Part 41 (1/2)

”You must be our guest, then, to-night,” said Mr. Vosburgh, decisively. ”We will take no refusal, and I shall send at once to the hotel for your luggage.”

”It is small indeed,” laughed Blauvelt, flus.h.i.+ng with pleasure, ”for I came away in very light marching order.”

Marian then explained that Merwyn, who, after a brief, polite greeting from Blauvelt, had been almost forgotten, was about to start in search of Strahan.

”I would not lay a straw in his way, and possibly he may obtain some clue that escaped me,” said the young officer.

”Perhaps, if you feel strong enough to tell us something of that part of the battle in which you were engaged, and of your search, Mr. Merwyn may receive hints which will be of service to him,” Mr.

Vosburgh suggested.

”I shall be very glad to do so, and feel entirely equal to the effort. Indeed, I have been resting and sleeping in the cars nearly all day, and am so much better that I scarcely feel it right to be absent from the regiment.”

They at once repaired to the library, Marian leaving word with Mammy Borden that they were engaged, should there be other callers.

CHAPTER x.x.xIII.

A GLIMPSE OF WAR.

”Captain Blauvelt,” said Marian, when they were seated in the library, ”I have two favors to ask of you. First, that you will discontinue your story as soon as you feel the least weakness, and, second, that you will not gloss anything over. I wish a life-picture of a soldier's experience. You and Mr. Strahan have been inclined to give me the brighter side of campaigning. Now, tell us just what you and Mr. Strahan did. I've no right to be the friend of soldiers if I cannot listen to the tragic details of a battle, while sitting here in this quiet room, and I wish to realize, as I never have done, what you and others have pa.s.sed through. Do not be so modest that you cannot tell us exactly what you did. In brief, a plain, unvarnished tale unfold, and I shall be content.”

”Now,” she thought, ”Mr. Merwyn shall know to whom I can give my friends.h.i.+p. I do not ask him, or any one, to face these scenes, but my heart is for a man who can face them.”

Blauvelt felt that he was fortunate indeed. He knew that he had fair powers as a raconteur, and he was conscious of having taken no unworthy part in the events he was about to describe, while she, who required the story, was the woman whom he most admired, and whose good opinion was dear to him.

Therefore, after a moment's thought, he began: ”In order to give you a quiet, and therefore a more artistic prelude to the tragedy of the battle, I shall touch lightly on some of the incidents of our march to the field. I will take up the thread of our experiences on the 15th of June, for I think you were quite well informed of what occurred before that date. The 15th was one of the hottest days that I remember. I refer to this fact because of a pleasant incident which introduces a little light among the shadows, and suggests that soldiers are not such bad fellows after all, although inclined to be a little rough and profane. Our men suffered terribly from the heat, and some received sunstrokes. Many were obliged to fall out of the ranks, but managed to keep up with the column. At noon we were halted near a Vermont regiment that had just drawn a ration of soft bread and were boiling their coffee. As our exhausted men came straggling and staggering in, these hospitable Vermonters gave them their entire ration of bread and the hot coffee prepared for their own meal; and when the ambulances brought in the men who had been sun-struck, these generous fellows turned their camp into a temporary hospital and themselves into nurses.

”I will now give you a glimpse of a different experience. Towards evening on the 19th a rain-storm began, and continued all night.

No orders to halt came till after midnight. On we splashed, waded, and floundered along roads cut up by troops in advance until the mud in many places reached the depth of ten inches. It was intensely dark, and we could not see to pick our way. Splashed from head to foot, and wet through for hours, we had then one of the most dismal experiences I remember. I had not been well since the terrible heat of the 15th, and Strahan, putting on the air of a martinet, sternly ordered me to mount his horse while he took charge of my company.”

Marian here clapped her hands in applause.

