Part 49 (1/2)
In chase of this so beautiful a chance s.h.i.+elds set forth down the eastern side of Ma.s.sanutton, with intent to round the mountain at Port Republic, turn north again, and somewhere on the Valley pike make that will-o'-the-wisp junction with Fremont and stamp out rebellion. But of late it had rained much, and the roads were muddy and the streams swollen. His army was split into sections; here a brigade and there a brigade, the advance south of Conrad's Store, the rear yet at Luray. He had, however, the advantage of moving through leagues of forest, heavy, s.h.a.ggy, dense. It was not easy to observe the details of his operations.
Sunday morning dawned. A pearly mist wrapped the North Fork and the South Fork of the Shenandoah, and clung to the s.h.i.+ngle roofs and bowery trees of the village between. The South Fork was shallow and could be forded. The North Fork was deep and strong and crossed by a covered bridge. Toward the bridge now, winding down from the near-by height on which the brigade had camped, came a detail from the 65th--twenty men led by Sergeant Mathew Coffin. They were chiefly Company A men, and they were going to relieve the pickets along the South Fork. Thanks to Mr.
Commissary Banks, they had breakfasted well. The men were happy, not hilariously so, but in a placid, equable fas.h.i.+on. As they came down, over the wet gra.s.s, from the bluff, they talked. ”Mist over the Shenandoah's just like mist over the James”--”No, 'tisn't! Nothing's like mist over the James.”--”Well, the bridge's like the bridge at home, anyway!”--”'Tisn't much like it. Hasn't got sidewalks inside.”--”Yes, it has!”--”No, it hasn't!”--”I know better, I've been through it.”--”I've been through it twice't--was through it after Elk Run, a month ago!”--”Well, it hasn't got sidewalks, anyway,”--”I tell you it has.”--”You 're mistaken!”--”I'm not.”--”You never did see straight nohow!”--”If I was at home I'd thrash you!”
Mathew Coffin turned his head. ”Who's that jowering back there? Stop it!
Sunday morning and all!”
He went on, holding his head straight, a trig, slender figure, breathing irritation. His oval face with its little black moustache was set as hard as its boyish curves permitted, and his handsome dark eyes had two parallel lines above them. He marched as he marched always nowadays, with a mien aggrieved and haughty. He never lost the consciousness that he was wearing chevrons who had worn bars, and he was quite convinced that the men continually compared his two states.
The progress down hill to the bridge was short. Before the party the long, tunnel-like, weather-beaten structure loomed through the mist. The men entered and found it dusk and warm, smelling of horses, the river, fifteen feet below, showing through the cracks between the heavy logs of the floor. The marching feet sounded hollowly, voices reverberated.
”Just like our bridge--told you 'twas--Ain't it like, Billy Maydew?”
”It air,” said Billy. ”I air certainly glad that we air a-crossing on a bridge. The Shenandoah air a prop-o-si-tion to swim.”
”How did you feel, Billy, when you got away?”
”At first, just like school was out,” said Billy. ”But when a whole picket post started after me, 'n' I run fer it, 'n' the trees put out arms to stop me, 'n' the dewberry, crawling on the ground, said to itself, 'h.e.l.lo! Let's make a trap'; 'n' when the rail fences all hollered out, 'We're goin' to turn agin you!' 'n' when a bit of swamp hollered louder than any, 'Let's suck down Billy Maydew--suck down Billy Maydew!' 'n' when a lot o' bamboo vines running over cedars, up with 'Hold him fast until you hear a bullet whizzing!' 'n' I got to the Shenandoah and there wa'n't no bridge, 'n' the Shenandoah says 'I'd just as soon drown men as look at them!'--when all them things talked so, I knew just how the critturs feel in the woods; 'n' I ain't so crazy about hunting as I was--and I say again this here air a most con-ve-ni-ent bridge.”
With his musket b.u.t.t he struck the boarded side. The noise was so resoundingly greater than he had expected that he laughed and the men with him. Now Sergeant Mathew Coffin was as nervous as a witch. He had been marching along with his thoughts moodily hovering over the battery he would take almost single-handed, or the ambush he would dislodge and so procure promotion indeed. At the noise of the stick he started violently. ”Who did that? Oh, I see, and I might have known it! I'll report you for extra duty--”
”Report ahead,” said Billy, under his breath.
