Special Messenger - Robert Chambers

Robert W. Chambers

Special Messenger

Thou hast given a banner to them that fear Thee, that it may be displayed because of the truth.

PREFACE

In the personality and exploits of the Special Messenger, the author has been assured that a celebrated historical character is recognizableMiss Boyd, the famous Confederate scout and spy.

It is not uncommon that the readers of a book know more about that book than the author.

PART ONE

WHAT SHE WAS

I

NONCOMBATANTS

About five oclock that evening a Rhode Island battery clanked through the village and parked six dusty guns in a pasture occupied by some astonished cows.

A little later the cavalry arrived, riding slowly up the tree-shaded street, escorted by every darky and every dog in the country-side.

The clothing of this regiment was a little out of the ordinary. Instead of the usual campaign head gear the troopers wore forage caps strapped under their chins, heavy visors turned down, and their officers were conspicuous in fur-trimmed hussar tunics slung from the shoulders of dark-blue shell jackets; but most unusual and most interesting of all, a mounted cavalry band rode ahead, led by a bandmaster who sat his horse like a colonel of regularsa slim young man with considerable yellow and gold on his faded blue sleeves, and an easy manner of swinging forward his heavy cut-and-thrust sabre as he guided the column through the metropolitan labyrinths of Sandy River.

Sandy River had seen and scowled at Yankee cavalry before, but never before had the inhabitants had an opportunity to ignore a mounted band and bandmaster. There was, of course, no cheering; a handkerchief fluttered from a gallery here and there, but Sandy River was loyal only in spots, and the cavalry pressed past groups of silent people, encountering the averted heads or scornful eyes of young girls and the cold hatred in the faces of gray-haired gentlewomen, who turned their backs as the ragged guidons bobbed past and the village street rang with the clink-clank of scabbards and rattle of Spencer carbines.

But there was a small boy on a pony who sat entranced as the weather-ravaged squadrons trampled by. Cap in hand, straight in his saddle, he saluted the passing flag; a sunburnt trooper called out: Thats right, son! Bully for you!

The boy turned his pony and raced along the column under a running fire of approving chaff from the men, until he came abreast of the bandmaster once more, at whom he stared with fascinated and uncloyed satisfaction.

Into a broad common wheeled the cavalry; the boy followed on his pony, guiding the little beast in among the mounted men, edging as close as possible to the bandmaster, who had drawn bridle and wheeled his showy horse abreast of a group of officers. When the boy had crowded up as close as possible to the bandmaster he sat in silence, blissfully drinking in the splendors of that warriors dusty apparel.

Im right glad you-all have come, ventured the boy.

The bandmaster swung round in his saddle and saw a small sun-tanned face and two wide eyes intently fixed on his.

I reckon you dont know how glad my sister and I are to see you down here, said the boy politely. When are you going to have a battle?

A battle! repeated the bandmaster.

Yes, sir. Youre going to fight, of course, arent you?

Not if people leave us aloneand leave that railroad alone, replied the officer, backing his restive horse to the side of the fence as the troopers trotted past into the meadow, fours crowding closely on fours.

Not fight? exclaimed the boy, astonished. Isnt there going to be a battle?

Ill let you know when theres going to be one, said the bandmaster absently.

You wont forget, will you? inquired the boy. My name is William Stuart Westcote, and I live in that house. He pointed with his riding whip up the hill. You wont forget, will you?

No, child, I wont forget.

My sister Celia calls me Billy; perhaps you had better just ask her for Billy if Im not there when you gallop up to tell methat is, if youre coming yourself. Are you? he ended wistfully.

Do you want me to come? inquired the bandmaster, amused.

Would you really come? cried the boy. Would you really come to visit me?

Ill consider it, said the bandmaster gravely.

Do you think you could come to-night? asked the boy. Wed certainly be glad to see youmy sister and I. Folks around here like the Malletts and the Colvins and the Garnetts dont visit us any more, and its lonesome sometimes.

I think that you should ask your sister first, suggested the bandmaster.

Why? Shes loyal! exclaimed the boy earnestly. Besides, youre coming to visit me, I reckon. Arent you?

Certainly, said the bandmaster hastily.

To-night?

Ill do my best, Billy.

The boy held out a shy hand; the officer bent from his saddle and took it in his soiled buckskin gauntlet.

