CHAPTER III
THE HEART OF REBELLION
Harry, with his friend Colonel Leonidas Talbot, approached Charlestonon Christmas morning. It was a most momentous day to him. As he camenearer, the place looked greater and greater. He had read much aboutit in the books in his father's house--old tales of the Revolution andstories of its famous families--and now its name was in the mouths ofall men.
He had felt a change in his own Kentucky atmosphere at Nashville,but it had become complete when he drew near to Charleston. It was adifferent world, different alike in appearance and in thought. Thecontrast made the thrill all the keener and longer. Colonel Talbot,also, was swayed by emotion, but his was that of one who was coming home.
"I was born here, and I passed my boyhood here," he said. "I could notkeep from loving it if I would, and I would not if I could. Look howthe cold North melts away. See the great magnolias, the live oaks,and the masses of shrubbery! Harry, I promise you that you shall havea good time in this Charleston of ours."
They had left the railroad some distance back, and had come in by stage.The day was warm and pleasant. Two odors, one of flowers and foliage,and the other of the salt sea, reached Harry. He found both good.He felt for the thousandth time of his pocket-book and papers to see thatthey were safe, and he was glad that he had come, glad that he had beenchosen for such an important errand.
The colonel asked the driver to stop the stage at a cross road, and hepointed out to Harry a low, white house with green blinds, standing on aknoll among magnificent live oaks.
"That is my house, Harry," he said, "and this is Christmas Day. Comeand spend it with me there."
Harry felt to the full the kindness of Colonel Leonidas Talbot, for whomhe had formed a strong affection. The colonel seemed to him so simple,so honest and, in a way, so unworldly, that he had won his heart almostat once. But he felt that he should decline, as his message must bedelivered as soon as he arrived in Charleston.
"I suppose you are right," said the colonel, when the boy had explainedwhy he could not accept. "You take your letters to the gentlemen whoare going to make the war, and then you and I and others like us,ranging from your age to mine, will have to fight it."
But Harry was not to be discouraged. He could not see things in a graylight on that brilliant Christmas morning. Here was Charleston beforehim and in a few hours he would be in the thick of great events.A thrill of keen anticipation ran through all his veins. The coloneland he stood by the roadside while the obliging driver waited. Heoffered his hand, saying good-bye.
"It's only for a day," said Colonel Leonidas Talbot, as he gave thehand a strong clasp. "I shall be in Charleston tomorrow, and I shallcertainly see you."
Harry sprang back to his place and the stage rolled joyously intoCharleston. Harry saw at once that the city was even more crowded thanNashville had been. Its population had increased greatly in a few weeks,and he could feel the quiver of excitement in the air. Citizen soldierswere drilling in open places, and other men were throwing up earthworks.
He left the stage and carried over his arm his baggage, which stillconsisted only of a pair of saddle bags. He walked to an old-fashionedhotel which Colonel Talbot had selected for him as quiet and good,and as he went he looked at everything with a keen and eager interest.The deep, mellow chiming of bells, from one point and then from another,came to his ears. He knew that they were the bells of St. Philip's andSt. Michael's, and he looked up in admiration at their lofty spires.He had often heard, in far Kentucky, of these famous churches and theirsilver chimes.
It seemed to Harry that the tension and excitement of the people in thestreets were of a rather pleasant kind. They had done a great deed, and,keyed to a high pitch by their orators and newspapers, they did not fearthe consequences. The crowd seemed foreign to him in many aspects,Gallic rather than American, but very likeable.
He reached his hotel, a brick building behind a high iron fence, kept bya woman of olive complexion, middle years, and pleasant manners, MadameJosephine Delaunay. She looked at him at first with a little doubt,because it was a time in Charleston when one must inspect strangers,but when he mentioned Colonel Leonidas Talbot she broke into a series ofsmiles.
"Ah, the good colonel!" she exclaimed. "We were children at schooltogether, but since he became a soldier he has gone far from here.And has he returned to fight for his great mother, South Carolina?"
"He has come back. He has resigned from the army, and he is here to doSouth Carolina's bidding."
"It is like him," said Madame Delaunay. "Ah, that Leonidas, he has agreat soul!"
"I travelled with him from Nashville to Charleston," said Harry, "and Ilearned to like and admire him."
