My Cave Life in Vicksburg Part 7

I stood in the doorway and caught my first sight of the Federal uniform since the surrender. That afternoon the road was filled with them, walking about, looking at the forts and the headquarter horses: wagons also filled the road, drawn by the handsome United States horses. Poor M----, after keeping his horse upon mulberry leaves during the forty-eight days, saw him no more! After the surrender in the evening, George rode into the city on his mule: thinking to "shine," as the negroes say, he rode M----'s handsome, silver-mounted dragoon-saddle. I could not help laughing when he returned, with a sorry face, reporting himself safe, but the saddle gone.

M---- questioned and requestioned him, aghast at his loss; for a saddle was a valuable article in our little community; and George, who felt as badly as any one, said: "I met a Yankee, who told me: 'Git down off dat mule; I'm gwin' to hab dat saddle.' I said: 'No; I ain't gwin' to do no such thing.' He took out his pistol, and I jumped down."

So Mister George brought back to M---- a saddle that better befitted his mule than the one he rode off on--a much worn, common affair, made of wood. I felt sorry for M----. That evening George brought evil news again: another horse had been taken. His remaining horse and his only saddle finished the news of the day.

The next morning, Monday, as I was pa.s.sing through the cave, I saw something stirring at the base of one of the supports of the roof: taking a second look, I beheld a large snake curled between the earth and the upright post. I went out quickly and sent one of the servants for M----, who, coming up immediately, took up his sword and fastened one of the folds of the reptile to the post. It gave one quick dart toward him, with open jaws. Fortunately, the length of the sword was greater than the upper length of body; and the snake fell to the earth a few inches from M----, who set his heel firmly on it, and severed the head from the body with the sword. I have never seen so large a snake; it was fully as large round the body as the bowl of a good-sized gla.s.s tumbler, and over two yards long.

CHAPTER XXV.

A FRIGHT--GEORGE MY PROTECTOR--A POLITE SOLDIER GETS THE TENT FLY.

In the afternoon, M---- went into the city, with some of the officers, to make arrangements for me. I was much amused, though I did not let them see it, as they set off on their poor mulberry-fed horses. M---- had been presented by some one, after the loss of his horse, with a little, lame, subdued-looking animal, to whom food of any kind seemed a rarity; and the poor horse ambled along as if he considered his weight a great affliction.

Our whole little household had been drawn out to witness the departure of the brilliant (?) cavalcade.

Afterward, as I sat with a book at the entrance, I heard steps, and, looking up, I saw a large, burly negro, with a most disagreeable face, dressed in Federal uniform, and armed, coming up the little path that led to the cave. As he advanced toward me, I sprang to my feet; but George, who was luckily near, crossed over from the "sa.s.safras bed," carving knife in hand, with which he was digging some of the root. Standing between us, he said: "Where are you gwin', old man?" "None your business," he returned, pausing a moment. I was just on the point of calling for some of the gentlemen at headquarters, when he turned and went round the cave on the hill. "I'll make dis knife show you what's your business," growled George. Poor George! he had been my faithful defender throughout all my vicissitudes in Vicksburg.

Soon after, George came to me in a great state of excitement, and said: "Oh! Miss Mary, a Yankee soldier was just going with our tent fly from the top of the cave, and I made him stop and leave it." A Federal soldier came down the side of the hill, stopped, and took my little daughter's hand and said some pleasant words to her; turned to me, touching his hat, with a smile, and said, "Good morning." I bowed in return, while a lucky thought came to me: Here was a kind-hearted, polite soldier; why not let him take the tent fly, in the place of some undeserving man? So I said: "Soldier, would you like a tent fly?" He answered: "Oh! yes, madam; I would like one very much." So I sent George to get it for him. He expressed himself very grateful--disliked to take it, fearful of robbing us; but I a.s.sured him he was welcome; so he again bade me good morning, and carried off his acquisition.

The Confederate troops were being marched into Vicksburg to take the parole that the terms of the treaty of surrender demanded. In a few days they would leave the city they had held so long.

