CHAPTER VII. WITH THE ARMIES OF THE WEST
We are at Memphis,--for a while,--and the Christmas season isapproaching once more. And yet we must remember that war recognizes noChristmas, nor Sunday, nor holiday. The brown river, excited by rains,whirled seaward between his banks of yellow clay. Now the weather wascrisp and cold, now hazy and depressing, and again a downpour. Memphishad never seen such activity. A spirit possessed the place, a restlessspirit called William T. Sherman. He prodded Memphis and laid violenthold of her. She groaned, protested, turned over, and woke up, peopledby a new people. When these walked, they ran, and they wore a blueuniform. They spoke rapidly and were impatient. Rain nor heat nortempest kept them in. And yet they joked, and Memphis laughed (what wasleft of her), and recognized a bond of fellowship. The General joked,and the Colonels and the Commissary and the doctors, down to the sutlersand teamsters and the salt tars under Porter, who cursed the dishwaterMississippi, and also a man named Eads, who had built the new-fanglediron boxes officially known as gunboats. The like of these hadnever before been seen in the waters under the earth. The loyalcitizens--loyal to the South--had been given permission to leave thecity. The General told the assistant quartermaster to hire their housesand slaves for the benefit of the Federal Government. Likewise he laiddown certain laws to the Memphis papers defining treason. He gaveout his mind freely to that other army of occupation, the army ofspeculation, that flocked thither with permits to trade in cotton. Thespeculators gave the Confederates gold, which they needed most, for thebales, which they could not use at all.
The forefathers of some of these gentlemen were in old Egypt underPharaoh--for whom they could have had no greater respect and fear thantheir descendants had in New Egypt for Grant or Sherman. Yankeeswere there likewise in abundance. And a certain acquaintance of oursmaterially added to his fortune by selling in Boston the cotton whichcost him fourteen cents, at thirty cents.
One day the shouting and the swearing and the running to and fro cameto a climax. Those floating freaks which were all top and drew nothing,were loaded down to the guards with army stores and animals and wood andmen,--men who came from every walk in life.
Whistles bellowed, horses neighed. The gunboats chased hither andthither, and at length the vast processions paddled down the stream withnaval precision, under the watchful eyes of a real admiral.
Residents of Memphis from the river's bank watched the pillar of smokefade to the southward and ruminated on the fate of Vicksburg. TheGeneral paced the deck in thought. A little later he wrote to theCommander-in-Chief at Washington, "The valley of the Mississippi isAmerica."
Vicksburg taken, this vast Confederacy would be chopped in two.
Night fell to the music of the paddles, to the scent of the officers'cigars, to the blood-red vomit of the tall stacks and the smoky flame ofthe torches. Then Christmas Day dawned, and there was Vicksburg liftedtwo hundred feet above the fever swamps, her court-house shining inthe morning sun. Vicksburg, the well-nigh impregnable key to America'shighway. When old Vick made his plantation on the Walnut Hills, he chosea site for a fortress of the future Confederacy that Vauban would havedelighted in.
Yes, there were the Walnut Hills, high bluffs separated from theMississippi by tangled streams and bayous, and on their crests theParrotts scowled. It was a queer Christmas Day indeed, bright and warm;no snow, no turkeys nor mince pies, no wine, but just hardtack and baconand foaming brown water.
On the morrow the ill-assorted fleet struggled up the sluggish Yazoo,past impenetrable forests where the cypress clutched at the keels, pastlong-deserted cotton fields, until it came at last to the black ruins ofa home. In due time the great army was landed. It spread out by brigadeand division and regiment and company, the men splashing and paddlingthrough the Chickasaw and the swamps toward the bluffs. The Parrottsbegan to roar. A certain regiment, boldly led, crossed the bayou at anarrow place and swept resistless across the sodden fields to where thebank was steepest. The fire from the battery scorched the hair of theirheads. But there they stayed, scooping out the yellow clay with tornhands, while the Parrotts, with lowered muzzles, ploughed the slope withshells. There they stayed, while the blue lines quivered and fell backthrough the forests on that short winter's afternoon, dragging theirwounded from the stagnant waters. But many were left to die in agony inthe solitude.
