched. He saw the cloud on the face of Prescott and theglow in the eyes of the Vermonter, but he was stirred by no tumult.

  "Never mind," he said calmly. "You've got your Grant and you are welcometo him, but Marse Bob is back there waiting for him." And he nodded overhis shoulder toward the tent where the lone man had been sitting. Hisface as he spoke was lighted by the smile of supreme confidence.

  They thanked the man for his news and walked slowly back to their camp,Prescott thoughtful all the way. He knew now that the crisis had come.

  The two great protagonists stood face to face at last.

  When Robert announced the arrival of Grant to his Commander-in-Chief asingle flash appeared in the eye of Lee and then the mask settled backover his face, as blank and expressionless as before.

  Then Prescott left the General's tent and walked toward a little housethat stood in the rear of the army, well beyond the range of a hostilecannon shot. The arrival of Grant, now conceded by North and South aliketo be the ablest general on the Northern side, was spreading with greatswiftness among the soldiers, but these boys, veterans of many fields,showed little concern; they lived in the present and thought little of"next week."

  Prescott noted, as he had noted so many times before, the motleyappearance of the army, but with involuntary motion he began tostraighten and smooth his own shabby uniform. He was about to enter thepresence of a woman and he was young and so was she.

  The house was a cheap and plain structure, such as a farmer in thatsterile region would build for himself; but farmer and family were gonelong since, swept away by the tide of war, and their home was used forother purposes.

  Prescott knocked lightly at the door and Helen Harley opened it.

  "Can the Colonel see me?" he asked.

  "He will see any one if we let him," she replied.

  "Then I am just 'any one'!"

  "I did not say that," she replied with a smile.

  She stood aside and Prescott entered the room, a bare place, the rudelog walls covered with neither lath nor plaster, yet not wholly lackingin proof that woman was present. The scanty articles of furniture werearranged with taste, and against the walls were tacked a few sheets fromlast year's New York and London illustrated weeklies. Vincent Harley layon a pallet of blankets in the corner, a petulant look on his face.

  "I'm glad to see you, Prescott," he said, "and then I'm not, because youfill my soul with envy. Here I am, tied to these blankets, while you canwalk about and breathe God's air as you will. I wouldn't mind it so muchif I had got that bullet in a big battle, say like Gettysburg, but to beknocked off one's horse as nice as you please in a beggarly littleskirmish. It's too much, I say."

  "You ought to be thankful that the bullet, instead of putting you on theground, didn't put you under it," replied Prescott.

  "Now, don't you try the pious and thankful dodge on me!" cried Harley."Helen does it now and then, but I stop her, even if I have to beimpolite to a lady. I wouldn't mind _your_ feelings at all."

  His sister sat down on a camp stool. It was easy to see that sheunderstood her brother's temper and knew how to receive his outbursts.

  "There you are again, Helen," he cried, seeing her look. "A smile likethat indicates a belief in your own superiority. I wish you wouldn't doit. You hurt my vanity, and you are too good a sister for that."

  Prescott laughed.

  "I think you are getting well fast, Harley," he said. "You show too muchenergy for an invalid."

  "I wish the surgeon thought the same," replied Harley, "but that doctoris feeble-minded; I know he is! Isn't he, Helen?"

  "Perhaps he's keeping you here because he doesn't want us to beat theYankees too soon," she replied.

  "Isn't it true, Prescott, that a man is always appreciated least by hisown family?" he asked.

  He spoke as if in jest, but there was a trace of vanity, and Prescotthesitated for a reply, not wishing to appear in a false light to eitherbrother or sister.

  "Slow praise is worth the most," he replied ambiguously. Harley showeddisappointment. He craved a compliment and he expected it.

  While they talked Prescott was watching Helen Harley out of the cornerof his eye. Outside were the wild soldiers and war; here, between thesenarrow log walls, he beheld woman and peace. He was seized with a suddensick distaste of the war, its endless battles, its terrible slaughter,and the doubt of what was to come after.

  Harley claimed his attention, for he could not bear to be ignored.Moreover, he was wounded, and with all due deference to his sister, thevisit was to him.

  "Does either army mean to move?" he asked.

  "I think so; I came to tell you about it," replied Prescott.

  Harley at once was full of eagerness. This touched him on his strongestside. He was a warrior by instinct, and his interest in the affairs ofthe army could never be languid.

  "Why, what news have you?" he asked quickly.

  "Grant has come!"

  He uttered an exclamation, but for a little while made no furthercomment. Like all the others, he seemed to accept the arrival of the newNorthern leader as the signal for immediate action, and he wished tothink over it.

  "Grant," he said presently, "will attack us, and you don't know what itcosts me to be lying here. I must be up and I will. Don't you see whatis coming? Don't you see it, I say?"

  "What is it that you see?" asked Prescott.

  "Why, General Lee is going to win the greatest victory of the age. Hewill beat their biggest army, led by their best General. Why, I see itnow! It will be the tactics of Chancellorsville over again. What a pityJackson is gone! But there's Wood. He'll make a circuit with tenthousand men and hit 'em on the right flank, and at the same time I'llgo around with my cavalry and dig into 'em on the left. The Yankeeswon't be dreaming of it, for Bobby Lee will be pounding 'em in front andthey'll have eyes only for him. Won't it be grand, magnificent!"

  There was a flash in his eye now and he was no longer irritable orimpatient.

