CHAPTER XXI. THE STAMPEDE
Sunday dawned, and the people flocked to the churches. But even in thehouse of God were dissension and strife. From the Carvel pew at Dr.Posthelwaite's Virginia saw men and women rise from their knees andwalk out--their faces pale with anger. At St. Mark's the prayer forthe President of the United States was omitted. Mr. Russell and Mr.Catherwood nodded approvingly over the sermon in which the South wasjustified, and the sanction of Holy Writ laid upon her Institution.With not indifferent elation these gentlemen watched the departure ofbrethren with whom they had labored for many years, save only when Mr.Brinsmade walked down the aisle never to return. So it is that war, likea devastating flood, creeps insistent into the most sacred places, andwill not be denied. Mr. Davitt, at least, preached that day to an unitedcongregation,--which is to say that none of them went out. Mr. Hopper,who now shared a pew with Miss Crane, listened as usual with a mostreverent attention. The clouds were low and the streets wet as peoplewalked home to dinner, to discuss, many in passion and some in sorrow,the doings of the morning. A certain clergyman had prayed to bedelivered from the Irish, the Dutch, and the Devil. Was it he whostarted the old rumor which made such havoc that afternoon? Thosebarbarians of the foreign city to the south, drunk with power, were tosack and loot the city. How it flew across street and alley, fromyard to yard, and from house to house! Privileged Ned ran into thedining-room where Virginia and her aunt were sitting, his eyes rollingand his face ashen with terror, crying out that the Dutch were marchingon the city, firebrands in hand and murder in their hearts.
"De Gen'ral done gib out er procl'mation, Miss Jinny," he cried. "DeGen'ral done say in dat procl'mation dat he ain't got no control ober deDutch soldiers."
Mrs. Colfax fainted.
"Oh Miss Jinny, ain't you gwineter Glencoe? Ain't you gwineter fleeaway? Every fambly on dis here street's gwine away--is packin' up fo' decountry. Doan't you hear 'em, Miss Jinny? What'll your pa say to Ned ofhe ain't make you clear out! Doan't you hear de carridges a-rattlin' offto de country?"
Virginia rose in agitation, yet trying to be calm, and to rememberthat the safety of the household depended upon her alone. That was herthought,--bred into her by generations,--the safety of the household,of the humblest slave whose happiness and welfare depended upon herfather's bounty. How she longed in that instant for her father orCaptain Lige, for some man's strength, to depend upon. Would there bewisdom in flight?
"Do you want to go, Ned?" she asked. She has seen her aunt swoon before,and her maid Susan knows well what to do. "Do you want to go, Ned?"
"Laws Mussy, no, Miss Jinny. One nigger laik me doan't make nodifference. My Marsa he say: 'Whaffor you leave ma house to be ramsackedby de Dutch?'
"What I gwineter answer? Oh Miss Jinny, you an' Miss Lill an' MammyEaster an' Susan's gwine with Jackson, an' de othah niggahs can walk.Ephum an' me'll jes' put up de shutters an' load de Colonel's gun."
By this time the room was filled with excited negroes, some crying,and some laughing hysterically. Uncle Ben had come in from the kitchen;Jackson was there, and the women were a wailing bunch in the corner bythe sideboard. Old Ephum, impassive, and Ned stood together. Virginia'seye rested upon them, and the light of love and affection was in it. Shewent to the window. Yes, carriages were indeed rattling outside, thougha sharp shower was falling. Across the street Alphonse, M. Renault'sbutler, was depositing bags and bundles on the steps. M. Renault himselfbustled out into the rain, gesticulating excitedly. Spying her at thewindow, he put his hands to his mouth, cried out something, and ran inagain. Virginia flung open the sash and listened for the dreaded soundof drums. Then she crossed quickly over to where her aunt was lying onthe lounge.
"O Jinny," murmured that lady, who had revived, "can't you do something?Haven't you done anything? They will be here any moment to burn us, tomurder us--to--oh, my poor boy! Why isn't he here to protect his mother!Why was Comyn so senseless, so thoughtless, as to leave us at such atime!"