Like a tall emblem of energy, General Sherman stood watching the attackand repulse, his eyes ever alert. He paid no heed to the shells whichtore the limbs from the trees about him, or sent the swamp water inthick spray over his staff. Now and again a sharp word broke from hislips, a forceful home thrust at one of the leaders of his columns.
"What regiment stayed under the bank?"
"Sixth Missouri, General," said an aide, promptly.
The General sat late in the Admiral's gunboat that night, but whenhe returned to his cabin in the Forest Queen, he called for a list ofofficers of the Sixth Missouri. His finger slipping down the roll pausedat a name among the new second lieutenants.
"Did the boys get back?" he asked. "Yes, General, when it fell dark."
"Let me see the casualties,--quick."
That night a fog rolled up from the swamps, and in the morningjack-staff was hid from pilot-house. Before the attack could be renewed,a political general came down the river with a letter in his pocketfrom Washington, by virtue of which he took possession of the three armycore, and their chief, subpoenaed the fleet and the Admiral, and wentoff to capture Arkansas Post.
Vicksburg had a breathing spell.
Three weeks later, when the army was resting at Napoleon, Arkansas, aself-contained man, with a brown beard arrived from Memphis, and tookcommand. This way General U. S. Grant. He smoked incessantly in hiscabin. He listened. He spoke but seldom. He had look in his face thatboded ill to any that might oppose him. Time and labor be countedas nothing, compared with the accomplishment of an object. Back toVicksburg paddled the fleet and transports. Across the river from thecity, on the pasty mud behind the levee's bank were dumped Sherman'sregiments, condemned to week of ditch-digging, that the gunboats mightarrive at the bend of the Mississippi below by a canal, out of reach ofthe batteries. Day in and day out they labored, officer and men. Sawingoff stumps under the water, knocking poisonous snakes by scores from thebranches, while the river rose and rose and rose, and the rain creptby inches under their tent flies, and the enemy walked the parapet ofVicksburg and laughed. Two gunboats accomplished the feat of running thebatteries, that their smiles might be sobered.
To the young officers who were soiling their uniform with the grease ofsaws, whose only fighting was against fever and water snakes, the newsof an expedition into the Vicksburg side of the river was hailed withcaps in the air. To be sure, the saw and axe, and likewise the levee andthe snakes, were to be there, too. But there was likely to be a littlefighting. The rest of the corps that was to stay watched grimly as thedetachment put off in the little 'Diligence' and 'Silver Wave'.
All the night the smoke-pipes were batting against the boughs of oak andcottonwood, and snapping the trailing vines. Some other regimentswent by another route. The ironclads, followed in hot haste by GeneralSherman in a navy tug, had gone ahead, and were even then shoving withtheir noses great trunks of trees in their eagerness to get behind theRebels. The Missouri regiment spread out along the waters, and were soonwaist deep, hewing a path for the heavier transports to come. Presentlythe General came back to a plantation half under water, where BlackBayou joins Deer Creek, to hurry the work in cleaning out that Bayou.The light transports meanwhile were bringing up more troops from asecond detachment. All through the Friday the navy great guns wereheard booming in the distance, growing quicker and quicker, untilthe quivering air shook the hanging things in that vast jungle. Sawsstopped, and axes were poised over shoulders, and many times that daythe General lifted his head anxiously. As he sat down in the evening ina slave cabin redolent with corn pone and bacon, the sound still hoveredamong the trees and rolled along the still wate
rs.
The General slept lightly. It was three o'clock Saturday morning whenthe sharp challenge of a sentry broke the silence. A negro, white eyed,bedraggled, and muddy, stood in the candle light under the charge of ayoung lieutenant. The officer saluted, and handed the General a roll oftobacco.
"I found this man in the swamp, sir. He has a message from theAdmiral--"
The General tore open the roll and took from it a piece of tissue paperwhich he spread out and held under the candle. He turned to a staffofficer who had jumped from his bed and was hurrying into his coat.
"Porter's surrounded," he said. The order came in a flash. "Kilby Smithand all men here across creek to relief at once. I'll take canoe throughbayou to Hill's and hurry reenforcements."
