CHAPTER IX
"_The best-laid schemes o' mice and men Gang aft agley._"
BURNS
They didn't find Jim in the camp of his regiment, so went up tohead-quarters to institute inquiries.
"Given?" a little thought and investigation. "Oh! Given is out on picketduty."
"Whereabouts?"
The direction indicated. "Thanks! we'll find him."
Having commenced the search, Surrey was determined to end it ere heturned back, and his two friends bore him company. As they came down theroad, they saw in the distance a great stalwart fellow, red-shirted andconspicuous, evidently absorbed in some singular task,--what they didnot perceive, till, coming to closer quarters, they discovered, perchedby his side, a tin cup filled with soap-suds, a pipe in his mouth, andthat by the help of the two he was regaling himself with the pastime ofblowing bubbles.
"I'll wager that's Jim," said Surrey, before he saw his face.
"It's like him, certainly: from what I've heard of him, I think he woulddie outright if he couldn't amuse himself in some shape."
"Why, the fellow must be a curiosity worth coming here to see."
"Pretty nearly."
Surrey walked on a little in advance, and tapped him on the shoulder.Down came the pipe, up went the hand in a respectful military salute,but before it was finished he saw who was before him.
"Wow!" he exclaimed, "if it ain't Mr. Willie Surrey. My! Ain't I glad tosee you? How _do_ you do? The sight of you is as good as a month's pay."
"Come, Given, don't stun me with compliments," cried Surrey, laughingand putting out his hand to grasp the big, red paw that came to meet it,and shake it heartily. "If I'd known you were over here, I'd have foundyou before, though my regiment hasn't been down here long."
Jim at that looked sharply at the "eagles," and then over the alert,graceful person, finishing his inspection with an approving nod, and theemphatic declaration, "Well, if I know what's what, and I rayther reckonI do, you're about the right figger for an officer, and on the whole I'dsooner pull off my cap to you than any other fellow I've seenround,"--bringing his hand once more to the salute.
"Why, Jim, you have turned courtier; army life is spoiling you,"protested the inspected one; protesting,--yet pleased, as any one mighthave been, at the evidently sincere admiration.
"Nary time," Jim strenuously denied; and, these little courtesies beingended, they talked about enlistment, and home, and camp, and a score ofthings that interested officer and man alike. In the midst of the confaba dust was seen up the road, coming nearer, and presently out of itappeared a family carriage somewhat dilapidated and worse for wear, butstill quite magnificent; enthroned on the back seat a fullblown F.F.V.with rather more than the ordinary measure of superciliousness belongingto his race; driven, of course, by his colored servant. Jim made for themiddle of the road, and, holding his bayonet in such wise as to threatenat one charge horse, negro, and chivalry, roared out, "Tickets!"
At such an extraordinary and unceremonious demand the knight flushedangrily, frowned, made an expressive gesture with his lips and his nosewhich suggestively indicated that there was something offensive in theair between the wind and his gentility, ending the pantomime by findinga pass and handing it over to his "nigger," then--not deigning tospeak--motioned him and it to the threatening figure. As this black mancame forward, Brooks, looking at him a moment, cried excitedly, "ByJove! it's Sam."
"No? Hunt's Sam?"
"Yes, the very same; and I suppose that's his cantankerous old master."
Surrey ran forward to Jim, for the three had fallen back when thecarriage came near, and said a few sentences to him quickly andearnestly.
"All right, Colonel! just as you please," he replied. "You leave it tome; I'll fix him." Then, turning to Sam, who stood waiting, demanded,"Well, have you got it?"
"Yes, massa."
"Fork over,"--and looking at it a moment pronounced "All right! Moveon!" elucidating the remark by a jerk at the coat-collar of theunsuspecting Sam, which sent him whirling up the road at a fine butuncomfortable rate of speed.
"Now, sir, what do you want?" addressing the astounded chevalier, whosat speechlessly observant of this unlooked-for proceeding.
"Want?" cried the irate Virginian, his anger loosening his tongue,"want? I want to go on, of course; that was my pass."
"Was it now? I want to know! that's singular! Why didn't you offer ityourself then?"
"Because I thought my nigger a fitter person to parley with a Lincolnvandal," loftily responded his eminence.
