The Master of Warlock: A Virginia War Story

by George Cary Eggleston

  VI

  _NEXT MORNING_

  If Baillie Pegram imagined that by his parting words he had silenced thebatteries of The Oaks ladies, he totally misjudged his enemy. For inspite of his intimation of intent not to dine at The Oaks again, therecame to him at breakfast the next morning a little note in which thegood ladies calmly reasserted their privilege of deciding such mattersfor themselves quite irrespective of the wishes or purposes of youngpersons of whatever sex or degree.

  "The Misses Ronald present their respectful compliments to Mr. Baillie Pegram," the note ran, "and beg to say that in view of the terribly disturbed condition of the times, it is their purpose presently to close The Oaks for a season, so far at least as the entertainment of guests is concerned. They may perhaps go upon a journey. As to that, their plans are as yet unformed, but at any rate it is their purpose not to entertain again for the present, except by special invitation to their nearest intimates. They feel it incumbent upon them to give timely notice of this alteration in the customs of their house to those valued friends who, like Mr. Pegram, have been accustomed to dine at The Oaks at stated intervals.

  "With sincere good wishes for Mr. Pegram's safety and good fortune in that soldierly career to which he feels himself summoned by the circumstances of the time, and in full confidence that he is destined to win for himself the laurels that befit one of his distinguished ancestry, The Oaks ladies remain,

  "Most respectfully,

  "SARAH RONALD, "JANE RONALD."

  Having read the joint note, Baillie passed it to his friend at the otherend of the breakfast-table, saying: "Read that, old fellow, and see whathas come of following your madcap advice."

  Pollard carefully read the letter through, and then asked:

  "Well, what of it?"

  "Why, don't you see, by going to The Oaks yesterday as you advised, I'vemanaged to get myself forbidden the house."

  "Well, what of that? I don't understand that you have any passionatedesire to dine with the estimable old ladies every month, and I thinkyou told me last night, when I was trying to get a nap, that Miss Agathais leaving this morning."

  "Yes, of course. But can't you understand that it's a disagreeable andhumiliating thing thus to be forbidden the house, just as if I wereguilty of some misconduct--"

  "O, yes, I understand perfectly. It is exceedingly inconvenient to findyourself at odds with the elderly female relatives of a younggentlewoman to whom you would very much like to pay your addresses. Butin this case, I do not see that it complicates matters very much, as youtold me yourself yesterday that the case is hopeless--that there isalready an impassable barrier between yourself and Miss Agatha Ronald,so what difference does it make? When you've a ten-rail staked andridered fence in front of you, a rail more or less doesn't signify much.I'll tell you, Baillie, you must do as I've done. In view of thechances of war, which are apt to worry one who thinks much about them, Ihave decided to accept and believe the fatalistic philosophy, whichteaches that what is to be will be, even if it never happens."

  Pegram sat silent for a while before answering. Then he said:

  "Be serious for a little if you can, Pollard, I want to talk with you.You were right after all in what you said to me yesterday, though at thetime I regarded it as unutterable nonsense. It seems absurd, under thecircumstances, but the fact is that--well, that Agatha Ronald hassomehow come to mean more to me than any other woman ever did or everwill. Perhaps I shouldn't have found out the fact for a long time tocome, if it hadn't been for what you said to me yesterday. But I'vefound it out now, and I know all that it means to me. It means that I'vemade a fool of myself, and I must set to work to repair the mistake.Fortunately, the way is open, and that is what I want to say to you. I'mgoing to leave you to-day. I'm going to Richmond to volunteer in one ofthe batteries there that are already organised, armed, and equipped,and nearly ready for the field. They'll be the first sent to the front,and I intend to put myself at the front just as speedily as I can."

  "But why not do better than that for yourself?" asked Pollard.

  "What better is there that I can do?"

  "Why not raise a battery of your own, and command it? You know GovernorLetcher, and you have influence in plenty. You can have a captain'scommission for the asking."

