"He goes out with the little steamboat down the river. I think a packet leaves to-morrow." Mr. Wray began to explain the simplicity of the duties devolving upon Julius in order to demonstrate his own perspicacity and regard for precaution. "At her stoppages he visits the plantations on his list, notifies the men in charge of the cotton to get it out on the rafts and flatboats and to be ready to float down--there's a full sufficiency of water on the shoals now--to where the steamer we have chartered, bought, in fact, can pick it up. Then he returns on the next packet. It is a trip of a hundred miles or so."

Julius felt his heart beat tumultuously in the prospect of escape--to be out of the town once more! But to-morrow! what in the interval might betide!

"The point is to have our own steamboat clear fairly with the upper-country consignment. The rest she picks up as she goes. She is known as a packet to the river pickets; they won't be aware she has changed her trade till she has gone. But meantime to get the cotton collected it is necessary to have a man familiar with the country. On the way down or the return trip, in the distracted state of the region, politically, and its physical aspect as a nearly unexplored wilderness, it would be simply impossible for a stranger to cope with any disasters or difficulties, if one could be found to undertake the trip."

Julius was astonished at himself when he heard his own voice blandly suggest--"Come with me, Mr. Burrage! You would enjoy the trip--beautiful scenery! I should have the benefit of your long experience in matters of business, and you could avail yourself of my knowledge of the country and the people--the methods and the manners."

He was in admiration of his own astuteness. His intuition had captured the emergency. He had perceived in Mr. Burrage's face unmistakable indications that he would play the obstructive. He would detain the supposed agent here, and would not intrust him with the necessary instructions in this difficult and most compromising business, until the fullest advices could be had from the distant promoters of the enterprise, who were presumed to have sent hither "John Wray, Junior."

The suggestion of Julius met with instantaneous favor among the group, except, indeed, that Mr. Burrage himself looked disconcerted, surprised, definitely at a loss. It removed all possible objections to the employment of this agent with no other credentials than the name on the register--but at this moment Mr. Burrage thought that perhaps the coincidence would have struck him with more force had the name been his own and the registry antic.i.p.ated his arrival. Time was of importance. No one more than the experienced man of business realizes the Protean capacity for change appertaining to that combination of cause and effect called opportunity. What is possible to-day may be relegated to the regions of everlasting regret to-morrow. Everything was favorable at the moment, feasible. The future stood with the boon of success in an outstretched hand. Delay was hardly to be contemplated. The proposition that Mr. Burrage should accompany the agent of his own company on a tour of important negotiation, and at no sacrifice of personal ease, was at once so reasonable and so indicative of the fairest intentions that he was ashamed of the cautionary doubt he had entertained. All at once the journey seemed too much trouble. The matter had already been adjusted, he said. The plan might well stand as Mr. Wray had arranged it.

But Mr. Wray, too, added his insistence. "Nothing could be better," he declared.

And as Mr. Burrage demurred, and half apologized, and was distinctly out of countenance, Mr. Wray compa.s.sionately overlooked all his disquieting cautions and protested with cordiality that the change would be an advantage. Some difficulty might arise, some reluctance to deliver the cotton they had already purchased, some doubt as to the locality where it was stored,--they used this expression rather than "hidden," though Julius apprehended that its cache was now a cane-brake and now a rock house or cave, and now a tongue of dry land in a network of bayous and swamps,--some failure of facilities in respect to men or water carriage or land transportation, with all of which this young gentleman, new to the arrangements and the enterprise, might find it difficult to cope successfully. Such unforeseen obstacles might require a divergence from the original plan and the agent's instructions. But Mr. Burrage, a member of the Company, could meet and provide for all these emergencies, and yet with such a guide be as a.s.sured and as confident of his footing in this strange country as if he himself were a native. It was the happiest suggestion! It enabled him to make a long arm, as it were, and manipulate the matter in effect without a proxy.

"And meantime it will be strange indeed if I cannot make a long leg!"

thought Julius, triumphantly.

The actual Mr. Wray was treated everywhere with all possible consideration and due regard to the fact that he was a British subject.

The neutrality of Great Britain was considered exceedingly precarious, and there was no disposition to twist the tail of the Lion, albeit this appendage was whisked about in a way that ever and anon provoked that catastrophe. The British Lion was supposed in some quarters to be solicitous of a grievance which would justify a roar of exceeding wrath.

In this instance, however, there was no necessity of withholding the favor asked by a British subject, Mr. John Wray,--for a pa.s.s for his cousin, Mr. John Wray, Junior, of Manchester, England, and his friend, Mr. Alfred Burrage.