On Friday they began their march toward the South; and on Sat.u.r.day poor George came to me, and said he had put on a pair of blue pants, and, thinking they would take him for a Federal soldier, had tried to slip through after M----, but he was turned back; so he came, begging me to try and get him a pa.s.s: the effort was made; and to this day I do not know whether he ever reached M---- or not.

Sat.u.r.day evening, Vicksburg, with her terraced hills--with her pleasant homes and sad memories, pa.s.sed from my view in the gathering twilight--pa.s.sed, but the river flowed on the same, and the stars shone out with the same calm light! But the many eyes--O Vicksburg!--that have gazed on thy terraced hills--on thy green and sunny gardens--on the flow of the river--the calm of the stars--those eyes! how many thou hast closed on the world forever!

LETTERS _OF TRIAL AND TRAVEL_.

LETTERS.

GAYOSO HOUSE, MEMPHIS, _April, 1862_.

MY DEAR J----:

I am just in from dinner; and you would be amused to see the different faces--I might as well say the different appet.i.tes; for the Army of Missouri and Arkansas have been undergoing rigorous fasts of late; and the little episode of the battle of Elkhorn and the consequent privations have helped not a little the gaunt appearance of these military characters. All eat, eat rapidly; from General V---- D---- down to the smallest lieutenant, whose manner of playing the epicure over the different dishes ordered, is a study. The confidential consultations with the waiter over them, together with the knowing unconsciousness of bestowing his small change, almost convinces me that he is a brigadier-general, or a colonel, at least. You see streaming in constantly this tide of human beings, to eat, stare at the ladies, talk, and order much wine in the excitement of military anecdotes; for you must understand that a civilian is a "rara avis" amid the brilliant uniforms of the dining room. Yet, amid all this ma.s.s and huge crowd, the majority are polished gentlemen, who have evidently seen much of the world, and who are men of purpose and character.

General V---- D---- and staff sit not far from me--looked at rather jealously by the Missourians, as ranking and commanding them over their favorite general. Yet, he always treats the old general with the utmost consideration and courtesy. On the other side sits General P----, with his kind, benevolent face. The poor old gentleman finds at the table his lightest reserves become his heaviest forces: nearly all his staff are about him.

And, as I sit half amused at the expression of some faces, and thinking deeply of the mute, yet determined impress of character on others, two gentlemen come in--one in plain citizen's clothing, with heavy black beard and high forehead--with stooping gait and hands behind him. I am told he is Governor J----, of Missouri. His face puzzles me--it is thoughtful and singular. By his side, with tall, lithe, slender figure, fully erect, walks General J---- T----. You will scarcely think it possible that this is the so-frequently talked of J---- T----. I thought him an ordinary man, did not you? Yet, this is anything but an ordinary man. The keen dark eye sweeps the room as he enters, taking us all in at a glance--a quick, daring, decisive, resolute face. I can make nothing more out of him. Yet, there is more of thought and intellect than you see at first. He is dressed in full uniform, with sword and sash, and has quite a military air.

There are many Saint Louisians here; you see them scattered around the tables quite plentifully. General C---- is among the number. He sits at some distance, and looks quite worn and sad. You know--do you not?--that he is the father of young Churchill Clark, who was killed at Elkhorn. Have I ever told you his history? It is this: He graduated at West Point in the commencement of the war; and knowing and having a great admiration for General P----, he joined him at once: he was put in command of some artillery; and showing himself a youth of courage and ability--for he was only twenty years old--his command was increased. Throughout the constant trials and sufferings of the campaign, he showed himself equal in courage, daring, and judgment, to many older heads. He was particularly beloved by General P----. At Elkhorn, as ever, his battery sustained itself with coolness and bravery. As the general rode by, he said some cheering words to young Clark, who took off his cap and waved it, saying, "General, we will hold our own," or words to that effect, when a ball sped from the enemy, and crashed in the young, ardent brain as he spoke.

I have been told that the general was affected to tears. He knelt by his side, vainly seeking for some trace of the strong, young life, but the pulses were stilled forever; and Churchill Clark lay a stiffened corpse in the long, wet gra.s.s at Elkhorn. And so his father sits silent and alone, and all respect the grief that none can a.s.suage.