He had established himself at once in the good graces of Madame Delaunayand she gave him a fine room overlooking a garden, which in seasonwas filled with roses and oranges. Even now, pleasant aromatic odorscame to him through the open window. He had been scarcely an hour inCharleston but he liked it already. The old city breathed with an easeand grace to which he was unused. The best name that he knew for it wasfragrance.
He had a suit of fresh clothing in his saddle bags, and he arrayedhimself with the utmost neatness and care. He felt that he must do so.He could not present himself in rough guise to a people who had everyright to be fastidious. He would also obtain further clothing out ofthe abundant store of money, as his father had wished him to make a goodappearance and associate with the best.
He descended, and found Madame Delaunay in the garden, where she gavehim welcome, with grave courtesy. She seemed to him in manner andbearing a woman of wealth and position, and not the keeper of an inn,doing most of the work with her own hands. He learned later that thetwo could go together in Charleston, and he learned also, that she wasthe grand-daughter of a great Haytian sugar planter, who had fled fromthe island, leaving everything to the followers of Toussaint l'Ouverture,glad to reach the shores of South Carolina in safety.
Madame Delaunay looked with admiration at the young Kentuckian, so talland powerful for his age. To her, Kentucky was a part of the cold North.
"Can you tell me where I am likely to find Senator Yancey?" asked Harry."I have letters which I must deliver to him, and I have heard that he isin Charleston."
"There is to be a meeting of the leaders this afternoon in St. Anthony'sHall in Broad street. You will surely find him there, but you must haveyour luncheon first. I think you must have travelled far."
"From Kentucky," replied Harry, and then he added impulsively: "I'vecome to join your people, Madame Delaunay. South Carolina has many andpowerful friends in the Upper South."
"She will need them," said Madame Delaunay, but with no tone ofapprehension. "This, however, is a city that has withstood much fireand blood and it can withstand much more. Now I'll leave you herein the garden. Come to luncheon at one, and you shall meet my otherguests."
Harry sat down on a little wooden bench beneath a magnolia. Here in thegarden the odor of grass and foliage was keen, and thrillingly sweet.This was the South, the real South, and its warm passions leaped up inhis blood. Much of the talk that he had been hearing recently fromthose older than he passed through his mind. The Southern states didhave a right to go if they chose, and they were being attacked becausetheir prominence aroused jealousy. Slavery was a side issue, a merepretext. If it were not convenient to hand, some other excuse would beused. Here in Charleston, the first home of secession, among people whowere charming in manner and kind, the feeling was very strong upon him.
He left the house after luncheon, and, following Madame Delaunay'sinstructions, came very quickly to St. Andrew's hall in Broad street,where five days before, the Legislature of South Carolina, afteradjourning from Columbia, had passed the ordinance of secession.
Two soldiers in the Palmetto uniform were on guard, but they quickly lethim pass when he showed his letters to Senator Yancey. Inside, a youngman, a boy, in fact, not more than a year older th
an himself, met him.He was slender, dark and tall, dressed precisely, and his manner hadthat easy grace which, as Harry had noticed already, seemed to be thecharacteristic of Charleston.
"My name is Arthur St. Clair," he said, "and I'm a sort of improvisedsecretary for our leaders who are in council here."
"Mine," said Harry, "is Henry Kenton. I'm a son of Colonel GeorgeKenton, of Kentucky, late a colonel in the United States Army, and I'vecome with important messages from him, Senator Culver and other Southernleaders in Kentucky."
"Then you will be truly welcome. Wait a moment and I'll see if they areready to receive you."
He returned almost instantly, and asked Harry to go in with him.They entered a large room, with a dais at the center of the far wall,and a number of heavy gilt chairs covered with velvet ranged on eitherside of it. Over the dais hung a large portrait of Queen Victoria as agirl in her coronation robes. A Scotch society had occupied this room,but the people of Charleston had always taken part in their festivities.In those very velvet chairs the chaperons had sat while the dancing hadgone on in the hall. Then the leaders of secession had occupied them,when they put through their measure, and now they were sitting thereagain, deliberating.
A man of middle years and of quick, eager countenance arose when youngSt. Clair came in with Harry.
"Mr. Yancey," said St. Clair, "this is Henry Kenton, the son of ColonelGeorge Kenton, who has come from Kentucky with important letters."