"I don't think there is any need to be frightened," said Virginia, witha calmness that made her aunt tremble with anger. "It is probably only arumor. Ned, run to Mr. Brinsmade's and ask him about it."
However loath to go, Ned departed at once. All honor to those old-timenegroes who are now memories, whose devotion to their masters was nextto their love of God. A great fear was in Ned's heart, but he went.And he believed devoutly that he would never see his young mistress anymore.
And while Ned is running to Mr. Brinsmade's, Mrs. Colfax is summoningthat courage which comes to persons of her character at such times. Shegathers her jewels into a bag, and her fine dresses into her trunk,with trembling hands, although she is well enough now. The picture ofClarence in the diamond frame she puts inside the waist of her gown. No,she will not go to Bellegarde. That is too near the city. With frantichaste she closes the trunk, which Ephum and Jackson carry downstairs andplace between the seats of the carriage. Ned had had the horses in itsince church time. It is not safe outside. But where to go?
To Glencoe? It is three in the afternoon, and Jackson explains that,with the load, they would not reach there until midnight, if at all.To Kirkwood or Webster? Yes; many of the first families live there,and would take them in for the night. Equipages of all sorts arepassing,--private carriages and public, and corner-stand hacks. Theblack drivers are cracking whips over galloping horses.
Pedestrians are hurrying by with bundles under their arms, some runningeast, and some west, and some stopping to discuss excitedly the chancesof each direction. From the river comes the hoarse whistle of the boatsbreaking the Sabbath stillness there. It is a panic to be remembered.
Virginia leaned against the iron railing of the steps, watching thescene, and waiting for Ned to return from Mr. Brinsmade's. Her face wastroubled, as well it might be. The most alarming reports were cried upto her from the street, and she looked every moment for the black smokeof destruction to appear to the southward. Around her were gathered theCarvel servants, most of them crying, and imploring her not to leavethem. And when Mrs. Colfax's trunk was brought down and placed in thecarriage where three of them might have ridden to safety, a groan ofdespair and entreaty rose from the faithful group that went to herheart.
"Miss Jinny, you ain't gwineter leave yo' ol mammy?"
"Hush, Mammy," she said. "No, you shall all go, if I have to staymyself. Ephum, go to the livery stable and get another carriage."
She went up into her own deserted room to gather the few things shewould take with her--the little jewellery case with the necklace ofpearls which her great-grandmother had worn at her wedding. Rosetta andMammy Easter were of no use, and she had sent them downstairs again.With a flutter she opened her wardrobe door, to take one last look atthe gowns there. You will pardon her. They were part of happier daysgone by. She fell down on her knees and opened the great drawer at thebottom, and there on the top lay the dainty gown which had belongedto Dorothy Manners. A tear fell upon one of the flowers of the stays.Irresistibly pressed into her mind the memory of Anne's fancy dressball,--of the episode by the gate, upon which she had thought so oftenwith burning face.
The voices below grow louder, but she does not hear. She is folding thegown hurriedly into a little package. It was her great-grandmother's;her chief heirloom after the pearls. Silk and satin from Paris areleft behind. With one glance at the bed in which she had slept sincechildhood, and at the picture over it which had been her mother's, shehurries downstairs. And Dorothy Manners's gown is under her arm. On thelanding she stops to brush her eyes with her handkerchief. If only herfather were here!
Ah, here is Ned back again. Has Mr. Brinsmade come?
What did he say? Ned simply pointed out a young man standing on thesteps behind the negroes. Crimson stains were on Virginia's cheeks,and the package she carried under her arm was like lead. The youngman, although he showed no signs of excitement, reddened too as he cameforward and took off his hat. But the sight of him had acurious effectupon Virginia, of which she was at first unconsc
ious. A sense ofsecurity came upon her as she looked at his face and listened to hisvoice.
"Mr. Brinsmade has gone to the hospital, Miss Carvel," he said. "Mrs.Brinsmade asked me to come here with your man in the hope that I mightpersuade you to stay where you are."
