Sally Dows

by Bret Harte

stern sheets of that eight-oared government bargeshe had remembered. But the only officer was a bareheaded, boyishlieutenant, and the rowers were an athletic but unseamanlike crew ofmingled artillerymen and infantry.

  "And where did ye drift from, darlint?"

  Mrs. Bunker bridled feebly at the epithet.

  "I didn't drift. I was going to the Fort."

  "The Fort, is it?"

  "Yes. I want to see the general."

  "Wadn't the liftenant do ye? Or shure there's the adjutant; he's a foineman."

  "Silence, Flanigan," said the young officer sharply. Then turning toMrs. Bunker he said, "Don't mind HIM, but let his wife take you to thecanteen, when we get in, and get you some dry clothes."

  But Mrs. Bunker, spurred to convalescence at the indignity, protestedstiffly, and demanded on her arrival to be led at once to the general'squarters. A few officers, who had been attracted to the pier by therescue, acceded to her demand.

  She recognized the gray-haired, handsome man who had come ashore at herhouse. With a touch of indignation at her treatment, she briefly toldher story. But the general listened coldly and gravely with his eyesfixed upon her face.

  "You say you recognized in the leader of the party a man you had seenbefore. Under what circumstances?"

  Mrs. Bunker hesitated with burning cheeks. "He came to take ColonelMarion from our place."

  "When you were hiding him,--yes, we've heard the story. Now, Mrs.Bunker, may I ask you what you, as a Southern sympathizer, expect togain by telling me this story?"

  But here Mrs. Bunker burst out. "I am not a Southern sympathizer! Never!Never! Never! I'm a Union woman,--wife of a Northern man. I helped thatman before I knew who he was. Any Christian, Northerner or Southerner,would have done the same!"

  Her sincerity and passion were equally unmistakable. The general rose,opened the door of the adjoining room, said a few words to an orderly onduty, and returned. "What you are asking of me, Mrs. Bunker, is almostas extravagant and unprecedented as your story. You must understand, aswell as your husband, that if I land a force on your property it will beto TAKE POSSESSION of it in the name of the Government, for Governmentpurposes."

  "Yes, yes," said Mrs. Bunker eagerly; "I know that. I am willing; Zephaswill be willing."

  "And," continued the general, fixing his eyes on her face, "you willalso understand that I may be compelled to detain you here as a hostagefor the safety of my men."

  "Oh no! no! please!" said Mrs. Bunker, springing up with an imploringfeminine gesture; "I am expecting my husband. He may be coming back atany moment; I must be there to see him FIRST! Please let me go back,sir, with your men; put me anywhere ashore between them and those menthat are coming. Lock me up; keep me a prisoner in my own home; doanything else if you think I am deceiving you; but don't keep me here tomiss him when he comes!"

  "But you can see him later," said the general.

  "But I must see him FIRST," said Mrs. Bunker desperately. "I must seehim first, for--for--HE KNOWS NOTHING OF THIS. He knows nothing of myhelping Colonel Marion; he knows nothing of--how foolish I have been,and--he must not know it from others! There!" It was out at last. Shewas sobbing now, but her pride was gone. She felt relieved, and did noteven notice the presence of two or three other officers, who had enteredthe room, exchanged a few hurried words with their superior, and weregazing at her in astonishment.

  The general's brow relaxed, and he smiled. "Very well, Mrs. Bunker;it shall be as you like, then. You shall go and meet your husband withCaptain Jennings here,"--indicating one of the officers,--"who will takecharge of you and the party."

  "And," said Mrs. Bunker, looking imploringly through her wet but prettylashes at the officer, "he won't say anything to Zephas, either?"

  "Not a syllable," said Captain Jennings gravely. "But while the tug isgetting ready, general, hadn't Mrs. Bunker better go to Mrs. Flanigan?"

  "I think not," said the general, with a significant look at the officeras he gallantly offered his arm to the astonished Mrs. Bunker, "if shewill allow me the pleasure of taking her to my wife."