Yancey gave him his hand and a welcome, and Harry looked with intenseinterest at the famous Alabama orator, who, with Slidell, of SouthCarolina, and Toombs of Georgia, had matched the New England leaders invehemence and denunciation. Mr. Slidell, an older man, was present andso was Mr. Jamison, of Barnwell, who had presided when secession wascarried. There were more present, some prominent, others destined tobecome so, and Harry was introduced to them one by one.
He gave his letters to Yancey and retired with young St. Clair to theother end of the room, while the leaders read what had been written fromKentucky. Harry was learning to become a good observer, and he watchedthem closely as they read. He saw a look of pleasure come on the faceof every one, and presently Yancey beckoned to him.
"These are fine assurances," said the orator, "and they have beenbrought by the worthy son of a worthy father. Colonel Kenton, SenatorCulver and others, have no doubt that Kentucky will go out with us.Now you are a boy, but boys sometimes see and hear more than men,and you are old enough to think; that is, to think in the real sense.Tell us, what is your own opinion?"
Harry flushed, and paused in embarrassment.
"Go on," said Mr. Yancey, persuasively.
"I do not know much," said Harry slowly, wishing not to speak, butfeeling that he was compelled by Mr. Yancey to do so, "but as far as Ihave seen, Kentucky is sorely divided. The people on the other sideare perhaps not as strong and influential as ours, but they are morenumerous."
A shade passed over the face of Yancey, but he quickly recovered hisgood humor.
"You have done right to tell us the truth as you see it," he said,"but we need Kentucky badly. We must have the state and we will get it.Did you hear anything before you left, of one Raymond Bertrand, a SouthCarolinian?"
"He was at my father's house before I came away. I think it was hisintention to go from there to Frankfort with some of our own people,and assist in taking out the state."
Yancey smiled.
"Faithful to his errand," he said. "Raymond Bertrand is a good lad.He has visions, perhaps, but they are great ones, and he foresees amighty republic for us extending far south of our present border.But now that you have accomplished your task, what do you mean to do,Mr. Kenton?"
"I want to stay here," replied Harry eagerly. "This is the head andcenter of all things. I think my father would wish me to do so.I'll enlist with the South Carolina troops and wait for what happens."
"Even if what happens should be war?"
"Most of all if it should be war. Then I shall be one of those who willbe needed most."
"A right and proper spirit," said Mr. Jamison, of Barnwell. "When wecan command such enthusiasm we are unconquerable. Now, we'll not keepyou longer, Mr. Kenton. This is Christmas Day, and one as young as youare is entitled to a share of the hilarity. Look after him, St. Clair."
Harry went out with young St. Clair, whom he was now calling by hisfirst name, Arthur. He, too, was staying with Madame Delaunay, who wasa distant relative.
Harry ate Christmas dinner that evening with twenty people, many oftypes new to him. It made a deep impression upon him then, and one yetgreater afterward, because he beheld the spirit of the Old South in itsinmost shrine, Charleston. It seemed to him in later days that he hadlooked upon it as it passed.
They sat in a great dining-room upon a floor level with the ground.The magnolias and live oaks and the shrubs in the garden moved in thegentle wind. Fresh crisp air came through the windows, opened partly,and brought with it, as Harry thought, an aroma of flowers blooming inthe farther south. He sat with young St. Clair--the two were alreadyold friends--and Madame Delaunay was at the head of the table, lookingmore like a great lady who was entertaining her friends than the keeperof an inn.
Madame Delaunay wore a flowing white dress that draped itself in folds,and a lace scarf was thrown about her shoulders. Her heavy hair,intensely black, was bound with a gold fillet, after a fashion thathas returned a half century later. A single diamond sparkled upon herfinger. She seemed to Harry foreign, handsome, and very distinguished.
About half the people in the room were of French blood, most of whomHarry surmised were descendants of people who had fled from Hayti orSanto Domingo. One, Hector St. Hilaire, almost sixty, but a major inthe militia of South Carolina, soon proved that the boy's surmise wasright. Lemonade and a mild drink called claret-sanger was served tothe boys, but the real claret was served to the major, as to the otherelders, and the mellowness of Christmas pervaded his spirit. He drank atoast to Madame Delaunay, and the others drank it with him, standing.Madame Delaunay responded prettily, and, in a few words, she askedprotection and good fortune for this South Carolina which they all loved,and which had been a refuge to the ancestors of so many of them.As she sat down she looked up at the wall and Harry's glance followedhers. It was a long dining-room, and he saw there great portraits inmassive gilt frames. They were of people French in look, handsome,and dressed with great care and elaboration. The men were in gay coatsand knee breeches, silk stockings and buckled shoes. Small swords wereat their sides. The women were even more gorgeous in velvet or heavysatin, with their hair drawn high upon their heads and powdered.One had a beauty patch upon her cheek.
