Part 8 (2/2)
The General has told me the message you were to give. Now-w, how did you give it?”
But that was something Colonel Strain was destined not to know for many a year, if indeed, he ever heard. There came a knock at the door. A servant entered with a card. ”The lady, sir, begs to see the General at once, if only for five minutes.”
The General frowned as he took the card. What lady would be calling at ten o'clock at night and demanding interviews when he was so much occupied. But his face changed as he read, then glanced up at his chief-of-staff.
”This is remarkable, Strain. The lady superior of the gray sister's convent. Alone?” he asked, turning to the servant.
”No, sir. Young lady with her, sir.”
”You'll have to excuse me a moment, gentlemen,” said he. ”I'll rejoin you here.”
Strain was about to return to the subject when the butler spoke. ”A messenger from headquarters is at the door, sir. Says he has a dispatch to deliver in person. Shall I send him up?”
It was the General's library, and Strain was wondering what was going on in the General's parlor. He knew of the lady superior. He knew the story of little Pancha, her brave, uncomplaining conduct the night of the wreck, and of her being placed in the convent of the gray sisters. He decided to go to the hall door himself, and was astonished to hear the sound of sobbing as he pa.s.sed the parlor. Mechanically he took and receipted for the dispatch. Slowly, absently he retraced his steps, listening to the strange sounds, a pleading, choking, girlish voice, soothing words in the gentle, loving woman's sweet tones, the occasional gruff monosyllables from the General himself. Strain reached the library again in something like a dream, finding Petty stalking up and down, tugging at his slim mustache, and nervously expectant of further question, but none came. They were startled by the quick, hurried footsteps of the General, as he waddled back to join them, and burst in, red-faced, ruffled, apoplectic.
”Strain--Petty, this thing has got to be settled somehow at once! That young woman--Ugh! d.a.m.n the gout! Here, Strain--Don't you go, Petty; you won't do--Hold on! Yes, you'll have to, by Jove! There's no time to be lost. Go and say to Mr. Loring, with my compliments, I desire to see him a moment in the morning before he sails, and-d--He's--he's released from arrest--It's all--it's all--well, not all of it, but--d.a.m.nation! I can't explain now. Go Petty--go! Tell him he's released--relieved, and Strain, you issue the order relieving him at once, and directing him to proceed without delay to his new station. I want to get the order out before those d.a.m.ned fellows at Was.h.i.+ngton can order it themselves. What's that you've got?”
”It's the order from those d.a.m.ned fellows at Was.h.i.+ngton,” said Strain.
CHAPTER XVIII.
Once upon a time a very level-headed old soldier was commandant of cadets at West Point, and one day one of his a.s.sistants, an energetic young officer, came hastily in to say that he had just happened upon a cadet duel at Fort Clinton, had captured one of the partic.i.p.ants and placed him under arrest, but the princ.i.p.als, seconds and most of those present had managed to escape. The veteran listened grimly a moment and then said:
”Were they actually fighting when you got wind of it?”
”Yes, sir,” was the earnest reply. ”Anybody could have heard them.”
”Um,” said the colonel, reflectively. ”Then I think you--erred in interfering. Couldn't you have got there just a little later?”
”But the regulations prohibit fighting, sir!” said the junior, aggrieved.
”Certainly, and your course promotes it. You see they were already at it. Five minutes more would have settled the thing one way or another, and that would have been the end of it. They would have shaken hands and been good friends. Now, neither of them has had enough. Each believes he can whip the other, and those youngsters will neither be able to sleep nor study till they've fought it out. Always prevent a quarrel when you can, but once they get going, never stop a square fight, never see or hear it--until you know it's over.”
In like manner a wiser head than that which dictated the telegraphic instructions to the department commander that night, would have seen that it was far better for all parties in the mix at San Francisco if Mr. Loring had been detained there long enough to have the matter investigated from start to finish, and so to ”fix the responsibility.”
It was not of vital importance that he should sail by first steamer, but there had been friction between this particular General and the Engineers, between him and the adjutant-general, between him and the secretary of war, between him and the division commander, then temporarily absent, and a general who differs with so many eminent and astute authorities as these enumerated must occasionally err in judgment. Had Loring stayed and been accorded a complete investigation, the chances are that he and the General would have shaken hands and parted friends, for both had sterling qualities. But orders given in compliance with orders from superiors are sometimes given only grudgingly. The General had heard in that brief interview with his late-at-night callers enough to convince him that the harshest charges laid at Loring's door belonged elsewhere. But there were things Loring had been too proud to explain. There was his insubordinate--so the General regarded it--appeal over his commander's head to the bureau in Was.h.i.+ngton. There was his defiance of his envoy and representative, Captain Petty. There were lots of little things that ruffled the dignity of the veteran autocrat, especially the somewhat peremptory tone of the dispatch from the War Department, and the General felt himself wronged by his superiors. Strain, too, suffered in his own estimate, and Petty was fuming with pent-up wrath and hate against that cool, supercilious, contemptuous upstart of an Engineer. Who in blazes was he anyhow? What was his family? What his social status? demanded Petty to himself, even though he knew that these were matters whereof our democratic military system took no thought whatever. It is the proud boast of the American Army that neither wealth nor name nor ancestry can count in the long race for the stars. In these glad days of peace and national prosperity, the officer is speedily taught that promotion is the result of only one of two things, patient waiting or political influence.
And so it resulted that when Walter Loring steamed away southward on the long run for the States, he left behind an unsettled fight, three or four aggrieved officials--aggrieved because of him or his affairs and their mismanagement of both--and one inveterate enemy. He had plenty of time to think it all over after he was fairly at sea, but none before.
He and Dennis needed every moment to get his belongings aboard and his business closed. He called upon the General as directed and stood in respectful silence while that choleric warrior paced up and down the room and explained his position. He wished Mr. Loring to understand that while he felt that the young officer had behaved with disrespect, at least with disregard of his commanding general, the latter was too magnanimous to stand in his way, and had therefore determined the evening previous to release him from arrest and from further duty that he might lose no time in ”joining” his new station, even went so far as to say he had found much--very much to commend in the young gentleman and his performance of duty in Arizona, and, but for the unfortunate entanglements that had resulted, would have taken pleasure in making public announcement of the fact. He could not but deprecate the conduct of Mr. Loring's friends in Was.h.i.+ngton, and might find it necessary to appeal to the President for justice. Meantime, however, he desired Mr.
Loring to know that no personal consideration had actuated his conduct.
He had done what he believed to be his duty, and then, like the orator, the General paused for reply.
Mr. Loring stood in civilian dress and soldier att.i.tude, hat in hand, an attentive listener, never interposing a word or hazarding a remark. When the General stopped the lieutenant remained silent and standing. The General looked perturbed, halted and glared, as much as to say, ”Why the devil don't you speak?” a thing Loring never did when he had nothing to say. The chief found it necessary to begin anew, but broke off presently. ”You understand, do you not?”
”Yes, sir,” said Loring.
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