The staff officer paused, his hand on the latch of the door.
"But your escort, General. You're not going through that sewer in acanoe without an escort!"
"I guess they won't look for a needle in that haystack," the Generalanswered. For a brief second he eyed the lieutenant. "Get back to yourregiment, Brice, if you want to go," he said.
Stephen saluted and went out. All through the painful march thatfollowed, though soaked in swamp water and bruised by cypress knees, hethought of Sherman in his canoe, winding unprotected through the blacklabyrinth, risking his life that more men might be brought to the rescueof the gunboats.
The story of that rescue has been told most graphically by Shermanhimself. How he picked up the men at work on the bayou and marched themon a coal barge; how he hitched the barge to a navy tug; how he met thelittle transport with a fresh load of troops, and Captain Elijah Brent'sreply when the General asked if he would follow him. "As long as theboat holds together, General." And he kept his word. The boughs hammeredat the smoke-pipes until they went by the board, and the pilothouse felllike a pack of cards on the deck before they had gone three miles and ahalf. Then the indomitable Sherman disembarked, a lighted candle in hishand, and led a stiff march through thicket and swamp and breast-deepbackwater, where the little drummer boys carried their drums on theirheads. At length, when they were come to some Indian mounds, they founda picket of three, companies of the force which had reached the flat theday before, and had been sent down to prevent the enemy from obstructingfurther the stream below the fleet.
"The Admiral's in a bad way, sir," said the Colonel who rode up to meetthe General. "He's landlocked. Those clumsy ironclads of his can't movebackward or forward, and the Rebs have been peppering him for two days."
Just then a fusillade broke from the thickets, nipping the branches fromthe cottonwoods about them.
"Form your line," said the General. "Drive 'em out."
The force swept forward, with the three picket companies in the swamp onthe right. And presently they came in sight of the shapeless ironcladswith their funnels belching smoke, a most remarkable spectacle. HowPorter had pushed them there was one of the miracles of the war.
Then followed one of a thousand memorable incidents in the life of amemorable man. General Sherman, jumping on the bare back of a scrawnyhorse, cantered through the fields. And the bluejackets, at sight ofthat familiar figure, roared out a cheer that might have shaken thedrops from the wet boughs. The Admiral and the General stood together onthe deck, their hands clasped. And the Colonel astutely remarked, as herode up in answer to a summons, that if Porter was the only man whosedaring could have pushed a fleet to that position, Sherman was certainlythe only man who could have got him out of it.
"Colonel," said the General, "that move was well executed, sir. Admiral,did the Rebs put a bullet through your rum casks? We're just a littletired. And now," he added, wheeling on the Colonel when each had a glassin his hand, "who was in command of that company on the right, in theswamp? He handled them like a regular."
"He's a second lieutenant, General, in the Sixth Missouri. Captainwounded at Hindman, and first lieutenant fell out down below. His nameis Brice, I believe."
"I thought so," said the General.
Some few days afterward, when the troops were slopping around again atYoung's Point, opposite Vicksburg, a gentleman arrived on a boatfrom St. Louis. He paused on the levee to survey with concern andastonishment the flood of waters behind it, and then asked an officerthe way to General Sherman's headquarters. The officer, who was greatlyimpressed by the gentleman's looks, led him at once to a trestle bridgewhich spanned the distance from the levee bank over the flood to a houseup to its first floor in the backwaters. The orderly saluted.
"Who shall I say, sir?"
The officer looked inquiringly at the gentleman, who gave his name.
The officer could not repress a smile at the next thing that happened.Out hurried the General himself, with both hands outstretched.
"Bless my soul!" he cried, "if it isn't Brinsmade. Come right in, comeright in and take dinner. The boys will be glad to see you. I'll sendand tell Grant you're here. Brinsmade, if it wasn't for you and yourfriends on the Western Sanitary Commission, we'd all have been dead offever and bad food long ago." The General sobered abruptly. "I guess agood many of the boys are laid up now," he added.
"I've come down to do what I can, General," responded Mr. Brinsmade,gravely. "I want to go through all the hospitals to see that our nursesare doing their duty and that the stores are properly distributed."