That night the two slept on the crowded steamer, as she was to cast off at a very early hour. Long, long did Julius lie awake in his berth in the tiny stateroom peculiar to the architecture of the "stern-wheeler."

The good Mr. Burrage in the berth below snored in satisfaction with the events of the day, untroubled as to the morrow. Julius had been so tormented by vacillations, by the untoward "about-face" movements of the probable, so hampered by the unexpected, so repeatedly disappointed, that even now he could not believe in his good fortune. Something, somehow, would s.n.a.t.c.h the cup from his lips. But in the midst of his turmoil of emotion he had a distinct sense of grat.i.tude that the preservation of his safety had involved no forwarding of equivocal interests. The affairs of the Company were doubtless such as many were seeking to prosecute with varying chances of success. He would report the scheme to his commanding officer, however, and he could forecast the reply, "One of hundreds." But, at all events, the map in his boot-lining was a matter of no slight import. He could hardly wait to spread it on a drumhead before his Colonel's eyes, and solicit the honor of leading the enterprise he had planned.

But was he, indeed, destined to escape, to come off scatheless from this heady venture!

"If ever I see the command again, by thunder, I'll stick to them as long as I live. If ever I can lay hold of my sword again, I swear my right hand shall never be far from its hilt!"

In the early hours of the night the loading of the cargo was still unfinished. The calls of the deck-hands, the vociferations of the mate, which were of an intensity, a fervor, a mad strenuousness, that might seem never heard before out of Bedlam, the clash and commotion of boxes and barrels, the lowing of cattle and bleating of sheep, for the lower deck was given over to the transportation of army supplies, sounded erratically, now louder, now moderated, dying away and again rising in agitated vibrations. Sometimes, as he lay, a great flare of light illumined the tiny apartment as the torches, carried by the roustabouts on sh.o.r.e, cast eerie vistas into the darkness, and he could see the closely fitted white planking of the ceiling just above his head, the white coverlet, and through the gla.s.s door, that served too as window, the railing of the guards without and the dim glimpse of the first street of the town--River Avenue--about on a level with his eye, so deep was the declivity to the wharf.

Quiet came gradually. The grating and shifting of the cargo ceased first; the boat was fully loaded at length. Then the voices became subdued,--once a s.n.a.t.c.h of song, and again a burst of laughing banter between the roustabouts going up into the town and the deck-hands about to turn in on the boat. Now it was so quiet that he could distinguish the flow of the current. Yet he could not sleep. Once he seemed near unconsciousness when he heard the clash of iron as the stoker was banking the fires, for steam was up. Then Julius lay in unbroken silence, till an owl hooted from out the Roscoe woods down the river.

There was home! He thought of his father with so filial a tenderness that the mere recollection might be accounted a prayer. In that dense ma.s.s of foliage off toward the west, under the stars and the moon, stood the silent house, invisible at the distance, but every slant of the roof, every contour of the chimneys, every window and door,--nay, every moulding of the cornice, was as present to his contemplation as if he beheld it in floods of matutinal sunshine. "Oh, bless it!" he breathed.

"Bless it, and all it holds!"

With dreary melancholy he fell to gazing out at the real instead,--at the vague slant to the wharf in the flickering moonlight, and the dim warning glow of a lantern on an obstructive pile of brick on the crest of River Avenue. Somehow the trivial thing had a spell to hold his eyes, as he watched it with a mournful, dull apprehension of what might betide, for he feared to hope still to escape--so often had this hope allured and disappointed him. Would something happen at the last moment--and what would the next disaster be?