"Then the Germans are not moving on the city?" she said.
In spite of himself, Stephen smiled. It was that smile that angered her,that made her rebel against the advice he had to offer; that made herforget the insult he had risked at her hands by coming there. For shebelieved him utterly, without reservation. The moment he had spoken shewas convinced that the panic was a silly scare which would be food formerriment in future years. And yet--was not that smile in derision ofherself--of her friends who were running away? Was it not an assumptionof Northern superiority, to be resented?
"It is only a malicious rumor, Miss Carvel," he answered. "You havebeen told so upon good authority, I suppose," she said dryly. And at thechange in her tone she saw his face fall.
"I have not," he replied honestly, "but I will submit it to your ownjudgment. Yesterday General Harney superseded Captain Lyon in commandin St. Louis. Some citizens of prominence begged the General to send thetroops away, to avoid further ill-feeling and perhaps--bloodshed." (Theyboth winced at the word.) "Colonel Blair represented to the General thatthe troops could not be sent away, as they had been enlisted to serveonly in St. Louis; whereupon the General in his proclamation states thathe has no control over these Home Guards. That sentence has been twistedby some rascal into a confession that the Home Guards are not to becontrolled. I can assure you, Miss Carvel," added Stephen, speakingwith a force which made her start and thrill, "I can assure you from apersonal knowledge of the German troops that they are not a riotous lot,and that they are under perfect control. If they were not, there areenough regulars in the city to repress them."
He paused. And she was silent, forgetful of the hub-bub around her. Itwas then that her aunt called out to her, with distressing shrillness,from the carriage:-- "Jinny, Jinny, how can you stand there talking toyoung men when our lives are in danger?"
She glanced hurriedly at Stephen, who said gently; "I do not wish todelay you, Miss Carvel, if you are bent upon going."
She wavered. His tone was not resentful, simply quiet. Ephum turned thecorner of the street, the perspiration running on his black face.
"Miss Jinny, dey ain't no carridges to be had in this town. No'm, notfor fifty dollars."
This was the occasion for another groan from the negroes, and they beganonce more to beseech her not to leave them. In the midst of their criesshe heard her aunt calling from the carriage, where, beside the trunk,there was just room for her to squeeze in.
"Jinny," cried that lady, frantically, "are you to go or stay? TheHessians will be here at any moment. Oh, I cannot stay here to bemurdered!"
Unconsciously the girl glanced again at Stephen. He had not gone, butwas still standing in the rain on the steps, the one figure of strengthand coolness she had seen this afternoon. Distracted, she blamed thefate which had made this man an enemy. How willingly would she haveleaned upon such as he, and submitted to his guidance. Unluckily atthat moment came down the street a group which had been ludicrous on anyother day, and was, in truth, ludicrous to Stephen then. At the headof it was a little gentleman with red mutton-chop whiskers, hatless, inspite of the rain beginning to fall. His face was the very caricature ofterror. His clothes, usually neat, were awry, and his arms were fullof various things, not the least conspicuous of which was a magnificentbronze clock. It was this object that caught Virginia's eye. But yearspassed before she laughed over it. Behind Mr. Cluyme (for it was he)trotted his family. Mrs. Cluyme, in a pink wrapper, carried an armfulof the family silver; then came Belle with certain articles of feminineapparel which need not be enumerated, and the three small Cluymes ofvarious ages brought up the rear.
Mr. Cluyme, at the top of his speed, was come opposite to the carriagewhen the lady occupant got out of it. Clutching at his sleeve, shedemanded where he was going. The bronze clock had a narrow escape.
"To the river," he gasped. "To the river, madame!" His wife coming afterhim had a narrower escape still. Mrs. Colfax retained a handful of lacefrom the wrapper, the owner of which emitted a shriek of fright.
"Virginia, I am going to the river," said Mrs. Colfax. "You may go whereyou choose. I shall send the carriage back for you. Ned, to the levee!"Ned did not lift a rein.
"What, you black rascal! You won't obey me?"
