Sea-gift

The very evening was full of dreariness! The sun had gone out behind a hard, red sky, against which the wind blew in fitful gusts; now with abortive blast, as if to rekindle the flame of day; now with a frightened moan, as if afraid of the approach of night. The tall trees along the river tossed and beat their long bare arms, as if they longed to break their chains of root and flee from these scenes of waste and woe. From the swaying top of one of them a solitary crow flew, with black flapping wings, cawing as he came, and perched upon the topmost bough of the old cedar, like a spirit of evil, his black feathers blown into a ruff around his neck, and his head bobbing with every note, in mockery of the desolation.

His voice broke the spell of our silence, and I turned to Ben. He was standing with one hand on the gate post, the nails whitened by pressure against the wood, and his grey eyes glowing as if there were lamps behind them.

“Gracious God! what a sight!” I said, as I leaned against the paling for support.

“Ah – h – h,” said Ben, the breath hissing through his clenched teeth, “and it’s lit up a devil’s bonfire in here it’ll take blood to put out,” and he tapped his breast, where the protrusion of a revolver could be faintly seen.

“But think, Ben, of Paning’s doing all this. A double-dyed villain! to burn the very house that has sheltered him, and insult a woman whose hospitality he has received! He here at my home, directing a too willing enemy where to pillage; his foul lips forcing their polluted touch on Carlotta’s cheek! Great Heaven! the thought drives me mad; may Infinite Justice help me to meet him once more!”

As I ceased speaking a strange unearthly wail arose on the air, and a poor wounded cat, roused by our voices, sprang, or rather fell from a box in the dairy window to the ground, and strove to make its way to us with piteous mewing. It was perfectly blind, as we could tell from its actions, and its fur and flesh on one side were singed and burnt by the fire. It was gaunt from starvation, and cried aloud with a hollow voice in its vain efforts to find us. I went forward and took it up in my arms, and saw then that it was a pet of mother’s, that had been perhaps forgotten in the haste of leaving, and with fond local affection, was starving rather than quit the place. As I gazed upon the poor famished creature, with its white sightless eyes and emaciated frame, and thought of mother’s fondness and care for it, for the first time losing control of myself, I burst into tears.

Ben touched my shoulder and said:

“Less go, John; we can’t do no good staying here, and are wasting a heap of precious time.”

Knowing that Mr. Bemby’s larder now had no room for cats, I made the poor creature a bed in the dairy, and placing something to eat and some water by it, we left it. Throwing our bridles over our arms we walked on to Mr. Bemby’s, which was but a short distance through the trees. As we approached the house I saw my beautiful boy playing near the steps. He looked up in perfect amazement as I ran to him, and his lips quivered with frightened surprise as a seeming old woman caught him up and strained him to her heart. Bearing him in my arms I entered the house, and at the sound of my footsteps Carlotta came to the door, her beautiful face pale with anxiety and alarm; for every footfall on the doorway now meant robbery or insult. She started back in affright at my wild appearance and grotesque disguise, but the next instant, as I murmured “Carlotta!” her arms were around me and she was sobbing on my shoulder.

“Oh, thank God! we have met again. Oh, John, my husband, what we have suffered since I saw you last!” she exclaimed, with convulsive weeping.

“I know it all, darling; Horace has told me. But compose yourself, dearest, and let us go to mother, if she be still alive.”

“She is still living, but I fear will not live long. She grows feebler every day. I will go in and prepare her for your coming.”

She left me and went into another room, while I placed my little boy, who had been staring at his mother and myself with a look of amazement, again upon the floor, and tore off my bonnet and dress.

“No matter what happens,” I said, as Ben came in with his wife from the kitchen, where he had gone to look for her, “I won’t wear this ridiculous costume, here at least.”

I had scarcely done greeting Ben’s wife when his mother came in, not so plethoric as when I had last seen her, but with the same good natured face and kind heart.

I could only grasp her honest hands with tears in my eyes, and bless her for her kindness to my dear ones.

“You needn’t go to talk ‘bout kindness,” said Mrs. Bemby, wiping her specs on the corner of her apron. “Your mother’s done a sight more for me’n I ever kin do for her, an’ I want to keep a doin’ long as God will let her live, which I’m afeard it won’t be mighty long, for she’s poorlier to-day ‘n I’ve seen her yet.”

