What is that which the breeze o'er the towering steep,
As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses?
Now it catches the gleam
Of the morning's first beam;
In full glory reflected now shines on the stream.
--FRANCIS KEY.
It is not a particularly interesting bit of road at first, as you leave
the great city, going north. The tunnel, the gleams and glooms in the
long passage under ever-arching streets; and whatever the Harlem end of
New York may have been, it is not delightsome to look upon now.
But the way to the turn is not long; and once round that corner, and
racing along the river side, there is enough to see, well worth the
seeing. And it was all new to Magnus. The wonderful rush of the mighty
river, rolling its blue waves in endless curls and undulations; the
stately Palisades, with their drapings of June green; the white-winged
craft on the water, and the white-winged gulls in the air; all made the
boy's heart leap. Here went a steamer, ploughing her crested furrows;
now and then the train stopped for breath at some station with a
strange name. It was all a wonderful new world.
With his face close to the window Magnus looked eagerly out; sending
his gaze as far up the river as the headlands and bends would let him;
and at last in the distance beyond the narrowing waters of Haverstraw
Bay, and above the nearer hillsides, rose lovely mountain-heads. Not
towering and stupendous, such as he might have seen many a time in the
Western States, but soft, rounded, exquisite; just high enough, in
fact, to claim the dignified name of mountains, as distinguished from
mere hills. What they were, and where they belonged, Magnus could not
tell. They rose up, and stretched out, and locked in, in an impassable
sort of way; as if they might be miles off from the river. He did not
know whether West Point was near them. And yet, by his time-table,
there was but one station more before he must leave the train.
Now the engine rushed inland for a bit, losing sight of the river, and
Magnus studied the time-table again, assuring himself for the twentieth
time of the precise hour and minute when he was expected to reach
Garrisons. Then as the train drew up at Peekskill, he gazed out at that
dingy combination which gathers round a railway station. The engine got
its quantum of water, darted on, and then--ah, what could be fairer!
Magnus almost shouted with delight as they swept around the curve, with
the full south view for a moment, past Anthony's Nose, and with the
Dunderberg across the stream.
"What are these mountains called?" he asked of a Peekskill passenger
who had taken the seat beside him.
"Highlands--Hudson Highlands," said the man. "You don't belong round
here, likely?"
"I never was here before."
"You've come to the right place, then. Aint purtier mountings nowhere.
Such a lot o' happenings, too. Now, right _here_,"--as the train rushed
through a deep rock cut,--"just about here, was where Benedict Arnold
sneaked off to find the _Vulture_. And earth nor water didn't nary one
on 'em open and swaller him up."
"Then this is Teller's Point!" cried Magnus.
"Teller's Point it is. And up yonder, to your right, is where the
scamp was livin', and gettin' his breakfast that mornin', when the
Father of his country come, and all but cotched him. Tell you, these
old hills has seen things! But now look this way a bit. See that crick
over there, and the mill? Fort Montgomery's one side, to the north,
and t'other side o' the crick is Fort Clinton; and down there, atween
'em, is where they fit the battle and killed my great grandfather. They
do say, the Continentals was that mad they pitched all the Hessians
into the crick. Tell you what, young man, it's fine to have one o' the
family die in the service. I aint partic'lar about its bein' me, you
understand, but some one on 'em."
"But you'd be ready to have it you?" said Magnus, eyeing his new
acquaintance.
"Likely I would, if the tug came. Life's life, howsoever, when there
aint no special call to get along without it. They're tryin' to learn
them boys at West Point how to fight; but la! this here sham work don't
go for nothin'. Live in peace till the time comes, say I."
"But you want to be ready for the time," said Magnus.
"Ready?" the man repeated. "Take your pitchfork and _go_. That's ready
enough for me. It did average well, in '76."
"Garri-sons!" sang out the brakeman, flinging back the door.
"Garrisons! Ferry to West Point."
And in another minute Magnus was out on the platform, and heard the
little ferryboat ringing her bell. He looked eagerly about him, found
the right official to take his check, and following that bell, marched
down to the _Highlander_, and went on board.
A down train was nearly due, so there were a few minutes to wait; and
Magnus pushed straight on to the little forward deck, and then forgot
everything in what he saw.