Major St. Hilaire saw Harry's look as it sped along the wall. He smileda little sadly and then, a little cheerfully:
"Those are the ancestors of Madame Delaunay," he said, "and some,I may mention in passing, are my own, also. Our gracious hostess andmyself are more or less distantly related--less, I fear--but I boast ofit, nevertheless, on every possible occasion. They were great people ina great island, once the richest colony of France, the richest colonyin all the world. All those people whom you see upon the walls wereeducated in Paris or other cities of France, and they returned to a lifeupon the magnificent plantations of Hayti. What has become of thatbrightness and glory? Gone like snow under a summer sun. 'Tisnothing but the flower of fancy now. The free black savage has made awilderness of Hayti, and our enemies in the North would make the sameof South Carolina."
A murmur of applause ran around the table. Major St. Hilaire had spokenwith rhetorical effect and a certain undoubted pathos. Every faceflushed, and Harry saw the tears glistening in the eyes of MadameDelaunay who, despite her fifty years, looked very handsome indeed inher white dress, with the glittering gold fillet about her great massesof hair.
The boy was stirred powerfully. His sensitive spirit responded atonce to the fervid atmosphere about him, to the color, the glow, theintensity of a South
far warmer than the one he had known. Theirpassions were his passions, and having seen the black and savage Haytiof which Major St. Hilaire had drawn such a vivid picture, he shudderedlest South Carolina and other states, too, should fall in the same wayto destruction.
"It can never happen!" he exclaimed, carried away by impulse. "Kentuckyand Virginia and the big states of the Upper South will stand beside herand fight with her!"
The murmur of applause ran around the table again, and Harry, blushing,made himself as small as he could in his chair.
"Don't regret a good impulse. Mr. Kenton," said a neighbor, a youngman named James McDonald--Harry had noticed that Scotch names seemed tobe as numerous as French in South Carolina--"the words that all of usbelieve to be true leaped from your heart."
Harry did not speak again, unless he was addressed directly, but helistened closely, while the others talked of the great crisis that wasso obviously approaching. His interest did not make him neglect thedinner, as he was a strong and hearty youth. There were sweets forwhich he did not care much, many vegetables, a great turkey, and venisonfor which he did care, finishing with an ice and coffee that seemed tohim very black and bitter.
It was past eight o'clock when they rose and any lingering doubts thatHarry may have felt were swept away. He was heart and soul with theSouth Carolinians. Those people in the far north seemed very cold andhard to him. They could not possibly understand. One must be hereamong the South Carolinians themselves to see and to know.
Harry went to his room, after a polite good-night to all the others.He was not used to long and heavy dinners, and he felt the wish to restand take the measure of his situation. He threw back the green blindsand opened the window a little. Once more the easy wind brought himthat odor of the far south, whether reality or fancy he could not say.But he turned to another window and looked toward the north. Away fromthe others and away from a subtle persuasiveness that had been in theair, some of his doubts returned. It would not all be so easy. Whatwere they doing in the far states beyond the Ohio?
He heard footsteps in the hail and a voice that seemed familiar.He had left his door partly open, and, when he turned, he caught aglimpse of a face that he knew. It was young Shepard, whom he and MajorTalbot had met in Nashville. Shepard saw Harry also, and saluted himcheerfully.
"I've just arrived," he said, "and through letters from friends inSt. Louis, members of one of the old French families there, I've beenlucky enough to secure a room at Madame Delaunay's inn."
"Fortune has been with us both," said Harry, somewhat doubtfully,but not knowing what else to say.
"It certainly has," said Shepard, with easy good humor. "I'll see youagain in the morning and we'll talk of what we've been through, both ofus."
He walked briskly on and Harry heard his firm step ringing on the floor.The boy retired to his own room again and locked the door. He had likedShepard from the first. He had seemed to him frank and open and noone could deny his right to come to Charleston if he pleased. And yetColonel Talbot, a man of a delicate and sensitive mind, which quicklyregistered true impressions, had distrusted him. He had even givenHarry a vague warning, which he felt that he could not ignore. He madeup his mind that he would not see Shepard in the morning. He would makeit a point to rise so early that he could avoid him.