To divert her from such painful remarks I asked if the Yankees had molested them since they had burned the house.

“Not such a mighty sight. They’ve tuck my chickens and vegetables, tho’ they wan’t nothin’ in the garden but turnips, but we’ve got some meat an’ a little corn. The wuss trouble we has is a continuwell fear they is goin’ to break in on us. Mr. Bemby he’s gone to town to-day to git a guard.”

“A guard!” I exclaimed, in much alarm; “then if we are discovered here you all are ruined. Ben and I can settle with half-a-dozen by ourselves, but I am truly alarmed for you.”

“Never do you mind, John,” said Ben, as he trotted a little white-headed scion on his knee; “she’ll fix all that; the old man aint coming back till to-morrow no how, and we’ll be off by light.”

Off by light! how the words sounded like a knell on my ears; off, to leave a dying mother and an unprotected wife and child in the lines of a merciless foe; off to fight, perhaps die for a now hopeless cause, leaving all I loved to misery and want. Ah, Mercy! let thy white wing oftenest shield the poor deserter at the stake, and Justice will have less complaint!

Carlotta now appeared at the door of mother’s chamber, and beckoned to me. Walking softly, with a bowed head and prayerful heart, I entered a small dark room, dimly lighted by a single candle and a flickering fire on the hearth. On an humble bed in the corner, with her crushed head bound with cloths and liniments, lay my mother, pale and thin, her sweet face illumined with bright surprise yet strange bewilderment.

“Be careful,” whispered Carlotta, as I paused on the threshold, “her mind is not perfectly clear.”

In another moment I was on my knees at the bedside, my face pressed upon her pillow, sobbing, ”Mother! oh my mother!” She did not speak, but laid her thin tremulous hand on my head and let it rest there. I was convulsed with grief to think of losing her after I had been away from her so long, and that she was dying under such distressing circumstances, without a home, under a strange roof, and with a consciousness of helpless dependence.

As in moments of great danger a retrospect of our whole lives rises before us, so in this deep distress all my acts of disobedience and unkindness toward mother; every time that I had wounded her feelings; every harsh word I had uttered, all came with cruel distinctness into memory to torture me, and I longed, in my agony, to ask her forgiveness for every one, and to assure her again and again of my love. But Carlotta’s warning, and the strange look on her face, made me afraid to speak, and I knelt with my face on the pillow, silently weeping, till she herself broke the silence of the chamber.

”Carlotta,” she said, in a voice so changed that I raised up to look at her, ”this is John, is it not? When did he come? Does he know that his father is dead?”

Carlotta made a sign to me not to speak, and drawing a chair up to the bedside, she took mother’s hand in her’s and said:

”Yes, mother, this is John. He knows all about father’s death, and about the burning of the house; and he has come through the Federal lines, at great risk, to see you. Can you not arouse yourself to talk to him! He wishes to know if you feel better to-night?”

Mother now gazed at me with the old look of fondness as she said:

”Is this my dear boy? and have you come to see your mother? God bless you for it! I will make the effort to speak with you; but oh! I cannot remain conscious. Now all that has transpired is perfectly clear and distinct before me, and I recognize my dear child’s face, and know why he has come; but presently a dull gray cloud, or something from afar off, will float up and envelope my mind, and all I know or remember becomes confused. Carlotta, darling, help me keep the cloud away.”

”I will, mother,” said Carlotta, dampening a cloth and laying it on her forehead; but even as the cool moisture touched her skin the vacant look came again to her face, and she asked, looking at me with earnest inquiry: ”John, have you brought your father home; is the grave ready? Go have it made wider. I am coming to lie by his side.”

Utterly helpless, we both sat watching and listening to her incoherent mutterings about father’s lonely grave, and her desire to go to it, till, dozing off into her stupor again, she was silent. In a few minutes she opened her eyes, and was for another interval herself again.

”John, my precious child,” she said, trying to put her arm around my neck and draw me down to her, ”God alone knows how I desire to talk with you, for this will be the last converse we will ever hold on earth. I do not wish to grieve you unnecessarily, but I feel that I am dying.”

”O mother, do not say so,” I sobbed, as I kissed her pale, emaciated cheek; ”God is too good to take you away from us.”