  There was an equally marked respect in the manner of the men andofficers as Mrs. Bunker finally stepped on board the steam tug that wasto convey the party across the turbulent bay. But she heeded itnot, neither did she take any concern of the still furious gale, thedifficult landing, the preternatural activity of the band of sappers,who seemed to work magic with their picks and shovels, the shelter tentsthat arose swiftly around her, the sheds and bush inclosures that wereevoked from the very ground beneath her feet; the wonderful skill,order, and discipline that in a few hours converted her stragglingdominion into a formal camp, even to the sentinel, who was alreadycalmly pacing the rocks by the landing as if he had being doing it foryears! Only one thing thrilled her--the sudden outburst, fluttering andsnapping of the national flag from her little flagstaff. He would seeit--and perhaps be pleased!

  And indeed it seemed as if the men had caught the infection of heranxiety, for when her strained eyes could no longer pierce the murkytwilight settling over the Gate, one came running to her to say that thelookout had just discovered through his glass a close-reefed schoonerrunning in before the wind. It was her husband, and scarcely an hourafter night had shut in the schooner had rounded to off the Point,dropped her boat, and sped away to anchorage. And then Mrs. Bunker,running bareheaded down the rocks, breaking in upon the hurriedexplanation of the officer of the guard, threw herself upon herhusband's breast, and sobbed and laughed as if her heart would break!

  Nor did she scarcely hear his hurried comment to the officer andunconscious corroboration of her story: how a brig had raced them fromthe Gate, was heading for the bar, but suddenly sheered off and putaway to sea again, as if from some signal from the headland. "Yes--thebluff," interrupted Captain Jennings bitterly, "I thought of that, butthe old man said it was more diplomatic just now to PREVENT an attemptthan even to successfully resist it."

  But when they were alone again in their little cottage, and Zephas'honest eyes--with no trace of evil knowledge or suspicion in theirhomely, neutral lightness--were looking into hers with his usualsimple trustfulness, Mrs. Bunker trembled, whimpered, and--I grieveto say--basely funked her boasted confession. But here the Deity whichprotects feminine weakness intervened with the usual miracle. As hegazed at his wife's troubled face, an apologetic cloud came over hisrugged but open brow, and a smile of awkward deprecating embarrassmentsuffused his eyes. "I declare to goodness, Mollie, but I must tell yousuthin, although I guess I didn't kalkilate to say a word about it. But,darn it all, I can't keep it in. No! Lookin' inter that innercentface o' yourn"--pressing her flushing cheeks between his cool brownhands--"and gazing inter them two truthful eyes"--they blinked at thismoment with a divine modesty--"and thinkin' of what you've just did foryour kentry--like them revolutionary women o' '76--I feel like a darnedswab of a traitor myself. Well! what I want ter tell you is this: Yeknow, or ye've heard me tell o' that Mrs. Fairfax, as left her husbandfor that fire-eatin' Marion, and stuck to him through thick and thin,and stood watch and watch with him in this howlin' Southern rumpusthey're kickin' up all along the coast, as if she was a man herself.Well, jes as I hauled up at the wharf at 'Frisco, she comes aboard.

  "'You're Cap Bunker?' she says.

  "'That's me, ma'am,' I says.

  "'You're a Northern man and you go with your kind,' sez she; 'but you'rea white man, and thar's no cur blood in you.' But you ain't listenin',Mollie; you're dead tired, lass,"--with a commiserating look at her nowwhitening face,--"and I'll haul in line and wait. Well, to cut it short,she wanted me to take her down the coast a bit to where she couldjoin Marion. She said she'd been shook by his friends, followed byspies--and, blame my skin, Mollie, ef that proud woman didn't break downand CRY like a baby. Now, Mollie, what got ME in all this, was that themChivalry folks--ez was always jawin' about their 'Southern dames' andtheir 'Ladye fairs,' and always runnin' that kind of bilge water outertheir scuppers whenever they careened over on a fair wind
--was jes thekind to throw off on a woman when they didn't want her, and I kinderthought I'd like HER to see the difference betwixt the latitude o'Charleston and Cape Cod. So I told her I didn't want the jewelry anddimons she offered me, but if she would come down to the wharf, afterdark, I'd smuggle her aboard, and I'd allow to the men that she was YOURAUNTIE ez I was givin' a free passage to! Lord! dear! think o' me takin'the name o' Mollie Bunker's aunt in vain for that sort