"That's kind of you, I'm sure. Sorry I can't oblige you inreturn,--very; but you'll just have to turn tail and drive back again.That bit of paper says 'Pass the bearer,' and the bearer's alreadypassed. You can't get two men through this picket on one man's pass, notif one is a nigger and t'other a skunk; so, sir, face about, march!"
This was an unprepared-for dilemma. Mr. V. looked at the face of the"Lincoln vandal," but saw there no sign of relenting; then into thedistance whither he was anxiously desirous to tend; glanced reflectivelyat the bayonet in the centre and the narrow space on either side theroad; and finally called to his black man to come back.
Sam approached with reluctance, and fell back with alacrity when theglittering steel was brandished towards his own breast.
"Where's your pass, sirrah?" demanded Jim, with asperity.
"Here, massa," said the chattel, presenting the same one which hadalready been examined.
"Won't do," said Jim. "Can't come that game over this child. That passesyou to Fairfax,--can't get any one from Fairfax on that ticket. Come,"flourishing the shooting-stick once more, "move along"; which Samproceeded to do with extraordinary readiness.
"Now, sir," turning to the again speechless chevalier, "if you stay hereany longer, I shall take you under arrest to head-quarters:consequently, you'd better accept the advice of a disinterested friend,and make tracks, lively."
By this time the scion of a latter-day chivalry seemed to comprehend thesituation, seized his lines, wheeled about, and went off at a spankingtrot over the "sacred soil,"--Jim shouting after him, "I say, Mr.F.F.V. if you meet any 'Lincoln vandals,' just give them my respects,will you?" to which as the knight gave no answer, we are left in doubtto this day whether Given's commission was ever executed.
"There! my mind's relieved on that point," announced Jim, wiping hisface with one hand and shaking the other after the retreating dust."Mean old scoot! I'll teach him to insult one of our boys,--'Lincolnvandals' indeed! I'd like to have whanged him!" with a final shake and afinal explosion, cooling off as rapidly as he had heated, and continuingthe interrupted conversation with recovered temper and _sangfroid_.
He was delighted at meeting Surrey, and Surrey was equally glad to seeonce more his old favorite, for Jim and he had been great friends whenhe was a little boy and had watched the big boy at work in his father'sfoundry,--a favoritism which, spite of years and changes, and widedistinctions of social position, had never altered nor cooled, and whichshowed itself now in many a pleasant shape and fashion so long as theywere near together.
They aided and abetted one another in more ways than one. Jim atSurrey's request, and by a plan of his proposing, succeeded in gettingSam's wife away from her home,--not from any liking for the expedition,or interest in either of the "niggers," as he stoutly asserted, butsolely to please the Colonel. If that, indeed, were his only purpose, hesucceeded to a charm, for when Surrey saw the two reunited, safe fromthe awful clutch of slavery, supplied with ample means for the journeyand the settlement thereafter, and on their way to a good Northern home,he was more than pleased,--he was rejoiced, and said, "Thank God!" withall his heart, and reverently, as he watched them away.
Before the summer ended Jim was down with what he called "a scratch"; apretty ugly wound, the surgeon thought it, and the Colonel rememberedand looked after him with unflagging interest and zeal. Many a book andpaper, many a cooling drink and bit of fruit delicious to the
parchedthroat and fevered lips, found their way to the little table by hisside. Surrey was never too busy by reason of his duties, or among hisown sick and wounded men, to find time for a chat, or a scrap ofreading, or to write a letter for the prostrate and helpless fellow, whosuffered without complaining, as, indeed, they did all about him, onlyrelieving himself now and then by a suppressed growl.
And so, with occasional episodes of individual interest, with marchesand fightings, with extremes of heat and cold, of triumph and defeat,the long months wore away. These men were soldiers, each in his place inthe great war with the record of which all the world is familiar, a talewritten in blood, and flame, and tears,--terrible, yet heroic; ghastly,yet sublime. As soldiers in such a conflict, they did their duty andnoble endeavor,--Jim, a nameless private in the ranks,--Surrey, notbraver perchance, but so conspicuous with all the elements which fit forsplendid command, so fortunate in opportunities for their display, soeminent in seizing them and using them to their fullest extent,regardless of danger and death, as to make his name known and honored byall who watched the progress of the fight, read its record withinterest, and knew its heroes and leaders with pride and love.