Ned swung on his seat. "No, indeedy, Miss Lilly, I ain't a-gwine 'thoutyoung Miss. The Dutch kin cotch me an' hang me, but I ain't a-gwine'thout Miss Jinny."
Mrs. Colfax drew her shawl about her shoulders with dignity.
"Very well, Virginia," she said. "Ill as I am, I shall walk. Bearwitness that I have spent a precious hour trying to save you. If I liveto see your father again, I shall tell him that you preferred to stayhere and carry on disgracefully with a Yankee, that you let your ownaunt risk her life alone in the rain. Come, Susan!"
Virginia was very pale. She did not run down the steps, but she caughther aunt by the arm ere that lady had taken six paces. The girl's facefrightened Mrs. Colfax into submission, and she let herself be led backinto the carriage beside the trunk. Those words of Mrs. Colfax's stungStephen to righteous anger and resentment--for Virginia.
As to himself, he had looked for insult. He turned to go that he mightnot look upon her confusion; and hanging on the resolution, swung on hisheel again, his eyes blazeing. He saw in hers the deep blue light ofthe skies after an evening's storm. She was calm, and save for a littlequiver of the voice, mistress of herself as she spoke to the group ofcowering servants.
"Mammy," she said, "get up on the box with Ned. And, Ned, walk thehorses to the levee, so that the rest may follow. Ephum, you stay herewith the house, and I will send Ned back to keep you company."
With these words, clasping tightly the precious little bundle under herarm, she stepped into the carriage. Heedless of the risk he ran, sheeradmiration sent Stephen to the carriage door.
"If I can be of any service, Miss Carvel," he said, "I shall be happy."
She glanced at him wildly.
"No," she cried, "no. Drive on, Ned!"
And as the horses slipped and started she slammed the door in his face.
Down on the levee wheels rattled over the white stones washed clean bythe driving rain. The drops pelted the chocolate water into froth, and ablue veil hid the distant bluffs beyond the Illinois bottom-lands. Downon the Levee rich and poor battled for places on the landing-stages, andwould have thrown themselves into the flood had there been no boatsto save them from the dreaded Dutch. Attila and his Huns were notmore feared. Oh, the mystery of that foreign city! What might not itsBarbarians do when roused? The rich and poor struggled together; butmoney was a power that day, and many were pitilessly turned off becausethey did not have the high price to carry them--who knew where?
Boats which screamed, and boats which had a dragon's roar were backingout of the close ranks where they had stood wheel-house to wheel-house,and were dodging and bumping in the channel. See, their guards are blackwith people! Mrs. Colfax, when they are come out of the narrow streetinto the great open space, remarks this with alarm. All the boats willbe gone before they can get near one. But Virginia does not answer. Sheis thinking of other things than the steamboats, and wondering whetherit had not been preferable to be killed by Hessians.
Ned spies the 'Barbara Lane'. He knows that her captain, Mr. Vance, isa friend of the family. What a mighty contempt did Ned and his kind havefor foot passengers! Laying about him with his whip, and shouting at thetop of his voice to make himself heard, he sent the Colonel's Kentuckybays through the crowd down to the Barbara's landing stage, the peoplescampering to the right and left, and the Carvel servants, headed byUncle Ben, hanging on to the carriage springs, trailing behind.
Here was a triumph for Ned, indeed! He will tell you to this day howMr. Catherwood's ca
rriage was pocketed by drays and bales, and how Mrs.James's horses were seized by the bridles and turned back. Ned had ahead on his shoulders, and eyes in his head. He spied Captain Vancehimself on the stage, and bade Uncle Ben hold to the horses while heshouldered his way to that gentleman. The result was that the Captaincame bowing to the carriage door, and offered his own cabin to theladies. But the niggers---he would take no niggers except a maid foreach; and he begged Mrs. Colfax's pardon--he could not carry her trunk.