"You shall, sir, this minute," said the General. He dropped instantlythe affairs which he had on hand, and without waiting for dinner thetwo gentlemen went together through the wards where the fever raged. TheGeneral surprised his visitor by recognizing private after private inthe cots, and he always had a brief word of cheer to brighten theirfaces, to make them follow him with wistful eyes as he passed beyondthem. "That's poor Craig," he would say, "corporal, Third Michigan. Theytell me he can't live," and "That's Olcott, Eleventh Indiana. Good God!"cried the General, when they were out in the air again, "how I wishsome of these cotton traders could get a taste of this fever. They keepwell--the vultures--And by the way, Brinsmade, the man who gave me nopeace at all at Memphis was from your city. Why, I had to keep a wholecorps on duty to watch him."
"What was his name, sir?" Mr. Brinsmade asked.
"Hopper!" cried the General, with feeling. "Eliphalet Hopper. As long asI live I shall never forget it. How the devil did he get a permit? Whatare they about at Washington?"
"You surprise me," said Mr. Brinsmade. "He has always seemedinoffensive, and I believe he is a prominent member of one of ourchurches."
"I guess that's so," answered the General, dryly. "I ever I set eyes onhim again, he's clapped into the guardhouse. He knows it, too."
"Speaking of St. Louis, General," said Mr. Brinsmade, presently, "haveyou ever heard of Stephen Brice? joined your army last autumn. You mayremember talking to him one evening at my house."
"He's one of my boys!" cried the General. "Remember him? Guess I do!" Hepaused on the very brink of relating again the incident at Camp Jackson,when Stephen had saved the life of Mr. Brinsmade's own son. "Brinsmade,for three days I've had it on my mind to send for that boy. I'll havehim at headquarters now. I like him," cried General Sherman, with toneand gesture there was no mistaking. And good Mr. Brinsmade, who likedStephen, too, rejoiced at the story he would have to tell the widow. "Hehas spirit, Brinsmade. I told him to let me know when he was ready to goto war. No such thing. He never came near me. The first thing I hear ofhim is that he's digging holes in the clay of Chickasaw Bluff, and hiscap is fanned off by the blast of a Parrott six feet above his head.Next thing he turns up on that little expedition we took to get Porterto sea again. When we got to the gunboats, there was Brice's companyon the flank. He handled those men surprisingly, sir--surprisingly. Ishouldn't have blamed the boy if one or two Rebs got by him. But no, heswept the place clean." By this time they had come back to the bridgeleading to headquarters, and the General beckoned quickly to an orderly.
"My compliments to Lieutenant Stephen Brice, Sixth Missouri, and ask himto report here at once. At once, you understand!"
/>
"Yes, General."
It so happened that Mr. Brice's company were swinging axes when theorderly arrived, and Mr. Brice had an axe himself, and was up to hisboot tops in yellow mud.
The orderly, who had once been an Iowa farmer, was near grinning when hegave the General's message and saw the lieutenant gazing ruefully at hisclothes.
Entering headquarters, Stephen paused at the doorway of the big roomwhere the officers of the different staffs were scattered about,smoking, while the negro servants were removing the dishes from thetable. The sunlight, reflected from the rippling water outside, dancedon the ceiling. At the end of the room sat General Sherman, his uniform,as always, a trifle awry. His soft felt hat with the gold braid wastilted forward, and his feet, booted and spurred, were crossed. Smallwonder that the Englishman who sought the typical American found him inSherman.
The sound that had caught Stephen's attention was the General's voice,somewhat high-pitched, in the key that he used in telling a story. Thesewere his closing words.
"Sin gives you a pretty square deal, boys, after all. Generally a mansays, 'Well, I can resist, but I'll have my fun just this once.' That'sthe way it happens. They tell you that temptation comes irresistibly.Don't believe it. Do you, Mr. Brice? Come over here, sir. Here's afriend of yours."
Stephen made his way to the General, whose bright eyes wandered rapidlyover him as he added:
"This is the condition my officers report in, Brinsmade,--mud from headto heel."