Therefore when he suddenly became sensible that the boat was moving swiftly, strongly, in midcurrent under a full head of steam, he felt a great revulsion of emotion. Floods of sunshine suffused the guards and, shining through the gla.s.s section of the door, sent a wakening beam into his face. A glance without apprised him that while he slept the town was left far behind, the fort, the camps, the pickets, all the features of grim-visaged war, and now great forest ma.s.ses pressed down to the craggy banks on either side. The moment of deliverance was near,--it was at hand,--and as he dressed in the extreme of haste, he listened expectantly for the whistle of the boat, for it was approaching a little town on the opposite side where a landing was always made. Julius hardly feared the entrance of any pa.s.senger who might recognize him, but he took his way into the saloon and asked for breakfast, in order that thus employed he might have time to reconnoitre. The boat, however, barely touched the wharf, and when he emerged and joined Mr. Burrage on the deck there was something so breezily triumphant in his manner that the observant elder man looked askance at him with a conscious lack of comprehension. He thought he was evidently mistaken if he had imagined he had gauged this youth. His breeding was far above his humble and subsidiary employment, and his manner singularly well poised and a.s.sured. There was a hint of dignity, of command, in his pose and the glance of his eye. He was perfectly courteous; he did not forget to apologize for a lapse of attention, albeit absorbed in a certain undercurrent of excitement. He did not hear what Mr. Burrage had said of the news from the front in the morning paper, and upon its repet.i.tion accepted the proffered sheet with thanks and threw himself into a chair beside his elderly fellow-pa.s.senger. He had hardly read ten words before he lifted his head with a certain alert expectancy, like the head of a listening deer. The whistle of the boat had sounded again, the hoa.r.s.e, discordant howl common to river steamers, an acoustic infliction even at a distance, and truly lamentable close at hand, but it was not this that had caught his attention. The boat was turning in midstream and heading for the sh.o.r.e, now backing at the signal of her pilot's bells, peremptorily jangling, now going forward with a jerk, and again swinging slowly around, and at last slipping forward easily toward the wood-yard where great piles of ready-cut fuel awaited her.

An alien sound had also caught Mr. Burrage's attention.

"What is that?" he demanded of the captain of the steamboat, who held a field-gla.s.s and was looking eagerly toward the woods.

"Musketry," replied the captain, succinctly.

"There is some engagement taking place in the forest?" inquired Mr.

Burrage.

"Seems so," said the captain.

"And are you--are you going to land?"

"Must have wood--that's my regular depot," returned the steamboatman.

"You had best return to Roanoke City instead," urged Mr. Burrage, aghast.

"Need wood for _that_!"

"But the boat will be captured by the Rebels. Why don't you burn the freight?"

"Beeves ain't convenient for fuel on the hoof."

"Oh, I reckon the captain can wood and get off," said Julius, good-naturedly, rea.s.suring Mr. Burrage. "n.o.body is thinking about this boat now." Then, as a sharper volley smote the air, he added, "I think I'll look into this a bit," rose and took his way through the groups of excited pa.s.sengers and down to the lower deck.

The "mud clerk," the roustabouts, the wood-yard contingent, made quick work of fuelling the steamer, and she was once more in midstream, forging ahead at high speed, before it occurred to Mr. Burrage to compare notes with his young colleague and ascertain if he had learned aught of what forces were engaged.

He was not easily found, and Mr. Burrage asked the captain of his whereabouts.

"He must have got left by the boat," said the captain, as if the packet were a sentient thing and subject to whims.

Mr. Burrage, gravely disturbed, caused inquiry to be circulated among the hands and officials,--all, in effect, who had set foot on _terra firma_.

"Who? that young dandy with the long hair?" said the "mud clerk,"

staring, his measuring staff still in his hand. "Why, that man _intended_ to land. He had his portmanteau and walked off along the road as unconcerned as if he was going home. I was too busy measuring the wood to pa.s.s the time of day, thinking the riverbank was alive with guerillas."

His departure remained a mystery to Mr. Burrage. As to the topographical features of his involved scheme he was powerless to prosecute this phase alone. The simple expedient of sticking to the packet and retracing his way on her return trip brought him at last to a consultation with his _confrres_, who also long pondered fruitlessly on the strange meeting and its result. About this time the agent or guide, provided by the Company, presented himself with due credentials from the main office,--a heavy, dull, somewhat sullen man, with no further capacity, or will, indeed, than a lenient interpretation of his duty might require.

"I always shall think," Mr. Wray used to say, "that we suffered a great loss in that young man--that John Wray, Junior."

CHAPTER XIII

In these days the picket lines were seldom stationary; one or the other faction continually drew in close these outlying guards, as if by presentiment,--an unexplained monition of caution, or perhaps because of some vague rumor of danger. Now and again, by a sudden belligerent impulse, they were impetuously attacked and driven in; but apparently in pursuance of no definite plan of aggression emanating from the main body. A few days of surly silence and stillness would ensue, and then the opposing force would return the warlike compliment with interest, holding the enemy's ground and kindling bivouac fires from the embers they had left. It seemed a sort of game of tag--a grim game; for the loss of life in these futile manoeuvres amounted to far more in the long run than the few casualties in each skirmish might indicate. Sometimes these feints were entirely relinquished, and intervals of absolute inaction continued so long that it might seem a matter of doubt why the two lines were there at all, with so vague a similitude of war.