  "I suppose I might. But I am strongly impressed with the fact that thereare altogether too many men in like predicament--too many men whoseposition and influence entitle them to expect commissions while, likeme, they know nothing whatever of the military art. We need someprivates in this war, and fortunately a good many of us are willing toserve as such. I am, for one. The number of gentlemen in Virginia whoseposition is as good as my own is quite great enough to officer any armyin Europe, and our ignorance of military affairs is great enough towreck the best army that was ever organised. I'll not add mine to thelist. I'll go in as a private soldier. If I am ever fit to command, itwill be time enough then for me to ask for a commission. I'm going tovolunteer in the ranks."

  "So am I," answered Pollard.

  "What? You? When?"

  "Yes. Me. Yesterday."

  "Well, go on. Don't be provoking. Tell me all about it. When did you doit, and how, and why? For a generally agreeable young man, I must say,Marshall, you can make of yourself about as disagreeable a person as Iever encountered. Come! Tell me!"

  Pollard smiled and meditated, as if planning the order of his utterance.At last he said:

  "There isn't much to tell, and I don't know just where to begin. Butafter--well, after you rode away to The Oaks yesterday, I got tothinking and wondering what I should do with myself now that yourcompanionship was lost to me. There is nobody about for me to fall inlove with, and after all, there is a limit to the entertainment to begot out of old T. Gordon and his Tacitus. You see, girls never behaveproperly toward me. There isn't one of them in ten counties who wouldever think of breaking her horse's leg in a bridge just in time to letme come to her rescue. Besides, I should probably be on foot, with nomare to lend the distressed damsel, and, altogether, you see--"

  "Will you stop your nonsense, or will you not?" asked Baillie, withimpatience. "Tell me what you did."

  "Well, I got Sam to bring me the least objectionable of your abominablyjolting saddle-horses--the bay with three white feet and a blaze on theface--and I managed to keep a little breath in my body while riding overto the Court-house. It was my purpose to go to Richmond, and I asked theold ticket agent to send me, but he obstinately refused. He said therewere only two trains a day, one at noon and one at midnight. Iremonstrated with him, but it was of no use. I explained to him that the_raison d'etre_ of a railroad--I translated the French to him--was tocarry people to whatever place they wished to go to, and at such hoursas might suit their convenience. I told him it was an abominable outragethat with a railroad lying there unused, he would not send a gentlemanto Richmond without making him wait for eight or ten hours for theconvenience of people whom he knew nothing about. He looked at me rathercuriously when I urged that consideration upon him. I think it ratherstaggered him, but he persisted in his obstinate refusal to send me toRichmond without further delay. He even suggested that I might gosomewhere else, but I interpreted that as meaningless profanity, andgently explained to him that I did not wish to go to the place he hadmentioned. Then he told me he had no train, and I asked him why hesuffered himself to have no train, when a gentleman wanted one and waswilling to pay for it."

  "_Will_ you stop your nonsense, and tell me what happened?" interruptedBaillie.

  Pollard smiled, and continued:

  "Now, that question of yours reassures me as to the sanity of thestation agent. It is closely similar to the question he asked, only, byreason of his lack of cultivation, he interrupted the even and orderlyflow of his English with many objurgative and even violent terms, suchas we do not employ in ordinary converse, but such as stablemen andinnkeepers seem to like to use.

 
"Despairing of my efforts to secure reasonable public service at thehands of the railroad, I looked about me, and presently encounteredCaptain Skinner. You know him, of course--lives at the Kennels, or somesuch place--keeps a lot of dogs, and drinks a good deal more whiskeythan would be good for most men. But he is a West Pointer, you know, andserved for a considerable time in the Indian wars. He was atChapultepec, too, I think. At any rate, he mentioned the fact inconnection with his missing arm. He told me he was going to raise abattery in the purlieus of Richmond. He said he didn't want a company ofyoung bloods, but one of soldiers. He proposes to enlist wharf-rats downat Rockett's, and ruffians, and especially jailbirds. 'There are morethan a hundred as good men as ever smelt gunpowder or stopped a bulletin its career,' he said, 'now languishing in the Richmond jails and theVirginia State Penitentiary. Governor Letcher promises me that he willpardon all of them who choose to enlist with me, and I'm going to lookthem over. Those that are fit to make soldiers of, I'll enlist, andafter a week or two of drilling I'll have a battery ready for thefield.'