Good night, my son, he said, without a smile, and rode off into the meadow among a crowd of troopers escorting the regimental wagons.

A few moments later a child on a pony tore into the weed-grown drive leading to the great mansion on the hill, scaring a lone darky who had been dawdling among the roses.

Clar tu goodness, Mars Willm, I done tuk you foh de Black Hoss Cavly! said the ancient negro reproachfully. Hi! Hi! Wha foh you mek all dat fuss an a-gwine-on?

Oh, Mose! cried the boy, Ive seen the Yankee cavalry, and they have a horse band, and I rode with them, and I asked a general when they were going to have a battle, and the general said hed let me know!

Ginral? demanded the old darky suspiciously; who dat ginral dat gwine tell you bout de battle? Was he drivin de six-mule team, or was he dess a-totin a sack o con? Kin you splain dat, Mars Willm?

Dont you think I know a general when I see one? exclaimed the boy scornfully. He had yellow and gilt on his sleeves, and he carried a sabre, and he rode first of all. Andoh, Mose! Hes coming here to pay me a visit! Perhaps hell come to-night; he said he would if he could.

Dat ginral low he gwine come here? muttered the darky. Spec you better see Miss Celia fo you ax dis here ginral.

Im going to ask her now, said the boy. She certainly will be glad to see one of our own men. Who cares if all the niggers have run off? Were not ashamedand, anyhow, youre here to bring in the decanters for the general.

Shoo, honey, you might talk dat-a-way ef yo pa wuz in de house, grumbled the old man. Ef hits done fix, nobody kin onfix it. But dess yo leave dem ginrals whar dey is nex time, Mars Willm. Hit wuz a ginral dat done tuk de Dominiker hen las time de bluecots come to San River.

The boy, sitting entranced in reverie, scarcely heard him; and it was only when a far trumpet blew from the camp in the valley that he started in his saddle and raised his rapt eyes to the windows. Somebody had hung out a Union flag over the jasmine-covered portico.

There it is! There it is, Mose! he cried excitedly, scrambling from his saddle. Heretake the bridle! And the very minute you hear the general dashing into the drive, let me know!

He ran jingling up the resounding verandahe wore his fathers spursand mounted the stairs, two at a jump, calling: Celia! Celia! Youll be glad to know that a general who is a friend of mine

Hush, Billy, said his sister, checking him on the landing and leading him out to the gallery from which the flag hung; cant you remember that grandfather is asleep by sundown? Nowwhat is it, dear, you wish to tell me?

Oh, I forgot; truly I did, Celiabut a general is coming to visit me to-night, if you can possibly manage it, and Im so glad you hung out the flagand Moses can serve the Madeira, cant he?

What general? inquired his sister uneasily. And her brothers explanations made matters no clearer. You remember what the Yankee cavalry did before, she said anxiously. You must be careful, Billy, now that the quarters are empty and theres not a soul in the place except Mose.

But, Celia! the general is a gentleman. I shook hands with him!

Very well, dear, she said, passing one arm around his neck and leaning forward over the flag. The sun was dipping between a cleft in the hills, flinging out long rosy beams across the misty valley. The mocking birds had ceased, but a thrasher was singing in a tangle of Cherokee roses under the western windows.

While they stood there the sun dipped so low that nothing remained except a glowing scarlet rim.

Hark! whispered the boy. Far away an evening gunshot set soft echoes tumbling from hill to hill, distant, more distant. Strains of the cavalry band rose in the evening silence, The Star Spangled Banner floating from the darkening valley. Then silence; and presently a low, sweet thrush note from the dusky garden.

It was after supper, when the old darky had lighted the dipsthere being no longer any oil or candles to be hadthat the thrush, who had been going into interminable ecstasies of fluty trills, suddenly became mute. A jingle of metal sounded from the garden, a step on the porch, a voice inquiring for Mr. Westcote; and old Mose replying with reproachful dignity: Mars Wescote, suh? Mars Wescote daid, suh.

Thats my friend, the general! exclaimed Billy, leaping from his chair. Mose, you fool nigger, why dont you ask the general to come in? he whispered fiercely; then, as befitted the master of the house, he walked straight out into the hall, small hand outstretched, welcoming his guest as he had seen his father receive a stranger of distinction. I am so glad you came, he said, crimson with pleasure. Moses will take your cap and cloak Mose!