Coffin halted. ”What was that you said, Maydew?”
”I didn't speak to you--sir.”
”Well, you'll speak to me now. What was it you said then?” He came nearer, his arm thrown up, though but in an angry gesture. ”If I struck you,” thought Billy, ”I'd be sorry for it, so I won't do it. But one thing's sure--I certainly should like to!”
”If you don't answer me,” said Coffin thickly, ”I'll report you for disobedience as well as for disorderly conduct! What was it you said then?”
”I said, 'Report ahead--and be d.a.m.ned to you!'”
Coffin's lips shut hard. ”Very good! We'll see how three days of guardhouse tastes to you!--Forward!”
The party cleared the bridge and almost immediately found itself in the straggling village street. The mist clung here as elsewhere, houses and trees dim shapes, the surrounding hills and the dense woods beyond the South Fork hardly seen at all. Coffin marched with flushed face and his brows drawn together. He was mentally writing a letter on pale blue paper, and in it he was enlarging upon ingrat.i.tude. The men sympathized with Billy and their feet sounded resentfully upon the stones. Billy alone marched with elaborate lightness, quite as though he were walking on air and loved the very thought of the guardhouse.
Headquarters was an old corner house that had flung open its doors to General Jackson with an almost tremulous eagerness. A flag waved before the door, and there was a knot beneath of couriers and orderlies, with staff officers coming and going. Opposite was a store, closed of course upon Sunday, but boasting a deep porch with benches, to say nothing of convenient kegs and boxes. Here the village youth and age alike found business to detain them. The grey-headed exchanged remarks. ”Sleep? No, I couldn't sleep! Might as well see what's to be seen! I ain't got long to see anything, and so I told Susan. When's he coming out?--Once't when I was a little shaver like Bob, sitting on the scales there, I went with my father in the stage-coach to Fredericksburg, I remember just as well--and I was sitting before the tavern on a man's knee,--old man 'twas, for he said he had fought the Indians,--and somebody came riding down the street, with two or three others. I jus' remember a blue coat and a c.o.c.ked hat and that his hair was powdered--and the man put me down and got up, and everybody else before the tavern got up--and somebody holloaed out 'Hurrah for General Was.h.i.+ngton--'”
There was a stir about the opposite door. An aide came out, mounted and rode off toward the bridge. An orderly brought a horse from the neighbouring stable. ”That's his! That's General Jackson's!--Don't look like the war horse in Job, does he now?--Looks like a doctor's horse--Little Sorrel's his name.” The small boy surged forward. ”He's coming out!”--”How do you know him?”--”G' way! You always know generals when you see them! Great, big men, all trimmed up with gold. Besides, I saw him last night.”--”You didn't!”--”Yes, I did! Saw his shadow on the curtain.”--”How did you know 'twas his?”--”My mother said, 'Look, John, and don't never forget. That's Stonewall Jackson.' And it was a big shadow walking up and down, and it raised its hand--”
The church bell rang. A chaplain came out of the house. He had a Bible in his hand, and he beamed on all around. ”There's the first bell, gentlemen--the bell, children! Church in a church, just like before we went to fighting! Trust you'll all come, gentlemen, and you, too, boys!
The general hopes you'll all come.”
Within headquarters, in a large bare room, Jackson was having his customary morning half-hour with his heads of departments--an invariably recurring period in his quiet and ordered existence. It was omitted only when he fought in the morning. He sat as usual, bolt upright, large feet squarely planted, large hands stiff at sides. On the table before him were his sabre and Bible. Before him stood a group of officers. The adjutant, Colonel Paxton, finished his report. The general nodded.
”Good! good! Well, Major Harman?”
The chief quartermaster saluted. ”The trains, sir, had a good night.
There are clover fields on either side of the Staunton road and the horses are eating their fill. A few have sore hoof and may have to be left behind. I had the ordnance moved as you ordered, nearer the river.
An orderly came back last night from the convoy on the way to Staunton.
Sick and wounded standing it well. Prisoners slow marchers, but marching. I sent this morning a string of wagons to Cross Keys, to General Ewell. We had a stampede last night among the negro teamsters.