  "His idea pleased me, so I told him to put me down as the first man onhis list. He objected at first. You see, I've had no experience as aruffian, and I never served a term in jail in my life, but I convincedhim that I would make a good cannonier, and he enrolled me. I am toreport to him at Rockett's by the day after to-morrow."

  To Baillie's remonstrances and pleadings that his friend should choose acompany of gentlemen in which to serve, Marshall turned a deaf ear.

  "When I become a soldier," he said, "and put myself under another man'scommand, I want that other man to be one who knows something about thebusiness. Captain Skinner knows what to do with a gun and a gunner, andI've a pretty well-defined notion that most of our coming captains haveall that yet to learn, and besides--well, I've given you reasonsenough."

  "Besides what, Marshall? What were you going to say?"

  "O, nothing that you would understand or sympathise with. It's only thatsomehow I don't want to be in a company of gentlemen turned soldiers,where I should be sure to meet our kind of people on terms of socialequality now and then. As a common soldier, I should find it ratherembarrassing at a military ball to have a lady put me on herdancing-list while scornfully refusing a like favour perhaps to theofficer who must assign me to guard-duty next morning."

  In thus answering, Marshall Pollard equivocated somewhat. He made nomention of the little jessamine and honeysuckle incident, but perhapsthere was something behind that which helped to determine his course inchoosing Captain Skinner's company for his own, thus placing himselfamong men wholly without the pale of that society in which sprigs ofjessamine are given and cherished, and now and then thrown out of thewindow. At any rate, the young man seemed disposed to change the courseof the conversation.

  "Now, Baillie," he said, "you've catechised me quite enough for onemorning. Tell me about yourself. Why are you going off to Richmond toenlist in one of the batteries there, instead of joining your neighboursand friends here in organising one or other of the companies they areforming?"

  "For the simple reason that I want to be in the middle of this mix assoon as possible. Those Richmond batteries are already fit to take thefield, and they'll be hurling shells at the enemy and dodging shells ontheir own account before these companies here learn which way asergeant's chevrons should point. I want to get to the front among thefirst, that's all."

  Sending for Sam, he bade that worthy pack a small saddle valise for himwith a few belongings, and when, an hour later, the two friends wereready for their departure, Sam presented himself, clad in his best, andcarrying a multitudinous collection of skillets, kettles, andfrying-pans, with other and less soldierly belongings. When asked by hismaster, "What does this mean?" Sam answered, in seeming astonishment atthe question:

  "Why, Mas' Baillie, you'se a-gwine to de wah, an' of co'se Sam's a-gwinealong to take k'yar o' you."

  "Of course Sam is going to do no such thing," answered the young man."Go and put away your pots and pans."

  "But, Mas' Baillie," remonstrated the negro boy, in a nearly tearfulvoice, "who's a-gwine to take k'yar o' you ef Sam ain't thar? Whosea-gwine to clean yer boots, an' bresh yer clo'se, an' cook yer victuals,an' all that?"

  The master was touched by the boy's devotion, though he justly suspectedthat a yearning for adventure had quite as much to do with Sam's wish to"go to de wah," as his desire to be of service to a kindly master.

  "But, Sam," he said, "a common soldier doesn't carry his personalservant with him. If we did that, there wouldn't be enough--"

  "A common soldier!" Sam broke in, exercising that privilege ofinterrupting his master's speech which the personal servants ofVirginians always claimed for their own. "A common soldier! Who saysMas' Baillie'll be a common soldier? De mastah of Warlock ain't a commonnuffin'. He's a Pegram, he is, an' de Pegrams ain't never been commonyit, an' dey ain't a-gwine to be."