”At last we were ordered to file to the right into a field and bivouac for the night. The field proved to be a marshy meadow, worse than the road. But there was no help for it, and we were too tired to hunt around in the darkness for a better place. Strahan mounted again to a.s.sist in giving orders for the night's arrangement, and to find drier ground if possible. In the darkness he and his horse tumbled into a ditch so full of mire and water that he escaped all injury. We sank half-way to our knees in the swampy ground, and the horses floundered so that one or two of the officers were thrown, and all were obliged to dismount. At last, by hallooing, the regiment formed into line, and then came the unique order from the colonel, 'Squat, my bull-frogs.' There was nothing for us to do but to lie down on the swampy, oozing ground, with our shelter tents and blankets wrapped around and under us. You remember what an exquisite Strahan used to be. I wish you could have seen him when the morning revealed us to one another. He was of the color of the sacred soil from crown to toe. When we met we stood and laughed at each other, and I wanted him to let me make a sketch for your benefit, but we hadn't time.

”I will now relate a little incident which shows how promptly pluck and character tell. During the 25th we were pushed forward not far from thirty miles. On the morning of this severe march a young civilian officer, who had been appointed to the regiment by the Governor, joined us, and was given command of Company I.

When he took his place in the march there was a feeling of intense hostility toward him, as there ever is among veterans against civilians who are appointed over them. If he had fallen out of the ranks and died by the roadside I scarcely believe that a man would have volunteered to bury him. But, while evidently unaccustomed to marching, he kept at the head of his company throughout the entire day, when every step must have been torture. He uttered not a word of complaint, and at night was seen, by the light of a flaring candle, p.r.i.c.king the blisters on his swollen feet; then he put on his shoes, and walked away as erect as if on parade. In those few hours he had won the respect of the entire regiment, and had become one of us. Poor fellow! I may as well mention now that he was killed, a few days later, with many of the company that he was bravely leading. His military career lasted but little over a week, yet he proved himself a hero.

”Now I will put in a few high lights again. On the 28th we entered Frederick City. Here we had a most delightful experience. The day was warm and all were thirsty. Instead of the cold, lowering glances to which we had been accustomed in Virginia, smiling mothers, often accompanied by pretty daughters, stood in the gateways with pails and goblets of cool, sparkling water. I doubt whether the same number of men ever drank so much water before, for who could pa.s.s by a white hand and arm, and a pretty, sympathetic face, beaming with good-will? Here is a rough sketch I made of a Quaker matron, with two charming daughters, and an old colored man, 'totin'' water at a rate that must have drained their well.”

Marian praised the sketch so heartily that Merwyn knew she was taking this indirect way to eulogize the soldier as as well as the artist, and he groaned inwardly as he thought how he must suffer by contrast.

”I will pa.s.s over what occurred till the 1st of July. Our march lay through a country that, after desolated Virginia, seemed like paradise, and the kind faces that greeted us were benedictions.

July 1st was clear, and the sun's rays dazzling and intense in their heat. Early in the afternoon we were lying around in the shade, about two miles from the State line of Pennsylvania. Two corps had preceded us. Some of our men, with their ears on the ground, declared that they could hear the distant mutter of artillery. The country around was full of troops, resting like ourselves.

”Suddenly shrill bugle-blasts in every direction called us into line. We were moved through Emmetsburg, filed to the left into a field until other troops pa.s.sed, and then took our place in the column and began a forced march to Gettysburg. Again we suffered terribly from the heat and the choking clouds of dust raised by commands in advance of us. The sun shone in the west like a great, angry furnace. Our best men began to stagger from the ranks and fall by the wayside, while every piece of woods we pa.s.sed was filled with prostrate men, gasping, and some evidently dying. But on, along that white, dusty road, the living torrent poured. Only one command was heard. 'Forward! Forward!'

”First, like a low jar of thunder, but with increasing volume and threatening significance, the distant roar of artillery quickened the steps of those who held out. Major Strahan was again on his feet, with other officers, their horses loaded down with the rifles of the men. Even food and blankets, indeed almost everything except ammunition, was thrown away by the men, for, in the effort to reach the field in time, an extra pound became an intolerable burden.