The old servant shuffled forward, much impressed by the uniform revealed as the long blue mantle fell across his own ragged sleeve.

Do you know why I came, Billy? asked the bandmaster, smiling.

I reckon it was because you promised to, wasnt it? inquired the child.

Certainly, said the bandmaster hastily. And I promised to come because I have a brother about your ageway up in New York. Shall we sit here on the veranda and talk about him?

First, said the boy gravely, my sister Celia will receive you.

He turned, leading the way to the parlor with inherited self-possession; and there, through the wavering light of a tallow dip, the bandmaster saw a young girl in black rising from a chair by the center table; and he brought his spurred heels together and bowed his very best bow.

My brother, she said, has been so anxious to bring one of our officers here. Two weeks ago the Yanthe Federal cavalry passed through, chasing Carringtons Horse out of Oxley Court House, but there was no halt here. She resumed her seat with a gesture toward a chair opposite; the bandmaster bowed again and seated himself, placing his sabre between his knees.

Our cavalry advance did not behave very well in Oxley, he said.

They took a few chickens en passant, she said, smiling; but had they asked for them we would have been glad to give. We are loyal, you know.

Those gay jayhawkers were well disciplined for that business when Stannard took them over, said the bandmaster grimly. Had they behaved themselves, we should have had ten friends here where we have one now.

The boy listened earnestly. Would you please tell me, he asked, whether you have decided to have a battle pretty soon?

I dont decide such matters, said the bandmaster, laughing.

Why, I thought a general could always have a battle when he wanted to! insisted the boy, surprised.

But Im not a general, Billy, replied the young fellow, coloring. Did you think I was?

My brothers ideas are very vague, said his sister quickly; any officer who fights is a general to him.

Im sorry, said the bandmaster, looking at the child, but do you know, I am not even a fighting officer? I am only the regimental bandmaster, Billya noncombatant.

For an instant the boys astonished disappointment crushed out his inbred courtesy as host. His sister, mortified but self-possessed, broke the strained silence with a quiet question or two concerning the newly arrived troops; and the bandmaster replied, looking at the boy.

Billy, silent, immersed in reflection, sat with curly head bent and hands folded on his knees. His sister glanced at him, looked furtively at the bandmaster, and their eyes met. He smiled, and she returned the smile; and he looked at Billy and smiled again.

Billy, he said, Ive been sailing under false colors, it seemsbut you hoisted them. I think I ought to go.

The boy looked up at him, startled.

Good night, said the bandmaster gravely, rising to his lean height from the chair beside the table. The boy flushed to his hair.

Dont go, he said; I like you even if you dont fight!

Then the bandmaster began to laugh, and the boys sister bit her lip and looked at her brother.

Billy! Billy! she said, catching his hands in hers, do you think the only brave men are those who gallop into battle?

Hands imprisoned in his sisters, he looked up at the bandmaster.

If you were ordered to fight, youd fight, wouldnt you? he asked.

Under those improbable circumstances I think I might, admitted the young fellow, solemnly reseating himself.

Celia! Do you hear what he says? cried the boy.

I hear, said his sister gently. Now sit very still while Moses serves the Madeira; only half a glass for Mr. William, Mosesno, not one drop more!

Moses served the wine with pomp and circumstance; the lean young bandmaster looked straight at the boys sister and rose, bowing with a grace that instantly entranced the aged servant.

Celia, said the boy, we must drink to the flag, you know; and the young girl rose from her chair, and, looking at the bandmaster, touched her lips to the glass.

I wish they could see us, said the boy, the Colvins and the Malletts. Ive heard their Bonnie Blue Flag and their stirrup toasts until Im sick

Billy! said his sister quietly. And reseating herself and turning to the bandmaster, Our neighbors differ with us, she said, and my brother cannot understand it. I have to remind him that if they were not brave men our army would have been victorious, and there would have been no more war after Bull Run.

The bandmaster assented thoughtfully. Once or twice his worn eyes swept the rooma room that made him homesick for his own. It had been a long time since he had sat in a chair in a room like thisa long time since he had talked with women and children. Perhaps the boys sister divined something of his thoughtshe was not much older than shefor, as he rose, hooking up his sabre, and stepped forward to take his leave, she stood up, too, offering her hand.