The Star of Gettysburg: A Story of Southern High Tide by Joseph A. Altsheler (love novels in english TXT) 📗

"And here's a dressed turkey, a twenty-pounder at least!" said Harry. "Ah, you noble bird! What better fate could you find than a tomb in the stomachs of brave Confederate soldiers!"

"And another turkey!" said Dalton.

"And a bag of nuts!" said Sherburne.

"And, as I live, two bottles of claret!" said St. Claire.

"And a big black cake!" said Lieutenant-Colonel Hector St. Hilaire.

"And a great bunch of holly!" said Colonel Talbot, in whose eye, usually so warlike, a large tear stood.

"Dat," said Caesar, "was sent by little Miss Julia Moncrieffe, just nine years old. She wished she had a bunch for every soldier in the army, an' she sent her lub to all uv 'em."

"God bless little Julia Moncrieffe, aged nine," said Colonel Talbot, much moved.

"God bless her, so say we all of us," the others added together.

"And now, Caesar," said Colonel Talbot, "put your horse in the part of the stable that remains. I noticed some hay there which you can give to him. Then come to the kitchen. Mr. Moncrieffe, whose name be praised, says that you're the best cook since those employed by Lucullus. It's great praise, Caesar, but in my opinion it's none too great."

Caesar, highly flattered, led his horse to the stable, and the approving looks of the youths followed him.

"Sometimes I've had my doubts about Santa Claus" said Happy Tom.

"So have I," said St. Clair, "but like you I have them no longer."

"And there's a curious thing about this restoration of our belief in Santa Claus," said Dalton.

"Since we see him in person we all observe the fact," said Harry.

"That he is a very large man."

"Six feet two at the very least."

"Weight about two twenty, and all of it bone and muscle."

"And he is coal black."

"So black that even on a dark night he would seem to be clothed around with light."

"Why did it never occur to anybody before that Santa Claus was a very black, black man?"

"Because we are the first who have ever seen him in the flesh."

Caesar stabled his horse, went to the kitchen, where he lighted a fire in the big stove, and fell to work with a will and a wonderful light-handed dexterity that justified Mr. Moncrieffe's praise of him. The younger officers helped in turn, but in the kitchen they willingly allowed to Caesar his rightful position as lord and master.

Delicious aromas arose. The luxury of the present was brightened by the contrast with the hardships and hunger of two years. More than twenty officers were present, and by putting together three smaller tables they made a long one that ran full length down the center of the sitting-room.

"We'll save a portion of what we have for friends not so fortunate," said Colonel Talbot.

"You have always had a generous heart, Leonidas," said Lieutenant-Colonel Hector St. Hilaire.

"We have much for others and much for ourselves. But many of our friends and many thousands of the brave Southern youth have gone, Hector. However, we will not speak of that to-day, and we will try not to think of it, as we are here to celebrate this festival with the gallant lads who are still living."

Caesar proved to be all that his master had promised and all that they had hoped. No better Christmas dinner was eaten that day in the whole United States. Invincible youth was around the board, and the two colonels lent dignity to the gathering, without detracting from its good cheer.

The table had been set late, and soon the winter twilight was approaching. As they took another slice of ham they heard the boom of a cannon on the far side of the Rappahannock. Harry went to the window and saw the white smoke rising from a point about three miles away.

"They can't be firing on us, can they, sir?" he said to Colonel Talbot. "They wouldn't do it on a day like this."

"No. There are two reasons. We're so far apart that it would be a waste of good powder and steel, and they would not violate Christmas in that manner. We and the Yankees have become too good friends for such outrageous conduct. If I may risk a surmise, I think it is merely a Christmas greeting."

"I think so, too, sir. Listen, there goes a cannon on our side."

"It will be answered in a few moments. The favorite Biblical numbers are seven and twelve, and I take it that each side will fire either seven or twelve shots. It is certainly a graceful compliment from the Yankees, befitting the season. I should not have said a year ago that they would show so much delicacy and perception."

"I think that the number of shots on each side will be twelve," said Lieutenant-Colonel St. Hilaire. "It's three apiece now, isn't it?"

"Yes, three apiece," said Colonel Talbot.

"Four now," said Sherburne.

"Five now," said Dalton.

"Six now," said St. Clair.

"Seven now," said Harry.

"Eight now," said Happy Tom.

"And seven has been passed," said Colonel Talbot. "It will surely be twelve."

All were silent now, counting under their breath, and they felt a certain extraordinary solemnity as they counted. Harry knew that both armies, far up and down the river, were counting those shots, as the little group in the Moncrieffe house were counting them. Certainly there would be no hostilities on that day.

"Nine," they said under their breath.

"Ten!"

"Eleven!"

"Twelve!"

Then they listened, as the echo of the twelfth Southern shot died away on the stream, and no sound came after it. Twenty-four shots had been fired, twelve by each army, conveying Christmas good wishes, and the group in the house went back to their dinner. Some glasses had been found, and there was a thimbleful of wine, enough for everyone. The black cake was cut, and at a word from Colonel Talbot all rose and drank a toast to the mothers and wives and sweethearts and sisters they had left behind them.

