Part 30 (1/2)

DESTINY

On Sunday, having risen early--though not so early as the post relief, whose day begins as soon as a sentry can see clearly for a thousand yards--I dressed me by the rosy light of the rising sun, and, before I breakfasted, wrote a long letter to my parents, who, as I have said, were now residing near Paris, where my great-grandfather's estate lay.

When I had finished my letter, sanded and sealed it, I went out to leave it with the packages of post matter collected from the French regiments across the Hudson, and destined for France by an early packet, which was to sail as soon as the long-expected French fleet arrived from the West Indies.

I delivered my letter to the staff-officer detailed for that duty, and then, hearing military music, went back to the Blue Fox in time to see a funeral of an officer slowly pa.s.sing eastward, gun-carriage, horses, men, in strange silhouette against the level and dazzling white disk of the rising sun. Truly, the slow cortege seemed moving straight into the flaming gates of heaven, the while their solemn music throbbed and throbbed with the double drum-beat at the finish of each line. The tune was called ”Funeral Thoughts.” They changed to ”Roslyn Castle” as they crossed the bridge; yet an hour had scarce pa.s.sed when I heard their volley-firing not very far away, and back they came, the Fife-Major leading, drums, fifes, and light-infantry horns gaily sounding ”The Pioneer,” and the men swinging back briskly to fall in with the Church details, now marching in from every direction to the admonitory timing of a single drum-beat.

The music had awakened Elsin, and presently she came a-tapping at my door, barefoot, her cardinal tightly wrapped around her, hair tumbled, drowsily rubbing her heavy lids.

”Good morning, Carus,” she said sleepily. ”I should dearly like to hear a good, strong sermon on d.a.m.nation to-day--being sensible of my present state of sin, and of yours. Do they preach h.e.l.l-fire in Rebeldom?”

”The landlord says that Hazen's mixed brigade and other troops go to service in the hay-field above the bridge,” I answered, laughing.

”Shall we ride thither?”

She nodded, yawning, then pulling her foot-mantle closer about her shoulders, pattered back into her chamber, and I went below and ordered our horses saddled, and breakfast to be served us as soon as might be.

And so it happened that, ere the robins had done caroling their morning songs, and the far, sweet anthems of the hermit-birds still rang in dewy woodlands, Elsin and I dismounted in Granger's hay-field just as the troops marched up in a long, dense column, the ma.s.sed music of many regiments ahead, but only a single drum timing the steady tread.

All was done in perfect decorum and order. A hay-wagon was the pulpit; around it the drummers piled their drums, tier rising on tier; the ensigns draped the national colors over the humble platform, setting regimental and state standards at the corners; and I noted there some curious flags, one borne by a Ma.s.sachusetts battalion, white, with a green tree on it; another, a yellow naval flag with a coiled rattlesnake; another, carried by a company of riflemen, on which was this design:

1776.

XI VIRGINIA REG'T,

and I knew that I was looking upon the famous regimental standard of Morgan's Rifles.

Without confusion, with only a low-spoken command here and there, battalion after battalion marched up, stacked arms, forming three sides of a hollow square, the pulpit, with its flags and tiers of drums, making the fourth side. The men stood at ease, hands loosely clasped and hanging in front of them. The brigade chaplain quietly crossed the square to his rude pulpit, mounted it, and, as he bowed his head in prayer, every c.o.c.ked hat came off, every head was lowered.

Country-folk, yokels, farmers, had gathered from all directions; invalids from the camp hospitals were there, too, faces clay-color, heads and limbs heavily bandaged. One of these, a sergeant of the New York line, who wore a crimson heart sewed on his breast, was led to his place between two comrades, he having both eyes shot out; and the chaplain looked at him hard for a moment, then gave out the hymn, leading the singing in a deep, full voice:

”Through darkest night I know that Thou canst see.

Night blinds my sight, Yet my small voice shall praise Thee constantly.

Under Thy wing, Whose shadow blinds mine eyes, Fearless I sing Thy sweetness and Thy mercy to the skies!”

The swelling voices of the soldiers died away. Standing there between our horses, Elsin's young voice still echoing in my ears, I looked up at the placid face of the preacher, saw his quiet glance sweep the congregation, saw something glimmer in his eyes, and his lips tighten as he laid open his Bible, and, extending his right arm, turn to the south, menacing the distant city with his awful text:

”The horseman lifteth up the bright sword and the glittering spear!

”Woe to the b.l.o.o.d.y city! The chariots shall rage in the streets, they shall jostle one against another in the _broad ways_! They shall seem like torches, they shall run like the lightnings. They shall make haste to the wall; the defense shall be prepared.

”For that day is a day of wrath, a day of trouble and distress, a day of darkness and gloom, a day of clouds and thick darkness.

”A day of the trumpet and alarm against _fenced cities_, and against high towers.

”For the horseman lifteth up the bright sword.... Woe to the b.l.o.o.d.y city!”

Out over the sunlit fields rang the words of Zephaniah and of Nahum. I saw the motionless ranks suddenly straighten; a thousand sunburned faces were upturned, a thousand pairs of eyes fastened themselves upon the steady eyes of the preacher.

For an hour he spoke to them, beginning with his Excellency's ever-to-be-remembered admonition: ”To the character of a patriot it should be our highest glory to add the more distinguished character of a Christian”; then continued upon that theme nearest the hearts of all, the a.s.sault upon New York, which everybody now deemed imminent, thrilling the congregation with hope, inspiring them with high endeavor. I remember that he deprecated revenge, although the score was heavy enough! I remember he preached dignity and composure in adversity, mercy in victory, and at the word his voice rang with prophecy, and the long ranks stirred as dry leaves stir in a sudden wind.