It was unearthly fair, this bit of the world that lay before him. The
lovely green further shore, decked from river side to sky edge in the
rich growth and colouring of early summer; the hills but hardly yet in
their full depth of green, so that the dark cedars and hemlocks stood
out markedly among the tender hues of oaks, hickories, chestnuts, and
maples. From the midst of the trees on the table-land rose up chimneys,
pointed roofs, round roofs, and domes, which as yet meant nothing
to Charlemagne Kindred. The river rolled placidly by, stirred into
wavelets by the fresh, sweet breeze; close at hand he could hear the
soft lapping of the water against the sides of the boat. All sweet, all
strange; and between the two, Magnus very nearly let his head go down.
But now came the thunder of the down train; the inviting ding-dong
of the ferryboat made itself once more heard, a little throng of
passengers came hurrying on board, and then they were off. Crossing the
Rubicon, Magnus felt, if he did not say.
For a few moments still he stood quite alone on the forward deck. How
fast the little steamer parted the blue waters that lay between him and
his new life! Hilltops to the north, hilltops to the south, Anthony's
Nose cutting the river off on the one hand, Martlaer's Rock--the old
"East Point" of the maps--closing it in on the other. Before him, West
Point, "Tacs," and orders; behind him, the road by which he had come
from home.
Then the swing-door slammed, and a bevy of girls came rushing out
to the front of the boat. Magnus turned to look at them, then
instinctively took a stand further back, where he could gaze less
visibly.
Certainly he had seen girls enough to know the genus, but these were
a new species. Such hats, such heels, such giggles, such bewildering
dresses. Such knots of riband, such spots of velvet, such piles of
artificial flowers, such very pretty faces. Not handsome, like Cherry,
Magnus said indignantly, calling himself to order; and then began to
wonder how Cherry would look dressed _so_.
And even as the thought came, he heard one whisper to the other, "A
candidate."
And Magnus felt unreasonably angry. What business had they to pick him
out? And how was he a marked man, anyway? But their notice of him was
short.
"Look at Jenny!" giggled one, half under her breath, pointing to a
girl who leaned on the railing, and never took her eyes from the West
Point shore. "He isn't on the watch, sweet child: it's one o'clock,
and they're all in the Mess Hall. Don't send such wistful looks on
ahead, or they'll mount the hill and spoil his digestion." And she half
whistled, half sang:
"Come fill up your glasses, and don't stand back;
Vive la compagnie!
And drink to the health of our Captain Jack----"
"You don't call him plain 'Jack' yet, do you, dear?"
"If you _could_ talk a little sense!" murmured the girl at the railing.
"I shall never call him '_plain_' anything."
The girls choked with laughter, which half rippled out, and half was
smothered. Then the talk went on, in the same undertones; not as if it
was meant to be heard, and yet which Magnus could not help hearing.
"She's such a Paul Pry! Said to me the other day when we were out
walking, 'But you are not in love with any one of the class?' I said,
'No; I'm in love with the whole class.' Oh, dear! it will be too
dreadful when they all go!"
"There are always candidates," whispered another, with a glance towards
Magnus, and then the boat touched her landing, and the girls hurried on
shore.
Magnus did not hurry. He had no quarters to spend on omnibus fare, and
no mind at all to be wedged in among those lively ladies. He picked up
his bag and walked after the stage as it slowly climbed the hill. A few
swift strides would have easily taken him beyond it. But he lingered
and loitered, sat down on the tall stone curbing of the road, and tried
to find out why he felt so uncomfortable. What if he was a "candidate"?
There was Cherry, and the other two girls at home, on tiptoe over that
very fact. Why should West Point feel so differently? He had come to
learn to serve and to defend his country; to grace her ranks, wherever
he might be.
Magnus looked after his stageful of enemies, and seeing that they had
turned down towards the south, he quickened his steps, and soon reached
the top of the hill. There paused again, partly for strangeness, and
partly for wonder. It was all so beautiful, so new.
The grass, close shaven and vividly green, covered the ground on every
side; up the slopes, and down in the hollows; with only the cavalry
plain lying brown and bare in the sunshine. Buildings, with hardly two
alike, were dropped down for the most part in a long, curving line,
the end of which he could not see. No people, anywhere, for it was
dinner time or lunch time all over the Post; only as Magnus crossed
the road to get a nearer view of the buildings, he came upon a very
distinguished personage with a gun on his shoulder, pacing aimlessly up
and down the sidewalk. His uniform was blue, his "deportment" fierce.