”He knows best, my son. His will be done! But I have not strength to say much, and even now I feel the cloud coming. Will you make me two promises? I want you to bring your father’s remains from Elmira, and bury them with me under the old cedar at home; ‘twas there I promised to be his bride in the long ago. And, John, something tells me that you had another motive, besides seeing me, in coming hither. Do you not seek Frank Paning’s life?”

My face flushed hotly as the thought that she might ask me to forgive Frank flashed upon me, and I felt that even her last request could not persuade me to forego my vengeance. But I answered quickly:

”No, mother, as Heaven is my witness, I only thought of you and Carlotta when I came here; but if Providence should throw the viper in my path, even you would have me crush him.”

”No, John, the dear Saviour prayed for those who nailed him to the cross, and bids us forgive as we would be forgiven.”

”But, mother,” I argued – though Carlotta shook her head at me and whispered, ”do as she requests” – ”Frank is so vile. He has partaken of our hospitality, and I have been his friend a thousand times, yet he has burnt our home, insulted Carlotta and murdered you; how can I ever forgive him?”

”You are full of wrath and hatred now, my son, and I cannot hope to change your feeling yet awhile; but I can ask, as my last request, your promise that you will not seek Frank’s life – that if you ever meet you will forgive him for my sake. Do you promise?”

I did not speak, for the hot blood that had written my oath of vengeance on my heart was still throbbing there, and I could not at a word forget my cruel wrongs. While I hesitated the cloud came over her, and her countenance again was vacant and meaningless, and she began to murmur broken sentences about the Cross, and Christ’s love, and her child’s hard heart.

Then there came the heartrending thought that she might not again become conscious, and might die with my obstinate refusal weighing on her poor broken heart.

”Oh, merciful God! what is my unholy resentment compared with the peace of my mother’s death bed?” I exclaimed, with unfeigned penitence, as I implored Carlotta to rouse her once more to consciousness.

Falling on my knees I began the struggle, and conquered self, and then I felt that I could forgive Frank, not alone for the sake of my promise, but for the sake of Christ and His Cross. With a faith I had never known before I prayed for mother’s restoration, pleading the promise, ”If ye shall ask anything in my name I will do it,” and arose from my knees with that ”peace that passeth all understanding” resting on my soul.

After a long while, as it seemed to my suspense, she rallied again, and addressed some words to me that showed she was rational. I hastened then to give her my promise, and assured her that I really, from my heart, forgave Frank, and would not harm him if I could.

She thanked me in her feeble way, and then asked me to sit near her and talk with Carlotta, that she might hear the sound of my voice, though she felt too weak to talk herself. Then, after Carlotta had put little Johnnie to bed in his corner, she came and sat by me, and with tearful eyes and aching hearts we talked of our parting on the morrow, when we would bid each other farewell, with a probability of never meeting again; when we would be separated without a possibility of communication; when each must suffer well grounded anxiety and prolonged suspense, because the other was exposed to constant and serious danger; when I must leave without having done a single thing to alleviate their condition, or render them less dependent on the Bembys. But ‘twas all for the Stars and Bars, and for them I would bear it thrice again.

In the ever flowing tide of our sympathy and love we took no note of time, and when we were startled by a tap at the door I was surprised to find that the window behind me was a gray square of light, and that objects were becoming plainly visible out in the yard. It was Ben who had knocked, and who said in a whisper, as I opened the door:

”Day’s broke, John; you’d better put on your fixins’, and let’s git out. The old man and his guard might git here before we leave, and that would spile our tramp and ruinate the folks here.”

With a sudden sinking at my heart, like we feel when we hear the footstep of the doctor who is to lance a bone felon for us, I turned into the chamber and began to make ready for my departure. My poor Carlotta, who had borne all so bravely, gave way at last, and clung to me weeping.

”Oh, John! I do try to bear up, but it seems that my heart will break now if you leave me. I know you could not protect me amid so many foes, but I would feel so much braver, so much more secure, if you could be with me – if I could get your advice and counsel, and have you help me nurse dear mother. John, what shall I do if she dies?”

”Would you have me stay, Carlotta?” I said, to prove her. ”I am in the Yankee lines now, and cannot be punished for desertion.”

