_ CHAPTER XII. ON THE WAY TO JERICHO
Colonel Desmit's devotion to the idea that slave property was more profitable than any other, and the system by which he had counted on almost limitless gain thereby, was not only overthrown by the universal emancipation which attended the issue of the war, but certain unlocked for contingencies placed him upon the very verge of bankruptcy. The location of his interests in different places, which he had been accustomed, during the struggle, to look upon as a most fortunate prevision, resulted most disastrously. As the war progressed, it came about that those regions which were at first generally regarded as the most secure from hostile invasion became the scene of the most devastating operations.
The military foresight of the Confederate leaders long before led them to believe that the struggle would be concluded, or would at least reach its climax, in the Piedmont region. From the coast to the mountains the Confederacy spanned, at this point, only two hundred miles. The country was open, accessible from three points upon the coast, at which lodgment was early made or might have been obtained, and only one flank of the forces marching thence toward the heart of the Confederacy could be assailed. It was early apprehended by them that armies marching from the coast of North Carolina, one column along the course of the Cape Fear and another from Newberne, within fair supporting distance and converging toward the center of the State, would constitute the most dangerous movement that could be made against the Confederacy, since it would cut it in twain if successful; and, in order to defeat it, the Army of Virginia would have to be withdrawn from its field of operations and a force advancing in its track from the James would be enabled to co-operate with the columns previously mentioned. It is instructive to note that, upon the other side, the untrained instinct of President Lincoln was always turning in the same direction. In perusing the field of operations his finger would always stray to the eastern coast of North Carolina as the vital point, and no persuasions could induce him to give up the apparently useless foothold which we kept there for more than three years without material advantage. It was a matter of constant surprise to the Confederate military authorities that this course was not adopted, and the final result showed the wisdom of their premonition.
Among others, Colonel Desmit had obtained an inkling of this idea, and instead of concentrating all his destructible property in the region of his home, where, as it resulted, it would have been comparatively secure, he pitched upon the "piney-woods" region to the south-eastward, as the place of greatest safety.
He had rightly estimated that cotton and naval stores would, on account of the rigorous blockade and their limited production in other countries, be the most valuable products to hold when the period of war should end. With these ideas he had invested largely in both, and in and about a great factory at the falls of a chief tributary of the Pedee, he had stored his cotton; and in the heart of that sombre-shadowed stretch of soughing pines which lies between the Cape Fear and the Yadkin he had hidden his vast accumulation of pitch, turpentine, and resin. Both were in the very track of Sherman's ruthless legions. First the factory and the thousands of bales carefully placed in store near by were given to the flames. Potestatem Desmit had heard of their danger, and had ridden post-haste across the rugged region to the northward in the vain hope that his presence might somehow avert disaster. From the top of a rocky mountain twenty miles away he had witnessed the conflagration, and needed not to be told of his loss. Turning his horse's head to the eastward, at a country-crossing near at hand, he struck out with unabated resolution to reach the depot of his naval stores before the arrival of the troops, in order that he might interpose for their preservation. He had quite determined to risk the consequences of capture in their behalf, being now fully convinced of the downfall of the Confederacy.
During the ensuing night he arrived at his destination, where he found everything in confusion and affright. It was a vast collection of most valuable stores. For two years they had been accumulating. It was one of the sheet-anchors which the prudent and far-seeing Potestatem Desmit had thrown out to windward in anticipation of a coming storm. For half a mile along the bank of the little stream which was just wide enough to float a loaded batteau, the barrels of resin and pitch and turpentine were piled, tier upon tier, hundreds and thousands upon thousands of them. Potestatem Desmit looked at them and shuddered at the desolation which a single torch would produce in an instant. He felt that the chances were desperate, and he had half a mind to apply the torch himself and at least deprive the approaching horde of the savage pleasure of destroying his substance. But he had great confidence in himself, his own powers of persuasion and diplomacy. He would try them once more, and would not fail to make them serve for all they might be worth, to save this hoarded treasure.