Occasionally they lay so near that the individual soldiers, forgetful of sectional enmity, gave rein to mere human interest in the opportunities afforded by a common tongue and an apprehended and familiar range of feeling. A lot of tobacco, thrown into a group about a bivouac fire by an unseen hand one night, brought the next night a package of "hard tack" from over the way. Now and again long-range conversations were held, full of kindly curiosity, or humorously abusive, the questionable wit of which mightily rejoiced the heart of the lonely sentinel, and upon his relief all the jokes were duly rehea.r.s.ed when once more in camp, he himself, of course, represented as coming off winner in the wordy war, being able to appropriate all the good things said by the enemy. The loud, cheerful, "Say, air you the galoot ez wuz swapping lies with Ben Smith day 'fore yestiddy?" and the response, "Smith, _Smith_, you say. I dis-remember the name. I guess I never heard it afore!" all were much more commendable from a merely humanitarian point of view than the singing of the mini ball or the hissing shriek of a sh.e.l.l that had been wont to intrude on the bland quietude of the sweet spring air.

Thus it was that Miss Mildred Fisher, accompanied by Lieutenant Seymour and one of her father's ancient friends, Colonel Monette, himself attended by a very smart orderly, riding out of Roanoke City down the long turnpike road, saw naught that might indicate active hostilities.

The picturesque tents in the distance about the town, the outline of the forts against the blue sky, and afar off a gunboat in the river, were all still, all silent, all as suave as the painted incident of a picture on the wall. The turnpike itself bore heavy tokens of the war in the deeply worn holes and wheel tracks of the great wagon and artillery trains, wrought during the wet weather of the winter. It was hard going on the horses, and precluded that brisk pace and easy motion which are essential to the pleasure of the equestrian. Mildred Fisher, indeed, delighted in a breakneck speed, and it may be doubted whether it was altogether a happy animal which had the honor of bearing her light weight. As they reached a "cut off," where a "dirt road" had been recently repaired and put into fine condition to obviate the obstacles of the main travelled way, Miss Fisher proposed that they should "let the horses out" along this detour for a bit. Then she challenged the two officers for a race.

They could but accede, and indeed it would have been difficult to deny her aught. The elder looked at her with an almost paternal pride, the other with a sort of surly adoration, tempered by many a grievance and many a realized imperfection in his idol, and a spirit of revolt against the sunny whims and again the cold caprice which he and others sustained at her hands. Seymour had little to complain of just now; yet, if she smiled on him and his heart warmed to the sunshine of her eyes, the next moment he was saying to himself that it meant nothing, it was not for his sake; for she was smiling with the same degree of brightness on that whiskerando, the elderly colonel. Her face was exquisitely fair, and in horseback exercise--the luxury she loved--she tolerated no veil to protect the perfection of her complexion. Her fluffy red hair had a sheen rather like gold, because of the contrast with her damson-tinted cloth riding-habit. The hat was of the low-crowned style then worn with a feather, and this was a long ostrich plume of the same damson tint, curling down over her hair, and shading to a lighter purple. Her hazel eyes were full of joy like a child's. Her mouth was not closed for a moment,--its red lips emitting disconnected exclamations, laughter, gay banter, and sometimes just held apart, silently taking the swift rush of the air, showing the rows of even white teeth and a glimpse of the deeper red of the interior, like the heart of a crimson flower.

She tore along like the wind itself. "Madcap," who had raced before, and, sooth to say, with more numerous spectators, had thrust his head forward, striking out a long stride, and the soft, elastic, dirt road fairly flew beneath his compact hoofs. The skirt of the riding-habit--much longer than in the later fashions--floated out in the breeze of the flight, and Colonel Monette, who did not really approve outdoor sports for women, expected momently to see it catch in a thorn tree of the thickets that lined the road, or on some stake of the fragments of a ridered rail fence, and tear her from the saddle. Then, her foot being held by the stirrup perhaps, she might be dragged by Madcap or brained by one blow of the ironshod hoofs. Thus his heart was in his mouth, and he was eminently appreciative of the folly of the elderly wight who seeks to share the pleasures of the young.

The lieutenant, being young himself, was not so cautiously and altruistically apprehensive. He admired Miss Fisher's dash and courage and buoyant spirit of enjoyment, and, having a good horse, he pressed Madcap to his best devoir. Colonel Monette, to keep them in sight at all, was compelled to make very good speed, and went galloping and plunging down the road in a wild and reckless manner.

It was the elder officer who was first visited by compunctions in behalf of the horses.