His conclusion formed, he slept soundly until the first sunlight pouredin at the window that he had left open. Then, remembering that heintended to avoid Shepard, he jumped out of bed, dressed quickly andwent down to breakfast, which he had been told he could get as earlyas he pleased.
Madame Delaunay was already there, still looking smooth and fresh inthe morning air. But St. Clair was the only guest who was as early asHarry. Both greeted him pleasantly and hoped that he had slept well.Their courtesy, although Harry had no doubt of its warmth, was slightlymore ornate and formal than that to which he had been used at home.He recognized here an older society, one very ancient for the New World.
The breakfast was also different from the solid one that he always ateat home. It consisted of fruits, eggs, bread and coffee. There was nomeat. But he fared very well, nevertheless. St. Clair, he now learned,was a bank clerk, but after office hours he was drilling steadily in oneof the Charleston companies.
"If you enlist, come with me," he said to Harry. "I can get you a placeon the staff, and that will suit you."
Harry accepted his offer gladly, although he felt that he could not takeup his new duties for a few days. Matters of money and other thingswere to be arranged.
"All right," said St. Clair. "Take your time. I don't think there'sany need to hurry."
Harry left Madame Delaunay's house immediately after breakfast, stillfirm in his purpose to avoid Shepard, and went to the bank, on whichhe held drafts properly attested. Not knowing what the future held,and inspired perhaps by some counsel of caution, he drew half of itin gold, intending to keep it about his person, risking the chance ofrobbery. Then he went toward the bay, anxious to see the sea and thosefamous forts, Sumter, Moultrie and the others, of which he had heardso much.
It was a fine, crisp morning, one to make the heart of youth leap,and he soon noticed that nearly the whole population of the city wasgoing with him toward the harbor. St. Clair, who had departed for hisbank, overtook him, and it was evident to Harry that his friend was notthinking much now of banks.
"What is it, Arthur?" asked Harry.
"They stole a march on us yesterday," replied St. Clair. "See that darkand grim mass rising up sixty feet or more near the center of the harbor,the one with the Stars and Stripes flying so defiantly over it? That'sFort Sumter. Yesterday, while we were enjoying our Christmas dinner andtalking of the things that we would do, Major Anderson, who commandedthe United States garrison in Fort Moultrie, quietly moved it over toSumter, which is far stronger. The wives and children of the soldiersand officers have been landed in the city with the request that wesend them to their homes in the states, which, of course, we will do.But Major Anderson, who holds the fort in the name of the United States,refuses to give it up to South Carolina, which claims it."
Harry felt an extraordinary thrill, a thrill that was, in many ways,most painful. Talk was one thing, action was another. Here stood SouthCarolina and the Union face to face, looking at each other through themuzzles of cannon. Sumter had one hundred and forty guns, most of whichcommanded the city, and the people of Charleston had thrown up greatearthworks, mounting many cannon.
Boy as he was, Harry was old enough to see that here were all theelements of a great conflagration. It merely remained for somebody totouch fire to the tow. He was not one to sentimentalize, but the sightof the defiant flag, the most beautiful in all the world, stirred him inevery fiber. It was the flag under which both his father and ColonelTalbot had fought.
"It has to be, Harry," said St. Clair, who was watching him closely."If it comes to a crisis we must fire upon it. If we don't, the Southwill be enslaved and black ignorance and savagery will be enthroned uponour necks."
"I suppose so," said Harry. "But look how the people gather!"
The Battery and all the harbor were now lined with the men, women andchildren of Charleston. Harry saw soldiers moving about Sumter, but nodemonstration of any kind occurred there. He had not thought hithertoabout the garrison of the forts in Charleston harbor. He recognized forthe first time that they might not share the opinions of Charleston,and this name of Anderson was full of significance for him. MajorAnderson was a Kentuckian. He had heard his father speak of him; theyhad served together, but it was now evident to Harry that Anderson wouldnot go with South Carolina.
"You'll see a small boat coming soon from Sumter," said St. Clair."Some of our people have gone over there to confer with Major Andersonand demand that he give up the fort."
"I don't believe he'll do it," said Harry impulsively. Some one touchedhim upon the shoulder, and turning quickly he saw Colonel LeonidasTalbot. He shook the colonel's hand with v
igor, and introduced him toyoung St. Clair.