It was barely daylight the next morning when he was awakened by the cry, "The Yanks are coming!" He had but a moment to question the frightened messenger, who pressed on, terror-stricken, in the very road which he might have known would be the path of the advancing enemy, instead of riding two miles into the heart of the boundless pine forest which stretched on either hand, where he would have been as safe from capture as if he had been in the center of the pyramid of Cheops.
Potestatem Desmit had his carriage geared up, and went coolly forth to meet the invaders. He had heard much of their savage ferocity, and was by no means ignorant of the danger which he ran in thus going voluntarily into their clutches. Nevertheless he did not falter. He had great reliance in his personal presence. So he dressed with care, and arrayed in clean linen and a suit of the finest broadcloth, then exceedingly rare in the Confederacy, and with his snowy hair and beard, his high hat, his hands crossed over a gold-headed cane, and gold-mounted glasses upon his nose, he set out upon his mission. The night before he had prudently removed from the place every drop of spirits except a small demi-john of old peach-brandy, which he put under the seat of his carriage, intending therewith to regale the highest official whom he should succeed in approaching, even though it should be the dreaded Sherman himself.
He had proceeded perhaps half a mile, when his carriage was all at once surrounded by a motley crew of curiously dressed but well-armed ruffians, whose very appearance disgusted and alarmed him. With oaths and threats the lumbering chariot, which represented in itself no little of respectability, was stopped. The appearance of such a vehicle upon the sandy road of the pine woods coming directly toward the advancing column struck the "bummers" with surprise. They made a thousand inquiries of the frightened driver, and were about to remove and appropriate the sleek span of carriage-horses when the occupant of the carriage, opening the window, thrust out his head, and with a face flaming with indignation ordered them to desist, bestowing upon them a volley of epithets, beginning with "rascals" and running as far into the language of abuse as his somewhat heated imagination could carry him.
"Hello, Bill," said the bummer who was unfastening the right-wheeler, as he looked back and saw the red face framed in a circlet of white hair and beard. "Just look at this old sunflower, will you? I guess the old bird must think he commands this brigade. Ha! ha! ha! I say, old fellow, when did you leave the ark?"
"And was Noah and his family well when you bid 'em good-by?" queried another.
This levity and ridicule were too much for Colonel P. Desmit to endure. He leaned out of the carriage window, and shaking his gold-headed cane at the mirthful marauders denounced them in language fearful in its impotent wrath.
"Take me to General Sherman, you rascals! I want to see the general!" he yelled over and over again.
"The hell you do! Well, now, mister, don't you know that the General is too nervous to see company to-day? He's just sent us on ahead a bit to say to strangers that he's compelled to refuse all visitors to-day. He gits that way sometimes, does 'Old Bill,' so ye mustn't think hard of him, at all."
"Take me to the general, you plundering pirates!" vociferated the enraged Colonel. "I'll see if a country gentleman travelling in his own carriage along the highway is to be robbed and abused in this manner!" "Robbed, did he say?" queried one, with the unmistakable brogue of an Irishman. "Faith, it must be the gintleman has somethin' very important along wid him in the carriage, that he's gittin' so excited about; and its meself that'll not see the gintleman imposed upon, sure." This with a wink at his comrades. Then to the occupant of the carriage: "What did yer honor say might be yer name, now? It's very partickler the General is about insthructin' us ter ax the names of thim that's wantin' an' inthroduction to him, ye know?"
The solemnity of this address half deceived the irate Southron, and he answered with dignity, "Desmit--Colonel Potestatem Desmit, of Horsford County, sir."
"Ah, d'ye hear that, b'ys? Faith, it's a kurnel it is ye've been a shtoppin' here upon the highway! Shure it may be he's a goin' to the Gineral wid a flag of thruce, belike."
"I do wish to treat with the General," said Desmit, thinking he saw a chance to put in a favorable word.
"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 "bummers" 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 glasses 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 glasses 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 button. 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 "bummer" 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 horsemen, one of whom read a slip of paper, or rather shouted its contents to the soldiery as they passed, while he flourished the paper above his head. Instantly the column was in an uproar. Caps were thrown into the air, voices grew hoarse 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 mass 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 assertion as to its quality to be true allowed a reasonable quantity 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 mass 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 mass 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. Nobody'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! _