So Virginia chose Mammy Easter, whose red and yellow turban was awryfrom fear lest she be left behind and Ned was instructed to drive therest with all haste to Bellegarde. Captain Vance gave Mrs. Colfax hisarm, and Virginia his eyes. He escorted the ladies to quarters in thetexas, and presently was heard swearing prodigiously as the boat wascast off. It was said of him that he could turn an oath better than anyman on the river, which was no mean reputation.
Mrs. Colfax was assisted to bed by Susan. Virginia stood by the littlewindow of the cabin, and as the Barbara paddled and floated down theriver she looked anxiously for signals of a conflagration. Nay, in thathour she wished that the city might burn. So it is that the best of usmay at times desire misery to thousands that our own malice may befed. Virginia longed to see the yellow flame creep along the wet,gray clouds. Passionate tears came to her eyes at the thought of thehumiliation she had suffered,--and before him, of all men. Could sheever live with her aunt after what she had said? "Carrying on with thatYankee!" The horrible injustice of it!
Her anger, too, was still against Stephen. Once more he had been sent bycircumstances to mock her and her people. If the city would only burn,that his cocksure judgment might for once be mistaken, his calmness foronce broken!
The rain ceased, the clouds parted, and the sun turned the muddy riverto gold. The bluffs shone May-green in the western flood of light, and ahaze hung over the bottom-lands. Not a sound disturbed the quiet ofthe city receding to the northward, and the rain had washed the pallof smoke from over it. On the boat excited voices died down to naturaltones; men smoked on the guards and promenaded on the hurricane deck,as if this were some pleasant excursion. Women waved to the other boatsflocking after. Laughter was heard, and joking. Mrs. Colfax stirred inher berth and began to talk.
"Virginia, where are we going?" Virginia did not move
"Jinny!"
She turned. In that hour she remembered that great good-natured man, hermother's brother, and for his sake Colonel Carvel had put up with muchfrom his wife's sister in-law. She could pass over, but never forgivewhat her aunt had said to her that afternoon. Mrs. Colfax had often beencruel before, and inconsiderate. But as the girl thought of the speech,staring out on the waters, it suddenly occurred to her that no ladywould have uttered it. In all her life she had never realized till nowthat her aunt was not a lady. From that time forth Virginia's attitudetoward her aunt was changed.
She controlled herself, however, and answered something, and went outlistlessly to find the Captain and inquire the destination of the boat.Not that this mattered much to her. At the foot of the companionwayleading to the saloon deck she saw, of all people, Mr. Eliphalet Hopperleaning on the rail, and pensively expectorating on the roof of thewheel-house. In another mood Virginia would have laughed, for at sightof her he straightened convulsively, thrust his quid into his cheek, andremoved his hat with more zeal than the grudging deference he usuallyaccorded to the sex. Clearly Eliphalet would not have chosen thesituation.
"I cal'late we didn't get out any too soon, Miss Carvel," he remarked,with a sad attempt at jocoseness. "There won't be a great deal in thattown when the Dutch get through with it."
"I think that there are enough men left in it to save it," saidVirginia.
Apparently Mr. Hopper found no suitable answer to this, for he madenone. He continued to glance at her uneasily. There was an impudenttribute in his look which she resented strongly.
"Where is the Captain?" she demanded.
"He's down below--ma'am," he replied. "Can--can I do anything?"
"Yes," she said, with abrupt maliciousness, "you may tell me where youare going."
"I cal'late, up the Cumberland River. That's where she's bound for,if she don't stop before she gets there Guess there ain't many of 'eminquired where she was goin', or cared much," he added, with a ghastlyeffort to be genial.
"Do you care?" she demanded, curiously. Eliphalet grinned.
"Not a great deal," he said. Then he felt called upon to defend himself."I didn't see any use in gettin' murdered, when I couldn't do anything."
She left him. He stared after her up the companionway, bit off agenerous piece of tobacco, and ruminated. If to be a genius is topossess an infinite stock of patience, Mr. Hopper was a genius. Therewas patience in his smile. But it was not a pleasant smile to look upon.