In a few days we leave. The gentlemen all go to Corinth, where a battle, in all probability, will take place before long. Fort Pillow can hardly hold out, under the daily bombardment that we hear from the gunboats; and if it falls, Memphis, on taking leave of the Confederate officers, will usher in the Federal to quarters in the Gayoso.

Adieu.

MEMPHIS, _April_.

DEAR J----:

Again I write you from the Gayoso House, which still teems with Missourians, and many ladies--some few from St. Louis. General P----'s parlor is filled with ladies from morning until night. I have been told that on one occasion some ladies, who were the reverse of beautiful, were coming in to see him, when he turned to one of his staff officers, and told him that it was his duty to a.s.sist him--that here was an opportunity: he must kiss these ladies for him; but the officer was politely deaf until too late.

It is astonishing to see how ladies do flock to see the old general; and all kiss him, as a matter of course. I rode out to the camp of the Missourians with M----, a few mornings since. It is pleasantly situated near the bank of the river. The men seem to be in good spirits; although moving them across the Mississippi has been an unpopular act. The poor fellows are being taken out to Corinth as fast as transportation can be furnished them. The compliment is paid them of being placed in the most dangerous position; for we daily expect an attack from the Federal forces on Corinth.

Would you like to see those you love complimented in this way? You can form no idea of the love and devotion shown by the Missouri troops for their general. I happened to be standing near a window at the end of the hall, last evening, as some regiments pa.s.sed by the Gayoso on their way out to the depot, bound for Corinth. General P---- stood out on the veranda as they pa.s.sed by, and shouts and cheers for the old general and Missouri rent the air.

General J---- T---- called on me this morning, and amused me much with some of his adventures in Missouri last winter; among others, he told us of his dash into the little town of Commerce for food. His men were ordered to take a certain amount, lay down the money, and leave. As he sat on a small horse, waiting for them, out came the "heroine of Commerce," as he called the lady. I have forgotten her name; yet, I think it was O'Sullivan. She walked up to the general, shook her clenched hand in his face, and told him he was a robber and a scoundrel. Her husband pulled her by the arm and tried to make her desist; but she was deaf to his entreaties, standing part of the time on one side of the little horse, and part of the time on the other; first, shaking her clenched hand at him, and then standing, with arms folded, calling him all manner of names. Some of the officers wished General T---- to have her confined to her own house until his departure; but he laughed, and said: "No; let her alone." She still continued hovering around him, threatening and talking.

He said: "Oh! Mrs. O'Sullivan, you are a modest woman--a very modest woman. Madam, don't you think your house stands in need of you?" Powerless fell the irony: wherever he went, he was followed by the persistent Mrs.

O'Sullivan; stop where he would, Mrs. O'Sullivan was by his side, much to the amus.e.m.e.nt of his followers; go where he would, up rose Mrs. O'Sullivan unexpectedly at corners--red-faced and bitter--always in the same belligerent, defiant state.

A steamboat was seen coming down the river. General T---- ordered his men to hide behind a woodpile until it came up, expecting to get supplies from it. When they thought themselves disposed out of sight, General T---- raised his eyes, and behold! some little distance up the river, stood the inevitable Mrs. O'Sullivan, violently gesticulating to the boat, and crying, "Turn, turn! J---- T---- is here;" at the same time waving her ap.r.o.n and sun bonnet, in quite a frantic manner. The boat turned indeed; and although the scheme failed, behind the woodpile sat General T----, chagrined at the failure, yet laughing most heartily at the att.i.tude and _mal-a-propos_ appearance of Mrs. O'Sullivan.

The hotel is crowded with military men: many wounded at the late battle of Shiloh, going around with arms in slings; others supported by crutches.

The ladies are seemingly having a very gay time: the halls are filled with promenaders, and the parlors with gay young couples, music, and laughter.

