Part 65 (1/2)
”Old d.i.c.k” squatted by a camp-fire, was broiling a bit of bacon, head on one side, as he looked up with bright round eyes at Cleave, whom he liked. ”That you, Richard Cleave? By G.o.d, sir, if I were as excellent a major-general as I am a cook!--Have a bit?--Well, we wolloped them! They fought like men, and we fought like men, and by G.o.d, I can't get the cannon out of my ears! General Jackson?--I thought he was in front with D. H. Hill. Going to do anything more to-night? It's pretty late, but I'm ready.”
”Nothing--without General Jackson,” said Cleave. ”Thank you, general--if I might have a mouthful of coffee? I haven't the least idea when I have eaten.”
Ewell handed him the tin cup. He drank hastily and went on. Now it was by a field hospital, ghastly sights and ghastly sounds, pine boughs set for torches. He shut his eyes in a moment's faintness. It looked a demoniac place, a smoke-wreathed platform in some Inferno circle. He met a staff officer coming up from the plain. ”General Lee has ridden to the right. He is watching for McClellan's next move. There's a rumour that everything's in motion toward the James. If it's true, there's a chase before us to-morrow, eh?--A. P. Hill suffered dreadfully. 'Prince John'
kept McClellan beautifully amused.--General Jackson? On the slope of the hill by the breastworks.”
A red light proclaimed the place as Cleave approached it. It seemed a solitary flame, night around it and a sweep of scarped earth. Cleave, coming into the glow, found only the old negro Jim, squat beside it like a gnome, his eyes upon the jewelled hollows, his lips working. Jim rose.
”De gineral, sah? De gineral done sont de staff away ter res'. Fo' de Lawd, de gineral bettah follah dat 'zample! Yaas, sah,--ober dar in de big woods.”
Cleave descended the embankment and entered a heavy wood. A voice spoke--Jackson's--very curtly. ”Who is it, and what is your business?”
”It is the colonel of the 65th Virginia, sir. General Winder sends me, with the approval of General D. H. Hill, from the advance by the McGehee house.”
A part of the shadow detached itself and came forward as Jackson. It stalked past Cleave out of the belt of trees and over the bare red earth to the fire. The other man followed, and in the glare faced the general again. The leaping flame showed Jackson's bronzed face, with the brows drawn down, the eyes looking inward, and the lips closed as though no force could part them. Cleave knew the look, and inwardly set his own lips. At last the other spoke. ”Well, sir?”
”The enemy is cramped between us and the Chickahominy, sir. Our pickets are almost in touch of theirs. If we are scattered and disorganized, they are more so,--confused--distressed. We are the victors, and the troops still feel the glow of victory.”
”Well?”
”There might be a completer victory. We need only you to lead us, sir.”
”You are mistaken. The men are wearied. They worked very hard in the Valley. They need not do it all.”
”They are not so wearied, sir. There is comment, I think, on what the Army of the Valley has not done in the last two days. We have our chance to refute it all to-night.”
”General Lee is the commander-in-chief. General Lee will give orders.”
”General Lee has said to himself: 'He did so wonderfully in the Valley, I do not doubt he will do as wonderfully here. I leave him free. He'll strike when it is time.'--It is time now, sir.”
”Sir, you are forgetting yourself.”
”Sir, I wish to rouse you.”
Jackson walked past the fire to a fallen tree, sat himself down and looked across to the other man. The low flame more deeply bronzed his face. His eyes looked preternaturally sunken. He sat, characteristically rigid, a figure in grey stone. There was about him a momentary air of an Indian, he looked so ruthless. If it was not that, thought Cleave, then it was that he looked fanatic. Whichever it might be, he perceived that he himself stood in arctic air. He had been liked, he knew; now he saw the mist of disfavour rise. Jackson's voice came gratingly. ”Who sent you?”
”General Winder and General D. H. Hill.”
”You will tell General Hill that I shall make no further attack to-night. I have other important duties to perform.”
”I know what I risk,” said Cleave, ”and I do not risk it lightly. Have you thought of how you fell on them at Front Royal and at Winchester?
Here, too, they are confused, retreating--a greater force to strike, a greater result to win, a greater service to do for the country, a greater name to make for yourself. To-morrow morning all the world may say, 'So struck Napoleon--'”
”Napoleon's confidence in his star was pagan. Only G.o.d rules.”
”And the man who accepts opportunity--is he not His servant? May we not, sir, may we not make the attack?”
”No, sir; not to-night. We have marred too many Sundays--”
”It is not Sunday!”
Jackson looked across with an iron countenance. ”So little the fighter knows! See, what war does! But I will keep, in part at least, the Sabbath. You may go, sir.”
”General Jackson, this is Friday evening.”