Then the twilight thickened rapidly and the winter night came down upon them, hiding the ruined town, the blackened walls, the muddy streets and the icicles hanging from scorched timbers.

Caesar Moncrieffe washed all the dishes—those left in the house had been sufficient for their purpose—wiped them carefully, and returned them to the cupboard. Then he announced that he must go.

"Come now, Santa Claus," said Happy Tom, "you must stay here. You've done enough for one day. In fact, I should say that you've earned a week's rest."

"I ain't no Santy Claus," said Caesar, "but I done got to git back to Massa Moncrieffe. He'll be expectin' me."

"But you'll get lost in the dark. Besides, some Yankee scout may shoot the top of your head off."

"You can't lose me anywhar' roun' here. 'Sides, I kin dodge them Yankees every time. On a dark night like this I could go right up the gullies and through the biggest army in the world without its seein' me."

Caesar felt that he was bound to go, and all the officers in turn shook his big rough black hand. Then they saw him ride away in the darkness, armed with his pass from General Jackson, and on the lookout for any prowling Yankees who might have ventured on the right bank of the river.

"Isn't it odd, Colonel," said Harry to Colonel Talbot, "that so many of our colored people regard the Yankees who are trying now to free them as enemies, while they look upon us as their best friends?"

"Propinquity and association, Harry," replied Colonel Talbot, "and in the border states, at least, we have seldom been cruel to them. I hope there has been little of cruelty, too, in my own South Carolina. They are used to our ways, and they turn to us for the help that is seldom refused. The Northerner will always be a stranger to them, and an unsympathetic stranger, because there is no personal contact, none of that 'give and take' which makes men friends."

"What a pity we didn't free 'em ourselves long ago!"

"Yes, it is. I say this to you in confidence now, Harry. Of course, I would be denounced by our people if I said it. But many of our famous men, Harry, have not approved of it. The great Washington said slavery, with its shiftless methods of farming, was draining the life out of the land, and he was right. Haven't we seen the 'old fields' of Virginia?"

"And Clay was against it, too," said Harry; "but I suppose it's one of the things we're now fighting for, unless we should choose to liberate them ourselves after defeating the North."

"I suppose so," said Colonel Talbot, "but I am no politician or statesman. My trade unfits me for such matters. I am a West Pointer—a proud and glorious fact I consider it, too—but the life of a regular army officer makes him a man set apart. He is not really in touch with the nation. He cannot be, because he has so little personal contact with it. For that reason West Pointers should never aspire to public office. It does not suit them, and they seldom succeed in it. But here, I'm becoming a prosy old bore. Come into the house, lad. The boys are growing sentimental. Listen to their song. It's the same, isn't it, that some of our bands played at Bull Run?"

"Yes, sir, it is," replied Harry, as he joined the others in the song:

"The hour was sad, I left the maid
     A lingering farewell taking,
Her sighs and tears my steps delayed
     I thought her heart was breaking.

"In hurried words her name I blessed,
     I breathed the vows that bind me,
And to my heart in anguish pressed
     The girl I left behind me."

Most all the officers had leave for the full day. Harry and Dalton in fact were to stay overnight at the house, and, forgetful of the war, they sang one song after another as the evening waned. At nine o'clock all the guests left save Harry and Dalton.

"You and Langdon will show them to their bedrooms," said Colonel Talbot. "Take the candle. The rest of us can sit here by the firelight."

There was but a single candle, and it was already burning low, but Happy Tom and Arthur, shielding it from draughts, led the way to the second floor.

"Most of the houses were demolished by cannon shot and fire," said Langdon, "but we've a habitable room which we reserve for guests of high degree. You will note here where a cannon shot, the result of plunging fire, came slantingly through the roof and passed out at the wall on the other side. You need not get under that hole if it should rain or snow, and meanwhile it serves splendidly for ventilation. The rip in the wall serves the same purpose, and, of course, you have too much sense to fall through it. Some blankets are spread there in the corner, and as you have your heavy cloaks with you, you ought to make out. Sorry we can't treat you any better, Sir Harry of Kentucky and Sir George of Virginia, but these be distressful times, and the best the castle affords is put at your service."

"And I suspect that it's really the best," said Harry to Dalton, as St. Clair and Langdon went out. "There's straw under these blankets, George, and we've got a real bed."

The moonlight shone through two windows and the cannon-shot hole, and it was bright in the room.

"Here's a little bureau by the wall," said Dalton, "and as I intend to enjoy the luxury of undressing, I'm going to put my clothes in it, where they'll keep dry. You'll notice that all the panes have been shot out of those windows, and a driving rain would sweep all the way across the room."

"Now and then a good idea springs up in some way in that old head of yours, George. I'll do the same."

Dalton opened the top drawer.

"Something has been left here," he said.

He held up a large doll with blue eyes and yellow hair.

"As sure as we're living," said Harry, "we're