Stephen had sense enough to say nothing, but the staff officers laughed,and Mr. Brinsmade smiled as he rose and took Stephen's hand.
"I am delighted to see that you are well, sir," said he, with thatformal kindliness which endeared him to all. "Your mother will berejoiced at my news of you. You will be glad to hear that I left herwell, Stephen."
Stephen inquired for Mrs. Brinsmade and Anne.
"They are well, sir, and took pleasure in adding to a little box whichyour mother sent. Judge Whipple put in a box of fine cigars, although hedeplores the use of tobacco."
"And the Judge, Mr. Brinsmade--how is he?"
The good gentleman's face fell.
"He is ailing, sir, it grieves me to say. He is in bed, sir. But he isably looked after. Your mother desired to have him moved to her house,but he is difficult to stir from his ways, and he would not leave hislittle room. He is ably nursed. We have got old Nancy, Hester's mother,to stay with him at night, and Mrs. Brice divides the day with MissJinny Carvel, who comes in from Bellegarde every afternoon."
"Miss Carvel?" exclaimed Stephen, wondering if he heard aright. And atthe mention of her name he tingled.
"None other, sir," answered Mr. Brinsmade. "She has been much honoredfor it. You may remember that the Judge was a close friend of herfather's before the war. And--well, they quarrelled, sir. The Colonelwent South, you know."
"When--when was the Judge taken ill, Mr. Brinsmade?" Stephen asked. Thethought of Virginia and his mother caring for him together was strangelysweet.
"Two days before I left, sir, Dr. Polk had warned him not to do so much.But the Doctor tells me that he can see no dangerous symptoms."
Stephen inquired now of Mr. Brinsmade how long he was to be with them.
"I am going on to the other camps this afternoon," said he. "But Ishould like a glimpse of your quarters, Stephen, if you will inviteme. Your mother would like a careful account of you, and Mr. Whipple,and--your many friends in St. Louis."
"You will find my tent a little wet, air," replied Stephen, touched.
Here the General, who had been sitting by watching them with a verycurious expression, spoke up.
"That's hospitality for you, Brinsmade!"
Stephen and Mr. Brinsmade made their way across plank and bridge toStephen's tent, and his mess servant arrived in due time with thepackage from home. But presently, while they sat talking of many things,the canvas of the fly was thrust back with a quick movement, and whoshould come stooping in but General Sherman himself. He sat down on acracker box. Stephen rose confusedly.
"Well, well, Brice," said the General, winking at Mr. Brinsmade, "Ithink you might have invited me to the feast. Where are those cigars Mr.Brinsmade was talking about?"
Stephen opened the box with alacrity. The General chose one and lightedit.
"Don't smoke, eh?" he inquired. "Why, yes, sir, when I can."
"Then light up, sir," said the General, "and sit down, I've beenthinking lately of court-martialing you, but I decided to come 'roundand talk it over with you first. That isn't strictly according tothe rules of the service. Look here, Mr. Brice, why did you leave St.Louis?"
"They began to draft, sir, and I couldn't stand it any longer."
"But you wouldn't have been drafted. You were in the Home Guards, if Iremember right. And Mr. Brinsmade tells me you were useful in many waysWhat was your rank in the Home Guards?"
"Lieutenant colonel, sir."
"And what are you here?"
"A second lieutenant in temporary command, General." "You have commandedmen?"
"Not in action, sir. I felt that that was different."
"Couldn't they do better for you than a second-lieutenancy?"
Stephen did not reply at once, Mr. Brinsmade spoke up, "They offered hima lieutenant-colonelcy."
The General was silent a moment: Then he said "Do you remember meetingme on the boat when I was leaving St. Louis, after the capture of FortHenry?"
Stephen smiled. "Very well, General," he replied, General Sherman leanedforward.
"And do you remember I said to you, 'Brice, when you get ready to comeinto this war, let me know.' Why didn't you do it?"
Stephen thought a minute. Then he said gravely, but with just asuspicion of humor about his mouth:-- "General, if I had done that, youwouldn't be here in my tent to-day."
Like lightning the General was on his feet, his hand on Stephen'sshoulder.
"By gad, sir," he cried, delighted, "so I wouldn't."