  "But, Sam," argued his master, "you see we're all going to war. We can'tcarry our servants with us any more than we can carry our feather bedsor our foot-tubs. We must do things for ourselves, now."

  "But who's a-gwine to cook your victuals, Mas' Baillie?"

  "I reckon I'll have to do that for myself," answered the master.

  "What? You? Mas' Baillie Pegram a-gittin' down on his knees in de mudan' a-smuttin' up of his han's an' his face, an' a-wrastlin' with potsan' kittles? Well, I'd jes' like to see you a-doin' of that!"

  Baillie was disposed to amuse himself with the boy; so he said:

  "But your mammy says you don't know how to cook, Sam, and that you don'tseem to know how to learn."

  This staggered Sam for an instant, but he promptly rose to theemergency.

  "I kin 'splain all dat, Mas' Baillie. You see, I'se done been a-foolin'o' mammy. Mammy, she's de head cook at Warlock; she's a-gittin' old, an'de rheumatiz an' de laziness is a-gittin' into her bones. So she's donetried to make Sam take things offen her shoulders. But I'se done see desituation. I'se watched mammy so long dat I kin cook anything from aBrunswick stew to an omelette sufferin', jes' as good as mammy kin. Butit 'ud never 'a' done to let her know that, else she'd 'a' shoulderedthe whole thing onter Sam. So when she done set me to watch somethin'she's a-cookin' while she's busy with somethin' else, I jes' had to letit spile some way, in self-defence. Of co'se, I had to run out'n dekitchen after that, a-dodgin' o' de pots an' kittles mammy throwed at myhead--an' sometimes I didn't dodge quick enough, either--but de resultwas de same. Mammy was sure I couldn't cook, an' dat's what she donetole you, Mas' Baillie. But I kin cook, sho'. An' please, Mas' Baillie,you'll let me go 'long wid you?"

  The time was growing short now, and Baillie sent the boy away, saying:

  "If I ever get to be an officer, Sam, and am allowed a servant, I'llsend for you. But you'd better learn all you can about cooking whilewe're waiting for that."

  Sam was disconsolate. He went to the detached kitchen building--for noVirginian ever suffered cooking to be carried on within fifty feet ofhis dwelling--and sat down and buried his face in his hands and rockedhimself backward and forward, moaning dismally.

  "I'd jes' like to know," he muttered to the pickaninnies, standing by intheir simple costume of long shirts and nothing else, "I'd jes' like toknow what's a-gwine to become o' dis here Warlock plantation an' desehere niggas, now dat Mas' Baillie's done gone off to git hisself killedin de wah. De chinch-bug is a-gwine to eat de wheat dis summer sho'. Dewatermillions is a-gwine to run all to vines. De 'bacca worms an' degrasshoppas is a-gwine to chew up all de terbacca befo' men gits achawnce at it. De crows is a-gwine to pull up all de cawn--an' dey mightas well, too, fer ef dey didn't, it 'ud wither in de rows. Don't yerunderstan', you stupid little niggas, you'se a-gwine to stawve to death,you is, an' you better believe it. Mas' Baillie's done gone to githisself killed, I tells you, an' you'se got a mighty short time till yerstomicks gits empty an' shet up an' crampy like. You'se a-gwine tostawve to death, sho', an' it'll hurt wus'n as ef you'd a-swallered aquart o' black cherr
ies 'thout swallerin' none o' de seeds fer safety."

  By this time all the young negroes were wailing bitterly, and they wouldnot be comforted until Sam's mammy set out a kettle of pot-liquor, andgave them pones of ash-cake to crumble into it. After that, Sam'sprophecies of evil departed from their inconstant minds. But Sam did notrecover so quickly. For days afterward he moped in melancholy,occasionally stretching his big eyes to their utmost while he solemnlydelivered some dismal prophecy of evil to come.