Bricks Without Straw Part 12

"An' d'ye hear that, b'ys? Shure the gintleman wants to thrate the Gineral. Faith it'll be right glad the auld b'y'll be of a dhrap of somethin' good down here in the pine woods."

"Can I see the General, gentlemen?" asked Desmit, with a growing feeling that he had taken the wrong course to accomplish his end.

The crowd of "b.u.mmers" constantly grew larger. They were mounted upon horses and mules, jacks and jennets, and one of them had put a "McClellan saddle" and a gag-bit upon one of the black polled cattle which abound in that region, and which ambled easily and briskly along with his rider's feet just brushing the low "poverty-pines"

which grew by the roadside. They wore all sorts of clothing. The blue and the gray were already peacefully intermixed in the garments of most of them. The most grotesque variety prevailed especially in their head-gear, which culminated in the case of one who wore a long, barrel-shaped, slatted sun-bonnet made out of spotted calico.

They were boisterous and even amusing, had they not been well armed and apparently without fear or reverence for any authority or individual. For the present, the Irishman was evidently in command, by virtue of his witty tongue.

"Can ye see the Gineral, Kurnel?" said he, with the utmost apparent deference; "av coorse ye can, sir, only it'll be necessary for you to lave your carriage an' the horses and the nagur here in the care of these gintlemen, while I takes ye to the Gineral mesilf."

"Why can I not drive on?"

"Why can't ye dhrive? Is it a Kurnel ye is, an' don't know that?

Shure the cavalry an' the arthillery an' the caysons an' one thing an' another of that kind would soon crush a chayriot like that to flinders, ye know."

"I cannot leave my carriage," said Desmit.

"Mein Gott, shust hear him now I" said a voice on the other side, which caused Desmit to turn with a start. A bearded German, with a pair of myoptic gla.s.ses adding their glare to the peculiar intensity of the short-sighted gaze, had climbed upon the opposite wheel during his conversation with Pat, and leaning half through the window was scanning carefully the inside of the carriage. He had already one hand on the demijohn of peach-brandy upon which the owner's hopes so much depended. Potetsatem Desmit was no coward, and his gold-headed cane made the acquaintance of the Dutchman's poll before he had time to utter a word of protestation.

It was all over in a minute, then. There was a rush and a scramble.

The old man was dragged out of his carriage, fighting manfully but vainly. Twenty hands laid hold upon him. The gold-headed cane vanished; the gold-mounted gla.s.ses disappeared; his watch leaped from his pocket, and the chain was soon dangling at the fob of one of the still laughing marauders. Then one insisted that his hat was unbecoming for a colonel, and a battered and dirty infantry cap with a half-obliterated corps badge and regimental number was jammed down on his gray hairs; he was required to remove his coat, and then another took a fancy to his vest. The one who took his coat gave him in exchange a very ragged, greasy, and altogether disgusting cavalry jacket, much too short, and not large enough to b.u.t.ton. The carriage was almost torn in pieces in the search for treasure. Swords and bayonets were thrust through the panelling; the cushions were ripped open, the cover torn off, and every possible hiding-place examined. Then thinking it must be about his person, they compelled him to take off his boots and stockings. In their stead a pair of almost soleless shoes were thrown him by one who appropriated the boots.

Meantime the Irishman had distributed the contents of the demijohn, after having filled his own canteen. Then there was great hilarity.

The taste of the "colonel" was loudly applauded; his health was drunk, and it was finally decided to move on with him in charge.

The "b.u.mmer" who rode the polled ox had, in the mean time, shifted his saddle to one of the carriage-horses, and kindly offered the steer to the "colonel." One who had come upon foot had already mounted the other horse. The driver performed a last service for his master, now pale, trembling, and tearful at the insults and atrocities he was called on to undergo, by spreading one of the carriage cushions over the animal's back and helping the queerly-habited potentate to mount his insignificant steed. It was better than marching through the hot sand on foot, however.

When they reached the little hamlet which had grown up around his collection of turpentine distilleries they saw a strange sight.

The road which bore still further to the southward was full of blue-coated soldiers, who marched along with the peculiar swinging gait which marked the army that "went down to the sea." Beyond the low bridge, under a clump of pines which had been spared for shade, stood a group of hors.e.m.e.n, one of whom read a slip of paper, or rather shouted its contents to the soldiery as they pa.s.sed, while he flourished the paper above his head. Instantly the column was in an uproar. Caps were thrown into the air, voices grew hoa.r.s.e with shouting; frantic gesticulation, tearful eyes and laughter, yells, inane antics, queer combinations of sacrilegious oaths and absurd embraces were everywhere to be seen and heard.

"Who is that?" asked Desmit of the Irishman, near whom he had kept, pointing to the leading man of the group under the tree.

"Faith, Kurnel, that is Gineral-----. Would ye like an inthroduction, Kurnel?"

"Yes, yes," said Desmit impatiently.

"Thin come wid me. Shure I'll give ye one, an' tell him ye sint him a dhrink of auld pache to cilebrate the good news with. Come along, thin!"

Just as they stepped upon the bridge Desmit heard a lank Hoosier ask,

"What is in them bar'ls?"

And some one answered,

"Turpentine."

"Hooray!" said the first. "A bonfire!" "Hurry! hurry!" Desmit cried to his guide.

"Come on thin, auld gintleman. It's mesilf that'll not go back on a man that furnishes a good dhram for so joyful an occasion."