  "Isn't war a glorious game?" he said. "Of course it is best not to havewar, but if we must have it, it draws out of a man the best that is inhim, if he's any good at all."

  There was a light knock at the door, and Prescott, who was contrastingbrother and sister, noticed their countenances change oddly and in amanner as different as their characters. Evidently they knew the knock.She closed her lips tightly and a faint pink tint in her cheeksdeepened. He looked up quickly and the light in his eyes spoke welcome."Come in!" he called in a loud voice, but his sister said nothing.

  The lady who entered was Mrs. Markham, as crisp as the breath of themorning. Her dress was fresh and bright in colour, a brilliant note in asomber camp.

  "Oh, Colonel!" she cried, going forward and taking both of Harley'shands in the warmth of her welcome. "I have been so anxious to see youagain, and I am glad to know that you are getting well."

  A pleased smile came over Harley's face and remained there. Here wasone, and above all a woman, who could appreciate him at his true value,and whom no small drop of jealousy or envy kept from saying so.

  "You give me too much credit, Mrs. Markham," he said.

  "Not at all, my de
ar Colonel," she replied vivaciously. "It is notenough. One who wins laurels on such a terrible field as war has a rightto wear them. Do not all of us remember that great charge of yours justat the critical moment, and the splendid way in which you covered theretreat from Gettysburg. You always do your duty, Colonel."

  "My brother is not the only man in the army who does his duty," saidMiss Harley, "and there are so many who are always true that he does notlike to be singled out for special praise."

  Colonel Harley frowned and Mrs. Markham shot a warning side glance atMiss Harley. Prescott, keenly watching them both, saw a flash as ofperfect understanding and defiance pass between two pairs of eyes andthen he saw nothing more. Miss Harley was intent upon her work, and Mrs.Markham, blonde, smiling and innocent, was talking to the Colonel,saying to him the words that he liked to hear and soothing his woundedspirit.

  Mrs. Markham had just come from Richmond to visit the General, and shetold gaily of events in the Southern capital.

  "We are cheerful there, Colonel," she said, "confident that such men asyou will win for us yet. Oh, we hear what is going on. They print newson wall-paper, but we get it somehow. We have our diversions, too. Ittakes a thousand dollars, Confederate money, to buy a decent calicodress, but sometimes we have the thousand dollars. Besides, we havetaken out all the old spinning-wheels and looms and we've begun to makeour own cloth. We don't think it best that the women should spend alltheir time mourning while the men are at the front fighting so bravely."

  Mrs. Markham chattered on; whatever might be the misfortunes of theConfederacy they did not seem to impress her. She was so lively andcheerful, and so deftly mingled compliments with her gaiety, thatPrescott did not wonder at Harley's obvious attraction, but he was notsorry to see the frown deepen on the face of the Colonel's sister. Thesound of some soldiers singing a gay chorus reached their ears and heasked Helen if she would come to the door of the house and see them. Shelooked once doubtfully at the other woman, but rose and went with him,the two who were left behind making no attempt to detain her.

  "Too much watching is not good, Helen," said Prescott, reproachfully."You are looking quite pale. See how cheerful the camp is! Did you everbefore hear of such soldiers?"

  She looked over the tattered army as far as she could see and her eyesgrew wet.

  "War is a terrible thing," she replied, "and I think that no cause iswholly right; but truly it makes one's heart tighten to see suchdevotion by ragged and half-starved soldiers, hardly a man of whom isfree from wound or scar of one."

  The rolling thunder of a cannon shot came from a point far to the left.

  "What is that?" she asked.

  "It means probably that the tacit truce is broken, but it is likely thatit is more in the nature of a range-finding shot than anything else. Weare strongly intrenched, and as wise a man as Grant will try to flank usout of here, before making a general attack. I am sure there will be nogreat battle for at least a week."

  "And my brother may be well in that time," she said. "I am so anxious tosee him once more in the saddle, where he craves to be and where hebelongs."

  There are women who prefer to see the men whom they love kept back by awound in order that they might escape a further danger, but not of suchwas Helen. Prescott remembered, too, the single glance, like a solitarysignal shot, that had passed between her and Mrs. Markham.

  "We are all anxious to see Colonel Harley back in the saddle," hereplied, "and for a good reason. His is one of our best sabers."

  Then she asked him to tell her of the army, the nature of the positionit now occupied, the movements they expected, and he replied to her indetail when he saw how unaffected was her interest. It pleased him thatshe should be concerned about these things and should understand them ashe explained their nature; and she, seeing his pleasure, was willing toplay upon it. So talking, they walked farther and farther from the houseand were joined presently by the cheerful Talbot.

  "It's good of you to let us see you, Miss Harley," he said. "We aregrateful to your brother for getting wounded so that you had to come andnurse him; but we are ungrateful because he stays hurt so long that youcan't leave him oftener."

  Talbot dispensed a spontaneous gaiety. It was his boast that he couldfall in love with every pretty girl whom he saw without committinghimself to any. "That is, boys," he said, "I can hover on the brinkwithout ever falling over, and it is the most delightful sensation toknow that you are always in danger and that you will always escape it.You are a hero without the risk."

  He led them away from more sober thoughts, talking much of Richmond andthe life there.

  They went back presently to the house and met Mrs. Markham at the doorjust as she was leaving.

  "The Colonel is so much better," she said sweetly to Miss Harley. "Ithink that he enjoys the visits of friends."

  "I do not doubt it," replied the girl coldly, and she went into theroom.