"He must be an officer," thought the boy to himself, "and this some
special important point he must watch."
Magnus found a seat under a friendly tree, and studied him. That slow,
ceaseless, back-and-forth march, fascinated the quicksilver youngster.
Orioles whistled over his head, sparrows sang, catbirds cried out
in fear or shouted for joy. Further off was the whistle and roar of
trains, and the bell of the ferryboat. In every pause the breeze
rustled softly by, and the river plashed against the shore. He had
never seen anything so lovely in all his life. But now, where were all
those voices?--a mild roar of talk. Plainly, in that small grey stone
castle just over the way.
He strolled on again, passed the old Academic, and came out upon the
plain. And then for a while he forgot everything but what his eyes took
in.
The smooth greensward, irregularly framed in with trees, and having
here and there a slight undulation which only heightened its beauty,
lay shimmering in the summer sun. On one side, behind the trees, the
row of houses went its winding way; on the other, the trees drew
together rather thinly in a little wood; but Magnus just then gave
no heed to either. His eyes followed the green right on to a sort of
jumping-off place, where the ground dropped suddenly all along the
line. There too was a closer-set clump of trees; and from among them,
white and slim, rose the tall flagstaff, bearing aloft the beautiful
banner of the Stars and Stripes.
There was not much wind, and the great flag hung in those half-way
curves which are more picturesque than the full expansion. Softly
twisting, turning, its mighty folds; the red, white, and blue seeming
ever in playful strife for the upper hand, which should show most and
which give way.
Magnus looked at it, and then instantly bared his head. He had never
seen so large a flag, nor ever one that floated with such clear
assumption of its rights; such careless, easy grace in claiming and
keeping them. "Make a friend of the flag," Mr. Wayne had said, and from
this moment the boy took it to his very heart. Fight for it? Aye, that
he would!
He walked slowly across the plain, still watching the flag, until
he stood close beneath it, and could hear the soft flapping of the
halyards as they beat against the pole. But now it was fairyland
everywhere.
All about him, spotting the green grass, were guns: big guns
and little guns; shining black and mouldy green; with piles of
wicked-looking black shot. The guns themselves, like many other
senders-forth of mischief, looked sleepy and innocent enough. Tall
trees rose up, bordering the little platform, from which the ground
fell off steeply towards the river; some younger and softer tree heads
showing there and hindering the further view. But Magnus wanted no more
views just then.
He stood leaning back against the white flagstaff, and for the moment
felt content. Over his head the lovely folds of the flag curled and
drooped and stretched away upon the wind; and again, as Magnus looked
up at it, he doffed his hat. Then he found himself wondering what they
did to the grass in this part of the world, to make it so smooth and
soft and even. Then two or three uniforms went by, and he wondered over
them: it was in truth fairyland. Oh, if the folks at home could only
see it! And then, suddenly, fairyland shifted its place, and fled away
far out West, to the lonely regions of Barren Heights. Oh, if--not that
they were here, but that he was there!--just back once more at home!
The boy's hat came down low over his eyes. What did that old flag care
for him? And what did he care for grass, or views, or uniforms, or
anything else, but only just to see mother, and the girls, and Cherry?
"Bracing up" is often so useful a process that one must not be too hard
upon the agents that oblige us thereto; and this time the agents were
very comely. A cluster of young girls, clad in all the pretty frippery
of the day, came giggling along the walk towards the flagstaff. It
was not, Say something and laugh at it--or, Say something to make the
others laugh; but there was a chronic state of giggle, as if life
were such a very droll thing that no occasional outburst could do it
justice. The walk passed the flagstaff with some little green space
between; and they came flickering along (I am really at a loss for
a word); changing places, pulling each other, pushing each other,
whispering, sometimes half-dancing, down the walk.
It is needless to say that Magnus "braced up" immediately; and still
leaning against the flagstaff, watched them from under his hat.
These were not his fair foes of the ferryboat, whom he had supposed
were rare specimens: now he was to learn that the species is widespread
and common, in June. Again he heard the obnoxious word, "candidate."
