Part 58 (2/2)
”G.o.d bless you, soldiers! Fight for us!”
Four hours later the black gunboats swung at their anchors. The proud little conquered city lay at the mercy of their guns.
Jennie watched them with s.h.i.+ning eyes, and that without fear. The Union flag was streaming from every peak and halyard.
The girl rushed home, made a flag five inches long, pinned it to her shoulder and deliberately walked down town. Mattie Morgan joined her at the corner and drew one from the folds of her dress, emboldened by the example.
They marched straight to the State House terrace to take a good look at the _Brooklyn_ lying close insh.o.r.e. Fifteen or twenty Federal officers were standing on the first terrace, stared at by the crowd as if they were wild beasts.
”Oh, Mattie,” Jennie faltered. ”We didn't expect to meet these people.
What shall we do?”
”Stand by your colors now. There's nothing else to do.”
On they marched, hearts thumping painfully with conscious humiliation at their silly bravado. Fine, n.o.ble-looking, quiet fellows those officers in blue--refinement and gentlemanly bearing in every movement of their stalwart bodies. They had come ash.o.r.e as friendly sightseers and stood admiring the beauty of the quaint old town. Jennie's eyes filled with tears of vexation.
”Let's go home, Mattie--”
”I say so, too--”
”Never again for me! I'll hang my flag on the mantel. I'll not try to wave it in the face of a gentleman again--oof--what silly fools we were!”
The Federal commander of the fleet had warned the citizens of Baton Rouge that any hostile demonstration against his s.h.i.+ps or men would mean the instant bombardment of the town.
Jennie had just finished breakfast and helped her grandmother to find her way to the rocker. Mandy had been sent to the store for some thread with which to make a new uniform for one of the boys. Jennie resolved to turn her energies to practical account now. No more flaunting of tiny flags in the faces of brave, dignified young officers of the navy.
The maid rushed through the hall wild with excitement. She had run every step back from the store without the thread.
”Lowdy, Miss Jennie,” she gasped, ”sumfin' awful happened!”
”What is it? What's the matter?”
Mandy stood in dumb terror, the whites of her eyes s.h.i.+ning. She was listening apparently for the arch-angel's trumpet to sound.
Jennie seized her shoulders.
”What's the matter? Tell me before I murder you!”
”Ya.s.sam!” Mandy gasped and again her head was c.o.c.ked to one side as if straining her ears for the dreaded sound of Gabriel.
”What's happened?--Tell me!” Jennie stormed.
At last poor Mandy's senses slowly returned. She stared into her young mistress' face and gasped:
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