Virginia did not see it. She had told her aunt the news, and stoodin the breeze on the hurricane deck looking southward, with her handshading her eyes. The 'Barbara Lane' happened to be a boat with arecord, and her name was often in the papers. She had already caught upwith and distanced others which had had half an hour's start of her, andwas near the head of the procession.
Virginia presently became aware that people were gathering around her inknots, gazing at a boat coming toward them. Others had been met which,on learning the dread news, turned back. But this one kept her bowsteadily up the current, although she had passed within a biscuit-tossof the leader of the line of refugees. It was then that Captain Vance'shairy head appeared above the deck.
"Dang me!" he said, "if here ain't pig-headed Brent, steaming the'Jewanita' straight to destruction."
"Oh, are you sure it's Captain Brent?" cried Virginia. The Captainlooked around in surprise.
"If that there was Shreve's old Enterprise come to life again, I'd laycotton to sawdust that Brent had her. Danged if he wouldn't take herright into the jaws of the Dutch."
The Captain's words spread, and caused considerable excitement. On boardthe Barbara Lane were many gentlemen who had begun to be shamefaced overtheir panic, and these went in a body to the Captain and asked him tocommunicate with the 'Juanita'. Whereupon a certain number of whistleswere sounded, and the Barbara's bows headed for the other side of thechannel.
As the Juanita drew near, Virginia saw the square figure and clean,smooth-shaven face of Captain Lige standing in front of his wheel-housePeace crept back into her soul, and she tingled with joy as the bellsclanged and the bucket-planks churned, and the great New Orleans packetcrept slowly to the Barbara's side.
"You ain't goin' in, Brent?" shouted the Barbara's captain.
"Why not?" responded Mr. Brent. At the sound of his voice Virginia couldhave wept.
"The Dutch are sacking the city," said Vance. "Didn't they tell you?"
"The Dutch--hell!" said Mr. Brent, calmly. "Who's afraid of the Dutch?"
A general titter went along the guards, and Virginia blushed. Why couldnot the Captain see her?
"I'm on my reg'lar trip, of course," said Vance. Out there on the sunlitriver the situation seemed to call for an apology.
"Seems to be a little more loaded than common," remarked Captain Lige,dryly, at which there was another general laugh.
"If you're really goin' up," said Captain Vance, "I reckon there's a fewhere would like to be massacred, if you'll take 'em."
"Certainly," answered Mr. Brent; "I'm bound for the barbecue." And hegave a command.
While the two great boats were manoeuvring, and slashing with one wheeland the other, the gongs sounding, Virginia ran into the cabin.
"Oh, Aunt Lillian," she exclaimed, "here is Captain Lige and theJuanita, and he is going to take us back with him. He says there is nodanger."
It its unnecessary here to repeat the moral persuasion which Virginiaused to get her aunt up and dressed. That lady, when she had heard thewhistle and the gongs, had let her imagination loose. Turning her faceto the wall, she was in the act of repeating her prayers as her nieceentered.
A bi
g stevedore carried her down two decks to where the gang-plankwas thrown across. Captain Lige himself was at the other end. His facelighted, Pushing the people aside, he rushed across, snatched the ladyfrom the negro's arms, crying:
"Jinny! Jinny Carvel! Well, if this ain't fortunate." The stevedore'sservices were required for Mammy Easter. And behind the burly shieldthus formed, a stoutish gentleman slipped over, all unnoticed, with acarpet-bag in his hand It bore the initials E. H.
The plank was drawn in. The great wheels began to turn and hiss, theBarbara's passengers waved good-by to the foolhardy lunatics who hadelected to go back into the jaws of destruction. Mrs. Colfax was putinto a cabin; and Virginia, in a glow, climbed with Captain Lige to thehurricane deck. There they stood for a while in silence, watching thebroad stern of the Barbara growing smaller. "Just to think," Miss Carvelremarked, with a little hysterical sigh, "just to think that some ofthose people brought bronze clocks instead of tooth-brushes."
"And what did you bring, my girl?" asked the Captain, glancing at theparcel she held so tightly under her arm.
He never knew why she blushed so furiously.