"Holding up the flagstaff, as usual," said the leading girl. "I do
verily believe they think that's what they come for."
"Hush!" said another. "Don't talk so loud. He might hear."
"He'll hear worse than that, before he's been here many days," said the
first. "I'll just break it to him by degrees. Say, girls, let's go and
give him his 'technical,' and get the start of Devlin Fritz."
"_Do_ be quiet!" said a third. "No wonder they all call you 'Miss
Saucy.'"
"It's something to have them _all_ call you anything," returned the
young lady with much content.
"Oh, that's true!" said another. "I declare, girls, I think it's too
bad. Here I've spent ten pounds of candy since I came, and I haven't
got one special cadet yet."
"Huyler's?" demanded Miss Saucy.
"Huyler's."
"Get Dulce to hand you over Mr. Day. She bores the poor boy to death. I
know he'd be glad of almost any change," said Miss Flirt.
"Or she might try a 'candied date,'" suggested Miss Saucy with a
sideway gesture.
In the small babel of words and laughter that followed this, the girls
drifted away out of hearing, and the sweet summer air was silent
again. The leaves clapped hands softly, the folds of the beautiful flag
curled and played as before over the head of the young candidate. But
in the heart of Magnus himself, just now, the summer grace and peace
found no foothold. Rather, his thoughts were like a November gale, with
the air full of dust and rubbish.
What if he _was_ a candidate? Men had to be, when they first came, he
supposed. And what if he _did_ mean to hold up the flagstaff? who had a
better right? Magnus looked up defiantly, and made a profound reverence
to the Stars and Stripes. All the same, he edged away as he saw another
party of girls approaching, and went and sat down on a long iron
seat among the tree shadows. One thing was certain: his sisters--and
Cherry--should never set foot here, if he could help it. He had been
thinking--if only they could get money enough--how fine it would be to
have them all come and see this beautiful place. Such walks as they
could take! But West Point just _swarmed_ with girls already. And at
this point of his meditations Magnus was quite sure that he heard
"candidate" again, from another jocund voice.
"Say, let's find out."
"What for?" said a pink vision.
"Fun," said the white one: "Oh, I know the regulation questions." And
but half under her breath, the pretty tones sang out:
"See where he hails from--
What is his name;
Who was his 'pred.,'
And why he came."
"Who cares?" said the other girl, hurrying her along. "Come, we are
late."
That party passed, followed, it must be owned, by some rather fierce
looks from Magnus. Then, slowly strolling down the pathway, came two
more: a girl, in the height of every fashion, and a tall fellow in
close-fitting grey coat and the whitest of unwrinkled trousers. Over
his head he carried the girl's scarlet and lace parasol, shielding
himself as carefully as if she had brought it for that express purpose.
As perhaps she had: who knows? At all events, the little lady gazed up
at the dark sunburnt face, with its vivid background, as if nothing
could be too good to screen such a complexion. And he looked down at
her--well, women never get just what they give, but he did look very
admiringly; as if the delicate face needed nothing, not even a parasol.
Whatever was the reason, this couple made Magnus more irate than any
that had gone before. There was an instant antagonism to the tall
cadet. His uniform was so becoming, and fitted so well; the glancing
buttons were so attractive; the gold bars on the upper arm had such
a distinguished look; the young stranger set him down at once for a
coxcomb. But there was a little envy in it all. How cleverly he cut
down the military stride to keep step with the girl's mincing feet; a
difficult thing, as Magnus knew.
"Taking care of his own precious face, and letting hers burn!" quoth
the young civilian; but all the same, he would have given more money
than he was likely to have soon to be in just such guise himself, with
Cherry by his side. He'd show that fellow a thing or two.
He was getting homesick again. All these people, with their friends
and their fun, made him feel so desolately far away from everybody. He
slouched his hat down further, and wandered off again, not looking much
where he went; just following the path beneath his feet. Slowly round
the guns, then on along the bank, and there found more seats. There
was no sound of voice or step here, and Magnus sat down wearily, and
leaned his head on his arm, and tried to fight the homesickness. For
the moment he despised the whole race of girls, Cherry, of course,
excepted. "Simpering up into that fellow's face, as if there had never
been a man before, nor would be again."