"I have just come into the city," said the colonel, "and I heard onlya few minutes ago that Major Anderson had removed his garrison fromMoultrie to Sumter."
"It is true," said St. Clair. "He is defiant. He says that he willhold the fort for the Union."
"I had hoped that he would give up," said Colonel Talbot. "It mighthelp the way to a composition."
He pulled his long mustache and looked somberly at the flag. The windhad risen a little, and it whipped about the staff. Its flutteringmotions seemed to Harry more significant than ever of defiance. Heunderstood the melancholy ring in Colonel Talbot's voice. He, too,like the boy's father, had fought under that flag, the same flag thathad led him up the flame-swept slopes of Cerro Gordo and Chapultepec.
"Here they come," exclaimed St. Clair, "and I know already the answerthat they bring!"
The small boat that he had predicted put out from Sumter and quicklylanded at the Battery. It contained three commissioners, prominent menof Charleston who had been sent to treat with Major Anderson, and hisanswer was quickly known to all the crowd. Sumter was the propertyof the United States, not of South Carolina, and he would hold it forthe Union. At that moment the wind strengthened, and the flag stoodstraight out over the lofty walls of Sumter.
"I knew it would be so," said Colonel Talbot, with a sigh. "Anderson isthat kind of a man. Come, boys, we will go back into the city. I am tohelp in building the fortifications, and as I am about to make a tour ofinspection I will take you with me."
Harry found that, although secession was only a few days old, the workof offense and defense was already far advanced. The planters werepouring into Charleston, bringing their slaves with them, and whiteand black labored together at the earthworks. Rich men, who had neversoiled their hands with toil before now, wielded pick and spade by theside of their black slaves. And it was rumored that Toutant Beauregard,a great engineer officer, now commander at the West Point MilitaryAcademy, would speedily resign, and come south to take command of theforces in Charleston.
Strong works were going up along the mainland. The South Carolinaforces had also seized Sullivan's Island, Morris Island, and JamesIsland and were mounting guns upon them all. Circling batteries wouldsoon threaten Sumter, and, however defiantly the flag there might snapin the breeze, it must come down.
As they were leaving the last of the batteries Harry noticed the broad,strong back and erect figure of a young man who stood with his hands inhis pockets. He knew by his rigid attitude that he was looking intentlyat the battery and he knew, moreover, that it was Shepard. He wishedto avoid him, and he wished also that his companion would not see him.He started to draw Colonel Talbot away, but it was too late. Shepardturned at that moment, and the colonel caught sight of his face.
"That man here among our batteries!" he exclaimed in a menacing tone.
"Come away, colonel!" said Harry hastily. "We don't know anythingagainst him!"
But Shepard himself acted first. He came forward quickly, his handextended, and his eyes expressing pleasure.
"I missed you this morning, Mr. Kenton," he said. "You were too earlyfor me, but we meet, nevertheless, in a place of the greatest interest.And here is Colonel Talbot, too!"
Harry took the outstretched hand--he could not keep from likingShepard--but Colonel Talbot, by turning slightly, avoided it withoutgiving the appearance of brusqueness. His courtesy, concerning whichthe South Carolinians of his type were so particular, would not fail him,and, while he avoided the hand, he promptly introduced Shepard andSt. Clair.
"I did not expect to find events so far advanced in Charleston," saidShepard. "With the Federal garrison concentrated in Sumter and thebatteries going up everywhere, matters begin to look dangerous."
"I suppose that you have made a careful examination of all thebatteries," said Colonel Talbot dryly.
"Casual, not careful," returned Shepard, in his usual cheerful tones."It is impossible, at such a time, to keep from looking at Sumter,the batteries and all the other preparations. We would not be human ifwe didn't do it, and I've seen enough to know that the Yankees will havea hot welcome if they undertake to interfere with Charleston."
"You see truly," said Colonel Talbot, with some emphasis.
"A happy chance has put me at the same place as Mr. Kenton," continuedShepard easily. "I have letters which admitted me to the inn of MadameDelaunay, and I met him there last night. We are likely to see much ofeach other."
Colonel Leonidas Talbot raised his eyebrows. When they walked a littlefurther he excused himself, saying that he was going to meet a committeeof defense at St. Andrew's Hall, and Harry and Arthur, after talking alittle longer with Shepard, left him near one of the batteries.