Yet, a sudden surprise has come to all: New Orleans has fallen--an unexpected blow to most of the Southern officers. I cannot but think, as I see all the life and bustle around me, of the different scenes a week or two hence, when the fearful battle of Corinth will have taken place. How many that are now happy and full of life, looking forward with confidence to the laurels that may be won, before the struggle is over will be silent forever in death! or, worse, perhaps lamed and maimed for life! General Beauregard's works are said to be fine; yet, the Federal approaches are said to be greatly superior.

My husband goes to-morrow to Corinth; and I will go to O----, Miss., to await the result of what all seem to think will be a most b.l.o.o.d.y struggle.

I will write on reaching O----; until then, farewell.

O----, _May 1st_.

The expected battle has not yet come off, and I am still awaiting the result; busying myself about many things, visiting and returning visits from my old friends; dividing my time between the world and the hospital, the lights and shades of life. Ah, the shades! My dear J----, you can little imagine how much suffering I have witnessed in the last few weeks--how much, that acts or kind words have no power to mitigate. There have been many wounded brought in from Corinth, many who have died since their arrival, many who will die; but, saddest of all, a young boy, too young to be a soldier, yet possessing all a soldier's spirit. I walked into a ward, one morning, that I had visited the evening before--a ward of very sick patients--and saw an old man sitting by a new cot, fanning a young boy, who lay with flushed face, and burning eyes fixed on the ceiling. As I advanced toward them, the weather-bronzed man stood stiffly erect, making me a quaint, half-awkward, military salute, saying, as he did so, "My boy, ma'am!" "Is he wounded?" I asked. He threw back the sheet that covered him, pointed to the stump of a limb amputated near the thigh: "He has gained the cross," he said, while his head grew more erect, as he held back the sheet with the fan, and his eye shot out the grim ghost of a smile.

A proud, iron soldier the man was, I could see. The boy was delirious; so I shall tell you of the man. Refusing to be seated as long as a lady remained standing in the room, he stood stiffly upright at the head of the cot, keeping each fly from the face of the boy with the tenderness of a mother. A limp brown hat was on the side of his head, shading his eyes, that followed me in all parts of the room. A red cord and ta.s.sel hung from one side of his hat, and gave him a jaunty air that was quite out of keeping with the quaint stiffness of his manner. After speaking to the sick and wounded soldiers around, asking after their wounds and wants, I returned to the young boy's cot, and heard the old man's story. Don't be weary if I give it to you; he had so much pride in his boy, let that be my extenuation.

"We belong to the Texas Rangers, ma'am, the boy and me; he could ride as well as the rest of them, ma'am, a year ago. When the war broke out, and we practised regularly like, he was the best rider in the company--could pick anything he wanted off the ground as he was going. He's only fourteen, ma'am--a fine-grown lad, indeed. His mother was the likeliest woman I ever seed," with a deprecating bow to me; "he's got her eyes--the finest eyes G.o.d ever made, she had, ma'am. She died when quite young like, leaving him to me, a little shaver, and he's been by me ever since. The boys and me tried to overpersuade him out of the army; 'peared like he was too young for such business; but he wouldn't hear to it, not he, ma'am, and here he is," pa.s.sing his sleeve across his eyes.

"Well, ma'am, so he staid with us; and when we got to Corinth, General Beauregard offered a cross of honor to the ones that showed themselves the best soldiers. So our boys talked a heap about who'd get it; but this boy says nothing. Well, one day we were ordered out to scout, and we came up with the Yankees, and we fit 'em a half hour or so, when I seed this youngster by my side kind adrooping by a tree, but standing his ground.

Well, we routed them at last, when I found the boy's leg was all shattered, and he'd kept up like nothing wan't the matter. So when we went back to Corinth, it got noised about like from the soldiers to the officers--how he'd held out. And, more'n all, the time when his leg was being cut off, we couldn't get any chloroform, morphine, or the like: he just sit up like a brave lad, and off it went, without a word out of him.

So the doctors they talked of that; and he's been notified that he'll get the first cross, and the boys'll be monstrous fond of him, and feel most like they'd got it themselves. If he'd get rid of his fever and pick up like, I'd be a happy man," he said anxiously.