”Desertion!” she exclaimed, with a blaze in her splendid eyes. ”Fondly as I love you, John, I would rather have you fall dead at my feet than leave our cause now because it is feeble. No, no, darling, go back to your command, and if we are conquered I will be proud of my husband because he wore the gray while I suffered at home.”

Blessing her for her encouragement to duty, I strained her again and again to my heart, asking God’s protection for her, and bidding her good bye.

Mother was sleeping soundly for the first time in several days, and I would not wake her, but touched her forehead tenderly with my lips, and then bent over my darling child.

I carried my disguise on my arm, for it seemed such a mockery of all the sad circumstances at Mr. Bemby’s that I would not put it on till we had gone some distance from the house. When we had again become the old woman and her son we mounted our horses, and with sad hearts set out on our return to Johnston’s camp. We had been delayed by Mrs. B.’s breakfast and our prolonged farewells, so that we found now that the sun had been up some time, and Nature was sparkling in dewy beauty. My feelings were too much depressed for conversation, and Ben, with Nature-taught delicacy, refrained from either futile attempts to console or irrelevant efforts to divert, and our ride began in silence. As we neared our home, and I saw the chimneys and the ashes, the old hot feeling came to my heart, and I remembered my promise to mother with something like regret. The next moment I was startled by hearing the exclamation ”Humph!” very much accented, from Ben, and seeing him dash at headlong speed down the pathway to the house, or rather where it had stood. I followed as fast as I could, and saw, as I neared the gate, the cause of his movements. A figure in blue uniform, mounted on a powerful horse, stood at the palings, and another, dismounted, was raking over the ashes and cinders with his sabre scabbard. At the sound of our gallop the man on horse-back turned and saw us, and, driving the spurs into his charger, he fled up the avenue with a speed that defied capture. Ben was some distance ahead of me, and as I saw him leap from his horse and dash into the yard, I wondered that he should thus forget his usual prudence and throw aside his assumed character when we most needed it. In another moment I was at the gate, and saw him grasp the man in blue, who, with trembling hands, was untying his horse, and drag him by the throat towards me. The prisoner, oh! promise of forgiveness! was Frank Paning.

His arm was in a sling, from Carlotta’s shot, I thought; his cap had fallen off, and his dark curls were clustering as prettily as ever around his white forehead, while his restless eyes turned any where but towards Ben or myself. Ben looked up at me with the lamps in his gray eyes burning red lights, and his lips so pressed over his set teeth that the old scar stood out like a cord; and drawing a long navy revolver from his breast, he offered it to me saying:

”Here, John, this is your mouthful; I won’t take it from you.”

”No, Ben,” I exclaimed, turning my head away; ”don’t, don’t tempt me. I promised my mother, pledged my word, at her dying request, not to take his life. I cannot break my last promise to her.”

”John, I feel sorry for you,” said Ben, solemnly, as if the obligation to spare Frank was a great affliction, and demanded his sympathy, ”but I did not promise, therefore – ” and his thumb slowly drew the hammer of his pistol back, till it stood like a serpent ready to strike.

”Gentlemen,” said Frank, in a husky, nervous voice, while he raised his hand hesitatingly towards Ben’s, as if he wished to move it from his collar, but was afraid his touch would be the signal for the serpent to fall on the yellow, gleaming cap, ”you surely will not do me any violence. I am your prisoner, and will give up my arms if you will receive them, and will do anything you say or wish. If you will not spare me for humanity’s sake, only think of the danger you are in. Our troops are all around you, and there is even now a strong body of cavalry just beyond the bend in the road. You are both in disguise, and, if caught, will be hung as spies. If you harm me you cannot possibly escape, but if you promise to spare my life, I will pilot you safely through our lines, and then go with you to Gen. Johnston. I can give him very important information about Sherman’s movements, and will do so cheerfully.”

”You will?” said Ben, with two short grunts for a laugh, at the same time taking his thumb from the crest of the hammer.

”Mr. Bemby, for God’s sake don’t shoot me!” cried Frank, in an extremity of terror, clasping his hands over Ben’s, that like a vice still held his collar. ”John, don’t, don’t let him shoot me! Speak to him, please, and ask him to spare me! He won’t shoot if you tell him not. Remember, we were friends once, and save my life now for the sake of that time.”