"I'm going to my bank," said St. Clair. "I'm already long overdue,but it will be forgiven at such a time as this. And I must say, Harry,that Colonel Talbot does not seem to like your acquaintance, Mr. Shepard."
"It is true, he doesn't, although I don't know just why," said Harry.
He saw Shepard at a distance three more times in the course of the day,but he sedulously avoided a meeting. He noticed that Shepard was alwaysnear the batteries and earthworks, but hundreds of others were near them,too. He did not return to Madame Delaunay's until evening, when itwas time for dinner, where he found all the guests gathered, with theaddition of Shepard.
Madame Delaunay assigned the new man to a seat near the foot of thetable and the talk ran on much as it had done at the Christmas dinner,Major St. Hilaire leading, which Harry surmised was his custom. Shepard,who had been introduced to the others by Madame Delaunay, did not havemuch to say, nor did the South Carolinians warm to him as they had toHarry. A slight air of constraint appeared and Harry was glad whenthe dinner was over. Then he and St. Clair slipped away and spent theevening roaming about the city, looking at the old historic places,the fine churches, the homes of the wealthy and again at the earthworksand the harbor forts. The last thing Harry saw as he turned back towardMadame Delaunay's was that defiant flag of the Union, still waving abovethe dark and looming mass of old Sumter.
He was unlocking the door to his room when Shepard came briskly down thehall, carrying his candle in his hand.
"I want to tell you good-bye, Mr. Kenton," he said, "I thought we wereto be together here at the inn for some time, but it is not to be so."
"What has happened?"
"It appears that my room had been engaged already by another man,beginning tomorrow morning. I was not informed of it when I came here,but Madame Delaunay has recalled the fact and I cannot doubt the wordof a Charleston lady. It appears also that no other room is vacant,owing to the great number of people who have come into the city in thelast week or two. So, I go."
He did not seem at all discouraged, his tone being as cheerful as ever,and he held out his hand. Harry liked this man, although it seemed thatothers did not, and when he released the hand he said:
"Take good care of yourself, Mr. Shepard. As I see it, the people ofCharleston are not taking to you, and we do not know what is going tohappen."
"Both statements are true," said Shepard with a laugh as he vanisheddown the hail. Nothing yet had been able to disturb his poise.
Harry went into his own room, and, throwing open his front window to letin fresh air, he heard the hum of voices. He looked down into a piazzaand he saw two figures there, a man and a woman. They were ColonelTalbot and Madame Delaunay. He closed the blind promptly, feeling thatunconsciously he had touched upon something hallowed, the thread ofan old romance, a thread which, though slender, was nevertheless yetstrong. Nor did he doubt that the suggestion of Colonel Leonidas Talbothad caused the speedy withdrawal of Shepard.
Several more days passed. Harry found that he was taken into the city'sheart, and its spell was very strong upon him. He knew that much of hiswelcome was due to the powerful influence of Colonel Leonidas Talbot andto the warm friendship of Arthur St. Clair, who apparent
ly was relatedto everybody. A letter came from his father, to whom he had written atonce of his purpose, giving his approval, and sending him more money.Colonel Kenton wrote that he would come South himself, but he was neededin Kentucky, where a powerful faction was opposing their plans. He saidthat Harry's cousin, Dick Mason, had joined the home guards, raised inthe interests of the old Union, and was drilling zealously.
The letter made the boy very thoughtful. The news about his cousinopened his eyes. The line of cleavage between North and South waswidening into a gulf. But his spirits rose when he enlisted in thePalmetto Guards, and began to see active service. His quickness andzeal caused him to be used as a messenger, and he was continuallypassing back and forth among the Confederate leaders in Charleston.He also came into contact with the Union officers in Fort Sumter.
The relations of the town and the garrison were yet on a friendly basis.Men were allowed to come ashore and to buy fresh meat, vegetables,and other provisions. Strict orders kept anyone from offering violenceor insult to them. Harry saw Anderson once, but he did not give him hisname, deeming it best, because of the stand that he had taken, that notalk should pass between them.
He picked up a copy of the Mercury one morning and saw that a steamer,the Star of the West, was on its way to Charleston from a northernport with supplies for the garrison in Fort Sumter. He read the briefaccount, threw down the paper and rushed out for his friend, St. Clair.He knew that the coming of this vessel would fire the Charleston heart,and he was eager to be upon the scene.
The Guns of Bull Run: A Story of the Civil War's Eve Page 4