CHAPTER, XV. MUTTERINGS
Early in the next year, 1861,--that red year in the Calendar of ourhistory,--several gentlemen met secretly in the dingy counting-room ofa prominent citizen to consider how the state of Missouri might be savedto the Union. One of these gentlemen was Judge Whipple, another, Mr.Brinsmade; and another a masterly and fearless lawyer who afterwardbecame a general, and who shall be mentioned in these pages as theLeader. By his dash and boldness and statesmanlike grasp of a blacksituation St. Louis was snatched from the very bosom of secession.
Alas, that chronicles may not stretch so as to embrace all great men ofa time. There is Captain Nathaniel Lyon,--name with the fateful ring.Nathaniel Lyon, with the wild red hair and blue eye, born and bred asoldier, ordered to St. Louis, and become subordinate to a waveringofficer of ordnance. Lyon was one who brooked no trifling. He had theface of a man who knows his mind and intention; the quick speech andaction which go with this. Red tape made by the reel to bind him, hebroke. Courts-martial had no terrors for him. He proved the ablest oflieutenants to the strong civilian who was the Leader. Both were themen of the occasion. If God had willed that the South should win, therewould have been no occasion.
Even as Judge Whipple had said, the time was come for all men to decide.Out of the way, all hopes of compromises that benumbed Washington. NoConstitutional Unionists, no Douglas Democrats, no Republicans now.
All must work to save the ship. The speech-making was not done with yet.Partisanship must be overcome, and patriotism instilled in its place.One day Stephen Brice saw the Leader go into Judge Whipple's room,and presently he was sent for. After that he was heard of in variousout-of-the-way neighborhoods, exhorting all men to forget their quarrelsand uphold the flag.
The Leader himself knew not night from day in his toil,--in organizing,conciliating, compelling when necessary. Letters passed between himand Springfield. And, after that solemn inauguration, between him andWashington. It was an open secret that the Governor of Missouri held outhis arms to Jefferson Davis, just elected President of the new SouthernConfederacy. It soon became plain to the feeblest brain what the Leaderand his friends had perceived long before, that the Governor intendedto use the militia (purged of Yankee sympathizers) to save the state forthe South.
The Government Arsenal, with its stores of arms and ammunition, wasthe prize. This building and its grounds lay to the south of theCity, overlooking the river. It was in command of a doubting majorof ordnance; the corps of officers of Jefferson Barracks hard by wasmottled with secession. Trade was still. The Mississippi below waspractically closed. In all the South, Pickens and Sumter alone stoodstanch to the flag. A general, wearing the uniform of the army of theUnited States, surrendered the whole state of Texas.
The St. Louis Arsenal was next in succession, and the little band ofregulars at the Barracks was powerless to save it. What could the Leaderand Captain Lyon do without troops? That was the question that rangin Stephen's head, and in the heads of many others. For, if PresidentLincoln sent troops to St. Louis, that would precipitate the trouble.And the President had other uses for the handful in the army.
There came a rain-sodden night when a mysterious message arrived atthe little house in Olive Street. Both anxiety and pride were in Mrs.Brice's eyes as they followed her son out of the door. At TwelfthStreet two men were lounging on the corners, each of whom glanced athim listessly as he passed. He went up a dark and narrow stair into alighted hall with shrouded windows. Men with sober faces were formingline on the sawdust of the floors. The Leader was there giving militaryorders in a low voice. That marked the beginning of the aggressive Unionmovement.
Stephen, standing apart at the entrance, remarked that many of the menwere Germans. Indeed, he spied his friend Tiefel there, and presentlyRichter came from the ranks to greet him.
"My friend," he said, "you are made second lieutenant of our company,the Black Jaegers."
"But I have never drilled in my life," said Stephen.
"Never mind. Come and see the Leader."
The Leader, smiling a little, put a vigorous stop to his protestations,and told him to buy a tactics. The next man Stephen saw was big TomCatherwood, who blushed to the line of his hair as he returned Stephen'sgrip.
"Tom, what does this mean?" He asked.
"Well," said Tom, embarrassed, "a fellow has got to do what he think'sright."
"And your family?" asked Stephen.
A spasm crossed Tom's face.
"I reckon they'll disown me, Stephen, when they find it out."
Richter walked home as far as Stephen's house. He was to take the FifthStreet car for South St. Louis. And they talked of Tom's courage, and ofthe broad and secret military organization the Leader had planned thatnight. But Stephen did not sleep till the dawn. Was he doing right?Could he afford to risk his life in the war that was coming, and leavehis mother dependent upon charity?
It was shortly after this that Stephen paid his last visit for many along day upon Miss Puss Russell. It was a Sunday afternoon, and Puss wasentertaining, as usual, a whole parlor-full of young men, whose leaningsand sympathies Stephen divined while taking off his coat in the hall.Then he heard Miss Russell cry:
"I believe that they are drilling those nasty Dutch hirelings insecret."
"I am sure they are," said George Catherwood. "One of the halls is onTwelfth Street, and they have sentries posted out so that you can't getnear them. Pa has an idea that Tom goes there. And he told him that ifhe ever got evidence of it, he'd show him the door."
"Do you really think that Tom is with the Yankees?" asked JackBrinsmade.
"Tom's a fool," said George, with emphasis, "but he isn't a coward.He'd just as soon tell Pa to-morrow that he was drilling if the Yankeeleaders wished it known."
"Virginia will never speak to him again," said Eugenie, in an awedvoice.
"Pooh!" said Puss, "Tom never had a chance with Jinny. Did he, George?Clarence is in high favor now. Did you ever know any one to change so,since this military business has begun? He acts like a colonel. I hearthat they are thinking of making him captain of a company of dragoons."
"They are," George answered. "And that is the company I intend to join."
"Well," began Puss, with her usual recklessness, "it's a good thing forClarence that all this is happening. I know somebody else--"
Poor Stephen in the hall knew not whether to stay or fly. An accidentdecided the question. Emily Russell came down the stairs at that instantand spoke to him. As the two entered the parlor, there was a hushpregnant with many things unsaid. Puss's face was scarlet, but her handwas cold as she held it out to him. For the first time in that househe felt like an intruder. Jack Brinsmade bowed with great ceremony,and took his departure. There was scarcely a distant cordiality inthe greeting of the other young men. And Puss, whose tongue was loosedagain, talked rapidly of entertainments to which Stephen either had notbeen invited, or from which he had stayed away. The rest of the companywere almost moodily silent.
Profoundly depressed, Stephen sat straight in the velvet chair, awaitinga seasonable time to bring his visit to a close.
This was to be the last, then, of his intercourse with a warmheartedand lovable people. This was to be the end of his friendship with thisimpetuous and generous girl who had done so much to brighten his lifesince he had come to St: Louis. Henceforth this house would be shut tohim, and all others save Mr. Brinsmade's.
Presently, in one of the intervals of Miss Russell's feverish talk,he rose to go. Dusk was gathering, and a deep and ominous silencepenetrated like the shadows into the tall room. No words came to him.Impulsively, almost tearfully, Puss put her hand in his. Then shepressed it unexpectedly, so that he had to gulp down a lump that was inhis throat. Just then a loud cry was heard from without, the men jumpedfrom their chairs, and something heavy dropped on the carpet.
Some ran to the window, others to the door. Directly across the streetwas the house of Mr. Harmsworth, a noted Union man. One of the thirdstory windows w
as open, and out of it was pouring a mass of gray woodsmoke. George Catherwood was the first to speak.
"I hope it will burn down," he cried.
Stephen picked up the object on the floor, which had dropped from hispocket, and handed it to him.
It was a revolver.
Volume 5.