They dismounted, and, pressing their way through the surging ma.s.s on the bridge, approached the group under the pines.

"Gineral," said the Irishman, taking off the silk hat which Desmit had worn and waving it in the air; "Gineral, I have the honor to inthroduce to ye anl auld gintleman--one av the vera furst families--that's come out to mate ye, an' begs that ye'll taste jest a dhrap av the finest auld pache that ivver ran over yer tongue, jist ter cilebrate this vera joyful occasion,"

He waved his hat toward Desmit, and handed up his canteen at once.

The act was full of the audacity of his race, but the news had overthrown all sense of discipline. The officer even lifted the canteen to his lips, and no doubt finding Pat's a.s.sertion as to its quality to be true allowed a reasonable quant.i.ty of its aromatic contents to glide down his throat, and then handed it to one of his companions.

"General! General!" shrieked Desmit in desperation, as he rushed forward.

"What do you want, sir?" said the officer sternly.

There was a rush, a crackle, and a still louder shout.

Both turned and saw a tongue of red flame with a black, sooty tip leap suddenly skyward. The great ma.s.s of naval stores was fired, and no power on earth could save a barrel of them now. Desmit staggered to the nearest tree, and faint and trembling watched the flame. How it raged! How the barrels burst and the liquid flame poured over the ground and into the river! Still it burned! The whole earth seemed aflame! How the black billows of heavy smoke poured upward, hiding the day! The wind shifted and swept the smoke-wave over above the crowding, hustling, shouting column. It began to rain, but under the ma.s.s of heavy smoke the group at the pines stood dry.

And still, out of the two openings in the dark pines upon the other side of the stream, poured the two blue-clad, steel-crowned columns! Still the staff officer shouted the glad tidings, "_Lee--surrendered--unconditionally_.'" Still waved aloft the dispatch! Still the boundless forests rang with shouts! Still the fierce flame raged, and from the column which had gone into the forest beyond came back the solemn chant, which sounded at that moment like the fateful voice of an avenging angel;

"John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the grave; His soul is marching on!"

One who looked upon the scene thinks of it always when he reads of the last great day--the boundless flame--the fervent heat--the shouts--the thousands like the sands of the sea--all are not to be forgotten until the likeness merges into the dread reality!

The Irishman touched Desmit as he leaned against the pine.

"War that yours, misther?" he asked, not unkindly.

Desmit nodded affirmatively.

"Here," said the other, extending his canteen. "There's a drink left. Take it."

Desmit took it with a trembling hand, and drained it to the last drop.

"That's right," said the Irishman sympathetically. "I'm right sorry for ye, misther, that I am; but don't ye nivver give up heart.

There's more turpentine where that come from, and this thing's over now. I couldn't find yer bull for ye, mister, but here's a mule.

Ye'd better jest take him and git away from here before this row's over. n.o.body'll miss ye now."

Two weeks afterward a queerly clad figure rode up to the elegant mansion of Colonel Potestatem Desmit, overlooking the pleasant town of Louisburg in the county of Horsford, and found a party of Federal officers lounging upon his wide porches and making merry after war's alarums!

CHAPTER XIII.

NEGOTIATING A TREATY.

Not only did Colonel Desmit lose his cotton and naval stores; but the funds which he had invested, with cautious foresight, in the bonds of the State and the issues of its banks, were also made worthless by the result of the war. Contrary to the expectations of the most prudent and far-seeing, the bonds issued by the States in rebellion during the period of war, were declared to be attaint with treason, and by the supreme power of the land were forbidden to be paid. In addition to this he found himself what was properly termed "land-poor." The numerous small plantations which he had acquired in different parts of the country, in pursuance of his original and inherited design of acquiring wealth by slave-culture, though intrinsically very valuable, were just at this time in the highest degree unavailable. All lands had depreciated to a considerable extent, but the high price of cotton had tempted many Northern settlers and capitalists into that belt of country where this staple had been most successfully raised, and their purchases, as well as the continued high price of the staple, had kept up the prices of cotton-lands far beyond all others.

Then, too, the lack of ready money throughout the country and the general indebtedness made an absolute dearth of buyers. In the four years of war there had been no collections. The courts had been debarred from judgment and execution. The sheriff had been without process, the lawyer without fees, the creditor without his money.

Few indeed had taken advantage of this state of affairs to pay debts. Money had been as plenty as the forest leaves in autumn, and almost as valueless. The creditor had not desired to realize on his securities, and few debtors had cared to relieve themselves.

There had come to be a sort of general belief that when the war ended there would be a jubilee for all debtors--that each one would hold what he had, and that a promise to pay would no more trouble or make afraid even the most timid soul. So that when the courts came to be unchained and the torrent of judgments and executions poured forth under their seals, the whole country was flooded with bankruptcy. Almost n.o.body could pay. A few, by deft use of present advantages, gathered means to discharge their own liabilities and take advantage of the failure of others to do so. Yet they were few indeed. On every court-house the advertis.e.m.e.nts of sale covered the panels of the door and overflowed upon the walls. Thousands of homesteads, aye, hundreds of thousands of homes--millions of acres--were sold almost for a song--frequently less than a shilling an acre, generally less than a dollar.

Colonel Desmit had not been an exception to these rules. He had not paid the obligations maturing during the war simply because he knew he could not be compelled to do so. Instead of that, he had invested his surplus in lands, cotton, and naval stores. Now the evil day was not far off, as he knew, and he had little to meet it.