In the winter of '63 Jim's regiment was ordered away to South Carolina;and he who at parting looked with keen regret on the face of the man whohad been so faithful and well tried a friend, would have looked upon itwith something deeper and sadder, could he at the same time have gazed alittle way into the future, and seen what it held in store for him.
Four months after he marched away, Surrey's brigade was in that awfulfight and carnage of Chancellorsville, where men fought like gods tocounteract the blunders, and retrieve the disaster, induced by a stunnedand helpless brain. There was he stricken down, at the head of hiscommand, covered with dust and smoke; twice wounded, yet refusing toleave the field,--his head bound with a handkerchief, his eyes blazinglike stars beneath its stained folds, his voice cheering on his men;three horses shot under him; on foot then; contending for every inch ofthe ground he was compelled to yield; giving way only as he was forcedat the point of the bayonet; his men eager to emulate him, to follow himinto the jaws of death, to fall by his side,--thus was he prostrated;not dead, as they thought and feared when they seized him and bore himat last from the field, but insensible, bleeding with frightfulabundance, his right arm shattered to fragments; not dead, yet atdeath's door--and looking in.
May blossoms had dropped, and June harvests were ripe on all the fields,ere he could take advantage of the unsolicited leave, and go home.Home--for which his heart longed!
He was not, however, in too great haste to stop by the way, to pause inWashington, and do what he had sooner intended to accomplish,--solicit,as a special favor to himself, as an honor justly won by the man forwhom he entreated it, a promotion for Jim. "It is impossible now," hewas informed, "but the case should be noted and remembered. If anythingcould certainly secure the man an advance, it was the advocacy ofGeneral Surrey"; and so, not quite content, but still satisfied thatJim's time was in the near future, he went on his way.
As the cars approached Philadelphia his heart beat so fast that italmost stifled him, and he leaned against the window heavily for air andsupport. It was useless to reason with himself, vain to call goodjudgment to his counsels and summon wisdom to his aid. This was herhome. Somewhere in this city to which he was so rapidly hastening, shewas moving up and down, had her being, was living and loving. Afterthese long years his eyes so ached to see her, his heart was so hungryfor her presence, that it seemed to him as though the sheer longingwould call her out of her retreat, on to the streets through which hemust pass, across his path, into the sight of his eyes and reach of hishand. He had thought that he felt all this before. He found, as thespace diminished between them,--as, perchance, she was but a stone'sthrow from his side,--that the pain, and the longing, and theintolerable desire to behold her once again, increased a hundred-fold.
Eager as he had been a little while before to reach his home, he wascontent to remain quietly here now. He laughed at himself as he steppedinto a carriage, and, tired as he was,--for his amputated arm, not yetthoroughly healed, made him weak and worn,--drove through all theafternoon and evening, across miles and miles of heated, wearisomestones, possessed by the idea that somewhere, somehow, he should seeher, he would find her before his quest was done.
After that last painful rebuff, he did not dare to go to her home, couldhe find it, till he had secured from her, in some fashion, a word orsign. "This," he said, "is certainly doubly absurd, since she does notlive in the city; but she is here to-day, I know,--she must be here";and persisted in his endeavor,--persisted, naturally, in vain; and wentto bed, at last, exhausted; determined that to-morrow should find him onhis journey farther north, whatever wish might plead for delay, yet witha final cry for her from the depths of his soul, as he stretched out hissolitary arm, ere sinking to restless sleep, and dreams of battle anddeath--sleep unrefreshing, and dreams ill-omened; as he thought, againand again, rousing himself from their hold, and looking out to thenight, impatient for the break of day.
When day broke he was unable to rise with its dawn. The effect of allthis tension on his already overtaxed nerves was to induce a fever inthe unhealed arm, which, though not painful, was yet sufficient to holdhim close prisoner for several days; a delay which chafed him, and whichfilled his family at home with an intolerable anxiety, not that theyknew its cause,--_that_ would have been a relief,--but that theyconjectured another, to them infinitely worse than sickness orsuffering, bad and sorrowful as were these.
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