He tried to throw himself on his knees, but Ben held him erect, and he stood trembling in every limb, and holding out his hands to me in a cowardly fright, that excited no feeling but disgust. When he appealed to the past, I remembered that Carlotta had made the same appeal to him only to receive an insult, and I had almost stricken him down with my own hand, when mother’s voice again whispered in my ear, ”Forgive, as ye would be forgiven.”

My arm was scarcely lowered when the sound of horses’ feet was heard, and, looking up, we saw a half dozen Federal cavalry coming down the avenue at a fast trot.

Frank’s face lighted up with an expression of fiendish malice and triumph as he saw them, and, pointing to them, he said, with a sudden change from an abject to an authoritative air:

”Take your hands off, sir! Surrender, or I will have you both shot. You dare not harm me now,” he added, with a sneer.

”We don’t?” said Ben, with a hiss in his voice and a redder light in his eyes. Then, giving Frank’s throat a grip that made his face livid, he pointed with his revolver to the ashes, and said through is teeth: ”Look there, villain! is that your work?”

”Yes, by Heaven! it is;” exclaimed Frank, with a gesture of defiance, for the troopers were almost on us.

”Then, infernal dog, take your pay!”

Before I could speak there was a levelled brown barrel, a deadly report, and a red oozing spot in Frank’s white forehead. He stood motionless a second, and then fell limp and doubling up to the ground.

”Now less scatter ’em yonder, and break for old Joe’s camp;” said Ben, as he sprang upon his horse.

The Yankees halted with astonishment as they saw an awkward country lad and an old woman charging upon them.

But we were on them before they had time for much wonder. Bang! bang! one reeled, another fell. Bang! bang! another empty saddle! and we were past them a hundred yards before they returned our fire. They did not dare pursue us, and we galloped a short distance up the road, then plunged into the woods, and, riding on to the river, we took up its banks, picking our way cautiously through bogs and marshes, and avoiding every sign of habitation and life. So careful were we in our progress that we saw no human being during the day, and at nightfall found ourselves not far from the place where Johnston had his camp when we left. But all day long we had heard the roar of battle, growing louder as we drew nearer, and we knew that there had been a heavy engagement somewhere, and that the positions of both armies had undergone some change. As we determined to ride now in the night, we stopped some time before sunset in a deep secluded dell, to rest our horses till after dark. Ben slipped into an adjoining field and obtained some fodder from a couple of stacks that were standing near the woods, and gave a plentiful supply to our hungry cattle.

”The Yankees will get it all soon, any way,” said Ben, apologetically, as he untied the bundles and shook them out on the ground.

At sunset we could hear the bugle calls of different camps, and mapped out our course for the night accordingly. As soon as it was dark we mounted our horses, which were much refreshed by food and their short rest, and set out to thread the maze of pickets extending miles around. As my disguise was useless in the dark I tore it off, preferring to ride bare-headed to having both sight and hearing impaired by the long, projecting bonnet.

Having located the camps by the sounds of the bugles, we made a wide circuit, which considerably increased the distance we had to travel. After riding for hours in cautious silence, and being, as we thought, very near our lines, our horses began to show signs of giving out. After an hour’s more urging them forward they began to breathe hard and stagger, so that it would have been cruel as well as impossible to ride them further.

”What shall we do?” I asked, barely dismounting in time to keep mine from falling beneath me. Ben’s horse was much better than mine, and would have held out a mile or two further, but he got down immediately, and taking the bridle from his horse, said:

”We’ll have to foot it, I reckon, and leave these Arabs here; somebody ‘ll find them, and a fine team they’ll have, won’t they? I was afeard they wouldn’t hold out when we started, but we couldn’t er got ‘long on good stock. Take your bridle off, so the varmint can browse, and less move on. ‘Taint far no how, and I want to stretch my legs a little.”

Taking the bridles and saddles off we let the poor jaded creatures go free, and set out on foot through the darkness. We had not gone more than half a mile when Ben caught my arm and said, in a whisper: ”Shh! Listen!”

Not a hundred paces ahead of us we heard the unmistakable tell-tale of the horse, and the frequent betrayal of the picket – that peculiar flutter of the animal’s lip as the breath is forced through the nose – that is very frequent, and audible at a considerable distance in the night. Simultaneously whispering the single word, ”Pickets!” we crept forward with Indian stealthiness, feeling for twigs before we stepped, and parting the bushes carefully before we passed through them.