Yes, there was certainly a twinge of envy in Charlemagne's heart. The
tall cadet had carried himself with such careless, graceful erectness
that there was no relief to be had out of calling him a "ramrod." And
his white trousers were _so_ white, and so without a wrinkle.
"I'd like to know how he manages that," thought Magnus, the envy
passing into wonder. With him, white trousers had been always uncertain
and short-lived things. And now his thoughts flew far away again,
over hills and prairie land; and once more he was going through wild
exploits at home; getting himself wet and muddy, and having the girls
laugh at him from the midst of their intact fresh draperies. Magnus
drew a long, heavy sigh.
Then he roused himself and sat up; for again those measured steps, the
peculiar tread of which he was just learning to know, sounded near by;
and another cadet, from the opposite direction, came down the walk. He
glanced at Magnus, then crossed the grass, and took his seat on the
other end of the same bench; but said not a word, only gazed placidly
up the river. And now, as one always looks whither another is looking,
so also did Magnus.
There were no trees in the way here, and the view was open. Close
at his feet the ground fell sharply down to the level of the siege
battery, where a dozen guns and mortars kept grim watch, their ugly
black mouths pointed up-stream. Beyond the green parapet nothing made
much show till you reached the river itself, which for ten miles here
came flowing gently down, with no sharp turns; the whole of "Martlaer's
Reach" lay full in sight. In the far, far distance, an irregularly
broken line of blue peaks brushed softly against the sky. At their
feet lay the green wooded slopes of the Newburgh hills, with Newburgh
itself sparkling in the sun. The line stretched across so straight from
side to side, as if there the river began.
Nearer, and on either hand, rising in abrupt masses from the water's
edge, lay Butter Hill and Breakneck, Bull Hill and Crow Nest; pillars
of the north Highland gateway. All green, from brow to base, except
where every now and then the granite framework of the mountains pushed
itself through in crags and ridges. The green was exquisite, with all
the lush hues of June.
Between the hills the flood of the great river poured along unchecked,
until where in the very foreground the grey-green bluff of Martlaer's
Rock thrust itself out athwart the stream; bringing it with one sharp
turn to its very narrowest and deepest part. For a little distance
then, in front of Magnus, the river ran east and west--along the
Rock; then took another short turn, and went racing south; the lovely
"Shaw-na-taw-ty," that "flows toward the midday." Between the river and
the homesick boy lay only the broken hillside and the silent guns.
There were no human voices, either, but a chance medley of sweet sounds
from other throats. Song sparrows in their rollicking glee, with the
homespun twitter of a chipping sparrow, giving her brood their first
outing. Robins kept up their changing chorus; crows cawed; among
the distant trees you could hear the thrush bells now and then. The
indescribable sighs and murmurs and trills of the summer wind, the soft
touches of the mighty river along its banks, filled every moment of
unappropriated time.
Magnus forgot everything, as he looked and listened. June threw her
warm spell over him, and for the minute again he was content.
"Yes, that can't be beat," remarked his neighbour in grey, who had been
watching him closely. "Look at it all you want to; now is a good time."
"I think every time is good, for such a view," Magnus said, facing
round.
"When do you report?" asked the other abruptly.
"To-morrow." Magnus answered the question, perceiving the next instant
that again he was noted as a candidate.
"Well, next week, if you are here, you'll find some other hills lying
round promiscuous, and you won't think quite so much about these."
"How did you know I was to report at all?"
The cadet laughed.
"No mistaking a candidate," he said. "You have the real all-overish
look about you. And no need to huff up at it, either. I've been there
myself, so I know."
"Do you like it here?" said Magnus, the flush cooling down.
"Fair to middling. When I'm up in math., keep out of Con., and don't
get skinned too often."
This was high Dutch to Magnus. But he was at the age when pertinent
questions are far harder to ask than the impertinent; and nothing would
have made him show his ignorance. He went back to the last subject.
"You say you know, because you've been a candidate yourself; but who
tells all these girls?"
"Oh, the girls!" said the cadet. "Yes, there's a good many girls
here; and what some of 'em don't know, and don't do, wouldn't fill a
collar-box. Even Crinkem's head could hold it."
"Who is Crinkem?"
"My respected classmate. Absolutely worried along so far, and gone on
furlough. Nobody can guess how he did it, either. Who are you?"
"Charlemagne Kindred."